Read Luke for Free Online Page B

sweet, lemony fragrance of butterfly lilies from some nearby courtyard. An appreciative smile curved her lips. If she were led blindfolded to this spot, she would still know she was in New Orleans.
    The door lock clicked and she entered, stepping into the long, stone-lined corridor that stretched under the building. Once part of a porte cochere, it led toward the mellow light and tropical greenery of an interior courtyard.
    â€œUp here, chère! ”
    The call came from overhead. April turned to search the balcony that rose on the front wall of the building above her. Catching the bright splash of color that was Julianne’s usual caftan, she waved to her friend then turned to climb the stairs that led to the upper level apartment.
    â€œIt’s just too hot to sit in the courtyard. I hope you don’t mind,” Julianne said as she let her inside.
    â€œNot at all.” April took the mint julep that Julianne thrust into her hand and drank deep. The heat on the streets had really been ferocious; she onlyrealized how hot as she felt the air-conditioned cool of the apartment.
    â€œIt’s so fantastic to see you,” Julianne continued. “Come into the parlor and tell me why you’re in town.”
    â€œIt’s the conference, of course, as you should know. Don’t you belong to the local romance writers’ chapter?”
    â€œOh, I never go to meetings. They always want me to run for office, and I’m not organized enough to know what to do for me, much less for other people.”
    April’s smile was sympathetic but skeptical. “Is this the same woman who always has three writing projects going at one time? Your problem is that you have no sense of obligation to your fellow writers.”
    â€œI was publishing books before RWA was a gleam in the eyes of the ladies in Texas who started it. Besides, I don’t notice you on anybody’s board of directors.”
    â€œTouché—though there’s the small matter of deadlines to be considered.”
    â€œThe whole world has deadlines,” Julianne returned. “You’re just as selfish as I am. So, what have you been up to lately?”
    â€œAre you sure you want to know?” April asked in dry warning.
    Her friend laughed, a rich contralto sound laced with delight. “That bad, huh? In that case, I’m positive that I do! Details, give me details.”
    April followed her hostess into a dim room furnished with an antique parlor set covered in a wildlyunlikely tropical print. The room was scattered with tables, most of which were extremely valuable except for one that looked like a miniature butler in a tailcoat. The setting was just like Julianne, she thought, half traditional, half quirkily artistic. How old her friend was, April had never thought to ask. With her long, narrow face crinkled in a constant smile, clear sea blue eyes, silver-streaked black hair in a braid down her back, and gently padded shape, she could have been any age from forty to seventy. She was warm and genuine, a woman of some experience who had learned her lessons well. That she was also one of the most revered of romance authors, with many New York Times bestsellers to her credit, was only incidental.
    Julianne didn’t rest until she had every crumb of information from April about what had happened with the radio caller. Afterward, she sat without speaking while she stared into her julep glass as if fascinated by the sight of ice melting.
    â€œSo, what do you think?” April asked finally. “Have you ever run into anything like this before?”
    â€œNot personally, though I heard about an author who was attacked in her hotel room. It’s possible she was singled out because she was attractive and traveling alone rather than because of who she was or what she wrote. No one can say that about what happened to you.”
    April nodded. “I think the worst thing about it was that he called me by