Run To You

before he fired up the small engine.
    No, there would be no good times rolling with Stella. In the Quarter or anywhere else. Earlier, he’d checked them into the Bourbon Orleans and headed out to Kasper’s. He’d left her in the middle of the lobby with her duffel at her feet and a room key in her hand. After last night’s conversation, he’d had to get the hell away from her.
    No, there would be no good times. Rolling or lying or standing up. Not in a pool or on a casino floor. No good times with her mouth on him and his mouth eating her up. That was not going to happen, but he did wonder what kind of idiots she’d dated in the past. What kind of idiot failed at his job? Making women moan and call out to Jesus wasn’t that hard.
    Beau shoved his work gloves onto his hands and motioned for Kasper to give over the saw. It was his turn to chew up some Louisiana cypress and keep his mind focused on something other than a certain dark-haired virgin. Focused on his first cut to make sure the tree fell precisely forward. Focused on the danger at hand rather than the danger that waited for him at the Bourbon Orleans later.
    Beau pulled the starter rope and set his feet against the tug of the saw’s teeth biting into the tree. God, he needed to dump Stella off in Texas, ASAP. Before he doubled over due to relentless blue balls.
    T he first thing Stella did with some of her Lucky Seven winnings was shop for clothes and a pair of jeweled flip-flops. For a few insane moments, she actually thought of buying cowgirl gear: Wranglers, fringe, boots, and a belt with a huge sparkly buckle. But none of it felt like her, and she went mostly bohemian instead. Boho was kind of cowgirl. Okay, more country than cowgirl, and she did buy a blue plaid shirt to wear with a jeans skirt, but her favorite purchase of the day was a paisley dress she’d found at Saks on Canal Street. It was made of thin gauzy material with a white slip underneath. It was delicate and made her feel pretty.
    She bought panties and two bras, and she caught herself looking through lingerie. Slinky, sexy nighties with sheer lace. The kind of nighties no one actually wore long enough to sleep in, and while she looked at the tiny panties and snappy garters, she thought of Beau. Of his mouth and the things he’d said last night. About the things he liked about women. She’d been thinking about the things she’d like him to do to her.
    Which of course was ridiculous and embarrassing. She’d known the guy for only four days, counting the night he knocked out Ricky.
    Stella opened the door to the third floor suite and stepped inside. A bellman followed and set her shopping bags on the couch. She tipped him ten dollars and slipped her backpack into a gold-and-black striped chair. Except for double doors leading to the intricate wrought-iron balcony, the suite was surprisingly modern. Especially considering the age and the French Creole architecture of the rest of the hotel.
    As soon as the door shut behind the bellman, she moved to center of the main floor and glanced up to the loft.
    “Hello?” she called up. “Beau?” She listened but didn’t hear anyone. She hadn’t seen him since he dumped her with a bellman that morning, and it was after six now. He’d mentioned something about visiting a military buddy and apparently hadn’t returned.
    She moved past the wet bar to the couch and gathered her six bags. She headed up the stairs with six corded handles on each arm. The upper level had a narrow bathroom with black granite and tile and a glass-enclosed shower, and a bedroom with two queen beds. She set the bags on the bed with her duffel and eyed the other. She wondered if Beau knew the suite’s sleeping arrangement. She thought of looking over at him during the night and felt a little stitch in her stomach. Too intimate, and someone was going to have to sleep on the couch. Since Beau was big and the couch wasn’t, she figured that someone was going to be she.
    Stella stepped out of her flip-flops and reached into her duffel. She pulled out a clean pair of white panties and a wrinkled pink sundress and laid them on the bed. She’d certainly slept in worse places than on a couch inside a five-star, luxury hotel. A sleeping bag in a van or a sleazy motel came to mind.
    Stella checked her cell phone. She’d had calls from her mother, Ricky, and her dentist’s office reminding her she had an appointment tomorrow. She left a message with the dentist’s