Sweet Southern Nights. Liz Talley

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       CHAPTER FIVE

      EVA TAPPED HER toe to the music and sipped the ice-cold beer Jamison had bought for her. The band on stage was decent, and the sun had finally retreated behind a cloud, giving them all some relief. Listening to zydeco was fun...when it wasn’t ninety-two degrees and you were sitting beneath a shady tree. Garden City hadn’t planned for the heat, which was stupid because they were holding a festival in September. That equaled scorcher on the scale of Louisiana weather.

      “You okay?” Jamison asked for the third time in an hour. He looked crisp and cool. She had no idea how, because he wore linen pants.

      “Fine,” she said, taking another sip and fanning herself. “I’m having a good time.

      “Good,” he said with a smile, raising his arms and clapping along as Beebo Nash cranked up a solo on the accordion. The ocean-blue polo Jamison wore rode up on his toned biceps and revealed a trim stomach peeking out above his pants. “I’ve been dying to take you out for a while. I’m so glad you said yes this time, Eva.”

      “Yeah, well, I’m stubborn that way. Wanted to wait a couple of months to date after I ended my last relationship.”

      Jamison slid his gaze toward her and grinned. “You have rules about dating, too?”

      “No, not really. Just felt right to wait. Do you have rules for dating?” she asked, acknowledging with a wince the sun once again coming out from behind the clouds. Felt as if it was beating them down with the heat.

      “Sort of. Having dating rules makes things easier for me,” he said with a smile, looking way too handsome.

      Strange. Eva didn’t have real rules, just gut feelings. She sorta thought rules for dating were a bit too anal. “Like for first kisses, sex, what?”

      “More like gifts, family, house keys. That sort of stuff,” he said, curving an arm around her waist, jerking her forward as a drunk guy stumbled their way. The weight of his hand felt good on her hip. Deep down even the most vehement feminist had to innately appreciate the protective instincts of a man. Or maybe it was just Eva who felt that way. She spent much of her time as one of the guys, subject to discussion on bodily functions and field-dressing a deer. Being treated like a woman felt nice every now and then.

      “You okay?” Jamison asked yet again, concern etched on his handsome face.

      “I think you’ve asked me that four times within the hour. Must be the whole doctor thing spilling over,” she said, pressing her hands against his chest.

      His forehead crinkled, but he didn’t move his arm from around her waist. Instead, he grinned at her, his blue eyes growing almost smoky. “You know, you’re right. I say that a lot, but then again, I have to. Most women aren’t too comfortable with me. Hazard of the profession, and another reason I’m really glad you haven’t scurried away from me.”

      “Maybe if I wore a paper gown?”

      He snorted.

      “Besides, you’re the pot of honey,” she teased.

      He stared at her lips, and Eva prepared herself to be kissed, but Jamison must have decided against it. He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Honey?”

      Eva tamped down the disappointment mixed with relief. She didn’t know if she wanted him to kiss her or not—or if she was insulted or not.

      “Yeah, you’re a honey pot. Women swarm like bees around you.” She raised her voice into falsetto. “Dr. French, you’re so wonderful. Buzz, buzz, buzz.”

      That made him laugh, and the man looked good laughing. His eyes crinkled behind the lens of his glasses, and his bright teeth flashed against his tan skin.

      He said nothing more, merely turned his attention to the stage where a slim woman with dark hair, a lithe body and a helluva voice worked the microphone. The crowd cheered as the band shifted into a new song that showcased the singer’s raspy voice.

      “She’s good,” Eva said.

      “Yeah, that’s Morgan Cost.”

      “No kidding! She was married to Jake’s sister’s ex-husband.”

      “I didn’t know she married Cal,” Jamison said, clapping along to the song. “I mean I knew he ran off to California with her a few years back. Anyway, Morgan released a record last month, and it’s getting good airplay on country music stations. There was even an article in the Baton Rouge Advocate last week.”

      “Huh,” Eva said, impressed by the woman’s voice but little else. Morgan had run off with Abigail Orgeron’s husband in the middle of a party they’d been throwing. Jake’s sister had been left with a daughter, a huge mortgage on a bed-and-breakfast and a scandal. In Eva’s eyes, Morgan would always have that black mark against her, no matter how talented she was.

      She hadn’t known Jake back then, but he still got steamed when someone brought up the topic of Calhoun Orgeron. Eva didn’t like the man much, either, especially since he’d already СКАЧАТЬ