Page 30 of She's Like the Wind
But it had been a while.
“She’s good.” He tilted his head. “She’s running her own law practice.”
I smiled as memories of my friend filed through my head. “If anyone can do it, she can. How do you know her?”
“My cousin dated her for a while...it didn’t end well,” he replied almost sheepishly.
My eyes widened. “NotCody Lamarre.”
“Unfortunately.” He held out a hand. “Jonah Lamarre.”
Now, I knew why he looked familiar. The Lamarre family owned several high-end restaurants in the Quarter.And Jonah, the heir, was known for his food, his philanthropy, and his good works to improve New Orleans.
I shook his hand. “Cody broke her heart, and now you’re friends with her?”
“Cody is an asshole—but it doesn’t run in the family.” He looked around the store. “I recently saw Holly, and she mentioned your store when I said I wanted to buy something special for….”
“Someone special?” I finished for him when he trailed off.
He gave me another enchanting smile. “I’ve passed your shop a dozen times. I’m glad Alia insisted we come in.”
At the mention of her name, the woman looked up and waved with a grin. “I’m already in trouble. I want everything.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said, still unsure if I was being pranked or if I’d fallen into a very well-lit fever dream. “Should I start a fitting room for you?”
“Yes, please.” Alia handed me six hangers with various body suits and silk nightgowns.
I stepped into the boudoir and set up a room for Alia.
Jonah walked in and whistled in appreciation.
“It’s got a French brothel feel to it.” He sat down on the feminine daybed, looking like a fox in a chicken coop.
“And how would you know?” I teased.
“I’ve seen movies?”
I laughed. “That was exactly the ambiance I was going for.”
I was about to leave when I heard him say, “Would you go out for dinner with me?”
My brain short-circuited.
“I’m sorry—what?” I stammered.
He rose and came up to me. “I think you’re beautiful, and I’d like to get to know you.”
I looked at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?”
“Like a heart attack.”
I turned to look at the fitting room Alia had walked into and heard his soft laugh. “She’s not my wife.”
My voice went flat. “Girlfriend?”
He laughed. “Worse. Sister-in-law.”
Alia called from the racks. “Tell her I’m married to your sister, babe. You leave that detail out on purpose just to see if people get nervous?”
