All That Charm: (A Morning Glory Novel Book 3) Read online

  “Guess that was another comment I should have kept to myself,” Jess said with a sigh. She donned a smile. “I’m really hungry.”

  “I could eat a moose. Or a small child.”

  “Eating children is illegal. Not sure about the moose.” Jess tapped something on her phone while she waited on Eden to put on lip gloss. “Ryan’s outside. He said the thong chick won’t leave him alone, so he wants us to hurry before he has to take Pasties to dinner too.”

  Eden laughed. “They’d make a nice couple.”

  Jess made a face. “I’d hate to rip her hair out, but I can.”

  “Meow,” Eden said, opening the door.

  But her laughter died when she found Nick standing against the wall.

  His eyes went wide. “Eden?”

  Nick couldn’t believe his eyes. Eden stood dressed in jeans and a cable sweater, laughing with a tall brunette. For a moment his mind couldn’t process what was taking place. How was Eden here? And where was Lulu?

  But then like a stack of cards falling into place during a shuffle, everything lined up. Eden was Lulu. Lulu was his nanny.

  Holy shit.

  “Nick,” she said, staggering back and hitting the doorjamb.

  “What the hell is going on?” he shouted. He hadn’t meant to shout, but the betrayal, embarrassment, and confusion tangled into something that demanded shouting.

  “Uh, what are you doing here?” she said half-heartedly, her gaze shifting to the right and left, looking for escape.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Eden glanced at the woman beside her and then back at him. “Uh . . . okay then. Surprise?” She held out her hands and wiggled them. Jazz style.

  He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t find the words. His mind grappled with what had been revealed. He had a crush on Eden. No. Lulu. Both? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what to think or feel at the moment. Part of him was incensed. She’d lied. Made a fool out of him. But at the same time, part of him rejoiced because this woman wasn’t aloof or unattainable. At the top of his pile of emotions was the thought that this explained so much. How had he not known? Why hadn’t she told him?

  The brunette with the curly hair and amber eyes looked somewhat amused. She stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Jess. Eden’s friend.”

  Nick looked at her hand before remembering he should take it. “Nick Zeringue.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nick. Should I leave you two?” Jess withdrew her hand, glancing at a silent Eden.

  Eden swallowed. “We have reservations.”

  “I’ll call and let the restaurant know we’re running late,” Jess countered.

  Eden slid too-familiar blue eyes back to Nick. “No. I’ll see Nick on Monday. He and I can talk then.”

  How had he not realized the eyes were the same? There was so much he now saw. But wait, was she blowing him off, trying to slink off without explaining why she’d lied to him? “You’re seriously running from this?”

  “I just think you need—”

  “No. You don’t get to decide. I want the truth. What you should have told me a long time ago. Like when I asked you about your job. Like when I asked you if you’d ever been to Gatsby’s. How could you lie? And why?” Anger reared and pawed at him. What a fool she’d made of him. He’d sniffed after her like a stray waiting for a scrap. She’d played him. Why? For amusement? Had she enjoyed his humiliation?

  “Nick, my friends are waiting.”

  “They can wait.” His voice was hard. “You kissed me.”

  Eden’s eyes flashed. “No, you kissed me.”

  “This is all so interesting,” Jess said, sounding embarrassed yet somehow intrigued.

  Eden looked at her friend. “Go save Ryan from Shelia. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “That’s her name? Hmm. She doesn’t look like a Shelia,” Jess said, still looking interested . . . and obviously unconcerned about whoever Shelia was.

  “Jess.” Eden wasn’t asking.

  “All right. Nice to meet you, Nick. Good luck.” Jess gave a little wave and then shot Eden a pointed look before heading toward the back door.

  Just as Jess disappeared from sight, a gaggle of women descended from the wings of the stage. They were breathing hard and were as noisy as a herd of water buffalo. He squeezed his shoulders together as they brushed by.

  “Good show, Eden. You and Derrick were awesome!” one called out.

  “Thanks,” Eden called back.

  The women looked at him questioningly but disappeared into the room behind Eden, not quite slamming the door behind them. The click was ominous.

  “How could you not say anything, Eden?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her voice quiet, full of regret. “I . . .”

  She wouldn’t look at him. No explanation. Seemed obvious she didn’t have one.

  “You made a fool of me.” His gut burned with shame.

  Her gaze jerked up. “No. That’s not true. I didn’t know how to tell you. I . . . have issues sometimes. It’s hard for me to be—”

  “Honest? ’Cause it would have been easy when I first asked you about taking the second job. I thought you were waitressing. You let me believe that.”

  “I know. It’s hard for me to be forthcoming. I didn’t tell you I was Lulu because I wasn’t sure you would accept me taking care of your daughter. And I wanted to stay with you and Sophie.” Her words sounded truthful. Sincere. His anger took a blow with those words. I wanted to stay with you and Sophie.

  “You thought I would judge you?”

  She directed her stare just over his shoulder and gave a shrug. “Maybe.”

  “Because you’re a dancer?”

  “Because I dance, sing, and shake my caboose. For money.” She paused for a moment. “I know what kind of man you are. I was shocked to see you here at all.”

  “I’m a dude. I’m pretty sure I established I’m no Boy Scout.”

  “But you’re a good guy, and you have a certain reputation. You’re just beyond all this,” she said, finally looking at him. “I wanted to keep my worlds separate. I didn’t want you to see me . . . this way.”

  He tried to wrap his mind around the idea that she’d tried to protect his delicate sensibilities. Which was absurd. Gatsby’s wasn’t a dive, and she wasn’t stripping. She headlined at a reputable nightclub. And she was doing it with panache, pizazz, and all the theatre verbiage he could think of. “I don’t understand you.”

  At those words she sighed. “You wouldn’t be the first to say that.”

  He watched her silently.

  “You’re right. I should have told you,” she said finally.

  “It would have saved me from looking like a fool.”

  “You’re not a fool.” Eden sounded adamant. “Look, I tried blowing you off. I figured if you thought Lulu was unavailable, you wouldn’t come back. That you’d never know. That was stupid though. You’d eventually find out. I don’t know why I hid this.”

  “Why did you kiss me? Why did you let it go that far? You could have stopped me.”

  As he said the words, he knew. She wanted him. He’d seen it in her every move when they’d stood in his courtyard sharing a cocktail. When the strung lights paired with moonlight caught her just right, he’d seen the hunger. He had almost kissed her then. Tonight Eden hadn’t been able to help herself any more than he could have stopped himself from kissing Lulu LaRue.

  For a moment they stood, two people so unsure about everything. But knowing the truth. He knew it was reflected in his eyes.

  Reprieve. They both needed it.

  “You have to go,” he said, giving her an out.

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “We’ll talk later. We both need time to process this.”

  “Okay.” She looked at the door her friend had disappeared through moments ago.

  A frantic-looking Asian woman nearly mowed them down, brushing past and carrying a bag of ice. She spared a scathing look for him bef
ore saying to Eden. “You missed three steps. You want top money, don’t miss steps.”

  Eden’s face colored, and Nick almost snatched the woman by the hair and dragged her back to apologize to his nanny. Christ, his nanny.

  “I didn’t miss a single step, and you know it,” Eden called out.

  The woman flipped Eden off. Eden merely smiled, the pink fading from her cheeks. “She loves me.”

  There was so much he didn’t know about the woman who sometimes washed his clothes and bathed his daughter. So small and so complicated. Now things were even more complicated. No longer was this just about sex. There was more at stake. He needed to think. “We’ll talk Monday.”

  Eden nodded. “Bye, Mr. Zer—Um, Nick.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, after what just happened, you cannot call me Mr. Zeringue.”

  Sophie splashed in the tub and shrieked when Barbie fell out of the boat into the bubbles. “Help! Help!”

  The child’s hands jerked when she grabbed the doll, but she was successful. Sophie wasn’t a normal kid, but she managed to lose herself in her own magical world of make-believe.

  “What made Barbs fall?” Eden asked, resting on her knees beside the soaker tub in Nick’s master-bath suite. The modern bathroom was as big as Eden’s living room and kitchen put together. One day she’d have a bathroom like this—big, unlimited hot water, and lots and lots of scented bath salts.

  “A big storm,” Sophie said, making the accompanying noises. The child’s face was screwed up in concentration as Ken dove off the side and swam to Barbie’s rescue.

  “Needs Ken to save her, huh?”

  “No,” Sophie said, making Ken sink beneath the foam. “He’s a bad swimmer.”

  Eden laughed, cocking her ear toward the open door. Nick would be home soon. The dread she’d carried around with her all day fluttered against her heart. Rehearsals had gone smoothly, though Frenchie hadn’t let her forget she’d promised to learn a fan dance. Fredric had called to tell her he had negotiated a higher salary, and she’d hugged Jess and Ryan goodbye that morning with a promise to visit the beach soon. All in all, a good day . . . except for the horrible knot in her stomach.

  Nick was angry.

  And he had cause to be. She’d lifted onto her toes and met him halfway in that kiss, wanting the memory of his lips more than peace in her life. Just one kiss to keep her company on cold nights when she huddled beneath her cheap comforter and prayed the roach spray was working . . . along with the new lock she installed. When she was lonely, she could look back and recall the feel of his body against hers along with the taste of whiskey and warm male. She could remember how good he smelled—clean and expensive—and how he’d devoured her mouth like a man tasting water after a drought. That kiss had legs and would stay with her a long time.

  But that kiss was to be a secret. Nick wasn’t supposed to discover she was Lulu.

  She felt the garage door vibrate.

  No more secrets.

  “I’m home,” Nick called to them.

  “We’re in your bathroom,” she called back, the knot sinking lower as she picked up the baby shampoo. “Let’s get you clean, sugar britches.”

  “I ain’t no sugar britches,” Sophie said, her own response making her laugh as she tried to make Barbie kiss Ken.

  Yep. Couldn’t get away from the kissing.

  “Hey, gals,” Nick said, popping his head into the bathroom. “Oh, bubbles today, huh?”

  “Daddy,” Sophie cried, splashing around and nearly coming out of her safety seat, “I’m a mermaid. Edie’s gonna make me a tail.”

  Nick’s gaze met hers. Eden lowered her eyes and flipped the top of the shampoo. “My aunt sews.”

  “That’s awfully nice of her,” Nick said.

  “I’ll finish up and get Soph into her jammies,” Eden said.

  “And then we’ll talk,” he said, softly closing the door.

  “Is Daddy mad?” Sophie asked.

  “No,” Eden said, knowing she was telling a fib. Nick was angry with her because she’d made a fool out of him. But he had to see it her way. She hadn’t been trying to deceive him. Heck, she hadn’t thought he’d ever come to Gatsby’s anyway. How was she to know that they’d do an article on her and that suddenly she’d become the toast of Bourbon Street?

  Because I told you so, dork.

  She could hear Lacy’s voice in her head. Her dear friend had been so certain Eden was destined for greatness. Any daydream Eden had through the years regarding fame and fortune hadn’t sounded ridiculous to Lacy. Her friend had called them attainable goals. Even the limo and cabana boys. Lacy believed Eden deserved good things in life, and that belief had bled into Eden. She didn’t have confidence in much, but she had confidence in her God-given talent to become whoever she needed to be on that stage.

  “Grown-ups like to talk. My mama talked to my dad. She don’t want to see me.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “My mama. She lives in California. You been there?”

  “No, but I’ve seen it on the map,” Eden said, squirting some shampoo into her palm and lathering it into Sophie’s thick brown hair.

  “Disneyland’s got Sleeping Beauty’s castle. I want to go see Cinderella’s castle.”

  “Of course.” Eden scrubbed Sophie’s scalp, inhaling the scent of the shampoo. She’d gleaned through conversations with Sophie and a few remarks by Nick that his ex-wife wasn’t overly concerned with her role as Sophie’s mother. She knew how Sophie felt firsthand.

  “That’s in Disney World. You want to go?” Sophie had moved on from her mother to the things that preoccupied little girls—princesses, castles, and fantasies. Eden knew that too. She’d been a little girl. Once.

  “Sure I do,” Eden said, picking up a plastic Mardi Gras cup on the side of the tub. “Let’s rinse.”

  Ten minutes later, Sophie was in bed watching a video. Eden had tidied up the bathroom, rinsed the tub, braided Sophie’s damp hair, and done everything she could to postpone the inevitable. Eden trudged down the hall, wondering if she could make some kind of excuse to get the hell out. She hated uncomfortable conversations. And this would definitely be one.

  Nick sat on the couch sipping a drink and staring into the flames of the fire he’d ignited in the hearth room. He didn’t look up when she entered the room. One glance at the kitchen clock told her she had thirty minutes before she had to depart for Gatsby’s.

  “Sophie had an early supper. She wanted to put on her new Tinker Bell jammies. That’s why I went ahead and gave her a bath.” Keep it neutral. Maybe he’d drop everything and do the ostrich thing. Pretend nothing had happened. That’s what they did in Eden’s family. Pretend all the bad stuff away. Or fight about it until someone called the police. Toss-up.

  “Thank you. You want a drink?”

  “No thanks.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You sure? I find alcohol makes hard stuff easier.”

  “I find alcohol leads to things like pregnancy, bar fights, and/or rehab. It does not make things easier. Just hazier.”

  “Touché,” he said with a ghost of a smile.

  She sank onto the edge of the couch, knowing it looked tentative, but it wasn’t as though she could sprawl casually. Tension thickened the air.

  “I’m not going to fire you . . . or beat you,” he said, amusement lining his voice.

  “I’m not scared of you. I just like this spot.”

  Nick shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about this situation for the past forty-eight hours, but I’ve got nothing. Well, not nothing. I’m disappointed, embarrassed, and pissed.”

  Eden bit her lip.

  “Still, I’ve tried to put myself in your tap shoes, so to speak. Harder than I thought. I personally would have told my boss and friend I had a second job performing at Gatsby’s. But I’ve never worn tap shoes.”

  Her lips twitched at his last comment.

  “I’m not you.”

  “No,” she said,
allowing her body to relax at his words. His tone and demeanor portrayed an understanding man, a man who knew others weren’t always comfortable being who they were. “You’re right. Telling someone I work at Gatsby’s would have been the practical thing to do. Most people wouldn’t hide the fact they worked there. It’s not like the place is low-rent. Maybe titillating at times. Slightly bawdy. But not classless.”

  “It’s a nice place.”

  “My only excuse is that sometimes my past colors my present.”

  “We all have baggage, Eden.”

  “But some people’s baggage is heavier than others . . . and some of us make ours heavier by our own insecurities.” She knew that was true. The way she’d been brought up had made her cautious, less likely to misstep. Not to mention she shouldered a huge chip of inferiority.

  “But none of that solves this matter. None of it explains the attraction I have for you,” he said, setting his glass on the coffee table and turning toward her. “That’s not so easy.”

  “Maybe I’ll have that drink now.” She laughed.

  “Even if it leads to a bar fight?”

  “I’ll take that over getting pregnant,” she said, finally allowing herself to smile before realizing what that implied.

  “I can forgive you for not telling me about the Lulu role, but this thing between us”—he waved his hand in the space between them—“is still here.”

  Relief sank inside her only to bypass the rising anxiety. She was attracted to him. But he was attracted to Lulu. So should they pretend the toe-curling, earth-shattering kiss hadn’t happened?

  “I’m good at ignoring things,” Eden said.

  “But I’m not,” he said, clasping his hands between his knees staring at the coffee table with eyes the color of stainless steel. “This isn’t going to go away.”

  “But I work for you.”

  “You want to ignore any potential . . .” He didn’t seem to know where the glimmer of possibility could take them.

  “Exactly.” Eden stared at her fingers. She’d been biting the skin around her thumb, and it was raw and red. “You don’t know what to call it because where can we really go with this attraction? We’re so different from one another. I’m not looking for love. And you, well, you have a daughter, an established career.”