Chapter 1
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 and 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 stillfinding herself. I have a feeling she’ll be calling—wanting tofind herselfin 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 them. “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.
