Clinging to Lust √

Chasing Ghosts

Ali laughed. "Of course not. You're a big girl." She turned her back to me and started bagging the beignets. "The usual ten?"

"Yes," I answered, "and a café au lait."

She rested the paper bag of beignets on the counter. "So which country are you flying out to next?"

"Milan. For a magazine shoot equivalent to GQ."

"Take me with you." Her voice was sultry and low.

I ran my hand through my hair. "Can't. It's business."

Ali pouted. "That's too bad. All work and no play makes Trystan a dull man."

"My wife doesn't think I'm dull."

"Do you always have to remind me that you're married?" She looked at the wedding band on my finger and rolled her eyes.

I wiggled my eyebrows, causing Debbie to laugh. "I don't want you getting any ideas. I'm married. Happily."

"Doesn't stop me from fantasizing."

"Well damn," I muttered.

"What?"

I cleared my throat and shook my head. "I'll have that coffee now."

She grinned, plump lips curving sexily. "Coming right up. Can't think straight when you're around me."

I waited patiently as she poured the coffee into a cup and then handed it over, her fingers sliding along mine in a caress. Her skin was softer than I expected. Our eyes met and she winked.

I groaned. How did I tell my wife that I hated getting her favorite beignets because a five-foot-tall blonde wouldn't stop hitting on me?

I shouldn't let Ali faze me. I wasn't interested, but damn was she coming on strong. I guess next time I'll just have to stand in line like everyone else.

I folded the stroller and strapped Debbie into the backseat of the car before driving to the outskirts of New Orleans where we lived. I was about two miles away from the house when the sky darkened ominously and it started to rain, hard drops of rain pelting the roof of the car like a B.B. gun.

I gripped the steering wheel, peering through the thick sheet of rain as I slowed the car down. Wide tress flanked us on both sides like rigid soldiers, and because the street lamps had yet to come on, my headlights were the only source of light. There was an eerie aspect to the dull yellow and halo-like light.

"Water." Debbie pointed at the droplets on the car window.

"That's rain, sweetheart."

"Rain?"

I looked at her through the rearview mirror. Her chubby brown cheeks were puffy and her normally bright green eyes appeared dark as she concentrated on the new word she'd just learned.

"Rain," she repeated softly, still mesmerized by the raindrops sluicing down the window.

I smiled. She looked a lot like her mom at that moment. It was the same look Debra had when she was busy painting one of her masterpieces. Oftentimes, she would bite on her inner cheek and angle her head to the side as if that would somehow let her see things from a different perspective. And once she figured it out, she would smile and continue working.

My heart clenched and then pounded, knowing I would be leaving her for three weeks with a curious toddler while she was four months pregnant with our second child.

The pounding of my heart accelerated when I looked up and saw a figure standing in front of the car on the darkened road. My headlights illuminated a woman dressed in a long skirt and white T-shirt as she sprinted to get away.