I pulled my hand away and shattered the moment. “I’m going to be late for work if we don’t go soon.”

He flagged down our waiter and paid the bill, giving me a decidedly dirty look when I reached for my purse. I guess bayou manners precluded going Dutch. I was already five minutes late when we pulled up in front of Voodoo and Simon put the SUV in park.

“Thanks for dinner. Would you mind opening the back? I need to grab my bike.” I didn’t want to cut and run, but I was already late and wasn’t sure what to say after Simon’s statement at dinner.

My body was angled toward the door, fingers wrapped around the handle.

Simon scrubbed a hand across his five o’clock shadow. “Just leave it. I’ll pick you up.”

Umm, what? I smiled. “That’s not necessary.”

“Charlie, you can’t think riding your bike home at two o’clock in the morning, by yourself, is a smart idea. Maybe once Huck is back on his feet, but without him…”

He was right. I couldn’t argue the point and not sound like a moron. “I’ll get Con to take me home. It’ll be fine.” I didn’t want to put Simon out more than I already had today.

He frowned, jaw clenching. “Are you still sleeping with him?”

I bristled. What the hell? I was just trying to save Simon an extra trip. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“It sure as hell is.” His tone was begging for a fight.

I yanked the door open and climbed out. I was struggling with the tailgate when Simon slammed his door shut and strode toward me.

He pressed both hands against the rear window, trapping me against the car. “Open this stupid thing,” I demanded.

Simon’s voice was low, his breath hot against my neck. “It’s my business because I want you in my bed. No one else’s.”

I spun in his arms, his words sending a bolt of lust straight through me. I should not find his high-handed behavior attractive. At all. I lifted my chin and countered, “What about what I want? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine. “It means everything. And I think you want exactly the same thing I do.” He pulled away. “I’ll be here at two. Don’t let Con take you home, Charlie.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to give the impression that I was considering telling him to fuck off when all I wanted was for him to take me home now.

“Fine. But just know, I’m not always going to give in this easily.”

He grinned. “I can live with that.”

He pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, the same move that made Yve swoon, and I decided he’d waited way too damn long to kiss me. I leaned up and slid my arms around his neck, pulling him down until our lips met. Simon didn’t resist, but my control over the kiss vanished the instant he angled his head and sought entrance to my mouth. I opened, and his tongue slid inside, tangling with mine. He wrapped both arms around me, hauling me up against him. His woodsy scent surrounded me, and I tasted peppermint, beer, and something uniquely Simon.

I barely registered the sound of the door chime and a throat clearing. “You coming in, Lee? Or you gonna make out like a teenager with the prom king?”

I pulled back, swiveling my head to look at Con. He looked … bored. Which was his go-to expression when he didn’t want anyone to know he was pissed. I pressed another quick kiss against Simon’s lips, refusing to let Con dictate how this scene ended.

“Were you really the prom king?” I asked, hoping to erase the scowl that had formed on Simon’s face.

He looked away from Con and back to me. “Maybe.” He bent to kiss my cheek, his lips brushing lightly across mine once more. “I’ll see you at two.”

He nodded to Con. “Leahy.”

“Councilman.”

I followed Con into the shop, and swore the temperature dropped about twenty degrees.

“Seriously? Simon Duchesne? Jesus, that’s fucked up, Lee. Fucked up.” The buzzing of Delilah’s tattoo gun quieted.

“Why? What exactly is so fucked up about it?”

Con paced. He wouldn’t look at me. “It just is. You don’t get it. He always gets what he wants. And the rest of us poor fucks have to watch it happen.”

I planted my hands on my hips and stared at him. “I don’t know what’s between you two, but I don’t think it has anything to do with me. And don’t pretend like I’m breaking your heart, Con. We had fun. That was it. I know you slept with Yve. So, you’re certainly not pining away for me.”

Con stopped his pacing, finally facing me. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, babe. And what we had was more than just fun, at least to me. You’re important. I care about you. I … don’t want you to be surprised when this doesn’t turn out how you’re hoping.”

“I don’t even know what I’m hoping for. I’ve got no expectations. All I’m doing is enjoying it while it lasts.”

“Just keep your eyes open, okay? You’re worth way more than being some politician’s sidepiece.”

The door swung open, and we both turned to see three giggling young women stagger in, each dressed in short shorts, halter-tops, Mardi Gras beads, and mile-high heels. I took the opportunity to step behind the counter and end the conversation.

Simon’s X5 was idling at the curb when I walked out the front door at two o’clock. He was already out of the car and smiling when I hit the sidewalk. He’d changed into worn jeans and a plain black T-shirt. He followed me around the front and opened my door for me. His mother, the tiny, dark-haired tornado, had definitely raised him right. Or maybe it was just a Southern thing. The guys I’d dated in New York had always let valets and drivers get my door, never bothering to do it themselves.

“I have to admit, the Southern gentleman thing is growing on me.” I was about to climb in when Simon put a hand on my arm.

“Where are you fr—”

Oh shit. Not wanting him to ask me something I’d have to lie about, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his, cutting off the question. One of his arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his body, and his other hand delved into my loose waves. I could feel him harden against me, and my body heated. Damn. The man could kiss.

He pulled away but didn’t let go.