The Priest (The Original Sinners #9) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,29
shouldn’t.
“You know you’re still a priest, right? Even if they are making you take a leave of absence, you still have to behave.”
“Why start now?” He pulled her a little closer and kissed her. A guy dressed as the pirate Jean Lafitte hooted his approval. S?ren lifted his drink back in a salute.
Nora kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. This was a S?ren she didn’t know. And it wasn’t just the beard. Although the beard was definitely intriguing.
“What do you think?” He raised his chin, and she patted his cheek.
“Very sexy. Very distinguished. Midlife crisis looks good on you.”
“Crisis,” he said. “From the Greek ‘krisis’ and ‘krinein,’ meaning ‘decision’ or ‘to decide.’”
“So a midlife crisis is a midlife decision-making time?”
“Precisely,” he said.
“You have a big decision to make.”
“Several, actually.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll show you.”
He took her hand and led her off Bourbon and up Saint Peter Street.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”
They walked about two blocks until S?ren stopped suddenly in front of a house, an exquisite pale blue camelback with white plantation shutters on the four front windows.
From the front door hung a realtor’s lockbox.
Nora nodded slowly as she put two and two together. She put her hand to her forehead.
“Kingsley…” she said with a growl.
“My sentiments exactly.”
“He said he bought you a ‘little’ present, a trinket. That is not a trinket. That is a house.”
“Shall we go in?” he asked.
“Lead the way,” she said.
S?ren punched in a code on the lockbox, which released the door key.
“He doesn’t know you know about this, does he?” Nora asked. “He told me to tell you he had a present for you.”
“He doesn’t know I know,” S?ren said.
“How did you find out?”
“Two days before I left, I was with him. He was sleeping when his phone buzzed. I was worried it might be Juliette, so I glanced at it. A message from a realtor giving him the lockbox code. It included the MLS number and a very nice message from the agent saying, ‘I think your retired priest friend will love it. And if he doesn’t, I’ll take it.’”
“Retired priest friend?”
“Yes, apparently I’m retired now. At fifty-one. Either Kingsley was lying to her or engaging in some very wishful thinking.”
Wishful thinking. Nora had no doubt.
S?ren put the key in the lock and opened the door. He went inside first and turned on the lights for her. Nora followed.
“Wow,” she said as she stepped into the entry hall. On each side of the hall was an arched doorway. To her left was an empty sitting room, empty but for an elegant love seat and an antique wooden music stand.
“Music room?” she asked.
“I believe it’s where my piano is supposed to go,” he said.
To the right was a larger sitting room, a parlor decorated in pale blue paint set off by bright white crown molding and a white fireplace. Gilt-framed winter landscapes hung on the walls. Chestnut leather chaise lounge. A round table with an elaborately carved pedestal and matching chairs. A crystal chandelier.
“He never does anything by halves, does he?” S?ren asked.
“If this room were a man, I’d ride its cock until it snapped off.”
S?ren raised his chin and looked down at her.
“I’m just saying it’s really nice,” she said. “I like it.”
“Oh, but there’s more…” S?ren led her down the central hallway. “Guest bedroom.”
She loved the guest room immediately. A queen canopy bed with diaphanous white curtains hung from the iron frame. A white fireplace, the mantel covered in unlit candles. A leather armchair by the fireplace. A steamer trunk full of secrets at the foot of the bed.
“Simple. Elegant. Great bed for bondage,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
They passed to the next door.
“Formal dining room,” S?ren said and flipped on the switch to display the dining table for six—S?ren, Kingsley, Juliette, Céleste, and her, plus one guest. Cream damask wallpaper in a fleur-de-lis pattern. An antique China cabinet large enough that the top of it nearly scraped the eight-foot ceiling.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Nora said.
“We’re not even done yet,” S?ren said. Down the hall again, next door. “Breakfast room.”
“You have your own room just for eating breakfast?”
“Apparently the kitchen is not good enough for coffee and toast anymore.”
Nora peeked into the room. A smaller version of the dining room with a table only for two. Silver-gray wallpaper and a small sideboard.
“Who’s gonna cook? You or Kingsley?” she asked.
“He does make good crêpes.” S?ren led her to the gleaming bright white kitchen. White cabinets. White tile