“Are you sure you’re up for this? You’ve had a long day.” I catch her elbow as she cautiously makes her way around a wide hole in the sidewalk, then settle my hand on the small of her back. It just seems to fit there.

“I haven’t heard Dec play in years,” she replies with a smile. “I miss it. He’s so talented. He could be doing so much more with his music than he is.”

“New Orleans is his home,” I reply softly, but with complete agreement. “He was in Memphis last month working on an album.”

“I know. I was in town on a job, so we met for dinner, but I didn’t get to hear him play.”

“So, how close are you really?” I do my best to ignore the stab of fucking jealously that spears my gut.

“Very close.” She nods and reaches for my arm as we cross a cobblestoned street, when she almost loses her balance on those sexy shoes. “He and Savannah and I were roommates. Declan is one of my dearest friends.”

Naked friends?

I want to ask, but hold my tongue. She was right this afternoon; it’s none of my fucking business if she and Declan have a physical relationship.

Ah, fuck it.

“Have you two ever—”

“I believe we already had this conversation,” she says with a laugh.

“I don’t think it’s funny.”

“The thought of me having sex with Declan is hilarious,” she replies and smiles up at me, her gorgeous green eyes glowing under the streetlights. “He’s like a brother to me, Eli.”

I nod and lead her to the left, down Bourbon Street, the hubbub of the French Quarter. At night, at least.

“Holy moly,” she breathes, and takes in all the lights, the loud music, and the people leaning on the railings above the street. “It’s like Vegas on steroids.”

I laugh and tuck her hand in mine, linking our fingers. “That it is. It’s still early, so this is pretty tame.”

The streets have been blocked off for foot traffic only.

“There are a lot of sex shops on this street.” Her frank observation startles a laugh from me, and I glance down to find her smiling up at me.

“It’s Bourbon,” I reply with a shrug. “The club that Declan is playing at is actually pretty classy. I think you’ll like it.”

“I think I like it all,” she replies softly. “It’s hard to believe this is the same city from one block over.”

I nod and lead her through an iron gate into a wide courtyard with lights twinkling in the trees overhead. I introduce myself to the hostess, and she immediately guides us to the front of the crowd to two seats right in front of the stage, where Declan is playing a jazz song on the piano.

Dec’s voice is deep and croony, reminiscent of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. He has a decent voice, but it’s what he can do with a musical instrument—any instrument—that makes him stand out.

He’s a freaking genius.

“Did it bother you that he chose music over the family company?” Kate asks from beside me, swaying back and forth to the song.

“No. That would be stupid. Listen to him.”

She nods and then smiles up at me, a full-on smile that lights up her face, and I find that I have to swallow hard and fist my hands to keep from reaching out and cupping that amazing face in the palm of my hand and leaning in for a kiss.

No more kissing.

I make myself look back up at Dec, who’s watching us. He shakes his head and finishes his song to delighted applause.

“Ah, that’s awfully kind of you,” he drawls, and winks at a woman in the front row who winks back. And they call me the man-whore. “I have some special guests here tonight, ladies and gentlemen.”

He stands from the piano and reaches for a guitar, then pulls two chairs to the edge of the stage and grabs an extra mic as well.

Kate is already shaking her head no.

Interesting.

“My brother, Eli, is here tonight.” He smiles down at me, and I just grin and raise a brow. “And a very old friend from college is here too. In fact, Kate and I used to sing together all the time, and I’m going to talk her into coming up here and joining me right now.”

The room erupts into applause, but Kate is vehemently shaking her head and saying “No. Heck no.”

Heck no.

Her aversion to cursing turns me on. I wonder what it would take to get her to talk dirty.

I’m going to hell.

“Come on, Kate. New Orleans wants to hear you sing.”

I nudge her with my elbow and grin at the look of terror on her face. Finally, she swallows hard and stands, climbs the steps to the stage, sits next to Declan, and raises the mic to her mouth.

“Was this necessary?”

“Well, it’s not as fun if you sing from down there,” Declan replies and kisses her cheek. “Isn’t she pretty?”

Why does everyone call her pretty? Can’t they see that she’s unbelievable?

I applaud with the rest of the crowd, and then Declan begins to strum the guitar. “Remember this one?” he asks her.

“I remember belting this one out after having a few too many drinks in Memphis at that dive bar you played in during college.”

“That’s the one,” he confirms with a grin. And suddenly, Kate begins to sing Crazy by Patsy Cline, as if she was made to. It’s effortless for her. Declan joins her on the chorus, adding harmony, and when the song is over, they’re given a standing ovation. Kate stands and bows, kisses Declan’s cheek, and returns to her seat at my side.