Going All Out. Jeanie London

and doorway had done the trick. She’d been pleased with the effect…until now. Tonight her place felt too dark, too quiet.

      Or maybe that was her mood talking.

      Pausing in her workroom, Bree stripped off her damaged dress and tossed it on top of her sewing machine. Here’s hoping she could pull this dress back together or else all the money she’d spent on it just went down the drain.

      Thank you, Jude Robicheaux.

      Fortunately she was a capable seamstress. Working with high rollers meant dressing the part, and since she’d always been too broke to do anything but buy off the rack, she’d honed her altering abilities to a fine edge. She liked sewing and designing her own clothes, too, when she got the chance. In fact, she liked it so much that she’d turned her unexpected skill into a side job that earned her good money.

      Still, the split seams had snagged the fabric and broken more than a few strings of sequins. This dress might be too far gone for even her ability.

      Forcing her throbbing legs to carry her up the stairs, Bree headed into her bedroom. She just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and forget all about this roller coaster of a night.

      A possible job promotion.

      The bad-news ex.

      Lucas Russell.

      Eventful for sure and not at all what she’d expected when heading out earlier to arrange Mr. Loaded Cowboy from Dallas’s trip away from the faro tables to a visit behind the velvet ropes of the French Quarter’s most exclusive gentlemen’s club.

      Her heart still throbbed a little harder than it should. She should shower and let hot water soothe her racing thoughts and soak away her aches, but showering would mean dealing with her bandages. She simply didn’t have the energy.

      Lucas had done all the hard work already, so Bree just pulled on comfy jersey pajamas and crawled into bed. Nestling deep beneath the warm covers, she paced her breathing and tried to clear the thoughts snapping through her brain like a ball around a roulette wheel.

      But the sound of Lucas’s laughter still echoed on the fringes, along with her breathless thanks when her boss had given her the news about the promotion opportunity.

      She could also hear the grinding of rubber over wet pavement, tires turning behind her, pulse throbbing dully in her ears as the sedan had followed her through the dark streets.

      Damn, why now? She stood a really good shot at the head hostess job. And she needed the money. While the treasure reward money had raised Tally’s fortunes considerably, her sister shouldn’t be expected to put aside her goals to foot the bills for their family.

      She and Tally had been the sole support of their younger brother, Mark, since their mother had gone AWOL. Mark had been only fourteen at the time, and raising him hadn’t been cheap. Both she and Tally had given up college scholarships to work, and Bree would continue covering her share of Mark’s expenses now that he’d finally—thankfully—decided to focus on college.

      Tally deserved to spend her share of the money on reaching for her goals and starting a new life with her handsome fiancé. And even more importantly, Bree deserved the head hostess job. She was detail-oriented and worked well with the other VIP hostesses. She knew the ins and outs of the Big Easy better than anyone on the staff. She’d been at Toujacques longer, too.

      Except for Lana. And the thought of working for that self-absorbed, ass-kissing former Vegas showgirl made Bree toss restlessly under the covers.

      Plumping her pillow, she tried to find a more comfortable position. On her side, and her knees squeezed together and ached. On her back, and her legs extended and her knees ached. Lying on her stomach wasn’t even a consideration.

      Finally settling in an awkward place somewhere between her back and side, she tried to convince herself that Toujacques’ big boys would be fair enough to promote the woman most qualified for the job.

      She was most qualified. No question.

      Everyone knew it. Everyone also knew Lana would feel she deserved the job because she’d been there longer. She’d torture the entire staff if passed over. Everyone knew that, too, which meant Bree’s future boiled down to whether or not the managers wanted to deal with Lana’s tantrums.

      Unfortunately Bree understood. Time didn’t exist in the around-the-clock world of big money and high rollers. The casino stayed open 24/7, an active and exciting life but a demanding one. So the absolute last thing Bree needed to do was give the big boys any grief or aggravation.

      Jude Robicheaux was always grief and aggravation.

      If Lana caught wind of Bree’s former connection to the smooth-talking Cajun con man, she’d have a field day making sure everyone from the French Quarter to Bayou Teche knew about Bree’s not-so-stellar past. After turning her life around and establishing herself in a solid career, Bree could kiss any hope of job advancement goodbye.

      Management would be announcing the promotion after their quarterly meeting next week. Why couldn’t Jude have waited one more stupid week before coming back to town?

      And what was she going to do now that he had?

      Bree had no answers, and with a sigh she turned restlessly again, debating whether or not to get out of bed and tackle alterations on her dress. Or scrub the bathroom, which seriously needed it.

      She was only torturing herself by lying here. Sleep wasn’t in the cards tonight. She needed to distract herself. Or talk. Not so long ago, she’d have come home, plopped down on Tally’s bed and spilled her guts.

      Now there was a man in bed with her sister.

      Bree was thrilled with Christien. Really. Tally was head over heels, and Bree couldn’t have picked a more perfect man. She wanted Tally to be happy, even if her sister had gotten so caught up in the spirit of the treasure hunt that she was taking the whole ghost legend thing seriously. Even if all the time she spent in bed with her new fiancé or at the Blue Note meant Bree didn’t get to see her nearly enough anymore.

      Right now Bree needed to hear her sister laugh as if everything was a joke, because it all felt big. Too big. Bree had worked her butt off to put Jude Robicheaux behind her. She was independent now and making something of her life.

      Her sister would agree. She’d praise Bree for how hard she’d worked to be considered for this promotion, for how she’d started at Toujacques as a cocktail waitress and worked her way up through the ranks.

      She’d remind Bree about how long they’d dreamed of moving into a real home that wasn’t some tiny apartment in a dumpy complex or a prefab rental in a bad section of town.

      To Bree and Tally a real home had meant Court du Chaud. Their connection to the swashbuckling Captain Dampier had been the only thing to make them feel special in an existence that often felt weighted with problems and responsibilities. And when they’d finally gotten their shot at owning their own home, it had all felt magical, special.

      Tally would tell Bree not to let anything take that feeling away, not to let anyone smack her down again.

      She knew Tally was right, but as Bree sat up in bed and stared at the wall that had been skillfully designed to match the old, she wished she could actually hear Tally say it.

      WITH HIS EYES TIGHTLY shut, Captain Gabriel Dampier moved through the wall of the bedroom that had once been his in life. After spending nearly two hundred years haunting his former quarters in Court du Chaud, he had witnessed many who’d inhabited these rooms and had no wish to intrude on anyone’s privacy.

      Especially this chit’s. She was directly descended from him, and the very idea of chancing across her in a state of dishabille or, heaven forbid, engaged in some intimate activity smacked far too close to perversion for comfort. As much as he wanted Breanne to fall wildly and hopelessly in love, he had already established guidelines for proper behavior with her twin. He would adhere to those rules now.

      Neither death