“Really? Here in the Quarter?”

“My parents have a place further west, by Audubon Park. Near Tulane and Loyola.”

“It sounds beautiful. Did you go to college there?”

“When I graduated high school, I joined the military. I’d just started my degree when the first Gulf war broke out. I was sent overseas.”

The image of him in uniform fighting bad guys is an incredible turn-on. “Did you serve for long?”

“I was back and forth,” he says as we approach the small cottage.

A line of white French doors punctuates the terracotta-orange façade of the one-story building. We pass through a green wrought-iron gate into an alley entrance, and a young woman dressed all in black finds our reservation.

“Right this way, Mr. Alexander.” She picks up two large menus and leads us through the small dining area filled with white-covered tables.

Recessed lighting casts the entire room in an amber glow, and large bouquets of red-orange lilies overflow from metal urns.

Derek touches my arm. “Would you like to sit outside?”

The small dining room feels too close for what we might discuss, so I nod. The young woman leads us into a brick-lined courtyard and seats us at a black iron table and chairs. Vibrant green palms fill the flowerbeds and ivy climbs the walls. Crepe myrtle trees stretch tall overhead and star-shaped lanterns hang from their smooth, thick trunks. A red amaryllis springs from a planter attached above a fountain, and the sound of water provides a soothing backdrop.

Once we’re seated, Derek orders two glasses of cava. I can’t help smiling, thinking of that very first night we met. It seems so long ago. The young woman leaves, and Derek stretches a hand across the table to me. I put mine in his, studying the contrast of my pale skin to his rich olive complexion.

“Hidden in this courtyard, I can almost forget the terrible things ahead of us.” I say, watching his fingers close around mine.

“I’m glad to hear it. At first I couldn’t accept what had happened to you. Now I only want to set you free.”

Our eyes meet, and I have to blink away the mist. “Why?” I have to know. It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t ask.

“Why?” He lets out a chuckle at my question.

“Yes,” I’m earnest. “Why of all the options in that bar that night. Why me?”

“Why you,” he repeats as if it’s an academic problem, but I can tell from the gleam in his eyes he’s ready to play. “I guess I love long dark curls and blue eyes.”

His mood makes me want to tease back, but the server appears with a dark green bottle and two flutes. The cork releases with a loud Pop! and she pours us each a glass of sparkling wine.

Before she leaves, we order from the End of Summer menu. Eggplant caviar and tapenade for me followed by wild Alaskan salmon with Gewurztraminer sauce. Derek chooses a smoked quail salad followed by peppered lamb loin with goat cheese and Zinfandel sauce. French Burgundy will accompany our meal and the waitress disappears, giving us a chance to resume our conversation.

We’re quiet a moment, and my mind drifts back to all the questions I want to ask him. He lifts his flute and holds it toward mine.

“To the little things,” he says.

Clinking my glass against his, I smile. “Especially when everything else is so overwhelming.”

He takes a quick sip before putting the glass down again and taking my hand. “Tonight it’s just us. Tomorrow, we’ll worry about finishing this business.”

The level of confidence in his voice is enough to convince me. Our salads arrive, and I pick up my fork to sample the salty caviar mixed with eggplant.

“Your turn,” he smiles. “Where did you grow up?”

“Near the beach in Wilmington.” Using the butter knife, I spread the dark brown tapenade on a slice of French bread. “Elaine and I grew up together playing in the water, building sand castles.”

“Has she always read minds?” He waits as I take a bite of the savory blend of olives and capers. Nodding, I clear it away. “She thought I was telling her things. I thought she was going crazy.”

That makes him smile as he spears a bit of quail with pears. “How did you figure out what was happening?”

“I finally faced her while she was answering a question, and she realized my lips weren’t moving.”

“Hmm,” he nods. “She did that to me earlier. It’s unnerving.”

“Yes,” I agree with a little laugh.

Remembering that day so long ago still makes me smile. We were two pre-teen girls running and playing in the sand. We hadn’t started caring about boys yet, and our days were spent exploring the dunes and climbing the rocks, watching the breakers hit them with such force the white surf shot in the air like a geyser.

“We spent the rest of that summer testing her abilities,” I continue. “We had no idea what was coming.”

Two servers appear with our dinner entrees and the wine. We wait as they take care of our needs, and when they leave, I’m feeling less nostalgic.

“As we got older, she hated her gift. She would ask if she could return it. Or re-gift it.”

He exhales a little laugh. “So no gifts for you?”

Shaking my head, I dive into the rich salmon. It’s perfectly cooked—slightly pink in the middle with a crispy, buttery crust. I let out a little moan it’s so good, and Derek sips his wine, watching me with an expression that flutters my core.

“I’m wondering why we ordered so much food.” His voice is low and sensual.

I lean forward, my nose wrinkling. “I’m wondering the same thing.”

“We can get this to go and have dinner in bed.”

Breathing a little quicker, I lower my fork. “Although I want to know more about you.”

“We’ve got all night to talk.”

Now that he says it, I realize I’m not feeling at all tired. Seems I’m back to nocturnal urges.

“Did you know there’s a pool on the roof of my hotel?”

“I’ve heard about it.” He signals to the waiter, who returns to fetch us boxes and the bill.

“You don’t have a swimsuit,” I pretend to pout, and he leans forward.

“I’ll buy trunks in the hotel gift shop. But I hope we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

“I suppose we have to get back to find out.”

Derek

Our walk to the hotel seems to take forever and not long enough. The dress Melissa wears allows me to slide my hand down her gorgeous back, and I’m rewarded with a slight shiver as she melts into my side.

“Tell me about your work,” I say, pressing my lips to the delicate skin at her temple. “When did you start your own business?”

Her arms are around my waist, and I’m torn between wanting to hurry us back to the room and wanting to prolong our journey. I love having her near me. I love leaning down and inhaling deeply of ocean roses. I love the sound of her voice. It helps me forget about the demons I hunt or the one who’s trying to destroy her life. The one who’s out there now, waiting for us to find him.

“When I finished college, I started my marketing business.” She’s thoughtful and serious about her work, and I can tell she’s good at her job. “At first, it was local, mostly college-based, working with professors and community programs. Then it expanded. I met different people…”

Her voice trails off, and I’m pretty sure I know why. “Is that how you met him?”

Her dark head nods against my shoulder, and my arm tightens around her.

“He was a big client, a big fish.” Her voice is soft, sad again. “The irony is I thought it would advance my career. I’m pretty sure he ended it.”

Again I’m hit with a surge of protective anger. I imagine her beautiful and happy, starting a business and hoping for the best. Doing her homework and trying to land the best clients—only to have it all cut short by a depraved monster.

“You’ll have all the things you wanted.” It’s a promise I’m determined to keep.