Chapter Four #3
As she continued with the rambling reporter, she watched him approach the multimillionaire who’d made such an impact on the city since his arrival several years ago.
April itched to be involved in the conversation.
She wasn’t sure why it had just occurred to her that she and Damien could pull double duty on this quest he had to woo the city’s elite.
She didn’t want to step on his toes by taking anything away from his search to find investors, but there were some über-rich people floating through the various galleries tonight; surely they could afford to send some of that wealth A Fresh Start’s way.
April was able to shake the reporter after telling her that Damien was taking the bachelor thing all in good fun. She quickly returned to his side...just as Berger was leaving.
“Thank you for that,” Damien told her. “It wasn’t the type of interference I thought you’d have to run, but you did a bang-up job all the same.”
“That’s my part of the deal, isn’t it?” April said. “Now, how did it go with Berger?”
He hunched his shoulders. “Okay, I guess. I didn’t hit him with the hard sale or anything.
I just told him that I’d love to work with the McGowan Group on a project someday.
Stroked his ego a bit, told him how impressed I am with all the ventures they’ve started here in New Orleans. I think it went well.”
“Look at you,” April said, nudging him with her shoulder. “When did you learn how to schmooze?”
“It’s a part of the job,” he said with a laugh. “And as for your job tonight, you are going above and beyond.”
“How so?”
“Because you’re making me look good. I don’t know a damn thing about art. If not for you, I’d have looked like an idiot tonight.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You can BS your way through anything, Damien. I discovered that the day you convinced Mr. Pendleton to let you out of taking the chemistry final because you believed the periodic table was against your religion.”
His head kicked back with his laugh. “That was a pretty sweet moment.”
“It was epic.” April laughed along with him. “When you put your mind to it, you can do just about anything. I suspect you would have done just fine without me.”
“But it wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable,” he said. His eyes glittered with mischief, but also with just enough heat to make April suck in a breath.
When he leaned forward, she became light-headed.
But he didn’t go near her mouth, which was exactly where her overly active imagination had pictured him heading. Instead, he whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being by my side tonight. And for having so much knowledge about art in that brain of yours.”
April put a lid on the can of wishful thinking that had her imagining Damien kissing her, and reminded herself exactly why she was here and what was expected of her. And of him.
“As you may recall,” she said, “this all comes at a price. I expect to see you at A Fresh Start bright and early tomorrow. It’ll be just an introduction, but once you’re done with tomorrow’s class we’ll work on a more formal syllabus.”
A pained look flashed across Damien’s face.
“I guess there’s no way for me to back out of the deal now, is there?”
April hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “You want me to go find Rebecca James? I’m sure she and her cameraman would still love to speak to you, Mr. Top Ten Bachelor.”
“I’ll be at the center tomorrow. You’re ruthless, by the way,” Damien said, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the gallery.
“You’d better remember that,” April told him.
The crowds filling the street had started to thin, making it easier to navigate from gallery to gallery, and from food booth to food booth.
April laughed herself into a coughing fit when Damien bit into a shrimp creole–stuffed beignet and sent all the filling flying out the opposite end of the bread.
A brass jazz band started to play, and Damien held a hand out to her.
April shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said.
“Hey, aren’t you the musician here?”
“And when does being a musician equal being a dancer?”
“Hmm,” Damien murmured. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky. “I can recall coaxing you onto the dance floor at the senior prom and you shocking everybody with your dance moves.”
April couldn’t help the huge smile that formed on her face. “Fine, I used to watch music videos and practice in my room. But that was a long time ago,” she added. She could feel the blush climbing up her cheeks. “I don’t dance anymore.”
Damien held his hand out again.
“Please?” he said. He had the nerve to sic the puppy dog eyes on her. He was not playing fair at all. “Just this once?” he added.
“God, you’re needy,” she groused.
He barked out another laugh as April reluctantly allowed him to pull her out into the middle of the street, where dozens of other revelers dressed in their finery danced to the brass band.
Second lining, as it was known, was a New Orleans tradition.
It didn’t matter if you were hosting a run-of-the-mill house party or a fancy shindig like the one they were attending tonight; no celebration in the Big Easy was complete until partygoers marched the second line.
With her arm hooked in the crook of Damien’s, April continued down the street, waving the handkerchief he’d handed her in the air and high-stepping along with the trail of revelers.
April could feel the heat from Damien’s body all along her side where they occasionally touched.
It ignited dozens of tingling sensations, sending them scattering across her skin.
She didn’t want to feel this way, dammit! She’d put it in her head to fight these feelings with everything she had.
But they were too hard to fight.
So, instead, April allowed the fantasy to play out in her mind.
She let herself pretend that she wasn’t here as Damien’s pretend girlfriend, but as the real thing.
She didn’t care if it made her seem like the dreamer she’d been back in high school, when he’d treated her kindly because she tutored him, and had taken her to the prom because no one else asked her.
Maybe she was foolish to let herself go there, but she was going to indulge in this fantasy while she had the chance.
“Are you ready to head home?” Damien asked once the brass band brought their energetic play to a close.
“I guess—” April stopped midsentence, unable to halt the huge yawn that broke free. “So,” she finished. “Does that answer your question?”
“Loud and clear,” he said with another laugh.
Taking her by the hand, they returned to Damien’s sleek black Mercedes. And, as April had expected, by the time they arrived back to her neighborhood there was no street parking anywhere near her house.
“What the heck’s going on here?” Damien asked as he inched the car down the street.
“It’s the Frenchmen Art Market, along with people going to all the new bars that have opened up in the Faubourg Marigny.”
“But the Marigny is blocks away,” he said.
“A lot of people hang out there, especially on the nights when they hold the art market. It gets worse every single week,” April said. “But how can I complain when it’s supporting artists?”
Damien looked at her with a knowing grin. “Still championing the little guy, huh?”
“Of course,” she said. “Especially struggling artists. I understand their plight.”
He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “You’re not still struggling, are you? I mean financially.”
“No,” April said. “You know I’m not.”
“Well, it’s not as if we discuss finances,” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know you do some kind of freelance thing, but I don’t know how that work is going.”
“That work is going fabulously,” April said. “Just last week I had to turn down work on a score for a Hollywood film, because I just have too much work coming my way.”
“Did they want you to fly to LA?”