I settled into the seat. “Free.” I glanced at him. “Who is Parker?”
“An old friend. Shit. I didn’t tell him I was leaving the party.”
I smiled, satisfied I had identified the friend was a guy. “Should we call him?” I suggested.
“Hell no. He’ll understand. We ran for a reason, and I know exactly where we can go to celebrate.”
“Tell me there’s lots of champagne and I don’t care.”
He laughed. It was a rich beautiful laugh. It made my core quiver and my breasts tingle. Just who was this man?
“Are you even old enough to drink?”
“I’m twenty-one.” My brow furrowed.
He nodded. “Barely old enough to do much.”
I eyed him across the gear shift. “Is there going to be champagne or not?”
We stopped at a red light and I felt the heat of his stare burning my cheeks. “I will make sure there is the most expensive decadent champagne you have ever tasted, Kennedy.” His grin was as sinful as it was inebriating.
I tugged on the hem of my dress. It seemed to creep up inches every time the car turned on a new street.
“Good. It’s the one thing I like about New Orleans.”
I thought I saw a look of shock on Knight’s face. “One thing? You only like one thing? It looks like I have my work cut out for me tonight.”
“I guess you do.”
“I didn’t know dive bars carried expensive champagne,” I teased Knight from the corner of the restaurant.
“My favorites do,” he answered. “Besides, it’s a French bar, not a dive bar. Its owner would disagree with you. Ahh, here she is.”
We had been met at the door by a woman who seemed close to ninety. Her hair was tied with a scarf that matched the one draped around her shoulders. There was only candlelight. I hadn’t spotted a single lightbulb. A man played the piano quietly across the room.
“Thank you, Marguerite.” Knight nodded at the hostess before she walked away.
“How did you find this place?” The walls were chipped. and the paint peeled in long slow strips. The bar’s countertop looked as if it was original, but I couldn’t put a date on it. Maybe early 1800s. It was clear Knight loved this place.
“I know all the good places to hide.” He winked.
“I don’t see a name anywhere?” I looked for a logo.
“Marguerite’s.”
The champagne was sweet and crisp. It was perfect. The atmosphere was perfect.
“Maybe you can show me where they are. I need good hiding spots.” The piano player stopped playing to light another candle. The wax splatters on the baby grand weren’t appalling. They were charming. Almost eerie. He continued to play when the new flame jumped to life.
“I might be willing to do that. But on one condition.” His voice dropped. It was almost too deep and low to hear. I leaned closer.
“You want to negotiate?” I pressed.
He nodded. “I want another dance. The first one was cut short. It was too crowded.”
“Here?” I placed my champagne glass on the well-worn table. “No one else is dancing.”
I watched as he rose from the table, his tall muscular body straightening. He shirked off the tuxedo jacket and carefully folded it over the back of his chair. I watched every movement. Every flex of muscle when he unclasped his cufflinks and rolled his sleeves above his forearms. God, he had tan gorgeous skin.