FROZEN ANGEL

Chapter 5

The rum cocktails almost always won. Armelle herded the group through the stone archway leading into the interior of Pat O'Briens. The courtyard establishment was a frequent watering hole for tour groups and many visitors tried to down a twelve-inch souvenir glass of mixed alcohol and stay sober. May as well dangle them headfirst in a vat of 100-proof moonshine. Still, besides drink vouchers she received for every group delivered, the location had been woven into the very fabric of New Orleans for centuries. 

"Hi, Lucas," she greeted the doorman. "Have you a good table for us?"  

Lucas, tonight's gatekeeper host, was a tall, good-looking black guy who Jo had briefly dated and whom Armelle had come to know from her regular tour visits. If she hadn't been so smitten with Adrian, she might have fallen for him herself.  

"Sure thing, Armelle," he said with a wink. "Any group of yours is a group of mine. I'll find you a good spot. How y'all doing, anyway?" he called over his shoulder as he beckoned them along. "Enjoying 'Nawlins, folks?"  

Stan called out, "I'd be better if I could find myself a date for the night. Got any real women in this city? I expected hot little numbers in a place like this." 

"Oh, be quiet, Stan," one of the Read&Print guys called out. "You wouldn't know what to do with a hot number if you tripped over her." 

The others guffawed and Amy linked arms with Armelle, rolling her eyes. "He's just getting over an ugly divorce," she whispered. "The first couple of times I met him he wasn't like this." 

"Really?" Armelle said. As if she cared. All she wanted to do was fulfill her obligation and get home to bed. She glanced down at her watch - 9:15. Twenty minutes away from mission accomplished. 

They wove through the customers lining the arched corridor. Moments later, Lucas positioned them in the lush garden courtyard only a few yards away from the fountain's multicolored light display and leaned over to whisper into Armelle's ear. "See you've got a live one there. If he gives you a hard time, I'll boot him out on his ear." 

"Thanks, Lucas, but I can handle him," Armelle whispered back. "I didn't take kick-boxing for exercise alone."  

Lucas backed away, laughing, hands up in surrender. "Hey, you know I appreciate an empowered woman." 

Armelle laughed, too, as if she'd kick-box anyone. What a ludicrous thought but her smile died when she saw him, Adrian Countway enter the courtyard with a woman on his arm. For a moment she couldn't breathe. 

Adrian strode across the space, scanning the courtyard for a table, as if determined to select his own seat rather be directed. So like him. 

Armelle couldn't place the woman on his arm but she seemed familiar somehow.  

But Adrian Countway with a woman? Why not? Why wouldn't an attractive single man be with a date? So why did she feel punched in the heart; why did she feel like someone had tipped a cauldron of boiling emotion down her throat? This wasn't jealousy, this was rage, lust, guilt, a brew too powerful and unexpected to bear, a violent cocktail that threatened to spill into her actions now.  

How dare he! She fought an overwhelming urge to run over to him and slap his face, beg for forgiveness, demand an explanation and run away, all at once. For now, Adrian seemed to be looking in every direction but hers. 

Bewildered, she struggled for control while her bile rose and her body trembled. Thank God, he hadn't seen her yet. Where could she hide? A headache plowed into her cranium with the force of a head-on collision. Escape, she needed to escape before she did something unthinkable.