Monday, August 20th Hurricane Greta T-9 days Le Saphir, the club on New Orleans’ famous Rampart Street, offered a perfect trifecta: cocktails, bar food and great music. The main floor of the club was reminiscent of the 1930s with its red leather booths, velvet curtains, and intricate metalwork. The musicians in the dining room offered an evening of both traditional jazz and the Great American Songbook. Upstairs, tables surrounded a large dance floor, where a DJ spun Latin dance music. Kip sipped a Sazerac, a cocktail with Cognac, bitters, sugar, and Herbsaint. Sitting across from him, Kyle, drinking the same, raised his glass. “Relax and blow off some steam. You landed two hours ago. There’s nothing you can do tonight.” Kip shook his head. “When Kieran and Martin called me over after the San Diego dinner, I thought I screwed something up.” Kyle laughed. “You are now the Executive Director of Chase Security-New Orleans.” His right hand mimicked the Catholic rod with attached ball with tiny holes that, when shaken, dispensed holy water in blessings. Kip blew out a breath. “I have twenty-six days to get the branch in running order. And I need to keep us afloat in a hurricane. Owen Errol, our wonderful decorator, designer and coordinator of all things beauteous, wants to take me suit shopping. The house Owen’s husband, Barry, chose is great, but what am I going to do with six bedrooms?” His lips quirked up as his chest bounced with laughter. “Hahaha, your parents can move in with you.” Kyle leaned back in his seat as if Kip were about to punch him. Kip’s face contorted. “Uh, no. I asked Barry to look for a condo for them. Their house in Jersey is getting too much for them to handle. I pay for their gardener and pool service, and my dad keeps firing them because he can do it better. My brother and sister-in-law have been less than hospitable to my folks, unless they’re babysitting. And my sister is still finding herself. I have a feeling she’ll be calling—wanting to find herself in New Orleans.” Kip chuckled and watched the full dance floor, his foot tapping in rhythm to “Vivir mi Vida.” A man in a black suit and thin black tie approached them. “Gentlemen, I apologize, but this table is actually two tables joined together. Would you mind if we separated them? We will adjust your bill for the inconvenience.” Kyle stood. “Sure.” The maître d’ moved the candles to one of the rectangular tables, sliding the second table away. Kyle moved to sit across from Kip on the short side. The swiveling stools allowed them to put their backs against the window, giving them a clear view of the exits and dance floor. Their waitress wiped down the other table, covered it with a cloth, and turned to them. “Your tapas are coming out. Two more Sazerac?” Kyle nodded, then turned toward Kip. “Tonight, no more work talk. You have a great executive team. Tomorrow is a big day. A little dancing may do you good, get those endorphins going. You can panic tomorrow.” “You have a great way with words.” Kip rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. The maître d’ returned, escorting two women to the other table, both with long blonde hair secured in a high ponytail. That was where their similarities ended. One was tall with petite features and vivid green eyes. As she turned to take her seat, Kip noticed a baby bump. The other woman was about five feet tall with a voluptuous figure that would make Rubens smile. Her round face, pert nose and luscious lips tightened Kip’s body with awareness. Before she sat, the pregnant woman approached Kyle and him. “Thank you for letting us share your space,” she said over the music. “You’re welcome. I’m Kip, and this is my friend Kyle. May we buy you ladies a drink?” The pregnant woman rolled back on her heels and responded with an enormous smile. “That would be great.” The shorter lady grimaced, looking embarrassed by her companion’s agreement. The word “no” appeared on her lips. “I’m Chantal, and this is my sister, Harper. A drink would be great.” Chantal pulled on her sister’s elbow and shot her a look. The waitress delivered Kip and Kyle’s fresh cocktails and their platter of food, including olives, cheeses, prawn, scallops, fried pork, and beef medallions. “Their order is on us,” Kyle said, his soft Alabama accent sexy and warm. “While you’re waiting, please share with us.” And he’s off, Kip thought to himself. Kyle loved meeting new people, especially women. Harper ordered a milk punch, while Chantal ordered a club soda with a touch of cranberry juice. The DJ played songs by Celia Cruz and Hector Lavoe, as well as more modern songs by Santana, Luis Fonzi, Maluma and Mark Anthony. Kip watched Chantal lean toward Harper, who gave a tiny shake of her head and shoulder shrug. He kicked Kyle under the table. Kyle leaned toward Chantal. “Would you like to dance?” Chantal placed her hand inside Kyle’s. “You salsa?” She raised her brow. Kyle winked. “Enough to get by, darlin’.” “Harper is the real salsa dancer in my family,” Chantal verbally nudged her sister. “So is Kip. C’mon, Harper, help the poor guy relax. He’s about to enter hell, working eighteen-hour days.” Kip cocked his head. “Harper?” Chantal glared at Harper until she said, “Um, okay,” and extended a shaking hand to Kip. Her sister nodded. Kip’s hand wrapped around hers as he led her to the dance floor. Letting the music lead, he waited for Harper to relax before he placed a gentle hand above her hip. She startled at his touch. “Sweetheart, I won’t hurt you. I promise.” “Noche Y De Dia” by Julio Iglesias played. Their eyes met, her gray-green irises mesmerizing him as the fragrance of peonies surrounded him, her body forming a square with his. He took her right hand with his left, and she placed her left hand on his shoulder. As the tempo increased, she disappeared into Kip’s lead, still maintaining her distance but letting the tension release from her body. Harper stayed easily in step with him. He smiled at one point when she closed her eyes with a sigh. The music drifted into a sexy, slow tempo. Kip pulled her a bit closer, but her body stiffened. A trace of fear touched her beautiful features. “It’s alright,” he soothed. His mind emptied of everything except for Harper’s face and the sultry song. Kip loved to dance, but this felt more than a dance—it was somehow intimate. As the song concluded and the band signaled for a break, Harper stepped back and dropped her head. She seemed to feel guilty for enjoying the dance. As they approached the table, he saw Kyle returning with Chantal, who wore a brilliant smile. “He did more than get by.” She laughed before taking a greedy sip from her drink. “That’s because I let you lead,” Kyle joked. Harper’s smile remained practiced. “Sweetheart, that was amazing. Where did you learn to dance like that?” Kip asked. “Ballroom dance lessons. Our parents wanted us to be graceful,” Chantal answered for Harper. “She paid attention. I was distracted.” “‘Distracted’ is a good word,” Harper said. Kyle lifted his chin toward Kip, and the two slid the girls’ table in front of theirs. “Kip, where did you learn to dance like that?” Harper asked. “Miss Kim’s Dance Studio. I was short, dumpy, and uncoordinated. All I wanted was to become an Olympic gymnast. Don’t laugh—I was eight, and I also wanted to be an astronaut. My parents indulged me. My mom helped me with diet and nutrition. They enrolled me in a gymnastics class. The major issue was I had two left feet, so the coach said to try dance lessons. “I was one of two boys in the program. The director said I had to take ballet before I could enroll in other classes. I did it because I wanted to take the fun classes: jazz, hip hop and Latin. Soon I was doing jazz and Latin dancing. Hormones began to kick in, as well as the diet and exercise. I continued dancing and competing in gymnastics all the way through high school.” He shook his head. “I got bullied big time for taking dance, but the other guys lost out. It was me and ten girls in every class I took.” Kip laughed. “And the combination of the two helped get me into college. “And here you are with two girls. Well, two and three-quarters girls.” Chantal patted her bump. “Dancing pays off,” she teased. Harper turned bright red. “I’ve known you for twenty years, and you really took lessons,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “You knew I took dance lessons.” Kip shrugged. Kyle opened his palms. “Asshat, not dance lessons. Gymnastics. I thought we gave you that name …” The music drowned out his voice. “Okay, boys, what gives? Is this part of your conquest act?” Chantal asked. “No,” Kyle grumbled. Kip held up his hands. “Kyle and I served in the Navy. We met when we were assigned to the same unit.” Kyle chuckled. “The dance lessons showed on our first leave together.” “It was obvious when I danced with that girl from Kappa Kappa Gamma. They thought they were going to make the Navy boys look like fools. They had the DJ play ballroom music and pitted that Prudence Something-or-Other against one of us. I was pissed and volunteered. After stepping on her toes for the first six measures, I twirled her into my arms and took her around the dance floor in a perfect Argentine tango. Dip included.” Chantal laughed, and Harper paled. Kip wondered what part of his story upset her. “Yeah,” Kyle shook his head, “I’ve never seen so many pouts.” “What name did they give you and why?” Chantal leaned on her hands. “Acrobat,” Kyle said. “Ky, please.” Kip sighed. “You earned a bronze star with valor for that nickname,” Kyle reminded him. “I was doing my job. Nothing special.” “I think it was more than that, Kip. But we didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” Harper soothed him. “Thank you.” Kip placed his hand on hers and inhaled. “I was with my team on a mountain marked by a number that, for the moment, had some strategic value. Unfortunately, our position was popular knowledge to the enemy. We were ambushed under heavy fire. I held them off as the team made it partway down from where we were,” Kip started the story, avoiding using the word SEAL. Kyle held his palm up. “He was bringing up the rear and stopped. We had heavy wounded. The only thing that would save us was to call in an airstrike, but it was what we called danger close. The strike would be on top of us. No good. Kip created the distance for us. He called in the strike…right over him. As hellfire rained down, I looked up to see him leap from one large rock across a crevice, front-flipping to another rock and diving over another crevice, landing on his feet and running toward us. He saved the team.” Kyle nodded at his friend. Chantal began to cheer when Harper placed her hand on her sister’s to silence her. “Kip, thank you for sharing.” Kip admired her for understanding. She intrigued him more. “Kip, Chantal tells me she and Harper are born and bred Crescent City girls. I told her you are moving to town,” Kyle changed the subject. “Well, if you need a tour guide, Harper and I will be happy to show you around,” Chantal offered. “Are you free Thursday? Our designer/decorator/prince of personal appearance is taking me house hunting and suit buying. He says I need a look.” Kip chuckled, not expecting a real offer from the women. “You do. Senior executives need to dress to impress. Wool winter suits won’t cut it in N’awlins. And you can’t dress in shorts and polo shirts. Help him out, ladies.” Kyle laughed. “He’s right about wool. You’ll get a terrible heat rash in your pits and male parts,” Chantal said. “Or you’ll get heat stroke. Make sure you go to Clothes Contact. I buy my suits there. Their specialty is executive clothing, and the men’s department is amazing. Sales staff is like tele-evangelism for suits, but the clothes are worth it. It’s the best place in town.” “Channy!” Harper shook her head, cutting her sister off. “Have you settled on a place to live?” “My company purchased a home for me. Barry, our homes consultant, is taking me to see a house in the Garden District. My office is in the Central Business District,” Kip said. “It doesn’t seem to be a bad commute.” “We live in the Garden District. There are some beautiful old homes there,” Harper advised. Kip checked off in his head that this topic was safe territory. In the company of her sister, she began to relax. Suddenly, it was Chantal who tensed. Something or someone upset her. “Chantal?” Kip asked, scanning the area. “It’s nothing,” she maintained and adjusted her seat. Kyle raised a brow. “Miss Chantal, those four overdressed women and their macho-looking male companions walked in, and your shoulders are up to your ears.” Harper followed her sister’s sight line to see what had upset Chantal. “Have you ever seen the movie Mean Girls? Those four never found redemption.” “Incoming three o’clock,” Kyle said. Both girls tensed. A woman dressed in a white sequined minidress with four-inch clear heels led the group toward their table. “Oh, my gawd!” she shrieked. “Girls, look who’s here.” “Hello, Annabelle, Colette, Olivia and Vivian,” Chantal said through gritted teeth. Vivian lowered her eyes to Chantal’s belly. “A baby?! When are you due?” “Tell them, cherie. We’re so excited.” Kyle slid her into his lap and placed a protective hand on her belly. “Baby is due in October. Kyle and I are taking advantage of our pre-baby time.” Chantal cupped Kyle’s cheek with her palm. “And you, Harper?” Colette raised a perfectly penciled brow. “Do you want to tell them, or do you want to keep it between us for a little longer?” Kip placed his hand on hers. Harper was more reticent than Chantal, but she played along. “You can tell them, Kip.” “I asked Harper to marry me. I also asked for her forgiveness because I’ve been so busy with my new position, I haven’t had a chance to pick up her ring from being resized.” Kip leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “This is a surprise considering it was only yesterday…” Olivia started to say before she was interrupted. “What do you do?” the man with Olivia asked. His suit seemed to ooze oil. Kip opened his wallet and removed his business card. “I’m the executive director of the New Orleans branch of Chase Security International.” “Wow. Sugar, that’s owned by those billionaire brothers, Ian and Kieran Chase,” the man with Collette said. “Look.” He googled the Chase Group on his phone. “That’s you!” Vivian’s eyes went wide. “And you, Kyle. It names you as some of the founders.” “We need better pictures,” Kip said flatly. “Can we buy you folks a round of drinks?” Kyle asked. By their body language, the guys wanted to hang out, but the women clearly wanted to head to their reserved table on the other side of the club. The minute they were gone, Chantal hugged Kyle. “You are too much. Thank you.” “That was so cool!” Harper giggled, her fears seemingly dissipating. “We’d never let them hurt you,” Kip said. As Harper stared at him, a wrinkle formed between her brows. Someone had definitely hurt her. “They’ve hurt you before.” Kip’s features softened “High school bullies.” Harper stared across the room. Kip knew there was more than that. And Olivia’s comment about only yesterday was left unfinished. Chantal rolled her head and let her shoulders settle with a deep sigh. “Thank you again, Kyle.” She swallowed, and her happy demeanor returned. “She likes you.” She focused on Kyle’s hand. “Do you feel her kicking?” “Wow.” He helped her back into her seat from his lap. Chantal and Harper excused themselves to head to the ladies’ room. Now that the two men were alone, Kip turned to Kyle. “That was interesting.” Kyle sighed, his eyes following Harper and Chantal. “Those four women were mean, but there’s more to the story. I would’ve liked to hear Olivia finish her sentence.” He stared toward the entrances to the restrooms. “We are on the same page,” Kip said. Kyle turned his head to watch. “They’re speaking French. C’mon, bleach blonde, turn a little so I can see your lips.” *** Brigitte Mone, a registered nurse with the Sommerstone Group, walked into the bathroom as Harper and Chantal walked out. She greeted the sisters in French. “I’m surprised at the both of you,” she continued. “What do you want, Brigitte?” Harper asked, continuing the conversation in French. “It’s confusing to me, considering your relationship with Jerrold, that you are here with another man.” Brigitte’s tone was cutting. “There was never a relationship with him, and there never will be,” Harper huffed. Chantal stepped between Brigitte and Harper. “I’m warning you, if you cause Harper problems, you’ll have to deal with me,” Chantal threatened in French.  Brigitte shoved Chantal and went inside the restroom. “Channy?” Harper hugged her sister. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine. Are you good?” “I was thinking we should go home,” Harper said. “Are you always going to let fear win?” Chantal turned to face Harper, her back to the dance floor. “Those men aren’t like any of those boys we grew up with—especially not Jerrold Sommerstone. And you’re worried those girls will rat you out to Mother? Screw them.” Harper nodded, wrapped her arm around Chantal’s elbow, and returned to the table. *** The two men stood and held the ladies’ chairs. Chantal seated herself, striking up the conversation again: “Before the interruption, I was about to ask if you’re taking an office in the Sommerstone Tower near City Hall. That is the only large open space downtown. But thinking about it a little more, I remembered the local news chattering about a big conglomerate buying it.” Before either man could answer, Chantal’s eyes sparkled as she gave Kip and Kyle a hard look. “Merde, Chase Security International bought the whole building. And wait, Harp, it’s the building they’ve been highlighting all summer on Owen and Barry’s Home Sweet Yours. Holy spirits, you said Barry picked out your house.” Chantal squealed. Kip and Kyle leaned back and watched her and her sister. “Miss Chantal has our number. Yes, ma’am, our company purchased the building,” Kyle shared. “It is now the CM Chase Building. Kip, when’s the sign going up?” “Not sure. We may wait for the hurricane to pass.” Kip looked at his hands. Harper observed a flash in Kip’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was the sign, the hurricane, or her and her sister that upset him. “I imagine you must keep some heavy-duty secrets,” Chantal kept going. Harper thought about what Chantal said: secrets. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Kip placed his hand on hers, and she practically jumped out of her skin. “Harp, it’s okay,” Chantal soothed. Harper forced a smile. “I’m sorry, you startled me.” The waitress brought a plate of tapas to the girls’ table, and Chantal dug in. “Pardon my sister; the Bump has a mind of its own.” Harper shook her head. “You call it the ‘Bump’?” Kyle laughed. “Stop! I’m catching up from all the puking the first three months.” Chantal’s eyes teared from laughing. Harper put her fingers in her ears. “TMI.” She frowned. “C’mon, Harp. Relax. TMI would be telling them pregnancy is making me horny. I used to wear thongs but now wear briefs. My nipples are so huge, they could channel the spirits.” Harper dropped her head in her hands as Kyle squirmed in his seat. Kip and Chantal enjoyed the laugh. “God, Channy.” Chantal smiled wickedly at Kyle. “Kyle should know these things; he is the baby daddy, after all.” “Another dance, Chantal?” Kyle offered his hand. Kip cocked his head. “Sweetheart?” Harper looked into Kip’s eyes. There was a gentleness in his expression. As a dance partner, he was amazing. As a man, Chantal was most likely wrong. Harper was sure Kip was like all the rest. Kip escorted her onto the dance floor as the song took on the energetic rhythm of a samba. Despite maintaining a ballroom dancer’s frame, she felt happier with every twist of her hips, her workday drifting away. She’d always fantasized about having a real partner she could feel connected to. When the song ended, she fought with herself. Her feet wanted to head toward the table when the rhythm changed to a sensual rumba. “Don’t go. Stay and dance this with me.” Kip twirled her into his arms, her eyes locking on his as he led her through the simple forward and back rocking hip movements. She felt the heat of his body and inhaled his musky scent as it surrounded her. The song grew to a close and the DJ called for a break. Lowering his head, Kip asked, “May I kiss you?” Breathlessly, she answered, “Yes.” He pressed his lips to hers. When he sucked on her lower lip, she groaned as she tasted his drink. His tongue licked the seam of her closed lips, and she opened her mouth, pressing her lips to his with a tentative curiosity. She wondered if he could tell she had no idea what she was doing. She’d never wanted to kiss a man before until now. Her chest rose and fell, rubbing against his hard body. He ended the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “Mmm, I could kiss you all night.” He took her hand and led them back to their table. The dance floor began to fill with a younger and more exuberant crowd. “Ladies, would you like to get a table downstairs? The performances have ended so we can talk some more,” Kyle suggested. Harper surprised herself when she said, “Yes.”