Taking the Belle: A Shapeshifter New Orleans Romance (Her Big Easy Wedding Book 1) Read online

Rosemary laughed. “We pre-gamed at my place. Don’t worry, my driver dropped us off.”

  “Aww, I love drunk Penny,” Ash said, putting an arm around his friend’s waist.

  Rosemary’s other eyebrow went up in curiosity as she glanced back and forth between the two friends.

  “Oh, no,” Ash said, anticipating her question. “We’re not a thing,” he said. “We’re just friends, always just friends. We’ve known each other since, what, homeschool days?”

  Penny laughed, “Yeah, I gotta remember to tell you a story about the time Ash and Bobby and the rest of the crew put on a big talent show just for the parents…”

  Bobby cut her off, coming around the bar and putting a supporting arm around her. “Yes, that’s a good story, I’m sure you’ll remember to tell it tomorrow. Meanwhile, come along, ol’ Lucky Penny. Something I need you to see. Our old homie Vann West sent me an aged bottle of Suntory all the way from Tokyo.”

  Penny was immediately distracted. “Oh my gawd, let’s open that bitch!”

  Ash and Bobby nodded at each other. Bobby busted Ash’s chops constantly, but he was a good wingman. Bobby knew right away that Ash didn’t want this Snow Queen knowing all his embarrassing homeschool stories.

  As Bobby and Penny disappeared to share the bottle with the rest of the gang, Rosemary goggled at him. “You guys are friends with Vann West, the famous TV chef?”

  He gave her his best crooked “aw shucks” grin. “He’s just another kid from the old gang, you know? It’s not an exclusive club or anything. We have room for new friends, too, even if her name is DuChamps.”

  She sipped a second Singapore Sling and shot him a devious look. “Just one problem.”

  Ash leaned in and got a whiff of her perfume, layered on top of her natural scent. It was a tricky thing, picking a fragrance that fit with one’s scent, as well as all the other things that mingled together on a woman’s body. Lotion, moisturizer, chapstick, hair products. Somehow the Snow Queen had gotten it all 100 percent aligned perfectly. Nearly impossible to do for a normal human woman, in Ash’s opinion.

  There was no way they were not leaving together. “And what problem would that be?”

  “I don’t wanna be your friend.”

  Ash’s face fell. “Oh. OK.” He kept it cool. He guessed he should change that private nickname of hers to Ice Queen. He looked down at the bar, away from her gaze.

  “Ash,” she said, bending close to catch his eye.

  “Yeah?” he reluctantly met her gaze once again.

  “You didn’t ask me what I do want.”

  He shrugged. “All right then, non-friend. What do you want?”

  God almighty, she could strike a man dead with that expression on her face, and that man would die happy. She said no words, but instead brought the little red cocktail straw up close to her lips, stuck out her tongue and slowly licked the straw from the tip on down to just below the rim. And then back up again to the tip. The entire time she did not break eye contact with Ash.

  Damn. Those lips. He could already feel them on him. Around him. Who was this woman, sidling up next to him in that dangerous dress. He had learned her name, but who was she, really?

  “Did Bobby get the date wrong?” he asked her.

  “Excuse me, sugar?”

  “I mean, this was supposed to be a Twelfth Night party, but all I can see in front of me is a juicy little Christmas present.”

  She laughed and wolfed her second drink. Damn. Dayum. A hot ass who smells amazing, gets right to the point and can hold her liquor.

  “Grandma, gimme that heirloom ring, ’cause I’m fixin’ to put it on this one,” he said, and could not keep himself from grinning ear to ear.

  She set the glass on the bar and locked onto his eyes one more time. “You ’bout done talking, Boudreaux? ’Cause I myself am ready to go.”

  He nodded, stood up straight and offered his arm to the lady.

  “Good manners,” she commented.

  “My mama didn’t raise a slouch. Bobby or any one of seven people here will make sure Penny gets home. Let’s go, Ms. DuChamps.”

  Chapter 3

  How was it possible that Ash was now speeding along Highway 90 in his 1969 GTO with the daughter of his father’s most hated enemy in New Orleans?

  Ash didn’t know how these things happened and he didn’t care to question fate.

  His friend Penny really was a lucky charm. Rosemary, the little sauce pot, couldn’t even wait until they had made it to her place. As soon as Ash’s car was on the highway, she was unzipping his pants and springing his little beast to life.

  “Lawd, woman, you starting already?”

  Rosemary had not replied with words so much as her tongue. She pulled out his cock and teased the tip with those plump little lips, that sexy tongue. He wanted to pull the car over and claim her body right then and there, but he had to keep them both safe as he drove. This wasn’t entirely fair. But it was nice.

  Ash sped up, racing closer to her place, following the directions she had previously typed in to his car’s GPS. Why this chick would be living on her own in the warehouse district when her daddy had more money than god and the biggest mansion in the Garden District, he did not know, but he was grateful for that fact at the moment. He was looking forward to a night of dark and dirty business with Rosemary.

  Ash just needed to get them there before crashing the car.

  As the speed of his classic GTO reached 75, 80, 85 mph, Rosemary’s mouth worked his shaft with more urgency. Her hands frantically tugged at his shirt. He obliged her by pulling his shirt tails out of his waistband so her hands could reach under and caress his pleasure trail. Damn. Damn, damn damn, she was really working him up.

  Ash wanted to tell her to stop, but he also did not.

  “Slow down, baby girl. Tell me where to park.”

  He had exited the off-ramp and was now headed down her street.

  Rosemary kept going while somehow managing to produce a key card from her purse and handing it to him. A multi-tasker of epic proportions. Ash thought he might love this woman already. He swiped the card at the entrance to her building on Julia Street.

  “Babe, I don’t want the first time we do this to be in a parking garage. Call me a hopeless romantic.”

  She slowed her pace. Then she sat up and looked at him. “There’s going to be a second time?”

  He grinned. “And a third, and a fourth, and a thousandth. I hope that doesn’t scare you. Because even if it does, I ain’t letting you get away.”

  Rosemary’s satin voice came out in a low whisper. “I need to tell you something first. I knew you were going to be at Bobby’s party. Penny mentioned your name. I knew exactly who you were. I had to meet you, if for no other reason than to stick it to my daddy.”

  So, she was devious, calculating and maybe a little bit spoiled. Didn’t matter one bit to Ash. She could use him all she wanted to make her daddy mad. Big Daddy would have to get over it or stay mad because Ash wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Who’s your daddy?”

  She looked at him blankly. “Lionel DuChamps, silly. I thought we’d been over this.”

  Ash grinned and gave her his best bedroom eyes. “Nah, girl. Tell me who’s your daddy now?”

  It took Rosemary a second, but then she caught on, and a sexy smile crossed her face. She arched an eyebrow at him and whispered. “You are?”

  “What? Was that a question? I didn’t hear you,” he teased. “Could you speak up?”

  “I said, you are. You’re my daddy.”

  “You know that’s right. Now take me upstairs to your apartment and let’s finish this, ’cause I’m gonna take care of you real good.”

  Upstairs, her “apartment” looked to Ash more like an entire third floor of an old shipping warehouse. He didn’t see much of it in the dark except the vast amount of space bathed in the lights from the street. She pulled him into her room and plugged in a string of pink lights that were haphazardly pinned to
the crown molding.

  The effect was a rosy glow that allowed him to watch what she was doing to him. Getting sucked off while driving was sheer bliss and crazy exciting. But now, sitting on the edge of her California king-size bed, watching her smile at him as she kicked off her high heels and knelt down in front of him was just beyond everything. It was the best blowjob of his damn life.

  Rosemary expertly sank his shaft deeply into her mouth and further. Now that she was between his legs and not sitting beside him, she could pull him in much deeper, explore more of his body with both of her hands. She worked her way up to a frantic rhythm, softly cupping and squeezing his balls at the same time. When he was almost at blast off, she moved her hands around so she was squeezing his ass. The effect was a growl that escaped Ash’s lips and quickly rose into a roar of epic pleasure. He exploded into her mouth and she was taking it all in with enthusiasm.

  Ash had forgotten to warn her of one thing. Because of his unusual condition, he produced more semen than most men. If she had noticed that fact, she didn’t act put off. She took it all in with the same ease that she tossed back her liquor.

  When his orgasm subsided, Ash caught Rosemary up in his arms and pulled her into his lap. She circled her arms around his torso and laid her head on his chest. He very much wanted to kiss those generous lips of hers, tear off that flimsy dress and make her feel as alive as he felt right now. But with her head down like that she seemed to want to snuggle. And he was OK with that, too. They would have plenty of time for more dirty deeds later. A lifetime together.

  She may think this was a one-night stand. She may have weaseled an invite to meet the offspring of her father’s enemy. But none of that mattered now. She was his. He was hers.

  Whether she knew it or not, she was claimed by the wolf.

  The sun rose over the French Quarter. Ash was alone on his rooftop overlooking Bourbon Street. Utterly spent after a night of passion with his new female, he should be sleeping it off—the booze, the exhaustion, the comedown after four orgasms in one night—but he needed to think.

  And here on the rooftop is where he came to think.

  Specifically, about why Rosemary wouldn’t let him undress her and please her in return. Maybe it was all happening too fast for her. As Ash looked at the sunrise in all of its pinks and oranges, he decided he could go slow with her if that’s what she wanted.

  But there was another problem. He could deal with her quirks, but could she deal with his whole laundry list of issues?

  Perhaps he should just tell his brain to shut up and enjoy the ride for now. Wait for things to unfold naturally and get her parents used to him slowly. Draw it out. Let their love be the small but constant drip of water that eventually creates a beautiful canyon and nobody could imagine life without them together.

  That’s it. That’s the only way. Get her, and her family, used to the whole idea, little by little.

  And if that didn’t work, elope and move to Namibia. That was also a plan.

  Chapter 4

  Rosemary

  “Daddy, Mama, I hope you don’t mind, I’m bringing home my boyfriend for dinner next week.”

  Betsy and Lionel DuChamps both dropped their silver forks with a clatter onto the maple Louis XIV dining table.

  “Well, sweetie, who is the lucky fellow?” Betsy asked, barely able to hide the wild curiosity behind her genteel exterior.

  Rosemary could barely contain herself either, she was so excited to see her daddy’s reaction. “Ashton Boudreaux! I think you know his daddy, Jimmy Boudreaux of JB Chicken.”

  Then to add a little extra flair to her announcement, she sang the commercial jingle: “JB stands for Just the Best!”

  The color wheel on her daddy’s face rotated from gray to beet red to rutabaga purple.

  Her mother simply folded her linen napkin and placed it on the table. Then she crossed her fork and knife at the top of her plate to indicate to the help that she was finished eating, though she had actually eaten nothing. Obviously, she had no more appetite for chicken.

  Lety, the family’s longtime cook, cleared Betsy’s place and was about to take it to the kitchen. But Rosemary flagged Lety down. “Lety, if Mama’s not gonna eat that, I’ll take it. I am absolutely famished. Ol’ Ash and I had quite the night out on the town last night and I was so exhausted I slept all day and haven’t eaten a single thing since brunch at Du Monde yesterday.”

  Lety smiled and placed the second plate in front of Rosemary. She shot her a suspicious look with her blue eyes. “You always were the best eater in the house, little one.”

  Rosemary winked. “You know, Lety, I find that a clear conscience frees up more room in one’s belly to enjoy your fine cooking.”

  This made Lety smile before she went back to the kitchen.

  “Well, gosh, you two. Say something. Anything!” Rosemary cajoled, with a mouthful of chicken. So much for finishing-school table etiquette.

  Lionel finally did speak. He turned to his wife and said, “Betsy, I’ll be in my office.” And with that, he stood and gathered up his plate, fork and knife and walked away.

  Rosemary watched him go and then turned to Betsy, pointing a forkful of chicken thigh in the direction of her father’s back. “You know, that must be a man with the clearest conscience of all. Man alive, nothing can piss him off so bad he won’t eat.”

  Betsy finally looked at her daughter. “My only child doesn’t appreciate anything we’ve done for her. She leaves my house to live in a moldy warehouse and teach kindergarten. God surely has a sense of humor.”

  Rosemary stuffed her mouth with some fried okra. “Doesn’t she, though?” she said.

  “Oh, Rosemary, it is too late to try to get a rise out of me with your feminist nonsense. You done fried that nerve straight away by announcing that you’re dating a goddamned Boudreaux.” Betsy spat the name out as if it was grit in her mouth.

  Rosemary was going to reply with another witticism, but she stopped herself when she spotted the tear in her mother’s eye. And there it went, down her cheek.

  It wasn’t a serious bout of waterworks. Just a single tear. Somehow, that single tear was much more affecting that a full-blown sob fest.

  “Mama.” Rosemary stood and rushed over to her mother’s side. “Mama, don’t cry. I was just so excited. I know you don’t like his family, but I just can’t do anything about this stupid heart of mine.”

  When Betsy didn’t reply, Rosemary stood up straight and took a deep breath. Time to let it go for now, she thought.

  Betsy said, “I need to have a lie down and we’ll discuss this in the morning.” That translated to, I need my Xanax and a glass of wine, and I’m going to go to sleep at 8 p.m. so I can end this most horrid day as early as possible.

  Rosemary was left alone to eat two plates of chicken thighs, sweet potato and the best damn fried okra in the South. Which was fine with her, because it gave her time to think about the future.

  Between her income at teaching kindergarten, and Ash’s income at—whatever it was he did, plus all that chicken money he surely had—maybe they could hire Lety away from her parents. Then she could eat fried okra every night until her arteries burst. Which they wouldn’t anyway, because of her special condition.

  Well, maybe she would have to wait until that trust fund kicked in before they hired Lety away.

  The bigger issue that was now occurring to Rosemary was not about money or trust funds or housekeepers or cooks or okra—although, holy shit, that okra tasted good tonight—but about her very special condition that she failed to disclose to her probably-future husband.

  The fact was, she had a beast inside her. Like, literally. It was such a hushed secret that sometimes she forgot it herself, except on the nights when there was a new moon. Those nights, the big cat came out. Those were the nights she finally felt at home with her own family.

  There had been a handful of panther sightings in the swamps and in the more secluded areas around Lake Pontchartrain, but
local wildlife experts dismissed them as the rantings of old men with nothing better to do than drink moonshine and tell tales. But the truth was, the panthers were real in these parts, mainly because of the DuChamps.

  Yeah. That was a big thing for a boyfriend—let alone a husband—to accept. Especially if it meant that their children could inherit the pesky little gene.

  Rosemary piled a fork load of fig-orange sauce with chicken into her mouth. She chewed on her thoughts and on the chicken. Maybe that trust fund would soften the blow.

  Chapter 5

  Ash

  “Baby girl, I was kind of hoping to drop that truth bomb with a little more finesse.”

  Ash was white as a sheet as he listened to his girl Rosemary tell him her story from last night’s dinner at the DuChamps mansion.

  “Come again?” She stood with her arms crossed, looking as sexy as hell even though she was much more covered up than the other night. Tonight they had decided to meet up at Lafayette Cemetery to go for a walk, and she was wearing a practical peacoat and jeans with some crazy-hot thigh-high boots.

  “I just mean, babe,” he continued, “that when you lower the boom, put some butter on it first.”

  Rosemary smiled. “Oh, you mean the ol’ time-tested butter boom. Is that your nickname for your little friend I had in my mouth the other night?”

  Even Ash had to admit he had sounded absurd. “I don’t know, I was just thinking of doing it a little more slowly. Nicely. Let them get used to me being around. Like a drip, drip, drip of water that makes a beautiful canyon.”

  She cocked her head. “Ash, what is your middle name?”

  “Odd question to ask at this juncture, but OK. Lewis.”

  “Ashton Lewis Boudreaux, are you high? Because if you are using drugs, we are just going to go ahead and end this thing before we even start.”

  He laughed, “I’m not high. I’m talking about easing into things. Getting people acclimated to seeing me around before, you know, going public with our relationship.”