Chapter 8
The moment Matt ended the call with the school board’s insurance company, which was now offering to settle Mrs. Black’s case, he shot up from his chair and headed down the hallway.
“Hey, hey, hey. Get over here.”
His footsteps halted at Carmen’s summons. Matt walked over to her desk.
“I’ve got some checks you need to sign.” She spread three checks out on her desk. Matt slipped a pen from the penholder and scribbled his signature on each. “You know, you can actually question what the checks are for every now and then,” Carmen drawled.
“I don’t worry about you stealing from me,” Matt said over his shoulder. “I know where you live, and you and Scotty aren’t leaving Gauthier any time soon.”
He walked over to the area of the law firm that had been cordoned off for months. Dr. Lawrence and his crew of anthropology students were back, digging around and making notations in the marbled composition notebooks they all carried. An extra hunter had joined them today.
When Matt entered the room, the team was packing up their gear.
“Looks like I came in just at the right time,” he said. “I didn’t want to disturb you all.”
“Feel free to come and go as you please,” Dr. Lawrence said. “This is still your office, Mr. Gauthier.”
“Some people wouldn’t agree with you,” Matt said. “According to some people, this area of the law firm now belongs to history.”
“And I stand by that statement,” Tamryn said, her brows hitched, just daring him to challenge her. That hint of sassiness was so damn sexy on her.
“Well, an argument can be made for that, too,” Dr. Lawrence said with a chuckle. “We’ll be back on Thursday. I have a colleague from DePaul coming into town. He’d like to see the site, if it’s okay with you.”
Matt nodded. “Be my guest.”
The students and Dr. Lawrence started filing out of the room, but Tamryn stayed behind, lingering just outside of the yellow caution tape that the professor had replaced across the entryway. Matt leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms across his chest.
“So, did you have fun today?” he asked.
The look she slanted toward him very clearly asked if he was out of his mind. “What do you think?”
“I think you had fun today,” Matt mused.
“I spent the majority of the day completely enthralled.” She held her arm up. “The goosebumps refuse to go away.”
Matt pushed away from the doorjamb and sauntered toward her. In a purposely seductive voice, he said, “I can think of so many ways to give you goosebumps.” A soft mewl escaped her lips as he nuzzled her neck. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“I’m stealing you away tonight for our first official date date.”
“So all the times you’ve taken me to lunch and dinner over the past few weeks didn’t count as official date dates?”
He shook his head. “Nah, that was just food. A real date is more of an event.”
“What exactly is involved with you stealing me away?”
“Well, for one thing, it will require you to wear jeans—if you own any, that is.”
“Of course I own a pair of jeans,” she said with a note of affront in her voice. “I’ll meet you at the B&B. In jeans,” she tacked on.
A half-hour later, Matt stood in the grand foyer of Belle Maison, struggling to release a breath as he watched Tamryn walk down the staircase in a pair of hip-hugging dark blue jeans, a snug cherry-red sweater, and high-heeled black boots.
The only thing he could think about was scooping her into his arms and carting her right back up those stairs.
“Will this do?” she asked, propping her hands on her hips and spinning in a slow circle. She gave her hips a little shake and he damn near lost his mind.
How was he going to get through the next three hours thinking about anything but peeling those skintight jeans down her thighs?
He nodded and sucked in a deep breath. “That will do just fine,” Matt said after some effort.
“Am I setting one less spot at the dinner table tonight?” Phil asked, carting a tray of glasses. Matt reached to take the tray from her, but she twisted it out of his reach. “Thanks, but I’ve got it. So, you two are going out?”
“Yes, I’m stealing Professor West away for the evening,” Matt said.
A sly smile lifted a corner of Phylicia’s mouth. “Interesting,” she mused.
Matt rolled his eyes, but laughed when he noticed the blush coloring Tamryn’s cheeks. “I think you’re embarrassing your guest, Phil.”
“I’m just wondering how long it will be before news of this night out is the talk of Gauthier,” Tamryn said.
Phil snorted a laugh. “There’s been a betting pool going on at Claudette’s since your first week in town.
I’m happy I didn’t get in on it. I would have been out a long time ago.
” She bumped Matt with her hip. “You’re slipping.
I would have thought you’d have convinced her to go out on a real date with you way before now. ”
“It wasn’t for lack of trying,” Matt said.
“Good for you for playing hard to get,” Phil said, winking at Tamryn. “This one probably isn’t used to that. You two have fun,” she called as she continued onto the dining room.
“So, is that why you’ve been pushing so hard for a date date?” Tamryn asked when they were alone. “Because I’ve been a challenge?”
“What if I told you that was part of it?” Matt asked, capturing her by the hips and pulling her closer. He trailed his nose along the soft curve of her jaw. “I figure the harder it is to win the prize, the sweeter it will be. You look stunning, by the way. Are you ready?”
“Thank you, and yes, I’m ready,” she said. Her high-heeled boots made her nearly as tall as he, lining their bodies up with such perfection that Matt almost found himself giving in to his earlier desire to take her straight upstairs.
Instead, he put a hand on the small of her back and guided her out the front door. When they stepped out onto the porch, Tamryn faltered.
“Why are you on that motorcycle?”
“You don’t like my bike?”
“I like looking at you on the bike. As for myself? Not so much.”
“You look damn hot on this bike. And in these boots?” Matt licked his lips. “Fantasy fuel.”
“Fantasy fuel?”
“Hell yes,” he said, guiding her down the porch steps. “Something tells me that the way you look on this bike tonight is going to fuel my fantasies for the next month. At least.”
Matt climbed on the Ducati and steadied it between his legs. He turned slightly so he could watch Tamryn fit her foot on the back pedal and hoist herself onto the bike. The heat from her body against his back made him instantly hard.
Damn, this was going to be a long night.
Matt handed her the extra helmet he’d bought over the weekend. “Hold on tight. We’re not going nice and slow this time.”
“Matthew,” Tamryn called over his shoulder in a warning voice.
He twisted around to face her, dropping his gaze to her lips before bringing it back to her eyes. “Trust me,” he said. “Once you go hard and fast, you’ll never want to do nice and slow again.”
He felt the deep breath she drew. He had to take one of his own.
Matt secured her arms around his waist before revving the engine. When he took off down Belle Maison’s driveway, Tamryn’s high-pitched squeal carried on the wind.
They rode along the byways that hugged the mossy canals, passing far-spaced houses on stilts and fishing camps that dotted the edges of the swampland. The humid air was thick with the earthy aroma of the bayou.
They rode for a half-hour before Matt slowed and turned onto a dirt road.
He guided the bike down the winding, dusty path, underneath the arching, moss-laden branches of century-old oak trees.
As they rounded a bend in the road, a huge wooden structure came into view.
The scent of spicy food wafted over the graveled parking lot.
Matt parked the Ducati between two old-model pickup trucks, lowered the kickstand, and removed his helmet.
“I should kill you for that, you know,” Tamryn said as she took her helmet off.
“You know you loved it,” Matt returned with a laugh.
“I think I left my heart somewhere on the road between here and Belle Maison.”
“We’ll pick it up on the way back,” he said. He helped her off the bike, then took her by the hand. She wobbled a few times over the gravel, which only fueled Matt’s love for those fantasy-worthy boots. With every wobble, her grip on him tightened.
They approached a set of worn steps and Tamryn’s movement slowed.
“Is this place up to code?” she asked.
“This building has been here at least a hundred years,” Matt said. “If it’s held up through all those hurricanes, it’s not going anywhere. Trust me.”
She eyed him with an unconvinced look and continued up the stairs.
Matt was completely shameless in the way he outright stared at her shapely ass as she walked ahead of him.
He was so tempted to snatch her back, drive his bike down to a secluded spot on the bayou, and drape her across it.
His tongue was aching to explore every inch of her smooth skin.
Not yet, he reminded himself. But soon. It had to be soon.
They entered Dooney’s Crab House, which, on a Friday—one-dollar longneck night—was nearing fire-code limits. Despite the thick crowd, Matt and Tamryn had no trouble being seated within minutes of entering the establishment.
A few years ago, Dooney Boudreaux had put his business up as bond when his younger brother got caught up in a meth bust, then skipped bail.
Dooney would have lost his livelihood if Matt hadn’t loaned him the money to pay the bond.
His brother had been found less than a week later, but at the time, no one knew that would happen.
Dooney had told Matt that he would always have a place of honor in his bar, and the man had never gone back on his word.
They were seated and, within minutes, a platter of steaming crawfish was brought to the table, along with two icy beers.
“You are determined to make me eat these things, aren’t you?” Tamryn said.