Eternal Kiss (New Orleans Vampire King)

Chapter Two

Dinah

I stopped in front of the locked door of The Limelight, and a chill formed goosebumps on my arms, even in the southern heat.

It had been over a week since a murder was committed after hours inside the jazz club.

I had expected to see crime scene tape covering the entrance, but there was none.

Candles lined the sidewalk along with other items paying their respects to the victim.

There was a note on the door stating the club was closed until further notice. I was still in shock to learn that Kirkland Douglas Caan, owner and saxophonist of one of the most sought-after pieces of real estate in New Orleans, had been gunned down by an unknown suspect. If I were one of the residents of the city, one of many who enjoyed jazz music inside the club, I might also have lit a candle. But I wasn’t one of those people. I was Doug Caan’s only child.

As such, I now owned what most would consider a legacy passed down from one generation to the next.

The father I barely remembered left the place, along with all his assets, to me.

The detective said Doug was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but was he really? Since he owned the club and spent every night there, he could have been right where he was supposed to be when the bullet found his chest.

My mother often waxed poetic about the man who swept her off her feet, but I never understood how she could forgive him for abandoning us.

Abandoning me.

He had been my hero.

The dad who tucked me in before leaving at night to play in whatever club hired him.

Then he up and left before I turned seven without so much as a goodbye. I spent months waiting for him to return. Months crying when it was time to go to bed without his kiss to the forehead. He had sent cards at Christmas and my birthday filled with a sizeable check. Did he think they made up for his absence? They didn’t, and neither did this dark building with its secrets. There had been a riot outside the club where he was playing the night he disappeared. My mother assured me when I was older that had nothing to do with Dad leaving town, but what if he wasn’t who she thought he was?

“Dinah?”

I turned at my name and found myself face-to-face with the most striking man I’d ever seen in my twenty-eight years. “Yes?”

I managed to breathe out.

“I’m Luke Bennett,”

the man drawled in a sensuous accent.

All previous interactions had been through my father’s attorney, save for the phone call earlier setting this appointment.

I had expected the manager of Doug’s club – my club – to be my father’s age.

This man was early thirties at most.

He held out his hand for me to shake. I placed mine in his and was shocked at the coolness of his skin. Still, I never wanted to let go.

Working in the music industry in Nashville put me in the presence of beautiful men and women, but Luke was in a class all his own.

And he had class in spades.

He wore a dark grey suit that fit him like he was born in it.

Oh, how I wanted to peel it off him.

The man was a few inches over six feet with light brown hair and light eyes. The way those eyes bore into my soul had me ready to call the lawyer and tell him I was keeping the club. I wanted to slide Luke’s jacket off his arms and rip his shirt open so I could see what the clothes were hiding. I’d never been as attracted to anyone as I was him. Not even Blake, who I’d spent the last four years with. I shouldn’t even be thinking about Luke in such a way. If he was to be my employee, I would need to keep things professional between us, but that didn’t stop my mind from going where it shouldn’t.

When I realized I was still holding his hand while I checked him out, I couldn’t help but blush.

I had to get myself together.

If he was my manager, we would be working closely together, and I couldn’t have him suing me for sexual harassment before I had the chance to even get my bearings.

Dropping his hand, I didn’t apologize.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luke.”

“My deepest condolences.

Doug was a good man.”

Luke shoved his hands in his pants pockets, pulling them taut across his legs and – holy mother of God.

I had to look away before I made a fool of myself.

Pretending it was his comment and not something else that had me flustered, I said, “Doug was a stranger to me.

He left when I was six, and I haven’t seen him since.

You obviously knew a different Doug Caan than I did.”

Luke opened his mouth to respond, then closed it.

His demeanor had changed from open and flirty to something akin to hurt.

I’d seen enough disappointment in my time to recognize it, and it was obvious my father had meant something to this man, so I did the mature thing.

“I apologize for being insensitive to your feelings.

I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.

Let’s step inside and get out of the heat,”

he offered, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket.

I followed him inside and paused to look around.

I expected blood on the wooden floor and evidence of the crime scene unit having done their job with numbered markers and a chalk outline.

I found nothing but a pristine setting.

It was surreal seeing images of the woman I was named after adorning the walls.

Dinah Washington, along with Billie Holliday, Ella Fitzgerald, and even Nina Simone held court, overlooking the place where my father spent most of his time. I wish I could say I possessed even an ounce of the talent my namesake did, but my only musical inclination was singing in the shower. Whatever. I had more important things to worry about like what the hell I was going to do with a jazz club in New Orleans.

“I took the liberty of calling in a cleaning crew.

I didn’t want you to see the place in disarray.

In all honestly, I could have opened the club a couple nights ago, but I didn’t want to step on any toes.”

Luke moved behind the bar and poured himself a drink.

“Can I get you anything?”

he asked, as if he owned the place.

Being the manager for the last eight years earned him the right to feel at home.

I was the one who was out of place, and my demeanor probably showed it.

“I’ll have water, please.”

I needed to keep a level head.

Not about being the new owner; that would come in time.

Taking the proffered water, I sat across from Luke on one of the stools and wrapped my hands around the glass.

“I have no knowledge of running an establishment such as this.

I earned a degree in business, but I currently work in marketing for a major music producer.”

“Please don’t worry about the day-to-day operations.

I’ve been overseeing The Limelight for almost a decade, and unless you have someone in mind to take my place, I would love to continue in that capacity.”

Luke silently studied me to the point I wanted to run out the door, hop on a plane, and return to Tennessee.

When he spoke, his voice seemed to vibrate around the room.

“You should sell the bar to me.”

More goosebumps rose on my skin.

I mentally shook off the weird vibe.

“I would like to take some time and think about that.”

Luke studied me intently.

“I have put together several documents, which outline my role and compensation within the organization as well as all the other employees.

I’ve also included a document listing weekly costs versus revenue.”

He produced a ledger from behind the bar and placed it in front of me, which I found odd.

Everything was done electronically these days.

This was what I’d flown to Louisiana for.

I was here on a fact-finding mission.

Once I gathered a little intel, I was going back home and decide whether to uproot my life.

If I decided to keep the bar, I would work with Luke to ensure things ran smoothly.

I opened the folder and glanced over the contents. I would need a bit of time to study what Luke had prepared, but if the spreadsheet was accurate, The Limelight was running well in the black each week.

“Please feel free to reopen as soon as possible.

I’ll want to take a more thorough look at what you’ve prepared, but I don’t see the need to change anything with regards to how the club is managed.

I appreciate the ledger, but I’d like an electronic version as well.”

“I will open the club as soon as I contact all our employees, and if you give me your email address, I’ll send you all the information you need to make a decision.”

I gave him my email, which he typed into his phone.

“Now that business is out of the way, what do you say to dinner? I would love to show you around our city.

Well, at least the French Quarter.

We won’t have time to see everything New Orleans has to offer, but…”

Luke waited like a kid asking his parents for a puppy – hopeful yet expecting a solid no.

My stomach fluttered at the thought of going on a date.

But it wasn’t a date.

It was a manager offering to show the new owner he could be useful for more than running the club.

“I would love to go to dinner with you.

I can meet you back here around six, if that’s okay?”

“Six is perfect, but I’d like to pick you up at your hotel, if you don’t mind.”

I probably shouldn’t agree to him driving me, but he did know the area better.

“I don’t mind.

I’m staying at Caesar’s.

Text me when you get there, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

There were plenty of hotels in NOLA, but I did love to try my hand at blackjack whenever I got the chance, and staying at the casino hotel would allow me to do so without having to go far to find a game.

“It’s a date.”

Luke blushed, and I couldn’t help but grin.

Gone was the confident man who looked so put together in his suit.

I was looking forward to getting to know every aspect of my new employee.

Packing the ledger into my bag, I slid off the stool and slid the strap across my chest.

Without looking back, I let myself out into the thrum of tourists.

I’d never been to New Orleans, but I’d heard about the city.

More especially, the French Quarter.

When I got the call earlier asking me to meet Luke at two, I left the hotel and walked around, browsing shops, and stopping to listen to the musicians on the corners.

The smell would take some getting used to as would the different types of people.

Nashville had panhandlers and musicians who sat along the sidewalks, but they were nothing compared to those who made their home in the French Quarter, and in broad daylight, no less.

Instead of fighting the crowds on Bourbon Street, I kept to the side roads.

I avoided eye contact with those who I passed, continuing at a decent clip.

When I reached the corner at Chartres, a possum walked over my grave, as my momma used to say.

My skin prickled with unease as though someone was watching me.

I had read how this city was filled to the brim with mystical properties from voodoo to witchcraft to ghosts, but I had thought it was nothing more than marketing to entice curious tourists.

Now I bought into the bizarre nature of my surroundings.

Something or someone was making my skin crawl.

I grabbed onto the strap of my messenger bag and found my feet.

Getting to Canal Street with more pedestrians eased my fear, but only slightly.

The feeling of being watched stayed with me until I stepped into the elevator at my hotel.

I leaned against the paneled wall and shook out my hands.

Maybe I wasn’t cut out for living here.

The lift rose steadily, and I rushed through the doors as soon as they opened, hurrying to my room.

Thankfully, the hallway was void of other patrons, or I’d have felt foolish.

I found the keycard and slotted it into the reader.

As soon as I was inside, I dropped my bag onto the king-sized bed and removed the ledger.

Kicking off my shoes, I settled on the small sofa and placed the book on my lap. Still spooked, I placed it beside me and rose to look out the window. Being that high up, I couldn’t make out faces of the pedestrians below.

What was I looking for? Someone who was staring back? A stranger looking guilty for following me? I had been a single female walking alone in a city known for its high crime rate, which I now realized was stupid.

I didn’t do that in Nashville, so why the hell had I thought it wise to do so in NOLA? Moving to the minibar, I chose a bottle of vodka and dumped the contents into a rocks glass.

I added some ice, swirling the alcohol to chill it before taking a sip.

I preferred it mixed with sweet tea, but the dorm-sized fridge was empty of drinks, tea or otherwise.

Someone knocked on my door, and I held my breath. Had I been followed upstairs without realizing it? Instead of crossing the room and looking through the peephole – yes, I had seen too many action movies – I called out, “Who is it?”

“Flower delivery for Dinah Caan.”

There were only three people who knew I was in town – Luke, his assistant, and Mr.

Fielding.

I set the glass down and opened my messenger bag where I retrieved my wallet.

I didn’t have much cash, but I found a twenty.

I did look through the security hole, and sure enough, an older man held a vase filled with roses. I opened the door and offered the money.

“A tip was added to the payment, but I thank you for the kind gesture.”

He held out the vase, and I took it, thanking him, then backed into the room, letting the door close behind me.

I placed the flowers on the entertainment center and removed the small envelope from the plastic holder.

On the front was my name and room number.

I pulled out the insert, and in handwritten calligraphy, were two words –

First, how did Luke manage to get two dozen roses delivered so quickly? But more importantly, how did he know my room number? Maybe the florist had called ahead? I stared at the roses.

In the four years Blake and I dated, he had bought me flowers once, and that was on the first-year anniversary from when we met.

He gifted me jewelry on my birthday, and those items had been diamonds.

I wasn’t a diamond-wearing woman.

My birthstone was opal, but Blake had called it boring.

I looked down at the opal ring on my index finger and twisted it.

It seemed my choice of jewelry wasn’t the only thing he found boring.

When we broke up, he admitted it was because our sex life was too vanilla, and he needed to branch out.

I didn’t have to ask what that meant.

Neither of us had broached moving in together, and I’d dodged a bullet there.

Breaking up was hard enough without having to split a household.

I mentally shook myself out of the past.

I had too much of my future to dwell on.

Although I wasn’t meeting Mr.

Fielding until the next day to hear my father’s will, I already knew what it said.

I was the owner of The Limelight, my father’s house, and all his assets.

The attorney hadn’t disclosed how much cash or investments I was entitled to, but I had researched housing in the Garden District, and that would be a nice chunk of change if I sold it.

I had no idea how much a jazz club was worth.

It had to be a lot, but what would I do with all that money? If my mom were still alive, I would share it with her.

When I was younger, she made sure I had everything I needed plus the things I wanted.

I never questioned where the money came from.

She was a nurse, and I assumed she made a good wage.

It wasn’t until I was older and living on my own that I learned how much it cost for rent and utilities and food.

She never mentioned my dad sending child support, but now that I knew his lifestyle before he was killed, maybe he sent her a monthly check.

I would find out when I had access to his bank account.

That was a tomorrow problem.

For now, I needed to focus on getting through dinner with Luke.

I glanced once more at the roses, then went to the bedroom and surveyed the clothes I had brought.

What did one wear on a non-date with the hottest man in Louisiana?