Page 1 of Fearless Encounter

Chapter 1

Jazz filled the air and partiers danced along the parade route. The carnival’s spirit intoxicated Brooke Montgomery as it had each season since she’d been a young girl. Growing up in New Orleans, she’d rarely missed Mardi Gras, but that special day was still weeks away. Since that evening’s parade was nearby, she walked the few blocks from work.

She was dressed warmly to protect against the January cold. The French Quarter was alive with excitement for the first event of the season. She arrived at Jackson Square and pushed into the crowds to get a closer look at the colorful floats. The riders wore the purple, gold, and green beads of Mardi Gras, along with ornate masks. People in New Orleans took costumes seriously and put a lot of thought into their creations. To stand out, a costume had to be truly fabulous.

Brooke had put in that effort many times, but she was on her way to dinner. She’d dressed nicely but didn’t need a costume. A few friends waited for her at Tableau, an upscale Creole restaurant that was one of her favorites. The dinner was a yearly tradition that her parents had started, and those attending were family friends. When her parents moved to California, the dinners had continued.

She loved the French cuisine infused with local ingredients. And the chocolate torte was delicious. In her youth, dining at fine restaurants had been a part of her life, especially since her parents were in the business. Brooke was especially drawn to the pastries, and she began to learn how to make them. Her creations hadn’t compared to those the chefs served, until her pastry chef training changed that.

As the parade went by, she shouted along with the others. The music got louder and the crowd rowdier. It was already late, and her rumbling stomach reminded her that she was hungry. Her friends would already be drinking and munching on appetizers. She turned to go, then wove through hordes of people. It was dark out, but the city lights shone over the partiers.

Even along the streets and the side alleys, throngs blocked the way. Brooke knew the area well, so decided to take a detour and go around. That wasn’t so easy. At each turn, there were more people. She felt like she was getting farther from Tableau instead of closer. People in costumes filled every corner. Many wore elaborate masks and beads, dancing and shouting to the music.

Brooke leaned against a railing to catch her breath. With all the people around, she didn’t feel the cold much. A person stood next to her, and she looked to see a handsome man. She thought she recognized him but wasn’t sure.

It was impossible not to stare. He was tall with dark hair and deep brown eyes, his strong physique filling out the heavy coat. His receding hairline revealed his age as close to hers. Much to her dismay, she’d recently turned forty, a fact which she had yet to adjust to. When he smiled, her heart skipped a beat.

“Hello,” he said, loudly.

Brooke heard him over the din of noise that engulfed them. “Hi,” she said, struggling to remember his name.

He gave her a winning grin. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Brooke shook her head.

“My daughter’s birthday party,” he said, “last spring at Jasper’s.”

It was starting to come back to her. “Ah, the teenagers.” As the pastry chef at Jasper’s, she’d been busy in the kitchen, but not so much that she hadn’t noticed him—especially when she’d gone out to greet the birthday girl.

He held out a gloved hand. “Gabriel Durand,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself that day. The girls were pretty impressed with the salted caramel birthday cake.”

Her knees went weak under his glowing smile. “I heard it was your daughter’s favorite,” Brooke said, having to raise her voice to be heard.

“Well, it was a hit at her party,” Gabriel said, then looked at her with a steady gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Brooke Montgomery,” she said. “And you already know I’m the pastry chef at Jasper’s.” She couldn’t help staring at him. “I haven’t seen you there since the party.”

Gabriel shrugged. “It’s a classy place, not my usual. But it was where Amalie wanted to have her birthday party.”

Brooke remembered her dinner plans. “I have some friends expecting me.”

“Sure, nice to see you again.” Gabriel didn’t take his eyes off her.

Before she made a fool of herself, Brooke scurried around the corner and resumed her journey to Tableau. It shouldn’t be far now, and she was more than fashionably late. Her mind wandered to Gabriel, the sexy guy with the French name, and she remembered that she’d been drawn to him at the birthday party. She’d asked Jasper about him and learned that he was asingle dad. That explained why he was chaperoning a party of teenage girls. She had delivered the birthday cake to the table and chatted with the girls for a minute. Gabriel had looked at her a second too long, making her heart skip a beat. In a beautiful French accent, he had said, “Thank you for the cake.”

Brooke had looked for him at Jasper’s, hoping he’d return. She hadn’t dreamed of running into him anywhere else. New Orleans was a big city. It seemed fate had other ideas. She’d bumped into him and talked just long enough to ignite her interest—more like desire. Yet it wasn’t going to happen. He was a heartthrob, and she was anagingwoman. She didn’t like that word, but it was how she felt. She tended to look in the mirror more often, checking for wrinkles. Hard workouts kept her fit, but she had to admit that her figure wasn’t what it was at age twenty, or even thirty. It was better to focus on her career than to envision romance.

Distracted, Brooke bumped into a group dressed in bright costumes, but they hardly noticed. Ducking around them, she turned onto a side street, hoping for a less busy route. It was dark out, but there was enough city light to see ahead. In a flash, she saw long purple hair glint in the dim light. It was popular to wear colorful wigs at parades. The flashy color caught her eye, then she recoiled—nearly tripping to avoid taking her next step. She froze, barely breathing.

The purple-haired woman wore a glittery headdress that sparkled in the night’s light. A huge man had his arms around her, but his demeanor was aggressive, and the woman was kicking her feet. Brooke thought she heard a screech, but before the woman could scream, the man had his hand over her face. Since Brooke was some distance down the alley, she couldn’t see exactly what was happening. It appeared that the man had something in his hand, and the woman struggled to get free.

The man wore a black costume with silver rhinestones and a full mask that looked like a skeleton. He glanced around the alley, seeming to notice Brooke. She gasped then darted back around the corner, praying that he hadn’t noticed her watching.

Brooke’s heart pounded and she struggled to breathe. She should go help the woman, but fear pinned her feet to the pavement. She ran down the block then leaned against a wall behind several groups of partiers. She thought of the woman with her purple hair and matching purple, green, and gold dress. What must have started as a night of partying turned bad when she became the victim of that big brute. The woman must be terrified.

Without thinking further, Brooke peeked around the corner. If the attacker was still there, she could certainly scream even if the woman couldn’t.

But the alley was vacant. Along the cross-street farther up, a couple dressed in brightly colored outfits walked by talking and laughing. There was no sign of the scuffle Brooke had witnessed.

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