Chapter Eleven

What worried Julia more was the huge, black SUV tailgating them so close its headlights blinded anyone looking in the side mirrors. Celine’s bodyguard? Julia didn’t think so. Remy flipped his rearview to night driving and continued on steadily at sixty, slightly above the limit.

“Julia, we’re bush-hogging the lot on Friday, and we’ll be putting in the new culverts to handle the bulldozers and the wrecking crane early next week. I know how slowly the government works. You won’t get your historic designation on time. Please back off.”

“What will happen if I don’t?”

“Trouble. My backers are the Broussards, my daddy’s people though he has nothing to do with them. They might not look like much, but believe me they have money, connections, and power. The old man who heads the family bears a class grudge against the Queen and wants her torn down.”

“You mean that obese geezer who takes the cover fees out at the Barn and tells everyone to pass a good time?”

“You’ve been to the Barn?” Remy gave her a quick glance, his face easy to see in the glare of those SUV headlights.

“Sure, we’ve been working at Alleman since January. My uncles wanted to try the burgers, and I wanted to listen to the music. Both were awesome in their own way. The old man doesn’t seem like much of a threat.”

“Believe me, you won’t be doing any more work in this parish if you cross him.”

“Not a big worry since most of our jobs are around New Orleans or out of state. I figured some kind of fix was in when you got the property for next to nothing and no one bid against you.” She got in her little dig.

“Knocking down the Queen will cost more than the value of the land she sits on, so not much of a fix, I’d say.”

“Anything else I should worry about?”

“Accidents could happen, nothing fatal, but discouraging.” Though Remy kept his eyes on the road, she read concern in the tense set of his shoulders and grip on the wheel.

“Would they do anything to Alleman?”

“I doubt it since they have nothing against the man who bought it, just you.”

The cab of the Remy’s red truck went dark as the SUV decided to pass on a curve and pulled into the other lane. The driver, hiding behind heavily tinted windows, didn’t speed up as he should have, just crowded Remy, their side view mirrors only inches apart. Julia’s heart accelerated as adrenaline rushed through her system. Out of her passenger window she saw only a narrow belt of clay, and deep, weedy ditches still holding water from the last rain.

Remy spoke no longer. He held the wheel steady, dropped his speed, and fell back as they came out of the turn. With a blast of his horn, the other driver screamed into the night.

“My God, was he drunk?” Julia hated how her voice quavered.

“No, just my distant cousin, Slick, playing chicken. You saw him sitting next to me at the meeting. You’d think a man pushing forty would be over childish games. When I was a teen driving a cherry red Mustang my granddad gave me, he scared me into a ditch one night. Totaled the car, but I survived with seatbelt bruises.”

“You could have been killed. We could have been killed.” Julia willed her hands to stop shaking.

“No, he picks his spots where there aren’t any oak trees or culverts to smash into—just in case he loses control. Slick isn’t a man who believes in seatbelts. Tonight, I let him win. I have precious cargo with me.”

She saw the gleam of his smile in the moonlight—and realized they’d arrived at the Black Box, the gate opening and closing as they passed. “Did you plan this?”

“Nope. You’re shaken, and we were closer to my place than yours.”

“I’m f-fine.”

He reached over and touched her arm. “You’re shivering. Let’s get you inside and settled down before I take you back to Alleman. Do you drink whiskey?”

“Not often.” Not since college when she’d had a couple of shots on a dare, but she didn’t want to sound like a wuss. Since she continued to sit in the cab, Remy came to her door and lifted her down. Her legs felt rubbery. He kept an arm around her as they walked to the door.

“Are you sure Slick wasn’t sending us a warning?”

Remy’s shoulders lifted and fell against her side. “Could be. You never know with him, whether he’s playing around or dead serious.”

She hunched at the word “dead”. Remy got her inside and up the stairs to the second level. He lowered her into one of his ultramodern chairs, went to the small built-in bar in the kitchen, took out a couple of glasses, and poured two shots of amber liquid. He handed her one, watched her sip, and wince. “Toss it back if you aren’t used to it. Get it down quick—though that is good sippin’ whiskey, as my grandfather would say.”

Julia followed his instructions. From her last experience, she recalled it went down hot and burned in the belly, but this seemed smoother than the cheap brand at the frat house. The warmth of the liquor spread through her rapidly.

Remy took her fingers his hand. “You’re still cold on a warm night like this. Have another.”

He handed her his glass. She tossed back the contents and slammed it down on one of his tiny tables next to the other. Julia attempted to stand up, but fell into the deep pocket of leather. Why fight it? At the moment, she had no good answer. Relaxing into the sling chair, she closed her eyes. The sound of Remy climbing his metal stairs with her in his arms woke her again. Headed to the bedroom. He provided a ready excuse.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable on the bed, Julie.”

“Sure you did…do, whatever.” She waggled a finger at his very nearby face. “Never call me Julie. That’s a little girl’s name. It’s Julia or Jules. The men like to call me Jules.”

“Because you are a jewel.”

“Oh, another cheesy comment I’ve heard a million times. No, no. no.” She shook her head against the arm that cradled her. “I think it makes them more comfortable with having a female boss. That’s my theory.”

“I’ll stick with mine. You are a rare gem.” Remy nudged open the door to his bedroom with his hip and crossed to his bed. The black satin felt so cool and smooth against her cheek, and the zebra skin a little prickly against her bare legs.

“Let’s make you more comfortable.” He unbuttoned the jacket of her suit and removed her heels. Propping Jules against a pillow, he raked his fingers through her upswept hair. Pins and clips went flying. It fell, thick and tangled into his hands. “All through that meeting I imagined doing this.” His lips moved along the side of her throat, and she no longer felt chilled.

Her finger wagged again. “Ah-ah-ah, we are enemies. We can’t be doing this.”

Remy raised his head and nearly poked his eye on that finger. He curled it down. “We’re frenemies, or maybe enemies with benefits, I don’t know which. Either way, I’ve thought about being with you again every day since the last time. This, between us, has nothing to do with deals or projects. It’s chemistry.”

“Like turning putty into plaster.” Her hand drifted down the length of his body. “I see the formula has worked again.”

“Are you willing?”

“As long as it has nothing to do with the Queen or Black Diamonds. We must keep this separate. I’m not nearly drunk enough to forget that.”

“Deal. Shake on it.” She offered her hand, and he kissed it.

Her cell rang in the pocket of her jacket folded neatly over a chair. “Don’t answer,” he whispered as if someone might hear.

“Have to. I’m sure Todd wants to call the police by now.” She walked to the chair and extracted the phone. “Hi, Uncle Sal. No, no, all is well. You don’t have to come anywhere for me. Our debate lasted longer than I thought it would and got very heated. I’ll be home shortly. Thanks for checking on me.” She rolled her eyes at the last statement as she disconnected. “You’d think I’m his daughter, the one he wouldn’t let date until she turned eighteen.”

“At least your relatives are caring, not downright scary.” Remy helped her into her jacket. She finger-combed her hair. No use trying to find those scattered clips and pins. “Will I pass inspection?”

Remy reluctantly gave her fully clothed body a once over, clearly wishing she wore less. “If they don’t remember how you wore your hair tonight.”

“Men rarely do.”

“I guess we’re ready to go. Your uncles have a deflating effect on me. Unless you want to stay the night.”

“Want to and must not are two very different things. I have to work tomorrow. Remember, we’re still at war.”

“The truce didn’t last nearly long enough.”

She tried to make it up to him with a prolonged kiss that required a lipstick check and the command, “Down, Boy,” to the action in his slacks.

The distance to Alleman wasn’t far. Julia asked to be dropped by the white entrance pillars. “Less trouble for both of us.”

He nodded. “Sorry it has to be this way.”

“For now.” She trudged up the drive toward the motorhome where Sal and Sam sat waiting in camp chairs, cold beers in hand, and Todd by their side. Their intern slept in the loft space over the cab so no sense in going to bed until the other men did. They’d put a bottle in his hand, too. Julia stayed far enough away to keep any of the men from smelling the whiskey on her breath.

“The guy didn’t have the manners to walk you to the door?” Uncle Sammy took a suck on his beer. “You make any progress on the hotel?”

“I asked him to let me out at the entry. No progress on the hotel, but I did learn his immediate schedule to tear her down. Todd, tomorrow we activate the phone tree again and organize a protest for Friday, early.”

“Couldn’t we just message everyone? It would take a lot less time.”

“Considering the average age of the members of both the Live Oak Preservation Society and the Historic District Committee, no. I doubt if they read their messages even if they have a smart phone.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that.” Todd studied his beer bottle with ashamed gray eyes.

“You’re here to learn.” Thinking of a hot bath, Julia turned toward the plantation home.

“But, when am I going to get my hands dirty, make some lime putty, and spread plaster?” His earnest eyes were on hers again.

“Learning how to fight for preservation is just as important as mixing plaster, Todd, but maybe next week sometime.”

“Great! Oh, you look really nice with your hair down, Ms. Rossi.”

Her uncles did the double take with their thick necks. “Thanks. All those pins were giving me a headache. I took them out.”

At the moment, she really didn’t care if Sal and Sammy believed her or not. A hot bath awaited, and tomorrow she went into battle again.