No Beignet Left Behind
by
Erin Nicholas
“If you don’t show up,
I’m not returning your copy of Mama Mia or your dress and I’m taking your red
Gucci shoes home to Houston with me.”
Kara couldn’t believe
she was being stood up. By the hot
brunette she’d been looking forward to seeing for weeks. Ellen Bossard, her best friend from high
school, laughed on the other end of the phone.
“I’ll be there. Just later than I’d planned. I can’t help the weather.”
Kara wasn’t sure she
believed that. The Bossard’s had a lot
of power. It wouldn’t have surprised her
if they could influence the weather.
Plus there was the legend of their great-great-grandmother being some
kind of magical voodoo priestess or something.
Ellen had always loved that piece of family history.
“I’m literally already
in the cab, dressed, curled, the whole bit,” Kara said.
“So, go. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you there.”
It was a big deal,
though. She was going to crash Ellen’s
mom and dad’s anniversary party? No way.
“I’ll just see you at
the apartment,” she told Ellen, feeling the crush of disappointment as she
looked down at the emerald silk dress and glittering silver shoes. She never
dressed like this unless she was with Ellen in New Orleans. But she did love it. Feeling like a princess for a night—there was
nothing like it.
“I’m going to have to
go straight to the party,” Ellen said. “And
you have to meet your ride by midnight, right?”
“Yeah.” Kara slumped in her seat in the back of the
cab. “This sucks.”
“Just go to the
party. I’ll be there as soon as I can
and we’ll have a little time before you have to leave.”
Kara and Ellen were
like sisters, but they hadn’t seen each other in months. Kara had taken a job in Texas while Ellen’s life
had taken her overseas. Kara missed her
friend and had arranged this trip specifically to coincide with Ellen’s trip
home for her parents’ anniversary. But
she couldn’t afford to be away from work for too long. Hence the ride-sharing with a friend of a
friend’s cousin to New Orleans and back in the span of forty-eight hours. The girl driving back wanted to leave by
midnight so she could be home in time to shower and get to work.
Her ride, Brittney, was
a friendly girl and they’d gotten along fine on the five and a half hour drive,
but Kara didn’t think for a minute that Brittney wouldn’t leave her if she was
late.
“I’m going to show up
at your mom and dad’s house without an invitation?” Kara asked. “I don’t think so.”
“They’ll be thrilled,”
Ellen said. “They love you and haven’t
seen you in forever.”
That might be
true. She’d spent plenty of time with
Ellen’s family growing up. But Marianne
and Raymond Bossard were intimidating people even over a casual family
dinner—not that their definition of casual was quite the same as Kara’s—and at
a lavish masquerade party at their mansion with all of their friends and
business acquaintances? Yeah, her palms
were already sweating.
“I won’t know
anyone.”
“Which makes the
masquerade thing perfect,” Ellen said.
Kara looked down at the
mask in her lap.
She really did love the
mask. She’d gone shopping as soon as
she’d seen the gown Ellen had hanging in the closet of the apartment she used
when she was in New Orleans. She’s
safety pinned a big K to it with a lip print in red lipstick in the corner.
Having a best friend
with money always had and always would rock.
The Bossard mansion was
one of the biggest in the Garden District.
The Queen Anne style house always made Kara feel like she was stepping
into a fairy tale. Ellen had grown up in
the lap of luxury.
Kara had not.
But her grandparents
had saved since the day she was born to send her to the exclusive private girls
school where she met Ellen. They’d been
best friends since the first day of kindergarten and through Ellen, Kara had
experienced extravagant parties, exquisite gowns and shoes and accessories—the
works. She had also learned poise and
sophistication and manners. She could
cover up her blue collar roots so convincingly that everyone who hired her
interior decorating company, or who recommended her or who interviewed her or
who invited her anywhere in Houston, assumed she came from big money. Big old Southern money.
Kara ran her finger
along the glittery edge of the mask. She
hadn’t been to a good masquerade in a long time. And no one threw them like the
Bossards. There would be a live band and
real old-fashioned ballroom dancing and an unbelievable spread of food.
And, of course, the
mask. A girl couldn’t just wear a mask around every day, so it was hard to pass
up an opportunity like this. The mask,
like the gown, was a deep gorgeous green.
It was trimmed in silver and had silver swirls looping around the eyes and
across the nose, with a silk ribbon to hold it over her eyes.
Maybe she could do
it. She’d been faking her background for
so long that she had no reason to believe she couldn’t do it with the Bossard’s
friends and colleagues. Maybe she could
even make some business contacts.
“There will be
beignets.”
To Read More... click below
Four words. But they were the four words to get her into that party. Kara groaned.
Ellen knew her too well. “You
play dirty.”
Ellen laughed. “You’re just easy.”
It was true. There weren’t many things in the world that
Kara couldn’t resist. But the beignets
that the Bossard’s long-time cook, Gloria, made were number one on the
list.
They were the beignets God
would make if He got a craving. They
were even better than the ones at Café Du Monde, the place for beignets in New Orleans. And Kara had eaten plenty of those in her
life.
Kara’s stomach
growled. Eating prior to a Bossard party
was a stupid thing to do. There was
always an excessive spread of the best of everything so she’d been fasting
since breakfast.
The cab turned on to
St. Charles Street and Kara resigned herself to going to the party alone. At least there would probably be an open
bar. She liked Hurricanes almost as much
as she liked beignets.
“Fine, I’m here.”
“Great. See you soon.
Have fun!”
Ellen disconnected and
Kara took a deep breath as the cab pulled to a stop. She wasn’t actually worried about arriving at
their party uninvited. But she was
worried about tripping over her words… or the hem of her dress. For some reason, in front of the Bossard’s
she was a clumsy, klutzy mess.
As she got out of the
cab and smoothed the front of her dress, she looked up at the mansion. The
butterflies in her stomach kicked their swooping into high gear. Kara took a deep breath, then let it out
through her lips in a little puff. The
cab pulled away, leaving her there at the end of the long softly lit stone path
that led to the front of the house.
And she could no longer
ignore the real reason she was nervous.
Thomas was in there.
Thomas Bossard, Ellen’s
older brother. Ellen’s very hot,
successful, charming older brother. Who
Kara had been in love with from afar since the first summer he’d come home from
college.
Which would have been
fine. If she hadn’t told him she was in love with him the last time they’d seen one
another.
Kara pressed her hand
over her stomach where the butterflies seemed to multiply.
Of course, Thomas would
be here. But with Ellen by her side, he
wouldn’t dare bring up the last time they’d seen each other.
Ellen would definitely
not approve of her brother spending time with Kara. Not because of Kara, but because Thomas was an
infamous playboy. Ellen would want to
protect her friend from his womanizing ways.
But she had no idea that Kara was completely head over heels for Thomas.
When he’d e-mailed her
that he would be in Houston for business and invited her to dinner, Kara had
been unable to resist. He was an old
friend, she reasoned. Of course, she
should see him if he was in town. She’d
been in Houston with the interior design company for only a year and she was
admittedly a bit homesick.
She’d hoped to
eventually go home to New Orleans and open her own design company, but she knew
she needed some experience and a chance to truly learn the business. So she planned to stay in Houston a little
longer. Seeing someone from home was too
tempting to pass up.
Especially when it was
Thomas Bossard.
Thomas was tall—six-four—and
broad through the shoulders, but trim.
He kept in shape by running and playing racquetball. He had dark hair and deep brown eyes that
always seemed to have a mischievous crinkle at the corners. He also had a killer smile. At least, the one he aimed at her had always
made her heart threaten to stutter to a stop.
The guy oozed
charm. He was intelligent and witty and
polished and charming. He was exactly what
her young heart had imagined a fairy-tale prince would be like and she
ultimately compared all men to him. Not
just the men she dated—though they definitely got measured next to the
Thomas-Bossard-ruler but also the men she encountered at work, the men her
friends dated and even her college professors.
No one had ever
outshone Thomas.
But he was out of
reach. He was from a whole other world,
ran in a completely different circle.
What did she have to offer to a man like that? A man who could have any woman in the
world—and had, reportedly, had many of them during his travels.
He barely knew her
name.
So when he’d e-mailed
she’d been thrilled. And when he’d
suggested going back to his hotel suite for a drink, she’d been amazed. And when he’d asked if he could kiss her,
she’d nearly fallen at his feet. And
when he’d asked her to spend the night, she’d… done it.
And after three
earth-shaking orgasms, she told him she was in love with him.
And when she’d awakened
in the morning before he had, she’d snuck out.
Kara worked on
breathing again. The breath in was good
and deep and she let it out slowly, hoping to calm her heart and her stomach.
Making love with Thomas
was the epitome of everything for her.
And she’d snuck out quickly in the morning to avoid any awkward morning
after routines or excuses or explanations.
She didn’t want a thing to mar the perfect memory—even the delicacy of
waking up in his arms.
And now she was
standing on his front walk. After not
responding to any of his calls or texts. Or the five dozen roses he’d sent. Or the six dozen lilies he’d sent. Or the seven dozen rare tropical Crown
flowers he’d sent.
Seven dozen rare
flowers? Who did that?
A very rich man.
Okay, Kara amended, a
very romantic rich man.
But still… each petal
had just served to further illustrate how far apart their worlds really
were. She’d never gotten roses. And she’d never dated a man who could afford
two hundred and sixteen of them.
She was embarrassed
that she’d thought for even a moment it could be anything more than sex between
them.
Okay, she was either
going in or not.
Ellen would be there
soon. She’d be fine for an hour or
so. She’d put her mask on, blend in and
find the beignets. How much trouble
could she get into that way?
#
# #
Thomas Bossard was
bored. The kind of bored that even
pretty girls in fancy dresses couldn’t cure.
He would have left a long time ago if it wasn’t his parents’
anniversary.
He checked his
phone. Maybe there would be a business
emergency. Unlikely since most, if not
all, of the family’s business contacts were here tonight, but he was hopeful
for a diversion.
Or maybe his sister
would have at least texted. It was also
unlikely she’d need a ride from the airport—their limo was probably already
waiting outside the terminal—but he could hope for a flat or something,
couldn’t he?
He strolled into the area
off the main room where the food was on display and being served. He’d already sampled the prime rib, the jumbo
shrimp, the asparagus spears, the breads and the dozens of other dishes his
mother had, predictably, gone overboard in adding. Now he was headed for the desserts.
But it wasn’t the
cheesecake or the crème brulee or even the beignets that got his immediate
attention. It was the brunette in the
emerald green gown and mask that he noticed first.
On first glance, she
didn’t seem that different from all the other beauties of the ball, but there
was something about how curls were escaping her updo, and the streak of dust on
the hem of the dress, and most especially the way she was wrapping a beignet in
a paper napkin—and putting it in her purse—that made it impossible for him to
look away. When she added a second beignet,
he was intrigued. When her purse
wouldn’t zip completely shut over the contents, he was smitten.
Thomas propped a
shoulder against the arched doorway and decided to watch. This was more entertaining than anything else
going on so far. And he loved the curve of her neck. And the way she was smiling to herself as she
pilfered beignets.
He hadn’t looked at a
woman as attractive or with any physical interest in two months. Seven weeks, four days and two hours to be
exact. Not since he’d picked Kara Jennings
up in front of her apartment building in Houston for dinner.
He’d always found Kara
to be beautiful and sweet if a bit quiet—though next to his sister, everyone
was quiet. He’d met her a handful of
times, but hadn’t paid much attention to his little sister’s school friend. Until that summer he’d come home from Italy. Kara had been over for dinner with his family
and he’d been struck speechless when she walked into the room.
She’d blossomed over
the months since he’d last seen her. She had gone from beautiful to stunning
and while she still seemed sweet, she’d also gained some confidence that made
her speak up and share her opinion during conversation and even laugh out loud
when something amused her. He’d found
her completely enchanting and himself in a very unusual situation—he hadn’t
known what to do.
She was only nineteen,
just finishing high school, while he was twenty-five and just moving into his
new position as Vice President for his family’s company. They were not only far apart in age, but also
in completely different places in their lives.
He couldn’t date
her. He couldn’t even flirt with
her. He certainly couldn’t take her to
bed. All of those things would mean
something very different to a young girl than it would to him.
And she was his
sister’s friend.
So, Thomas had
squelched all his desires for Kara repeatedly over that summer when she seemed
to spend more time at their house—and by their pool in her bikini—than she did
anywhere else.
When she’d finally left
for school in the fall, he hadn’t seen her again.
Until she’d come home
for Ellen’s college graduation. Again,
the years had been more than kind. And
when he’d finally decided to risk a conversation with her, he’d found her warm
and intelligent and amusing.
He’d wanted her and had
determined that, eventually, he would have her.
She was the one.
When work at taken him
to Houston a year after she’d moved there, Thomas didn’t hesitate to contact
her about getting together for dinner.
He’d been thrilled, if not completely surprised, when she’d accepted.
And when she’d stepped
out of the elevator in her building to meet him in the lobby, he’d been
lost.
She was gorgeous, with the same
sweet smile that always made his heart trip.
It was that smile that
convinced him now that he knew exactly who he was watching stuff beignets in
her purse.
Kara Jennings had come
to his parents’ party.
There was no way she
was going to ignore him now.
Realizing she was not
going to get her evening bag zipped, Kara muttered something under her breath,
then reached to pull one corner off the top beignet to make it smaller. But Gloria’s beignets were—as God intended
them to be—covered with enough powdered sugar to choke a horse. A little cloud of sugar puffed up out of her
purse then settled on the bodice of her dress.
The dark green dress that showed every speck of white.
“For the love of Pete!”
Kara exclaimed. She stuffed the corner
of the beignet into her mouth, zipped the purse half way shut with a good yank,
then turned.
Thomas assumed she was
on her way to find the washroom. But she
pulled up short at the sight of him in the doorway.
She fumbled with her
purse, then lifted her hand to her face before remembering the mask that hid
her identity. Supposedly.
She chewed furiously,
swallowed, wiped her lips with her finger and put on a charming smile. “Good evening,” she greeted him calmly.
“Good evening.” He gave her a half smile. “You’re fond of the beignets.”
Even with the mask in
place he could see her cheeks get red.
“They’re the best in
New Orleans,” she finally replied.
His smile grew. “You’ve had them before then?”
He could read in her
eyes that she regretted the slip. Well,
she wasn’t going to regret anything else about this night if he had anything to
say about it.
“I sampled them
earlier,” she lied coolly a moment later.
Why didn’t she want him
to recognize her? Because she’d been
avoiding his calls and gifts for almost two months? Because she’d slipped from his bed before
dawn like she felt guilty or embarrassed about their night together? She was in love with him. She’d said so herself. This was ridiculous.
Thomas felt his
eyebrows pull together and had to work to smooth his expression. He’d been stunned by the sense of loss he’d
felt when he awakened alone. It was
followed quickly by anger, then frustration when she completely ignored
him. He’d been in Hong Kong for the past
two months, preventing him from flying to Houston and camping on her doorstep
until she talked to him. But even with
the distance, he’d wanted her to know he was thinking of her and wanted to see
her again when he was back in the States.
In fact, he was quite afraid that she was the only woman he’d ever want
to see again. He’d tried to be sweet and
romantic. He’d sent flowers, cards,
gifts. He’d called, e-mailed and
texted.
Well, if sweet and
romantic wasn’t going to work, then he could be direct and aggressive. He made his living being direct and
aggressive.
She wanted him. There had been two of them there that
night. He hadn’t had the best sex of his
entire life and fallen most of the way in love without some major participation
on her part.
She wasn’t getting away
as easily tonight.
“Dance with me,” he
said simply, holding out his hand.
Her eyes widened. “Wh—what?”
“Dance. With me,” he repeated. Once he touched her, once he had her in his
arms again, he’d remind her of everything they’d shared. He wouldn’t let go until she told him why
she’d run.
She stared at him. “Dance?”
“Yes. You know how to waltz?”
She did. He knew she
did. She’d learned in that very
ballroom.
“Um, yes.”
“Then, shall we?” He reached out and grasped her hand before
she could answer.
“I—” She swallowed
hard. “Yes. Alright.”
“Very good.” And it was.
It was very good.
Thomas tugged her
through the doorway, her beignet filled purse bumping against his leg, another
small cloud of white puffing from where the zipper hadn’t closed completely. He
stifled a grin.
“I got sugar on your
pants,” she said as he stepped onto the dance floor, turned and pulled her up
against him.
“I don’t mind,” he told
her huskily. He intended to make love to
her after covering her in powdered sugar later that night.
He lifted a finger and
touched the corner of her mouth. Taking a
smudge of sugar from her lips, he lifted his finger to his mouth and sucked it
clean. And relished her quick intake of
air.
Then they began to move. The music was as perfect as she was. She looked like she belonged here, like
lavish parties and expensive gowns were everyday occurrences for her. But there was a wonder in her eyes as she
looked around, a practiced feel to her dance steps that said they weren’t quite
as natural as she’d like, and every time her bag bumped against his back, he
had to fight a smile. She was the only
woman in the room with beignets in her handbag—of that he was certain.
They danced without
speaking for two waltzes. Thomas just
enjoyed the feel of her again, the smell of her hair, the way her hand fit in
his.
Oh, yes, there was no
way the sun was going to come up tomorrow without her in his bed.
“Let’s go to the
terrace,” he finally said, dropping the dance pose and taking her hand.
She held back. “I
shouldn’t. I’m… waiting for someone.”
He turned back with a
frown he couldn’t help. “A man?”
She looked startled at
his fierce expression and tone.
“N—No. Not a man.”
“Who then?”
“Ellen,” she
replied. “Your sister.”
Ah, his sister. Dammit.
Ellen wouldn’t like this. He
hadn’t told her how he felt about Kara, knowing that Ellen would assume her
friend was simply another conquest. He
hadn’t had time to convince her that he’d changed. That he’d fallen in love.
“Then it’s even more
important that I speak with you now,” he said.
“Before she arrives.”
Kara pulled her hand
from his. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Kara, I—”
Her mouth dropped open
and she covered it with her hand quickly as she realized he knew her.
“No.” She started shaking her head and backing away
from him. “Oh, no.”
He followed her, not
caring that they were making a spectacle of themselves in front of all of his
parents’ friends and acquaintances. “Did
you really think after our night together that I wouldn’t recognize you simply
because you wore a mask?” he asked. “That I wouldn’t know the exact four shades
of brown in your hair, that I wouldn’t remember the freckle on your chin, that
I would have forgotten the shape of your mouth after all of the things you did
with it?”
Her mouth opened
further and she made a little squeaking noise.
But she kept retreating, backwards across the dance floor, with him in
pursuit.
“You didn’t realize
that I’d lain awake stroking your hands with mine so that I know every inch.”
Kara glanced down at
her hands, then back to him.
“You don’t know that I
can close my eyes and recreate the scent of your skin, or that I can still feel
how soft your hair is when I run my fingers through it, or that I can still
recall exactly the sound of your sighs when I kiss your neck.”
Her expression had gone
from shocked to almost confused. And
just a little bit… hopeful.
“You don’t tell a man
you love him and then sneak out of his bed in the morning, Kara,” he said
evenly.
She stopped backing
up. She even opened her mouth as if to
speak.
But just then Thomas’
father pushed his way between them. His
eyes were stormy as he faced Thomas.
“Stop this right now. This isn’t
appropriate. This isn’t the time or
place.”
Thomas started to reply
when over his father’s shoulder he saw Kara turn, pick up her skirts and run
toward the door. He moved to follow her,
but his father stepped to block him and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Let her go.
You… acted without thinking.”
Thomas became aware
that the room was silent. The music had
stopped, the dancing had stopped and everyone stood staring. He found his mother at the edge of the crowd. She looked stunned.
Well, he was feeling a
bit flummoxed himself.
“I’m in love with her,”
he told his father gruffly.
His father looked him
directly in the eyes. “She’s not just
some girl.”
“No.” Thomas shook his head. “No, she’s not.”
Raymond just looked at
him for another moment. Then his father
gave him a single nod and moved to the side.
But just as Thomas started for the doors again, Ellen swooped into the
room from the back of the house.
“Hey, everyone.” Her big smile dropped as she looked around
the room. “What did I miss?”
She’d just missed her
best friend running away from her brother.
Thomas ran toward
her. “Where is Kara staying?” he asked
in a rush.
Ellen’s eyebrows rose,
but she didn’t ask any questions. “My
place.”
“For how long?”
“Just tonight. She’s catching a ride back to Houston at
midnight.”
Thomas glanced at his
mother’s prized grandfather clock. It
was eleven forty-two.
Ellen gripped his
sleeve as he started for the door. “She’s…”
“Everything,” Thomas
told her.
Ellen looked surprised,
then she gave him a huge smile. “Go get
her.”
Thomas ran, finally
succeeding in reaching the door, and tore it open with a flourish. “Kara!”
But there was no one on
the porch or the front walk. He looked
from side to side, but there was no sight of an emerald dress. He started down the steps, and almost stepped
on a tube of lipstick, two sticks of gum and an ink pen. Almost as if someone
had dropped her purse and spilled some of the contents.
He grinned and scooped
the items up, pocketing them as he continued down the steps.
At the bottom, his grin
grew. Lying on the stones was a beignet
surrounded by a circle of powdered sugar.
Kara had definitely
come this way.
He headed for the front
gate. Surely she hadn’t been able to get
a cab that quickly.
But there was no sign
of her as he looked up and down the sidewalk.
“Come on!”
He turned to see his
sister jogging toward him.
“Clarence hasn’t even
put the car away yet.”
Sure enough, their limo
driver was having a cigarette before storing the car.
Within minutes they
were on their way to Ellen’s apartment.
“We only have ten
minutes,” Thomas groaned.
If she got in that car
headed back to Houston, he would just have to keep following her. Whether it was when they stopped for gas, or
a burger, or even if they didn’t stop until Houston, he was going to tell Kara
how he felt.
“It’ll be okay,” Ellen
assured him.
Finally, they pulled up
in front of the building. Thomas bolted
from the car and headed down the short alley to the set of steps that led to Ellen’s
front door.
He started up the
steps, two at a time, but stopped half way up.
His heart was pounding, but he was still able to smile when he saw a
hair clip, a quarter and a cough drop that had clearly fallen from Kara’s bag
when she’d dropped it again. Because right in the midst of everything was
the second beignet.
Thomas scooped it up
and ran up the final six steps. He
banged on the door to Ellen’s apartment. A few seconds later, the door swung
open and Kara stood on the other side staring up at him.
“You followed me?”
She no longer wore the
mask or the gown. She’d changed into
jeans and a t-shirt. There was a small
suitcase sitting to one side of the door.
“And I intend to keep
following you,” he said, stepping into the apartment and pushing the door shut
behind him. “But I’d love it if you
decided to stop running away.”
“I just…”
“I know.” He took a step forward.
She took a step back.
“I’m not…”
“Yes, you are.” He stepped forward again.
“You don’t…”
She stepped back again,
but came up against the wall.
“Oh, I most definitely
do,” he said gruffly, pressing close.
She stopped and sighed. “I just really…”
“I know. Me too.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really.”
She smiled then. “Oh, good.”
“Stay?”
She sighed. “That sounds really nice.”
“It will be very
nice.” He lifted the beignet. “You left this behind.”
Kara looked at it, then
smiled a small sexy smile. “I really do
love powdered sugar.”
Thomas felt his heart
expand and knew that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, with the only
woman he would ever love.
After they kissed for
what seemed like a year and a half, Thomas reached for the snap on her jeans.
“I should probably tell you that I happen to
have a powdered sugar fantasy.”
Kara began unbuttoning
his shirt and pulling his tie loose. “Really? Tell me more.”
“I intend to show you more. Does Ellen have any in the house?” he asked,
unbuckling his belt and toeing off his shoes.
“Yes. But sadly no beignets to put it on.” She gave him a wink.
That wink made him
groan. “Prepare yourself. This could get really sticky.”
Kara wrapped her arms
around his neck and pulled him close to whisper against his lips, “But
sweet. Very, very sweet.”
Be sure to stop by next week for the 3rd night in New Orleans with Meg Benjamin's, Ash Wednesday!
Mmmm. Now I want beignets. Great story!!
ReplyDeleteAwwwww. Very sweet.
ReplyDelete