To My Senses The Nicci Beauvoir Series Book 1 by Alexandrea Weis Read Free Book Online

my
dear.”
    David seemed so relaxed, so
at ease with me. The stiffness and the formality were abandoned. I
watched as he packed up his paintings.
    “ How long have you been
drugging women into submission, or is this just a recent
development?” I helped him wrap one of the paintings.
    “ Oh, I never resort to
drugs until absolutely necessary. I prefer the hammer over the head
routine. Much quicker.”
    “ I’ll keep my eyes out for
the hammer then. So when do I get to see your nudes?” He stopped
cold in his tracks and turned to me. “I always thought most artists
had done nudes at some point in their career,” I
maintained.
    “ Why? Would you like to
pose for me?” He leered at me, playfully.
    “ Me? Are you
kidding?”
    “ How will you know if you
never try? Besides, you know why painters paint?”
    I shook my head.
“No.”
    “ To see women naked, of
course.”
    We moved to the street and
David began to pile the load of paintings into a nearby blue Jaguar
coupe.
    I looked from David to the
car. “Somehow, I get the impression you don’t have a problem with
women.”
    David took me to the Corner
Café on Royal and St. Ann Streets. The small shop was half empty
when we arrived. We took a table next to one of the large windows
on the sidewalk. A thick, round-faced brunette smiled pleasantly at
David as she approached the table.
    “ Been a while.” She removed
her notepad from her red apron. “Glad to see you back.”
    “ Yes, I’ve been away.”
David glanced to me. “They have the best coffee and chicory here
and some wonderful pastries.”
    “ Just coffee please.
Black,” I said to the waitress.
    “ Tea for you,” the waitress
declared to David. He opened his mouth to add something, but she
raised her hand. “I know, I know. Milk, no sugar, and a sweet
roll.” She shook her head and walked away.
    “ You do come here often.” I
peered around the small café.
    The floor was covered with
dirty yellow tile while several old fashioned metal ceiling fans
were spinning above our heads. There was a counter with stools at
one end of the room and a kitchen behind that. The tables were made
of a dark wood and looked about as old as the floor. Many tourists
had taken to carving their initials in the tabletops. It was what
is typically termed a hole in the wall, which meant it was probably
good, with a devoted clientele. I had learned long ago never to
judge a New Orleans restaurant by how it looked, only by the flavor
of the food.
    “ I come here when I paint,”
David explained. “It’s close to the cathedral and the prices are
pretty reasonable.”
    We sat for the next few minutes in silence.
David stared out the window at the people passing by and I fidgeted
in my seat, feeling the sweat rising on my palms. The waitress soon
returned with our drinks and two rolls on a plate.
    “ He always eats two. Asks
for one, but always eats two.” She placed the plate and mugs on the
table and winked at David before she walked away.
    “ A fan?” I inquired, taking
a sip from the mug. It was hot and strong, typical New Orleans
coffee. Just the way I liked it.
    “ No, just a concerned
citizen. She always asks where my girlfriend is.” He sipped his
tea. “She probably thinks I finally took her advice.”
    “ So you don’t bring your
women here?” I teased. “I bet you go in for lower lighting and a
place that serves large quantities of alcohol.”
    He shook his head. “God,
you’re relentless.”
    “ Is there any other way to
be?”
    “ Not for you.” He took a
bite of his roll.
    “ Someone once told me they
found being direct saves time.”
    He grimaced slightly. “I
should watch what I say around you.”
    “ It also depends on the
person. I’m selective about who I intimidate.”
    “ Should I feel
honored?”
    “ Of course. There aren’t
many people whose company I share that can understand, let alone
handle what I dish out.”
    “ I can see your point.” He
continued gnawing on his roll.