He found her attractive when she was guarded and serious. But damn, he’d found her outright stunning when she let her guard down and laughed and smiled. She was gorgeous. He really did want to get to know her. She fascinated him. But that openness was gone. He didn’t like that she was all shut down again.
They stepped back into the hallway where Waldo sat looking decidedly uncomfortable in his makeshift muzzle.
“I bet you’d like to wrap a bungee cord around my mouth, too,” he said as they skirted the big animal and headed to the door at the end of the hall.
“Or neck,” she muttered, and Drake actually found himself amused.
“So vicious,” he said.
She spun toward him just as they would have reached to door. “And let me guess, you are now going to add potentially violent to liar and thief.”
Drake frowned. “No, I don’t get any real violence vibe from you, Cupcake. But I am going to keep you in my sight until we sort out exactly what happened last night. I’m quite sure you’d do that same thing in my shoes.”
She stared at him, and he could see some of the defensiveness fade from her bright blue eyes.
“Yes,” she finally admitted. “Yes, I would.”
“So why don’t we call a truce for now.”
She considered him, then nodded. “Truce.”
He nodded, too, and pushed open the door to the main rooms of Zelda’s house. Even though Drake had never been here before, since he liked to avoid the whole domme thing, it wasn’t hard to find the front door.
When they stepped out onto the street, Josie Lynn paused, looking around as if she was trying to get her bearings.
“Don’t worry, I know where we are.”
She shook her head, still looking around. “It’s not that. It’s just—I didn’t expect it to be nighttime.”
“Of course, it’s nighttime,” he said automatically, then realized that wouldn’t make sense to her. She had the luxury of being awake either night or day, unlike him.
She turned her quizzical gaze toward him. “Why ‘of course’?”
“Well, I just figured we had to have been out for a long time, you know, since we were drugged.”
She seemed to accept his explanation. She started down the sidewalk, and he fell into step beside her.
“So where should we go first?” he asked. “Is your place nearby? Do you want to change?”
“I don’t live walking distance from here,” she said, then looked down at herself. “I think this looks all right.”
Drake nodded. His shirt as a dress was more than all right. She’d rolled back the sleeves so the ruffles at the wrist were less noticeable. She’d also undone a couple of buttons to give glimpses of her pale neck and chest, while only hinting at her full br**sts under the cascade of linen and lace that was cinched at the waist with a wide belt. The hem fell a few inches above her knees, far longer than Zelda’s wedding dress, and on her feet, she somehow still had the black utility-style boots that had been a part of her work uniform.
Josie Lynn looked cute and sexy and kind of hip. Even the boots worked with the outfit.
But he’d already learned where saying anything flirty would get him: standing outside the walls she put around herself. So he simply nodded. “It looks fine.”
She inspected it once more, tugging down the hem a little, then said, “I’d like to go back to Gautreaux’s. I want to see if my stuff is still there, and maybe if it is, we could test the punch bowl or glasses for traces of whatever drug was used.”
“Good idea.”
They headed down St. Louis toward Chartres, where the reception venue was.
“If it is the band of marauding Chers who did this, do you think robbery was their main goal?”
Drake shrugged. “Who can know what marauding Chers want, but since we don’t have any of our valuables, it seems likely.”
“But why were we missing our clothing, too?”
“Well, I don’t know if you recall how you felt before you blacked out, but I do, and I definitely wanted to be doing things that required me losing my clothes.”
Josie Lynn didn’t say anything, but her deep pink blush was answer enough.
They both fell silent.
“Do—do you think we did have sex?” she asked, her voice quieter than normal. Her cheeks pinker still.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But I think it’s very possible. What do you think?”
When she fell quiet again, he glanced at her profile. Her lips were pressed firmly together, and she blinked several times as if she was fighting tears. That was answer enough, too.
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she felt different, if she thought she could even tell, physically, if something might have happened. But her forlorn expression stopped him. He reached out to touch her arm. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I—I just hope all my catering stuff is still at Gautreaux’s.”
Drake didn’t doubt she was concerned about that, but he knew that wasn’t what had her ready to cry. He tried not to be offended that the idea of possibly having had sex with him brought her to tears. After all, she had made it clear, pre-drugging, that she wasn’t interested in him, and if they had done the dirty, the act hadn’t been her choice, but because of the effects of the drug.
He had to admit that he didn’t like the idea either.
“You know what, we probably didn’t,” he said with feigned decisiveness.
“You don’t think so?”
He shook his head. “Nope, and since we don’t remember what happened anyway, I think we might as well assume nothing did.”
She didn’t say anything more, and he got the distinct feeling that plan didn’t soothe her as much as she’d like.
Chapter Nine
VOULEZ-VOUS COUCHER AVEC MOI?
“SO how do you think we wound up wearing handcuffs?” Lizette asked Johnny as they sat outside of Saxon’s apartment on two rickety iron chairs on the narrow balcony. The drink he had handed her was resting in her grip, and she had her legs crossed, giving her appearance a sense of propriety she didn’t feel. But it was actually pleasant to finally stop tromping around and just sit in the warm air and try to calm down. The courtyard was completely empty, only two apartments having access to it, and it felt safe to Lizette.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Not normally prone to hysterics, she had been quite close to having a complete breakdown when she had seen the picture of Johnny biting her neck. It had looked so . . . sexy. So . . . public. “Were we wearing handcuffs in the photo?”