Cajun Spice

A Red Hot Cajun Nights Story

Desiree Holt

Cajun Spice

Published by Desiree Holt

Editing and Formatting Services by Wizards in Publishing

part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form

or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior

written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,

living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Daisy Karr rolled her suitcase out of the terminal at Louis Armstrong New Orleans

International Airport, her jaw set, her stride determined. It was Mardi Gras time in New Orleans,

a city she’d always loved, and disaster was not going to ruin it for her. She’d been looking

forward to this trip for weeks. All the reservations were made. A fiancé who’d betrayed her and

turned out to be a crook wasn’t going to ruin it for her. In fact, she’d brought along the credit

card they’d shared, figuring if it hadn’t been cancelled, she’d use that to cover everything on the

trip. It would serve him right, wherever he was.

That was another part of the problem. Her erstwhile fiancé, Craig Myers, the man she shared

a condo with and expected to marry, had disappeared barely ahead of the federal agents who’d

showed up. Yesterday—a day of blackness—he was still at their condo when she’d left early in

the morning. She’d assumed she’d see him at the investment firm where they both worked before

too long. What a shock she’d been in for. Craig never showed up but the FBI did, to arrest him.

Arrest him? And were they ever pissed off because he wasn’t there or at home. He’d told her he

had a stop to make on the way to work, and she said she’d see him later. Ha! That was the last

she saw or heard of him. He never called her, never even texted. The closed-door session in the

senior partner’s office where she’d been grilled at length by the feds then given the axe by her

boss had been the frosting on the cake. After all, they’d said, she worked there as an accountant,

so of course she’d know how to siphon off money and move it around. And who better to do it

for than her supposed fiancé?

Well, damn it all, she was the injured party here. She’d sat in their condo—no, his condo—

all night, trying to process everything that happened. Wondering where she’d live now? The

condo was in his name. We don’t need to pay for two places, Daisy. And mine is so much more in

line with our goals. I’ll take care of you, Daisy. Yeah, some taking care of. Well, finding a place

to live was one more thing she’d have to worry about, right after she tried to get another job.

She’d stared for a long time at the tickets for New Orleans and the Mardi Gras brochure.

Craig had been enthusiastic about it. He said he’d been to the city a number of times, never got

tired of its charm, and wanted to show her the excitement of the famous celebration. But he had

split one day before their scheduled trip, and by dawn, she’d made up her mind to take the trip

alone. She deserved something for all this misery and humiliation he was putting her through.

The sick feeling at the way her life had turned upside down rode on the plane with her all the

way from New York. She needed to get away from this mess and try to figure out what to do

with the rest of her life.

Making her way up the jetway, she’d decided for the moment not to waste her time

obsessing over what happened. She’d been a fool and an idiot, now without a job and maybe

homeless, but Daisy had never been one to let life defeat her. Her first order of business was to

put everything behind her, or at least as much as she could. When she got back, hopefully in a

better frame of mind after a few days of Mardi Gras, she’d assess her situation and make some

decisions.

As she progressed through the terminal, with every stride, her determination grew. It was

Mardi Gras time, the biggest party in the world. Mardi Gras! She’d been looking forward to this

for so long. Her life might be in the toilet, but right now, she planned to stuff it all in a closet and

try to have some fun.

She’d been so sure Craig, with his starched shirts and three-piece suits, had been the answer

to stability for her. Hadn’t he gotten her the position at his firm? Moved her into his condo?

Paraded her around as his fiancée—although he had yet to give her anything more than promises.

What a fool she’d been. It was all so much window dressing. She’d pinned her future on a fraud

and a crook, and she was so angry with herself she could spit.

The only person she’d confided in was her friend Jocelyn who told her to go to New Orleans

and find herself a sexy stranger, someone nothing at all like Craig, who could help her get the

jackass out of her brain. Someone who could make her forget the disaster her life had turned

into. Some spicy Cajun man she could have a fling with. Even if she wasn’t the flinging type,

going a little wild might be exactly what she needed. Following the rules hadn’t gotten her

anything except betrayed, dumped, and fired.

She thought about taking Jocelyn’s advice. Maybe she’d go to Pat O’Brien’s and have one

of their famous Hurricanes. Maybe she’d even have three or four, get herself a little blitzed, and

meet some spicy Cajun man. Throw caution to the winds for a few days.

First order of business, however, was to catch a cab to the hotel, change into something

comfortable, and wander through the French Quarter. The curb was jammed with people there to

celebrate Mardi Gras. Daisy managed to squeeze herself into a space and waited for the next taxi

in line to roll up to her.

“Montmartre Hotel,” she told the driver as he got out to grab her suitcase.

“Mind if we share the ride, chere?” The voice behind her was deep and hot, rolling over her

like warm melted chocolate.

Daisy turned to see who it was and there he was, as if she’d conjured him up. Her spicy

Cajun male. Sexy for sure, he was tall and lean, with a thick shock of black hair and startling

blue eyes. She couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Uh, excuse me, chere. Do you still want the cab?”

“What? Oh!” She realized she was standing there like an idiot. “Oh, yes.”

“Well, I heard you say you were goin’ to the Montmartre Hotel. So happens I’m goin’ there

myself. Think we can share a ride?”

Maybe this was the distraction she was looking for, a ride with a man who oozed sex appeal

and could take her mind off her troubles for a while. She’d wished for him, right? No sense

letting Craig ruin any more of her life, at least as far as this trip went.

She gave herself a mental shake. “I’d love to share a cab with you.”

“Great. Great.” He held the cab door for her, waited for her to slide in then settled himself

beside her.

God, he smelled so good. She took a surreptitious sniff. Patchouli! Wow. She hadn’t smelled

that in a very long time. Nerve endings blunted by the shock of her situation suddenly snapped

and sizzled to life. She took a deep breath, the fragrance of patchouli teasing her senses even

more, and did her best to compose herself.

“Don’t usually see beautiful ladies heading for Mardi Gras alone.” The smooth-as-bourbon

voice slid over her and snagged her attention.

She glanced over at him, which was nearly her undoing. The look in those deep-blue eyes

nearly melted her panties. “Excuse me?”

He grinned, a twist of his lips that was almost lethal. “I was just remarkin’ I’m surprised that

someone as gorgeous as you is hitting Mardi Gras by yourself.”

Should she tell him? Why not? She’d never see him again. And she didn’t have to give him

Craig’s name. It was already in all the media but, thankfully, without hers being linked to it.

“I, um, had a fiancé who was supposed to go with me, but he’s in the wind.” She lifted her

shoulders in what she hoped was a casual shrug.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I can hardly believe any man in his right man would walk out on

you.”

“Yeah, well, it happened. That and a lot more.” She forced a smile. “Anyway, hasn’t anyone

ever told you that pickup line is pretty outdated?”

He laughed, a deep, sensual sound. “I guess it is, but in this case, I mean it.” She could feel

his gaze raking over her. “Did he run off with another woman?” Mr. Hot Stuff shook his head. “I

find that even harder to believe.”

“Worse than that. I discovered— Never mind. I really don’t want to talk about it. I decided

to enjoy the holiday anyway. I’m sure I can find plenty of people to celebrate with.”

Pretty bold there, Daisy girl.

Maybe it was time for some bold on her part. She’d allowed herself to be Craig’s shadow for

too long and look where that had gotten her.

“I’m sure you won’t have any trouble. This your first Mardi Gras?”

“It is, and I’m going to do my best to enjoy every minute of it.”

“Well, then, let me give you a little rundown on what to expect and how to enjoy it the

most.”

His voice was musical and soothing, rubbing smooth the raw edges of her anger. She was

startled by the instant connection zapping between them and wondered if he felt it, too. She kept

glancing over at his very sexy face, rewarded each time with a smile that jumped her thermostat.

At thirty-five, she’d met a lot of very interesting men, been involved with a few, but none of

them had ever zapped her this way. Was it a reaction to Craig’s betrayal, or—

No. She wouldn’t go there. Anyway, maybe he was only being polite. Still, a girl could

hope. As they chatted, he shifted slightly on the seat and his thigh came into contact with hers.

Blazing heat surged through her from the point of contact, making her more acutely aware of the

man sitting next to her.

“By the way,” he went on, “my name’s Marc. Marc Doucet.” He held out his hand.

When Daisy took it, she felt the same surge of heat as when his thigh had touched hers. The

way Marc’s eyes widened a little bit, she could tell he felt it, too.

Ohmigod!

“Daisy Karr,” she told him, moistening her lips. “Um, is Doucet Cajun? Are you from

here?”

He winked at her. “Guar-on-tee it. Born and bred.”

“But you don’t live around here now?” she asked.

“No, sorry to say. I had to relocate for work.”

“Oh.” She paused. “What kind of work do you do?”

“Nothing that would interest you, I promise. Dull business stuff.”

Okay, then. She didn’t want to hear about it. She didn’t want to think about the business

world at all for the next few days.

“Are you meeting someone here for Mardi Gras?” Damn! Had that just come out of her

mouth? It was none of her business. Except, lordy, he was so freakin’ hot.

“Not really. I have a little bit of business to attend to, so I thought I’d combine it with some

celebratin’.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” He probably had some hot sexy woman waiting for him. Men like him

never lacked for female companionship. Daisy had seen enough of them in her life.

“So, how long are you here for?” he asked.

“Five days.” Oh, wait. Should she have told him? What if he turned out to be someone she

wanted to get rid of? Her brain was definitely not clicking on all cylinders. She’d just have to

cross that bridge if and when she came to it.

She glanced out the window. They had passed the Mississippi River on the right and Lake

Ponchartrain on the left, now heading into the city on Airline Drive. Craig had been here several

times, ostensibly to meet with clients, although who the hell knew now if that was the truth. He’d

never asked her to accompany him even though he knew it was a place she’d always wanted to

see.

Now she wondered exactly what—

No. She had told herself she’d do her best to wipe all of this out of her mind for a few days.

Facing it when she got back would be miserable enough.

“Oh, look!” She pointed out the window as they crossed the bridge into the city of New

Orleans. “This is fantastic.”

Marc chuckled. “I always love it when people see my city for the first time. She’s an old

lady, but she’s got plenty of charm.”

“She sure has.”

Soon she was drinking in the sights of the beautiful city and the quaint streets of the French

Quarter. Everywhere she looked, people were in Mardi Gras mode. They hung over balcony

railings tossing beads to people. Others danced in the streets to the music blasting through open

windows from various radios. Or wriggling their way through the crowds jamming the

sidewalks. And all of them laughing, in the festive mood that always came with Mardi Gras.

When the taxi stopped at their hotel, a valet opened the door and extended a hand to help

Daisy out. She took a moment to look around, drinking everything in, trying to wrap the spirit of

the celebration around herself. She would have a good time. She would forget all about jackass

Craig, at least for a few days. And maybe she would have a drink with sexy Mark Doucet, if

some other woman hadn’t already snapped him up. And if he asked her.

He was right behind her as she made her way into the very busy lobby, a bag hanging over

one shoulder, a small carry-on in her other hand. As she expected, the line at the registration desk

was long. She sighed, settled her suitcase on its wheels, and prepared to wait.

Marc, on the other hand, carried his things to the head bellman and stood to the side,

catching the eye of one of the desk clerks. The man smiled, nodded, and in a moment, handed

Marc an envelope, apparently with his key card.

“Are you some kind of special guest?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“My company took care of everything, so all I have to do is breeze in. Here.” He held out

his free hand. “Give me your identification, and I’ll get them to slide you in.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” she protested, flipping a hand at the crowd. “These people are all

waiting in line ahead of me.”

“Come on,” he persisted. Then he winked. “What are friends for if not to help each other?”

He grinned, dimples flashing and humor dancing in his eyes. “I promise I’m trustworthy. And

you can stand right here and watch me.”

It sure would be nice to avoid the mob and get up to her room so she could shower, change,

and get out to have some fun. Maybe she owed it to herself, considering the mess her life was in.

“Okay. Thank you.” She dug in her purse for her driver’s license and the credit card. If it

was cancelled, she’d have to pay for the hotel with one of her own cards, but she hoped she

could at least soak Craig—wherever he was—with this bill. She handed both items to Marc.

“Back in a sec.”

He slid through a door behind the registration desk. Was he a friend of the manager? Or

some kind of celebrity she should know about? While she was still trying to figure it out, one of

the clerks picked up his phone, spoke briefly, and nodded. Minutes later, Marc emerged from

wherever he’d gone, stopping by the clerk long enough to receive an envelope and smile his

thanks.

“Here you go. Key card and your identification.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.” She was overwhelmed at the ease with which he’d

handled it. Exactly what kind of business was he in, anyway? Must be one with a lot of clout.

He retrieved his things from the bellman and nudged her with his shoulder. “Elevator’s this

way.”

As expected, the lobby was jammed with partygoers, many of them already decked out in

the famous Mardi Gras beads. A lot of them had the trademark Mardi Gras plastic drink cups in

their hands. From the laughter and loud voices, it was evident they’d had at least one stroll

through the French Quarter and gotten their take-out drinks. Daisy managed to navigate to the

elevator without anyone spilling a drink on her then squished into the crowded car with Marc

right beside her.

“Can you push twelve, please?” she asked the woman standing by the panel. “Thank you.”

The elevator made four stops before they got to her floor. She tugged her suitcase out and

turned to wave at Marc, only to find him right beside her.

“My floor, too.” He winked.

She stared at him. “Did you do this on purpose?”

He shrugged and winked at her again. “Just got lucky, I guess. So, how about you take your

stuff to your room and meet me back here at the elevator in”—he looked at his watch— “thirty

minutes.”

“You mean you didn’t arrange for adjoining rooms?”

He snapped his fingers. “Damn. I knew he forgot something. Maybe I’ll work on that. Will

half an hour give you enough time?”

Daisy blinked. “For what?”

“To get ready to Mardi Gras. I grew up not far from here, so this is almost like my

hometown. I think the least I could do is show a pretty lady the ropes.”

She snorted. “Does that line work for you a lot?”

He burst out laughing, a rich, deep sound. “Not really, but I keep trying. Come on, how

about it? I don’t have any meetings today, so I could show you the ropes. I mean, it being your

first time and all.”

Well, Daisy, what the hell? Why not? Didn’t I say I needed a sexy guy to help me enjoy the

celebration? And here he is.”

“Thank you.” She curved her lips in a smile. And damn, wasn’t he easy to smile at? “I’ll

take you up on it, then. Thirty minutes. Right here.”

“See you then.” He walked away toting his luggage, his long stride loose-hipped and easy.

Daisy stared after him for a long moment. She felt almost as if someone had cast one of New

Orleans’ famous spells on her, thrusting her into Marc Doucet’s charmed circle.

This will definitely be interesting. I might even manage to forget the disaster my life has

become for a while.

If anyone could help her, it was the spicy Cajun Marc Doucet.

*****

Marc yanked off his jacket, tossed it on the bed, and punched a number on his cell.

“I’m here,” he told his boss, Larry Choate, Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the FBI’s

New York field office. “And I’ve made contact.”

“Was it difficult?” Larry asked. “Does she suspect anything?”

“Easier than I thought.” He told him about the cab ride and checking in. “I don’t think she

knows Myers cancelled the credit card.”

“Reactivating it gave us another electronic trail to follow. A way to track her movements. I

know you haven’t had much time with her yet, but what’s your take on her?”

Marc ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about Daisy Karr. “If I didn’t have the

file you gave me, I’d tell you we’re wasting our time. My first reaction is she’s not involved at

all. And no, she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Well,” Larry said, “that’s what you’re there to find out. She and Myers lived together, were

practically engaged, and worked for the same investment firm. She was an accountant in a

position to help him cover his embezzling.”

“I hear you. I just…. She just doesn’t give off that kind of vibe.”

“Uh-huh.” Skepticism edged Larry’s voice. “I’m looking at her picture right now, and she’s

damn good looking.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Marc snapped. “You know I can be objective or you

wouldn’t give me the cases you do.”

“Do us both a favor and make sure you don’t let your dick lead you around.” Larry snorted.

“I’ve heard the tales about you and that hot Cajun blood in your veins.”

“Listen, Larry,” Marc began, his Cajun blood beginning to boil. His boss knew him better

than that.

“Just kidding, just kidding.” The man laughed. “You may have a well-earned rep as a ladies

man, but it has never interfered with your job and I don’t expect it ever will. As a matter of fact, I

figured it would be an asset this time.”

“Yeah?” Marc got a tight feeling in his gut. “How so?”

“You know Daisy Karr claimed she knew nothing about Myers’ hijinks, that he walked off

and left her high and dry, too. At least that’s what she told the agents who questioned her.

What’s your take on it?”

“Don’t know yet.” Marc leaned back in the comfortable chair, the ankle of one leg resting

on the knee of the other. “I haven’t had that much time to assess the situation. First guess? I’d

say she got taken along with everyone else.”

“Or she could be a really good actress,” his boss reminded him. “Your job is to find out

which. And to see if she knows where he stashed the money.”

“Sure makes us look bad when he’s been able to pull it off without us finding a trace.”

“No shit. We managed to follow all the transfers, but now the money seems to have

disappeared into thin air. The accounts are closed, and there’s no trail for us to follow. If he’s

pulled it out and physically moved it somewhere else, we’ll have a bitch of a time locating it.

She’s a hotshot accountant. She could have set it all up for him.” Larry cleared his throat. “Use

that famous Cajun charm on her and she’ll tell you what you want to know. Get her in the Mardi

Gras spirit and I have confidence you can seduce it out of her.”

Marc grimaced. He’d do it, but he’d feel like a shit for it. Larry didn’t mean seduce in the

true meaning of the word. He meant romance her and flatter her and get her to let down her

guard. The problem was, in the short time he’d been with her, Marc wanted to do a hell of a lot

more, and he felt like shit because of it. Would he be able to resist that look in her eyes he’d seen

before she carefully blanked them? The look that said, Can you help me forget the mess of my

life?

He listened while Larry brought him up to date on all the information they had so far and

pointed out again where there were spaces in the report he hoped Marc would be able to fill in.

Marc heaved a sigh. “Okay. I’ll do my best to see if she knows anything and what that might

be.”

“I trust your judgment,” his boss reminded him.

“Thanks. Good to know.”

“When will I hear from you again?”

“I’m meeting her in thirty to wander through the French Quarter and soak up some

atmosphere. Maybe dinner afterwards so sometime this evening.” He paused, knowing there was

a chance things might escalate if his body kicked his brain to the curb. “Tomorrow at the latest.”

There was a long pause. “Marc, don’t get yourself in a mess with this woman. I trust you,

but right now she’s the only lead we have to Craig Myers. If you somehow blow it, we’re

screwed.”

“I know that, Chief. Believe me.”

“Okay. Talk to you then.”

Marc clicked off and sat sprawled in his chair, staring at the cell phone but not seeing it. He

had always prided himself on his instincts. That was how he’d gotten himself appointed to this

special task force. He was seldom wrong about people and didn’t want this to be the first time.

Because he hadn’t gotten any bad vibes from Daisy his Karr at all. None. Zilch. Nada. Zip.

Although she did her best to conceal it, he could tell she was hurt by Myers’ actions,

disappointed and angry. But most of all hurt. That wasn’t someone who had been a willing

accomplice.

What troubled him even more was his instant attraction to her, stronger than he’d ever felt

for any woman before. It had smacked him right in the gut and held on like tentacles. He could

lecture his cock and his brain all he wanted, but this woman somehow got in under the wall of

his self-discipline. He was afraid of what would happen if they were alone together. It was a lot

more than the physical. Daisy Karr was the kind of woman who appealed to him on all levels. On

the taxi ride to the hotel he’d assessed her as a bright, funny, intelligent woman, someone who,

when her life was not in turmoil, was the kind of woman every man wanted.

Their short time together had made him realize that.

Checking his watch, he realized he had little time left before meeting Daisy. He stripped off

his suit, splashed water on his face, and pulled on a pair of jeans and his standard New Orleans

tee shirt with the legend Laissez les bon temps rouler—Let the good times roll—emblazoned on

the front. He grabbed his wallet and room key and stuffed them in his pockets. He felt naked

without his gun, but he’d chosen not to fly with it for a lot of reasons. He’d pick one up from the

local office.

Hustling down the hall, he saw Daisy already waiting for him and nearly stumbled over his

own feet. He took a look at her and his mouth watered, and the very dick his boss had warned

him about sent him an urgent message. Daisy had ditched her conservative traveling clothes and

changed into jeans that hugged her curves like a glove and a hot-pink tee shirt that fell softly

against nicely rounded breasts. The thin strap of a cross-body purse fell right between those

luscious breasts that he wanted to reach out and cup. She had released her tawny brown hair from

its clip and it fell in a riot of waves to her shoulders.

Fuck!

He was in such trouble here.

Business, he told himself. This is business.

Yeah, right.

She smiled when she saw him, a tiny dimple winking at one corner of her freshly glossed

lips. Expectation danced in her hazel eyes. Fuck again. Using his so-called charm on her would

be easy. She made it easy. But he felt like a first class heel knowing she had no idea what his end

game was. And fully aware that his body wanted to do a lot more to her than flatter and romance.

“Ready?” she asked him.

Oh yeah, he was ready. But for the wrong thing. Damn, damn, damn. This had seemed like

such a simple assignment, one he’d accepted many times before. But none of the other women

he’d wined and dined for information had shocked his senses the way this one did.

“Absolutely.” He cupped her elbow, trying not to inhale the subtle fragrance that surrounded

her. “Let’s go have fun.”

Fun. Yeah. Business, Marc. Remember that.

Chapter Two

Daisy sipped her Hurricane in its go-cup and let her gaze slide lazily over the scene around

her. The sidewalks were jammed with crowds celebrating the unique holiday, laughing and

waving to others draped over balcony rails. Music blared from open windows, and people danced

in the streets, ignoring the traffic that crawled at a snail’s pace.

She hadn’t really thought she’d be able to get into a party mood. The hurt of Craig’s betrayal

still weighed heavy on her, dulling the edge of her enthusiasm. How could he have done this to

her? What was he thinking? And worse, what kind of judge of character was she to have been

taken in so completely? And for the first couple of hours or so, she’d still had that uptight I-am-

so-pissed-off and-hurt feeling.

But Marc was such a good companion—date?—he made it next to impossible to be in

anything but a festive mood. He kept up a running commentary in that rich Cajun voice of his,

whispering in her ear, his hand always at her elbow guiding her through the mass of people.

Touching her shoulder, brushing her hair back from her face. When one drink made her a little

tipsy and she remembered she hadn’t eaten since toast at breakfast that morning, he steered her

into a crowded little café and ordered bowls of gumbo and rice for both of them.

Why couldn’t she have met him first, before Craig stole her faith and optimism? This was

the kind of man she should be with, warm and sexy and totally focused on her. Not a three-piece

suit more in love with himself than her or anyone else. Impressed with who he was and crooked

enough to steal millions of dollars from unsuspecting people. It would be nice if this could last

more than a few days, but she wasn’t deluding herself. She was sure all he was interested in was

having a good time with her at Mardi Gras, just as she was. She should probably shut off her

brain, enjoy this while it lasted, and hope that somewhere in the future she’d meet someone like

him. Maybe after the mess her life was in got straightened out.

They walked out at the exact moment one of the parades was going by, and Daisy caught

some of the beads being thrown from the floats. She couldn’t help dancing a little to the music,

especially when Marc laughed at her, caught her around the waist, and pulled her against his

body for a little fancy two-step.

His very masculine body. Oh, yeah. Lean with hard muscle and generating enough heat to

scorch her. His strong arms pulled her close to him, aligning their bodies, and whoops! That

might be a big mistake. Even through the layers of their clothing, she could feel the hard, thick

length of his cock, the shape branding itself against her body. Suddenly, unexpectedly,

unbelievably, her nipples hardened in response and moisture dampened her thong. In all the

months she’d been with Craig, he’d never elicited this kind of instantaneous response from her.

It both frightened her and thrilled her.

Well, you said you wanted to find a sexy man who could make you forget everything, at least

for a while. Here he is.

This was so unlike her. Not that she didn’t have needs and passion, but her relationships had

been so proper all her life. And didn’t that one word exactly sum everything up. Her entire life

had been proper, from the men she dated to the career she’d chosen. But this disaster with Craig?

It made her want to push all that aside, be wild for once in her life. Do something crazy.

Like hook up with a strange man!

Add a dash of Cajun spice to her life.

Wild, but maybe what she needed right now was wild. The possibilities made the pulse in

her core throb and cream dampened her thong.

As if suddenly aware of the erotic response between them, Marc released her, linked his

fingers through hers, and tugged her along the street.

“I’d say we need to cool off a little, darlin’. Think you’re ready for another drink?”

He pulled her around to look at him, tugging her out of the path of foot traffic. Those

electric blue eyes had darkened to the color of a stormy ocean and she could swear little flames

danced in the irises. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared at her, and she realized he was also

affected by whatever was happening between them. It both electrified her and frightened her. She

was sure Marc Doucet was way out of her league sexually, but she couldn’t seem to care.

Then, as if giving himself a mental shake, his lips curved in that panty-melting grin and he

towed her along the sidewalk.

“Drink,” he repeated. “Pat O’Brien’s is right near here. I think this calls for a Hurricane.”

She wasn’t sure a drink with that name would settle down the storm of emotions the mere

touch of this sexy Cajun’s hand set off inside her, but she hoped it would at least take the edge

off.

The bar had been jam-packed, so they’d gotten their drinks in the special Mardi Gras go-

cups. Now Daisy was doing her best to keep from being jostled and spilling the drink she was

holding.

“I don’t know how other people do it,” she remarked when they stopped at a corner.

“Do what, chere?”

God! His voice flowed through her like warm molasses.

“Manage to walk around without dumping their drinks all over themselves like I almost did.

They must be more graceful than I am.”

He gave her a long, assessing look. “I’d say there’s nothing wrong with your graces, chere.

It’s other people who are clumsy.”

She laughed. “That’s a great line you’ve got, Cajun.”

He gave her a heated look. “That’s no line, darlin’. Believe me.” He took her nearly empty

cup from her and tossed it in a nearby trash basket. “Listen, we’ve got a few more days of this

craziness. How about if we go back to the hotel and do some people watchin’ from the balcony.

Sound good?”

Go to her room or his in the hotel? Danger signs flashed in her brain. But again that little

voice in her head said, Go for it. You deserve it.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

Since cabs were barely moving through the streets and the hotel was only a few blocks

away, they walked back. Marc kept his fingers linked with hers, the warmth of his touch

insinuating itself throughout her. By the time they reached the hotel, every one of her nerves was

tingling and unbidden erotic thoughts danced around in her brain.

It didn’t seem to matter that she’d known this man for less than twelve hours, or that she

knew nothing about him. Or that she was throwing caution to the winds, something she’d never

been prone to do. When she’d decided to make this trip, when she’d boarded the plane earlier in

the day, she had been determined to find something to wipe Craig Myers out of her life. Well, it

appeared Marc Doucet was the answer, so who was she to turn away from it? Besides, when was

the last time a really hot guy like this seemed as turned on to her as she was to him?

They eased their way through the mob in the lobby and rode up to their floor in a jammed

elevator car. In the hallway, Marc took her hand again and gave her a penetrating look.

“Next question. Your place or mine?”

Daisy wet her lips. “I, um, have a balcony with my room. Do you?”

He nodded. “I do. I just thought you’d be more relaxed in yours.”

“Oh. Well, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Excerpt then she couldn’t get up and leave if she

wanted to.

Go with the flow, Daisy. Go with the flow.

He cupped her elbow in a now familiar gesture. “Come on. Let’s see what’s going on out

there now.”

Her hand shook so much it took her three tries with the key card to unlock her door. She

could feel Marc’s eyes studying her as if he was assessing her, waiting for her to change her

mind. Letting out a breath, she threw the door wide and gestured for him to follow her inside.

She went at once to the shutter doors at the french windows and threw them open, giving them

access to the balcony.

“I think there’s a little second-line parade coming,” she said, standing out on the balcony.

“You know, the people who follow the parades just to enjoy it. Oh, wait!” Her face heated. “Of

course you know that. You’re a native.” She gave herself a mental slap. “Anyway, I hear the

trumpets.”

He was beside her instantly, one arm casually around her waist. She seemed to sizzle every

place he touched her.

“That’s one of the things I always loved about this city,” he told her in a low voice. “It sure

knows how to show people a good time.”

In the street below them, parasols twirled and people high-stepped as the brass instruments

filled the air with a typical New Orleans jazz tune. Daisy leaned forward a little to see them and

Marc pulled her back against him.

“Whoa, chere. Don’t want you to fall over the railing.”

She turned in the circle of his arms, instantly bathed in his masculine scent, his very

maleness more overpowering than any cologne or aftershave. He bent his head slightly, waiting

for her to signal him to proceed or back off. She stood poised in that position for an interminable

minute, their gazes locked. A little voice in her head urged her to break away. This wasn’t her.

She didn’t do things like this. But then she thought of Craig’s betrayal and how much of her life

she’d wasted on him and others like him. Another voice said, Go for it. Do it. Let it all out for a

change.

Daisy stared into Marc’s eyes and, for a brief moment, something indefinable flashed in his

eyes, as if he was waging some internal battle with himself. She waited, wondering if he was

going to pull away from her, after she’d just given herself a mental shove to go all in with this.

Then he blinked and it was gone, and she wondered if she’d imagined it.

She opened her mouth a little, and that was all the invitation he needed. He lowered his head

even more until his mouth touched hers, a light caress as he brushed his lips back and forth.

When she parted her lips, he licked over them, tasting the soft surface before tracing the outline

of her mouth.

Oh god, he tasted like seven kinds of sin. She opened wider, inviting him inside, and he

didn’t hesitate. He cupped her cheeks, holding her head in place so he could take his pleasure.

Soon they were doing an erotic dance with their tongues, savoring the soft inner skin of each

other, licking and sampling, until she couldn’t breathe with the intensity of it. Her heart was

beating so fast she could feel it in her ears and her pulse rivaled the intensity of a jungle drum.

She was overcome with an insane desire to rip their clothes off and run her fingers over every

delicious, naked masculine inch of him.

When Marc broke the kiss, it took her a moment to focus again. He slid his fingers into her

hair, twisting her curls around them, holding her face close to his. She could see the hint of late-

day scruff on his sculptured jaw and the nose with the tiny bump that indicated it had been

broken at some time in the past. He held her head immobile while his gaze burned into her

center. The blue in his eyes had darkened to a deep navy, and the heat in them singed her skin.

Her limbs liquefied, and she had to grip his wrists to balance herself.

“I think we’re goin’ to have our own Mardi Gras celebration, chere.”

His words blistered her like matches, and the pulse in the walls of her pussy beat so hard she

felt it thundering in every one of her erogenous spots.

“Are we?” The words came out as a whisper.

“Seems so.” He stroked her back, tracing the ridge of her spine and slipped his hand beneath

her tee shirt.

His touch against her skin was as hot as a brand, and she shivered at that simple contact.

Pressing against the dip of her waist, he pulled her more tightly to him, his shaft imprinting itself

on her mound. His breath a hot breeze against her skin, he trailed a line of kisses along her jaw

and behind her ear, taking a moment to gently nip her lobe. Sensations cascaded through her,

sending urgent messages to her breasts and her pussy.

His scent filled her nostrils, the hint of aftershave blending with the clean masculine

fragrance of him. When he slid his mouth over hers and thrust his tongue inside again, she

moaned in sheer delight. The touch of his lips, the steady rub of his hand, the feel of him against

her sent her pheromones into overdrive. She gave a small cry of disappointment when he lifted

his mouth from hers.

“It’s okay, darlin’. I just think we need to take this inside. Don’t want to put on a show for

the tourists. Besides, I want someplace more comfortable.”

He nudged her back a little, reached for her hand, and tugged her into the room. Need pulsed

between them like a living thing. Wrapped in an erotic fog, she let him lead her to the bed where

he stopped, took her face in his palms, and brushed a soft kiss over her mouth. At the touch of

his mouth, she pressed herself against him, consumed with a sudden need to crawl inside him

and wrap him around herself.

“I’m going to take good care of you, chere. I promise.”

With infinite care and precision, he began to undress her. When the tee shirt came off, he

lowered his gaze to her breasts and the pink lace bra containing them. The ravenous look in his

eyes sent another shiver skating over her. Very gently, he traced the upper swell of her breasts

with a fingertip, first one then the other, before giving each of her nipples a gentle squeeze. She

felt his touch everywhere, electricity jolting straight to her core. Then he lowered his head and

sucked one of them into his mouth, fabric and all. Daisy trembled so much she had to grip his

arms to steady herself.

She certainly wasn’t a novice where sex was concerned, but she had never responded to a

man like this, to nothing but simple contact. It fogged her mind and melted her bones. Her pulse

pounded in her veins as her heartbeat ratcheted up. The heat of his mouth on her taut bud

electrified her. She couldn’t hold back the moan that wiggled its way up from deep inside her.

He moved his mouth to her other nipple and the pulse of heat increased. When at last he lifted his

head, leaving those taut buds that were now so sensitive and throbbing with sensation, she felt a

terrible loss.

“No,” she whimpered.

The smile he gave her singed her all the way to her toes.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. We’re just getting’ started here.” He licked his way across the swell

of her breasts before opening the clasp of her bra and stripping it from her body.

She had a sudden, urgent need to put her hands on him, too, desperate to touch his skin, to

run her hands over him, to feel all that hard muscle beneath her fingers. She tried to tug his shirt

from his jeans, but she was shaking so hard that she fumbled the process.

His laugh was a low rumble in her ears. “Anxious, are you? I can help.”

He lifted his hands from her long enough to strip his shirt over his head and toss it to the

side. She stared hard at his chest, at the firm wall of muscle covered with a dusting of curly dark

hair. When she smoothed her hands over it, the hair was soft beneath her touch. On impulse she

flicked her fingernails over his bronze nipples. She was rewarded with his sharp intake of breath

so she did it again. Drawn by a desire to taste him, she licked a line down the center of his chest.

“You’re killin’ me, chere.” He grabbed her wrists and lowered her hands to her sides. “My

turn again.”

He lowered his head and fastened his mouth again onto one aching nipple, sucking it into his

mouth and biting lightly on the hard bud. Daisy felt it in every pore, every nerve ending, every

sensitive point. She was so lost in sensation, she barely realized it when he flicked open the

button on her shorts and lowered the zipper. Then she felt the slightly rough surface of his palms

as he slid his hands inside her shorts, heard his sharp intake of breath when he found her bare

ass. He strolled his fingers to the cleft in her buttocks, making an “mmm” sound when he found

her thong.

Daisy reached for the fly of his jeans, but he squeezed her ass, hard.

“When I take those off, chere, we’ll be getting down to serious business.”

“And this isn’t serious?” She pressed her face to his chest and inhaled his incredible scent.

“It’s the first step,” he assured her. “You let me know if we’re doing it right, okay?”

Before she realized what he was doing, he’d lifted her and carried her to the bed, stripped off

her shorts and thong, and placed her with her legs spread wide. Daisy wasn’t used to men

looking at her with such ravenous hunger, as if they only wanted one meal and she was it. She

flushed with heat, skin warmed as if his gaze was a torch skimming over her. The pulsing of her

inner walls accelerated until she felt the pounding in every vein and muscle.

Marc pulled her so her buttocks were on the edge of the bed, knelt down, and lifted her legs

over his shoulders. And again he stared at her, his eyes focused on her like twin lasers. Using

thumbs and forefingers he opened the lips of her pussy, bent forward, and took one slow,

deliberate lick of her slit from top to bottom and back again. She shivered. Then he did it again,

the rasp of his tongue against her sensitive flesh waking up nerve endings she didn’t even know

she had.

She was so juicy wet by now she could smell the fragrance of her own musk. When Marc’s

nostrils flared, she knew he caught it, too.

“You taste as good as you smell, darlin’,” he told her in a voice thick with lust. “I might

never stop wantin’ to get my fill of you.”

He bent again, lapping at her in leisurely, languid strokes, pausing now and then to circle her

clit with the tip of his tongue. When he bit down gently on it, she nearly levitated off the bed. His

low laugh was dark and filled with erotic meaning, the sound of it vibrating against her sensitive

flesh. Wrapping her legs around his neck she tugged him tightly, pressing his head close to her.

She was rewarded with another sensual lick the length of her slit.

Closing her eyes she gave herself over to the carnal pleasure, the slightly rough feel of his

tongue on her sensitive skin, the tiny fingers of thrill that ignited all her nerves He danced his

tongue along every area of her slick flesh, long strokes followed by teasing touches. Daisy

couldn’t recall the last time she had been so aroused so quickly. If she was even thinking at all,

that was.

Inside me, she wanted to shout.

As if he heard her thoughts, he placed a kiss at her opening then thrust his tongue inside.

Oh god!

She tightened her muscles, clamping down, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more, and

faster. Soft moans of need whispered in the air, and she suddenly realized they were hers. Even

hitching her hips toward his mouth didn’t ease the knife-edged need building inside her. And

Marc wasn’t about to be rushed. He took his time tasting her inner walls, her wet channel,

curling the tip of his tongue and dragging it across that sweet spot again and again until she heard

herself begging and pleading.

When he slid his tongue out, she cried out at the loss but, in the next moment, two of his

fingers slid into her moisture, dragged back out then drove into her again.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” She tightened her legs around his neck. She was one writhing mass of

sensation, her body demanding relief even as she wanted it to go on and on. The walls of her

pussy pulsed with insistent need. She couldn’t focus on anything except this man and the intense

pleasure he was coaxing from her.

At the moment she was sure her endurance was stretched thin, he added a third finger,

stroked all three in and out, and bit down lightly on her clit. She came, screaming his name,

convulsing in her climax, pussy spasming again and again, until at last she lay limp on the bed.

Marc soothed her with his hands and with soft kisses on the inside of her thighs. Her pulse

hammered in her throat, and her breath came in short, choppy puffs of air.

“Doin’ okay, chere?” Marc rose from his knees and loomed over her, brushing stray curls

back from her face. He stroked his thumb over her lower lip then took a slow swipe at it with his

tongue.

“Yes.” She huffed it out on a soft breath. She was more than okay.

Unbelievably she began to respond again, all the little erogenous zones he’d eased with the

climax again demanding attention. She reached for Marc, stroking her fingers against his cheeks,

thumbs brushing the scruff just beginning to appear. She loved the feel of its gentle roughness

against her skin.

And his eyes. God, they looked deep into hers, as if he could see right inside her and capture

her every feeling, her every sensation. Her every need. His kiss was gentle but the restrained

passion behind it was evident. When she smoothed her hands down his back and his arms, she

felt him vibrate with desire.

“That didn’t do much for you,” she pointed out.

He gave a low, deep laugh. “Oh, darlin’, that’s where you’re wrong. You have no idea what

it did for me. I could eat your very wet, very sweet cunt all day long and never get tired of it.”

Heat crept over her at his words. Craig never spoke to her in such earthy language, nor, if

she thought about it—if she could make her brain work—did anyone else. It made her blush at

the same time it sent wake-up messages to every one of her erogenous zones. Her core, so

recently satisfied, leaped to life again demanding satisfaction.

“Are you going to take off the rest of your clothes?” she asked, tracing the line of his biceps.

“I’d like to see the rest of you.”

“Is that all you want to do? Look?”

She swallowed. “No,” she whispered. “More than that.”

He pushed himself upright and stood for a moment. Her eyes focused on the very masculine

sight of his chest. Daisy raised up so she was leaning on her elbows, affording her a much better

view of the show. She watched as he eased open the button at the top of his jeans and slowly

lowered the zipper. Pausing a moment to toe off his shoes—he was sockless, she noticed—he

shoved his jeans down his legs, leaving him clad only in dark-gray boxer briefs.

Daisy had to work hard to keep herself from drooling. Lean, muscular legs had the same

dusting of dark hair as his chest and if the outline of his cock was to be believed, he had his share

and then some. When she licked her lips his mouth curved in an erotically ravenous smile.

Slowly, never taking his gaze from hers, he eased the shorts down over his hips and legs and

kicked them away.

His cock stood out proud from his body, thick and swollen with a ropy vein twining around

it. The head was a deep plum color and, beneath it all, in a sac covered with the same dark hair,

his balls lay against his thighs. Her fingers itched to stroke the length of him and cup that soft sac

between his legs.

“Let’s get a little more comfortable,” he told her in that smooth-as-molasses voice.

He plumped the pillows at the head of the bed, shifted her so she lay with her head against

them, and knelt between her thighs. He let his gaze eat her up again, slowly taking in everything

from her breasts with their swollen nipples to the curve of her stomach and hips to the trimmed

thatch of hair on her mound to her sex that she knew glistened with the dew of her orgasm.

“Gorgeous,” he said in that panty-melting voice of his. “A tasty treat.”

He lifted one leg and pressed a kiss to her ankle then moved his lips up the inside of her leg

to her thigh, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached the crease where thigh and hip joined. He

traced the indentation of it with the tip of his tongue then proceeded to do the same with the

other leg. Daisy’s entire body trembled as the need so recently satisfied roared to life again.

Marc rose to his knees, the heavy thickness of his cock brushing against her thigh. Pushing

herself to a sitting position, she reached for it, closing her fingers around its hot, pulsing length.

When she stroked up and down, his nostrils flared and a dark flush stained his cheeks.

“Jesus, Daisy, that is so fucking good. Put your mouth on me, will you, chere?”

That had never been one of her favorite things to do, but everything with Marc was different

so far, maybe this would be, too. She scooted forward a little, let out a deep breath, and closed

her mouth over the rich color of the head.

Ohmigod!

Even his cock tasted like seven kinds of sin. Talk about Cajun spice! Every bit of her

reacted, the muscles in her pussy clenching and her pulse ratcheting up again. She slid her free

hand between his thighs and cupped the heavy sac hanging there, manipulating his balls with her

fingers as she set up a steady rhythm on his shaft with her hand and mouth.

Marc tunneled his fingers in her hair, clasping her head and guiding it as she worked his

cock. She licked the silky flesh, feeling the hard core beneath it, and dragged her teeth against it

from root to tip and back again. Marc rewarded her with a groan of pure sensual pleasure.

“Damn, Daisy.” His voice was thick with lust. “I might have to keep you around just for

this. You’ve got a magic mouth, darlin’.”

His praise sizzled through her, adding to her pleasure. When he tugged her head away from

him, she gave a little cry of protest.

“I want—”

“I want, too. We can do this again later.” He tilted her face up. “And there will be a later,

trust me. But this first time, I want to be inside you.”

Easing her back down, he took a moment to extract a condom from his wallet and rolled it

on quickly. Then he was back, easing her legs to his shoulders and testing her readiness with his

fingers, sliding them into her channel then lifting them to his mouth to lick her juices from them.

The look in his eyes said it all. Positioning himself at her opening, he drove into her with one

swift, hard move.

He looked at her from beneath his incredibly thick eyelashes, his desire plain on his face,

pulled back and thrust in again. The position of her legs gave him greater access and allowed him

to drive deeper. And deeper again.

“Jesus, darlin’. This is so damn fucking good.”

He stayed that way for a long moment, until Daisy dug her heels into his shoulders, silently

urging him to move. He locked his gaze with hers, let out a breath, and began a slow, steady in-

and-out glide. Daisy locked her heels behind his neck and leveraged herself to move in sync with

him. In and out. Back and forth. Again and again, until the tight coil of need low in her belly

began to unwind and spiral upwards through her. Soon, lost in the rhythm, everything else faded

away until her entire focus was on the sensual dance of their bodies and the heat consuming her.

In and out.

Back and forth.

More, more, more.

At the exact moment he tensed, she did also, and they exploded together in an orgasm that

thrust them into a whirlpool of sensation. They shuddered together, so hard Daisy had to clutch

his arms to anchor herself. Spasms rocked them, the intensity stealing their breath. On and on it

went, until finally, when she was sure there would be nothing left of either of them, they began

to coast down the other side of sensation. When their breathing had returned somewhat to normal

and she was sure her heart wasn’t going to explode out of her chest, she unlocked her ankles and

lowered her legs to the bed. Marc shuddered once more, a long spasm, then leaned forward,

catching himself on his forearms.

He studied her face, an undecipherable look in his eyes. She frowned, about to ask him if

something was wrong when he kissed her, a soft caress of his mouth against hers. He trailed

kisses down one cheek and then the other. And this time, when his gaze locked with hers again,

she saw nothing but satisfaction and a desire for more.

“You are definitely some surprise, Miss Daisy,” he told her. “I’m not sure a few days is

enough for me to unlock all your secrets and satisfy myself. And you.”

Sated with the best sex she’d ever had in her life, she gave him an impish smile. “Does that

mean you’re going to try?”

He licked her lower lip. “Guar-on-damn-tee it.”

Chapter Three

Marc stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He’d determined Daisy would be here until

Sunday and she’d been more than happy to agree to spend that time with him. That would give

him more than enough time to assess if she had any involvement in Myers’ scheme, but right off

his instincts told him no.

Although he was now spending each night in Daisy’s room, he kept his own and went back

to it each morning to shower and change and call his boss. His boss! Larry would chew his ass

out if he knew what was going on. Three days and nights with Daisy Karr and he was walking an

incredible tightrope. On the one hand, he was so involved with her it wasn’t even funny, a

wrinkle he had never expected. He knew he needed to put a little space between them, so he

could try to think about what was happening but he was finding that impossible. It wasn’t just the

sex, which was spectacular. No, it was a whole lot more. They had made an intense personal

connection in a very short time, and he didn’t know what to do with it. His professional

discipline was certainly shot to shit.

He felt like ten kinds of an asshole. All he’d meant to do was romance her a little, as he’d

done with other targets—Jesus! He couldn’t stand to think of her as a target—maybe exchange a

few kisses, flatter her and coax out of her any information that would help them find Craig

Myers’ money. Somewhere between accepting this assignment and reminding himself of his

good intentions, this whole thing had turned into something more intense. More complex. How

was that even possible in such a short time?

He felt like a jerk, a scumbag, and a few other things he could call himself. If it were

physically possible, he’d kick himself in the ass. He still had a job to do. If he asked his boss to

let him out of it, he’d have to answer questions best left alone. If he came clean with Daisy, she’d

kick his ass and rightly so. But she’d also dump him in the nearest trash can, and that would be

the end of what was turning out to be an unexpectedly incredible relationship.

Seriously, Marc? In such a short time?

Yes, seriously. And it shocked the hell out of him.

He liked to think he was a good judge of character. It was one of the things that made him a

standout agent. And every vibe he got from Daisy told him she had no knowledge of Craig

Myers’ situation or the money or what happened to it. That, accountant or not, she hadn’t moved

the money around for him or helped him embezzle from the clients. Maybe she was fooling him,

but he didn’t think so. He had trouble seeing her as one of the bad guys. It didn’t feel right.

It wasn’t just the sex clouding his mind, either, although that had been beyond spectacular. It

was the whole package. The whole unbelievable package. He could still smell traces of her light

floral scent on his body, feel the silkiness of her skin beneath his hands, the roundness of her

curved ass. When he thought of her soft mouth on his cock, her tongue tracing circles around the

head, he got so hard it was painful. Everything was even more special when he’d realized many

of the things they’d done were not on her usual list of sexual activities. She’d been a little

nervous, a little timid, but in the end totally enthusiastic. Because of him, and it was a special gift

he would treasure.

So what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t back away from her, and now he wanted to

protect her in case she got splattered with some of the mud. Maybe he could get through this stay

in New Orleans, solidify the relationship—which god knew he wanted almost more than his next

breath—and pray that someone else on the team found where Myers had hidden the money and

grabbed him up.

As he stood there, hitting his mental punching bag, his cell rang. He picked it up from the

vanity and looked at the readout. Larry. Of course. Wanting an update. With a decided lack of

enthusiasm, he answered it.

“Yeah, boss.”

“How’s it going?” Larry Choate asked.

Marc chose his words carefully. “Larry, I have to tell you, I don’t think she’s dialed into

this.”

Larry snorted. “Getting taken in by a pretty face, are you? I thought you were way past that.

You’ve always been my ace-in-the-hole ladies man and worked it successfully when we needed

it.”

Yes, but those women meant nothing to him. They hadn’t slammed him right in the solar

plexus the way Daisy Karr did. Gotten under his skin. Into his blood. His heart.

Heart? Already, you jerk?

“You there, Marc?” Larry’s voice broke into his conversation with himself, the tone sharp

and edgy.

“Yeah, sorry. And no, I’m not being taken in by anything.” He rubbed his hand across the

scruff on his jaw. “You said you trust my instincts. Well, they tell me she hasn’t got a thing to do

with this. None of the clues are there, and I don’t get the vibes.”

“I do trust your instincts. They’re good, always have been. However, I’m not ready to write

her off yet. Keep at it. Hang onto her. Watch for the clues. You know what I mean.”

Yes, he did, and this time he wanted to tell Larry Choate to go to hell. However, since that

wasn’t possible he’d just have to continue to play the game and hope to hell it got wrapped up

soon and Daisy would never have to know what his part was supposed to be.

“Yeah, I do. I’m spending the day with her, so I’ll give you a call tonight or tomorrow.” He

paused. “And if you hear anything at all in the meantime, ding me right away.”

“Will do.”

He hung up, set the phone back down, and looked at himself again. You’re hooked, Doucet,

he told himself. Face it. Figure out how to get through this and hope Daisy never finds out what

your assignment is. That said, he turned on the shower and stripped off yesterday’s clothes. He

had a breakfast to get to.

*****

Daisy brushed her hair until it shone and checked her makeup three times, wondering why at

thirty-five she was so nervous about having breakfast with a man. It certainly wasn’t the first

time. Maybe because Marc Doucet wasn’t like any other man she’d ever been with. He was

certainly a thousand miles from Craig.

She couldn’t chalk it up to sex, either, although she didn’t ever remember a man who rocked

her boat the way Marc Doucet did. Lordy, he was an incredible lover. Her body still hummed

with the aftereffects of all the things they’d done, at how he’d removed all of her inhibitions one

by one. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the springy curls on his hard chest, the heat of his

body against hers, his arms sculpted with hard muscle holding her. Feel his thick, swollen cock

filling her completely and the intense, unbelievable orgasms she’d shared with him. For the first

time in her memory, a man paid attention to her needs, her desires. A little shiver skated over her

as scene after scene flashed through her mind.

Remember, this is nothing but an interlude. You wanted to have fun at Mardi Gras, find a

sexy guy, and wipe Craig out of your mind the way Jocelyn told you to.

Craig who? She asked herself the question, and her mouth curved in a little smile. But yes,

she’d do well to keep it in mind that this was temporary. A fling, or whatever she wanted to call

it. Something to get her past the current disaster of her life.

Still….

Forget it. Go with today and forget about tomorrow.

The past two mornings they’d had breakfast on the balcony of her room, watching the

activity on the street below as the French Quarter woke up for another day of Mardi Gras. This

morning, though, he was taking her to Cafe du Monde for café au lait and beignets. She could

soak up the ambience of Jackson Square and maybe wander through the marketplace afterwards.

When the knock came at the door, she took a final look at herself in the mirror and went to let

Marc in.

He grinned at her, dimples flashing, and pulled her into his arms for a hard, hot kiss. When

he lifted his head, she saw the hunger still flickering in his eyes.

“You taste as good in the morning as you do at night.” As if to punctuate his words, he

brushed his lips over hers again. “Yup. Damn good.” Then he released her. “Okay, sugar. Let’s

go. We’re burning daylight.”

On the walk to Jackson Square from the hotel, he kept his fingers linked with hers, giving

her hand a gentle squeeze now and then. The warm, secure contact wiped away the turmoil that

had gripped her when she’d discovered Craig’s duplicity. Too bad this was nothing but a brief

interlude in her life, because she could certainly use a good long dose of this spicy Cajun man.

“You never said if you lived in New Orleans or somewhere near the city,” she reminded

him.

“We lived in the city,” he told her, “but we had lots of relatives in places like Kenner and

Thibodaux and New Iberia. Some even in tiny bayou towns too small to be on the map.”

“It must have been great growing up here.”

He laughed, a rich, full sound. “There’s good and bad, chere. My cousins and I got into all

kinds of trouble. Gave our parents a bunch of fits till we grew up.”

She loved the colorful stories he told, the tales of Mardi Gras as well as nights in the bayou

and “swampin’,” as he called it. She couldn’t help but be fascinated. And he was an unending

source of information about the city, letting her see it through his eyes.

“So tell me, Miss Daisy Karr,” he began as they sat with their beignets and cups of café au

lait, “what do you do in the real world?”

She chewed a small bite of the warm, doughy, sugary treat and tried to figure out how to

make her work sound less than boring. Usually when she said she was an accountant, she could

almost see the Boring sign flash in their eyes. Numbers to her had always been sexy, fascinating,

their uses so myriad she never got bored with her job. Running the numbers for the accounts at

the investment firm had been continuously intriguing. Of course, getting fired had not. Now,

tainted by the same brush as Craig the louse, she wondered what her options would even be.

So, how should she answer him?

“Daisy?” Marc prompted. He chuckled. “I didn’t think that was such a hard question.”

She sipped her café au lait. “What I do isn’t very exciting.” She set her cup down carefully.

“I’m a bookkeeper. That’s all. Nothing special.”

Well, either that would chase him away or not. Surely a man like him could get all the

glamorous women he wanted.

He reached across the table and cupped her chin. “You’d make anything glamorous.” He

brushed his thumb over her lower lip, catching a smear of powdered sugar and licking it with a

slow swipe of his tongue. “Delicious.” His eyes darkened. “And I don’t mean just the beignet.

Also, I happen to have a thing for bookkeepers.”

She laughed. “You’re teasing me. Either that or you’re nuts.”

“Not at all. I happen to find bookkeepers very sexy.” He winked. “So, what kind of

bookkeeping do you do?”

Daisy stalled again, slowly chewing another bite of the mouthwatering hot pastry. Should

she tell him? She was sure the story was all over the place by now. Her boss had already been

fielding calls from reporters when she left his office. No. She had come here to get away from

that mess.

“I do account reconciliations and projections.” There. That was pretty innocuous. “Like I

said, pretty boring.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Marc studied her as he swallowed a mouthful of his own beignet. “So,

where do you do this so-called boring work.”

Busted.

“I, um, am between jobs at the moment.” She sipped from her cup again. “Examining my

options. I, um, have some offers on the table.”

Yeah. Find a place to live because the condo payment is due in two weeks. And look for a

job where they don’t care I’ve been disgraced by someone else’s actions.

He cocked an eyebrow? “Looking to make a change, are you?”

Daisy looked at Marc quizzically. Was he making idle conversation, or did he have a deeper

interest? What would that be, anyway? They weren’t doing anything more than having fun for a

few days, right? Maybe his feelings were beginning to run deeper, the way hers were.

Daisy, don’t give yourself a headache. Go with the flow.

She licked the powdered sugar from the corner of another beignet, bit off a small piece, and

chewed while she decided how to answer. She actually had something in mind, but should she

share it with a veritable stranger?

“I’ve actually thought about going into forensic accounting,” she said at last. “Do you know

what that is? Most people either have a vague idea or none at all.”

His eyes narrowed, the reaction so slight she would have missed it if she wasn’t watching

him carefully.

“I’ve heard of it. Any special reason for that interest?”

She shook her head. “Just something I’ve always been interested in. Do you have anything

to do with it in your business? I mean, um, whatever your business is.”

“My company uses it sometimes in cases of suspected fraud.” The words were said in a

casual tone, but he was watching her intently.

A tiny frisson of cold air skated over her skin. What was up with this, anyway?

“Really? What business is your company in?”

He shrugged, a casual gesture. “You could say we’re project managers.” Then he leaned

forward and unleashed that lethal smile on her.

“Don’t you have a project here in New Orleans? When you said you had business here, I

figured you’d have meetings and such. Is it okay that you’ve been taking so much time with

me?”

“Don’t you worry, sugar. I’m taking care of business. Things are going well right now, and

I’m right where I need to be.”

“I know you got a couple of texts this morning. Are you sure there isn’t some kind of

meeting you have to attend?”

“No. For sure. Lookin’ to get rid of me, are you?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. But I don’t want to get in the way of your work.”

“You’re not, believe me.” He cocked his head. “So, let me ask you another question. Not

that it’s any of my business, but you haven’t heard from your fiancé since we landed. I can’t

believe he’d let a beautiful woman like you wander around The Big Easy by herself.”

She looked down at her plate, running her finger around the rim. “He’s not exactly my

fiancé,” she said at last. “Not anymore, that is. And maybe he never was. Maybe I only thought

he was.”

“So, where is he now?”

She looked at him, her face suddenly sober. “Why all the questions?”

He lifted his shoulders in a gesture of nonchalance. “No special reason. I want to make sure

he doesn’t show up and hassle you in any way.” He reached for one of her hands and gave it a

gentle squeeze. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she assured him. “He’s got…some problems that

have nothing to do with me. Problems I have no intention of becoming involved in. So good

riddance. I hope I’ve seen the last of him.” She managed a smile. “But thank you for thinking of

me. Anyway, let’s not talk about him, okay?”

“Suits me just fine.” He swallowed the last of his coffee. “How about finishing up and we’ll

go for a stroll through the park? There are some sidewalk musicians playing and some street

artists you might be interested in.” He lifted her free hand and stroked her knuckles, then placed

a light kiss on them. “Okay?”

Daisy nodded and finished the last of her beignet. All Marc had to do was touch her and she

felt ready to burst into flames. But the flame was tamped down slightly now. He’d been as

evasive about his work as she had, and what did that mean? Were neither of them what they

seemed?

Forget it. Just have a good time. That’s what you’re here for, right?

How could she look beyond that, anyway, when her life was such a mess? She had no place

to live and only a short time to find one. No job, and the prospects of another not looking good,

not with her name smeared with the mud from Craig’s actions. She had good savings, but she

couldn’t use them all up without any way to replenish them. What would Marc think if he knew

the whole story? And would he want to wait until her life was back on track again?

She smiled at him, rose from her chair, and picked up her purse, sliding the thin strap onto

her shoulder.

Marc took her hand again, folding it into his warm one, and brushed a kiss over her lips.

“Let’s forget about work and go have fun.” His eyes darkened to navy. “I’ve got some ideas

for a different kind of fun later on, okay, chere?”

“Okay.” The shiver this time had nothing to do with uncertainty and everything to do with

anticipation.

*****

Forensic accounting. Marc let the word roll around in his brain. Interesting choice for a

woman whose boyfriend had embezzled millions of dollars. Was she choosing that career path so

she could help him in the future, assuming he didn’t get picked up? Or because she was an

innocent in all this and wanted to protect herself in the future? He had trouble believing that

Daisy was involved in the actual fraud. He could possibly be wrong, but in the three intense days

they’d spent together, he’d seen no signs of it. No one, he thought, could be that good an actress.

Deep inside, he prayed his instincts were correct because Daisy had embedded herself in his

system. He didn’t want this to end when they returned to New York. Or ever, if he could manage

that. He wanted to wake up next to her every morning and go to sleep with her in his arms every

night.

But before they could get to that stage, get past Mardi Gras wildness, he had to be positive

she wasn’t part of Craig Myers’ scheme and didn’t know where the money was.

As the day wore on and they wandered through the French Quarter, ate excellent Cajun

food, and watched another parade, he did his best to study her, looking for any clue this was all a

big act with her. He found none. All he saw was a delightful, sexy, smart, funny woman who he

wanted to keep in his life.

He loved the way the sun picked up the blonde highlights in her hair. The way her incredible

hazel eyes shone with laughter when they came upon something especially amazing. The light

blue tee shirt she wore lay softly against the breasts he’d worshiped with his mouth for the past

three nights, the nipples slightly visible like large gumdrops. Navy shorts hugged her nicely

rounded hips and accentuated her toned legs that he could still feel wrapped around his body,

pulling his cock tightly into her hot wet heat. Even now the mere thought of it had him harder

than a steel spike.

“You look like you’re deep in thought.”

Daisy’s voice broke into his introspection, and he gave himself a mental shake. They were

sitting at a little bistro table at a sidewalk café, drinking something called Mardi Gras Punch. She

looked relaxed and happy, the lines of tension that had surrounded her eyes and mouth almost

gone, her body relaxed.

“Just thinking about how gorgeous and sexy you are,” he told her. “And how I can’t wait to

get you out of those clothes later.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Is that more of that spicy Cajun line?”

“No line, Daisy.” He set his drink down, leaned across the small table, and took her free

hand in his. “I know this started out as two people having a good time, but damn, woman. I don’t

think I want this to end come Sunday.”

She looked down at their joined hands, the smile disappearing from her face.

“Oh, Marc.” She sighed.

“Something wrong, chere?” He pressed his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up so

she had to look at him. “I thought we were reading from the same page here. You’ll be back in

New York. I’ll be back in New York. We can see where this thing goes, right?”

He caught himself in mid thought.

Where this thing goes? Exactly what was this thing, anyway?

This was supposed to be nothing more than a few days of fun and maybe some great sex

between two people. At least that was how it started out. But his idea to romance her and

entertain her and get her to spill her secrets wasn’t working out quite the way he’d expected. Not

only was the romancing turning out to be much more, but he also was becoming more and more

convinced she had no knowledge of or participation in Craig Myers’ scheme. Even if she did

want to be a forensic accountant.

He really needed to talk to Larry. That was who the texts had been from earlier, promising

there might be more information later today. Marc wanted to know what it was and also to pass

along his opinion of the situation. He just hoped he could do it all without Daisy getting wind of

it.

They explored the shops in the French Quarter, studying the window displays, even visiting

a few advertising voodoo and love spells.

“You lookin’ to cast a spell, Miss Daisy?” Marc teased.

“I want to be able to say I checked it out.” She grinned. “Part of the New Orleans

experience, right?”

But in one of the little typical New Orleans shops, she found a tiny silver charm in the shape

of a daisy and Marc insisted on buying for her.

“Will this cast a spell over me?” She gave him a mischievous look.

“Let’s hope so,” he teased right back. “At least for while we’re here.”

When he fastened the chain around her neck, he felt a tiny shiver and swallowed a smile.

“Thank you so much. You shouldn’t have, but I’m not giving it back.” She caressed the

small charm, where it lay just above the swell of her breasts and damn! He wished it were his

fingers on her skin.

“Good.” He kissed her shoulder. “You’ll have a souvenir of our little adventure.”

They stopped for dinner at a place he knew along that night’s parade route, a place that

offered what he believed to be the best po’ boys in New Orleans. While Daisy studied the menu,

he took advantage of the opportunity to duck into the men’s room and call Larry.

“You have something new for me?” he asked.

“I thought I would by now,” the man told him, “but I’m still waiting for a couple of calls. I

think we may have figured out where all that cash went when it disappeared.”

“Yeah? Where’s that?”

“One of our most reliable sources told us Myers converted it to diamonds.”

“Diamonds, huh? Well, that makes sense. They’re portable and untraceable.” He frowned.

“Any word from those sources where he might try to peddle them?”

“No, but we’ve got people checking all the under-the-table diamond markets. My guess is he

has some private buyers lined up.” There was a pause. “What’s doing with your target?”

Marc hated to have Daisy branded as a target. More and more he had come to believe she

was an innocent pawn in all of this, left holding the bag. He needed to get this cleared up

quickly, so he could hopefully move forward on a personal relationship with her. If only he knew

what her reservations were about the two of them continuing to see each other when they were

back in New York.

He was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of the embezzlement. Find out who

was really involved and how quickly he could clear Daisy’s name. This had become intensely

personal for him now, and he was doing a delicate balancing act. He couldn’t let Larry know

how rapidly things had developed between he and Daisy, and he couldn’t let her know the real

reason he’d hooked up with her in New Orleans. He hoped by the time he talked to his boss after

tonight there would be a sign things were falling into place, and that whatever fell wouldn’t be

his head.

Chapter Four

Daisy was pleasantly mellow by the time they returned to the hotel. The food, the drinks, the

excitement of the Mardi Gras color in the streets had all worked to soothe out any misgivings she

might be harboring about her situation with Marc. Draped around her neck were strands of

colorful beads Marc had caught for her when they were thrown from balconies overlooking the

streets. The celebration was really one giant party, exactly as she’d always heard, and it was

working its magic on her.

Mostly.

A little thrill had wriggled through her when he talked about still seeing each other in New

York, but she’d had to squash it immediately. Her situation was so uncertain, the prospect of

additional fallout still omnipresent, that she didn’t think this was a very good time to work on a

relationship.

Not that she wouldn’t have liked to. The few days with Marc had glaringly pointed out the

flaws in her situation with Craig. Why had she never seen before how selfish he was, how

driven, how obsessed with things. All those unexpected overnight trips he’d made had almost

convinced her he was seeing someone else on the side. Now she realized each time he was doing

something relating to the money he stole. She’d heard of people who embezzled huge amounts

from clients, moved it to an offshore bank then travelled down there on several trips to withdraw

the cash and turn it into something less traceable, like bearer bonds or jewels.

How stupid she’d been. Was she even in any condition for a new relationship, especially

with a man like Marc? She’d wanted a few days that would be an escape from her situation, but

she had never considered taking it beyond that. She had too many loose ends to settle and her

own bad judgment to deal with first.

“You’re very quiet, chere.” His voice rolled over her like melted chocolate, and his arm

around her sent shivers through her body. “Everything okay?”

She deliberately pushed everything to a far corner of her mind and leaned into the male

strength of him.

“It’s fine. Better than fine.”

“That’s good. Because in a few minutes I’m going to make the evening even better.”

She had been so preoccupied when they rode up in the elevator and walked down the hall

that she hadn’t realized they had reached his room instead of hers. Marc slipped his key card in

the slot, pushed the door open, and smiled down at her.

“I thought a change of scene would be nice,” he told her. “Besides, I have some surprises in

here for you.”

“Surprises?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Go on in, darlin’, and you’ll see what I mean.”

The room was nearly a duplicate of hers, balcony and all. “

She noticed it was surprisingly neat. Craig had always expected her to pick up after him, and

she assumed, since Marc was alone, his room would be at least slightly messy. But the pristine

appearance of it took second place to the room service cart set up by the balcony. She moved

over to it slowly, her jaw dropping when she saw what it held.

Plump ripe strawberries glistened on a china tray, circled around a silver bowl filled with

glossy dark chocolate. Next to it, in a silver bucket, two bottles of champagne nestled in a bed of

crushed ice, flutes standing beside it like crystal sentinels.

She turned to Marc. “You ordered all this?”

“Sure did.” His lips curved in the sexy grin that turned her on so much. “I wanted to see how

you looked in chocolate.”

“Oh? I thought we were supposed to eat it.”

“That we are. And I have a special method for doing so.”

Cupping her face with his lean fingers, he held her head in place as he lowered his lips to

hers. The simple contact with his mouth sent sparks sizzling through her. As always, an instant

tingle ripped through her nipples and electricity jolted right to her core. She was immediately

wet, her cream flooding her thong. How did he do that to her, arouse her so quickly with nothing

more than a kiss?

His lips caressed hers gently at first, warm and soft, before his tongue came out to trace the

seam of her mouth. Then a little pressure, urging her to open for him. But instead of a bold thrust

inside, his entry into her wet heat was a gentle glide. He tasted every surface he touched,

skimming over it again and again until, with nothing more than his tongue in her mouth, he’d

made her weak in the knees and trembling, aching for more.

He took his time touching and tasting, even when with little moans she begged for more. By

the time he slid his mouth across her cheek, trailing little kisses along her jawline and down to

her neck, she had to clutch his wrists to keep upright. He traced her neck to the sensitive spot

behind her ear, taking the opportunity to gently nip at her ear lobe. Then he moved his mouth

along her collarbone, lightly scraping his teeth until he reached the hollow of her throat where

she knew her pulse had to be beating furiously. She could feel the thunder of her blood in her

veins.

Then back to her lips, exploring her mouth again. He gently eased her hands from his wrists

and down to his waist so he could tug her tank top over her head. She felt his tongue trace the

upper swell of her breasts again and again before he moved farther down and bit lightly on one

aching nipple, taking in the fabric of her bra along with the hard tip.

“Mmm.” The sound whispered from her and drifted on the air as she leaned into him, urging

him to do more, more, more.

Marc lifted his head enough to look at her with those blue eyes that were now the color of a

storm-tossed ocean. “Takin’ my time today, chere. I don’t want to rush and miss one thing here.”

He turned his attention to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment, sucking and lightly

biting. Daisy was having a hard time keeping her balance, but she didn’t want to move and risk

losing the feel of his mouth. When Marc unclasped her bra, slid the straps down her arms, and

tossed the bit of satin to the side, the faint breeze of the air conditioner on her wet nipples made

them tighten even more.

“So sweet,” he murmured, his mouth on her breast again. “Like those strawberries we’ve got

waitin’ here.”

He reached beside him to the table and plucked one piece of the ripe fruit with his fingers,

rubbed it softly back and forth against one breast, squeezing it until a little of its sugary juice ran

down her the surface of her skin. The slow licks of his tongue across the rounded flesh sent more

shivers racing through her. She clung to his waist to steady herself, sure if she let go she’d

collapse in a puddle on the floor. And all he’d done was tease and tantalize her breasts! She

closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensations cascading through her as he continued to

dribble strawberry juice first on one mound then the other and savor it with lazy laps of his

tongue. She squeezed her legs together to contain the throbbing in her internal walls, an ache that

spread through her entire body.

When everything around her had faded and she could only focus on the sensations he was

rousing in her, he lifted her and placed her on the bed, letting her legs dangle over the edge. With

agonizing slowness he eased her shorts down her legs and dropped them with her other clothing.

Leaving the thong in place, he knelt between her thighs and proceeded to kiss his way from one

ankle up to the tender crease where hip and thigh joined. He pressed the tip of his tongue into the

slight indentation before repeating the procedure with the other leg.

Every touch, every caress, ignited her a little more, until she was writhing with need.

Some little voice in the back of her brain reminded her he’d barely gotten started. When he

grabbed the edge of her thong with his teeth and dragged it down over her neatly trimmed pubic

curls, she tried to thrust her hips at him, tried to urge him to do more and faster, but again, he

was determined to set his own pace. His tongue was a flame, setting her on fire as he traced the

line of her curls and dipped between the lips of her pussy to taste her liquid.

He eased the thong down her legs slowly, his knuckles brushing the inside of her thighs sent

more tremors through her.

“Close your eyes,” he told her in his warm voice, his breath hot on her skin. “And keep them

closed.”

Daisy obeyed then jolted when she felt the touch of something cool on her mound.

“Adding a little sugar, sugar,” Marc told her, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Let’s see if I can

drink strawberry juice strained through these tight little curls.

Juice from a strawberry dripped onto her skin, making the inner walls of her pussy clench

with need. Marc took his time lapping and sucking, rubbing the ripe fruit over her skin then

licking it off with slow swipes of his tongue.

“Don’t move, chere,” he told her, as he continued to feast on her. “I’m havin’ my

appetizer.”

She tried to twist her hips and arch them up to him in silent plea, but her spicy Cajun was

determined to take his time, no matter how crazy he drove her. Or maybe because of it. He set up

a pattern—the dribble of juice, the swipe of his tongue, the hum of satisfaction. Soon she was

cocooned by the routine, the nerves in her body firing, her internal muscles clenching, her pussy

so needy. Marc pushed her to a plane of sensuality then kept her there until all she could focus on

was the feel of the juice and his tongue. When he moved his hands away from her, she protested.

“Just give me a sec, here.” His voice was richer, deeper, as sexual hunger aroused him.

Despite what he said, Daisy opened her eyes and saw him shucking his clothes.

“Be right back.”

“What—?”

Beneath lowered lids she watched him walk into the bathroom, the muscles in his very fine

ass flexing as he moved. When he returned, he was carrying a large bath towel. With an

economy of movement, he slid it beneath her hips. He studied her, such fierce hunger in his eyes

it made her insides tighten. Then he reached over to the serving table and lifted the bowl of

chocolate syrup and a spoon.

“Ohmigod. Are you—?”

He nodded. “When I tell you I’m going to eat you, I really mean it, chere.”

He dribbled the thick sauce down the valley between her breasts before returning to paint

her nipples with the sweet confection. She felt his tongue again, wet and hot against her skin. She

clenched her fists to control herself as he slowly cleaned every bit of the syrup from her breasts

then sucked the nipples one last time.

She wanted to tell him how badly she needed him inside her, but again he seemed

determined to torture her, to go at his own pace. The line of syrup he dripped down to her navel

and farther to the top of her mound was a thick, heated liquid caress. The walls of her pussy

vibrated with need, convulsing with tremors as Marc again made a slow, methodical journey

following the line of the syrup. She had the sensation of being cocooned in a cloud of heat, with

tiny little vibrators attached to every sensitive point on her skin. Marc’s tongue was an

instrument of the devil, erotically talented as he licked up every bit of the dark confection.

At the exact moment she was sure she would implode from the sensations battering her, he

lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders and thrust two fingers inside her. That was all it took. As

soon as he slid inside her, she detonated, the walls of her pussy clamping down and rippling

again and again. The air was redolent with the scents of strawberries and chocolate and pure

unadulterated sex.

Marc rode her through the climax, dragging his fingers across her sweet spot and murmuring

softly to her in Cajun French. She was so hot, so wet, so sweet. The way her body responded to

him created a savage need inside him that he hadn’t even known he had. He loved the way her

cunt clamped around his fingers, and he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock again. And her

skin. Dieu! It turned such a sweet shade of pink when she was aroused, accented by the deep rose

of her nipples and the glint of light on the two rows of neatly trimmed hair that accented her

mound. He could bury himself inside her and stay there forever.

What the hell was this all about, anyway? Had she bewitched him? Marc Doucet was known

as a passionate man who was always in control. With Daisy Karr, those threads frayed and

snapped, and everything else disappeared. It had been totally out of character for him to suggest

they continue to see each other in New York. He’d sworn for years he didn’t want the

complication of a relationship in his life, but it seemed when one showed up—a real one—he

didn’t have much choice. He’d just need to get this damn assignment over with and convince her

they could move forward.

At last the tremors subsided, and Daisy lay panting, eyes closed, trying to regain some

semblance of balance. Marc slid his fingers from her wet grasp, pausing to lick her delicious

essence from them. Dieu! It is better than any fine liquor I’ve ever had. He watched as Daisy

opened her eyes, her gaze slumberous, a satisfied look on her face. He moved over her, looking

directly into her eyes, smiling at what he saw there.

“That feel good, darlin’?”

She choked out a little laugh. “Good doesn’t even describe it.” She reached up a hand and

stroked his cheek. “But I want my turn at bat, too.”

He laughed, a low, rough sound. “I thought you just had it.”

“I mean a different kind of turn.” She patted the bed. “Get up here beside me.”

Marc wasn’t sure he could take much of her “turn.” He was already pushing the boundaries

of his fraying control and his need to feel his cock inside her erotic wet heat. But he rolled over,

legs dangling at the edge of the bed, and watched through heavy-lidded eyes as she pulled herself

to her knees. The feel of her slim fingers around his dick make him suck in an involuntary

breath. Jesus! She was going to kill him.

“Better be careful there,” he warned. “Eating you with strawberries and chocolate sauce took

me right up there to the edge.”

“Is that so?” He heard the slight hint of mischief in her voice.

He held himself still as she studied his hot shaft, ran a fingertip over the dark purplish head

and the pulsing vein that wrapped around his cock. When she lowered her head and licked up

one side of it and down the other, he nearly came off the bed. He shuddered, and his balls drew

up.

“Take it easy, darlin’.” His voice was raspy and uneven. “I’m already knockin’ on the door

after tasting your luscious body all over.”

“I should get to take as much time as you did,” she teased.

He opened his eyes. “You get three minutes, and then I’m in charge again,” he warned.

“Then I’d better make good use of my time.”

She opened her mouth and took in as much of him as she could, sliding his thickness along

her tongue and closing her lips around him. Very slowly she moved her lips up and down, her

fingers still wrapped around his cock. With her other hand, she sought the sac between his thighs

and rolled his balls in her fingers.

“Jesus!” Marc tunneled one hand into her hair and wrapped the silken strands around it.

“Holy shit!”

Daisy hummed in satisfaction at his response before bending to her task again. She licked

and sucked and played, closing her eyes and letting the taste and scent of him roll over her and

invade every inch of her.

“I think you might taste a lot better with some chocolate sauce,” she teased.

Marc was done. He gripped her head, lifted her away, and rolled to a sitting position.

“Enough.” His voice was hoarse with tension. “I have to be inside you right this minute.”

He didn’t even take the time to rearrange them on the bed. He barely managed to sheath

himself with a condom before he lifted her legs over his shoulders, placed the head of his cock at

her opening, and drove inside her.

Oh god!

He had time for one rational thought before he took them both on the ride of their lives.

“Look at me,” he growled. “Look in my eyes, Daisy.”

She did, and he was lost in the deep hazel of her eyes, the tiny flecks of gold in the irises. He

thrust into her over and over, the width of his shaft dragging sensuously along her inner muscles,

the head bumping the mouth of her womb. Every one of her nerves was focused on their joining.

Nothing else existed. He was pinned by her gaze, lost in the heat of it as he rode her and rode her

and finally took them both over the edge of the cliff and into the valley of sensation.

With his arms wrapped around her, holding their shuddering bodies together, he pressed his

mouth to hers and held it there until the thump of their heartbeats slowed and the intense

shudders subsided. He thought he could stay there forever, her hot pussy tight around him, her

breasts tempting him to take just one more taste. At last, he eased himself from her and padded to

the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

When Marc walked back into the bedroom, he poured two glasses of champagne, put them

on the nightstand, and then climbed into bed, pulling Daisy up beside him. Then picking up both

flutes, he handed one to her.

“To an incredible Mardi Gras.” He touched his glass to hers.

“I’ll drink to that.” She smiled then took a sip of the bubbly liquid.

Marc set his glass down and pulled her against him. “I’m not sure we’re done with the

strawberries and chocolate yet, chere.”

“And I think I need to catch my breath.” She grinned at him. “You know how to wear a girl

out, that’s for sure. You weren’t kidding about Cajun spice.”

“We’ve got all night, darlin’. All night long.”

*****

Marc couldn’t remember a night in his life that was so erotic, so sensual and so fulfilling. He

had no idea what would happen when they got back to New York. Daisy had been hesitant when

he brought it up and maybe he’d been rushing things a little. After all, her situation was far from

settled, at least as far as her connection to Craig Myers was concerned. And a seasoned agent

like himself knew better than to get emotionally involved with a possible suspect. But if Daisy

Karr was an embezzler, he was King Kong.

Eventually, exhausted, they fell asleep. Marc was dreaming about Daisy’s naked body when

a jarring sound woke him up. Blinking himself awake, he realized it was his cell phone. He

looked at the time on it. Two o’clock. Fuck! It had to be Larry. But calling him at this hour? Of

course, his boss had no idea he was sleeping with the suspect he’d been sent to get close to. Fuck

again.

The ringing stopped but, in a moment, it started again. He slid out of bed and headed out to

the balcony, taking the phone with him. He made sure to close both the drapes and the door

before he answered the call, and turned away so his voice wouldn’t carry.

“You do know what time it is, right?” he asked.

“If I’m awake, you can be, too,” Larry Choate told him. “I figured you would have dropped

the suspect back at her room by now, anyway.”

If he only knew.

“I do have to sleep sometime,” he joked. “So, what’s up?”

“Our confidential informants have really come through for us. We’ve managed to track

where most of the diamonds were bought and have a trace out for Myers from there. But some of

the money is still unaccounted for. Plus, he wiped his computer when he took a powder. He did

such a good job our techs are having a hard time finding the ghost files. We’re hoping little Miss

Daisy Karr knows about it and can help us.”

“Yeah, about that.” Marc cleared his throat. “I think we’re barkin’ up the wrong tree here,

boss.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Are you losing your focus on this assignment,

Doucet?”

Marc ran his fingers through his hair. “Not at all. I’ve done exactly what I set out to do. But

she doesn’t act like a woman involved in this scheme, talk like one, or even behave like one.

Wherever he’s got the rest of the cash, however he’s physically moving it, she’s not part of the

scheme.”

“I’m telling you, I think she might be able to tell us something,” Larry insisted.

“And I’m telling you she knows nothing.” He raked his fingers through his already mussed

hair again. “I hinted around casually about her so-called fiancé. She told me he’s got some

troubles that have nothing to do with her.”

Larry snorted. “Where have we heard that before?”

“Besides,” Marc went on, “he hasn’t called her once since she’s been here or made any

effort to contact her. She’s not actin’ as if she’s expecting someone to show up or even as if she’s

trying to lay down a false trail. And she certainly doesn’t act like someone who’s expecting to

live the good life on other people’s money.”

“Maybe she’s a really good actress.”

“Not that good,” Marc assured him.

“You said the credit card she used at the hotel was declined. We ran the numbers, and it’s

one they were both signers on.”

“That means nothing. If she was trying to lead us away from him or had any part in this, she

wouldn’t use anything so blatant,” he pointed out. “And thanks for activating the card so she

could use it.”

“I did it because it gives us another electronic trail.”

“You always remind me I have great instincts where people are concerned. Well, my

instincts are saying loud and clear that she’s as much a victim as everyone else.”

“I’m not ready to give up yet. She might not even realize she knows something. Get her to

talk about it some more. Use that Cajun charm on her.”

“Larry,” he began.

“That’s an order, Doucet. I want whatever you can get from her.”

Marc was silent for a long time, thinking. He could screw this up royally if he made a wrong

move.

“Let me give it some thought,” he said at last. “But I want you to know I don’t feel good

about this. Not even one little bit.”

“You don’t have to feel good. You just have to get the job done.”

There was a click, signaling the end of the conversation. Marc disconnected on his end and

leaned on the balcony railing. What a fucking mess. What the hell did he do now? At some point,

he’d have to come clean with Daisy, especially if he wanted to see her again. She’d have to know

what kind of job he had. The important thing was to figure out how to tell her so she didn’t want

to drive a stake through his heart.

“So, I was your ‘business’ in New Orleans?”

He’d been concentrating so hard on his dilemma he hadn’t heard the door slide open behind

him. He spun around to see Daisy standing in the open doorway, a sheet wrapped around her

naked body, a look of agony in her eyes. Her words cut into him like a sharp knife.

“Daisy—”

“You’re with the FBI, right?”

“Yes, but listen,” he began.

“No, you listen,” she snapped. “What were your orders, anyway? To romance me? Flatter

me? Get into my head?” She swallowed. “My pants? And ferret out all of Craig Myers’ secrets I

held?”

“If you’ll let me explain,” he started again.

He took a step forward, but she backed into the room.

“What’s to explain? You had an assignment. You did it very well. I’m so damn sorry I had

nothing to give you for all your efforts.”

He followed her into the room as she continued to back up, but he was quicker than she was.

“Don’t touch me.” Pain twisted her delicate features. She shook her head. “I can’t believe I

was such a fool as to believe you. And asking if you could see me in New York? Was that in

case I didn’t spill all the beans while we were here?”

He shook his head and swallowed against the sick feeling that washed over him. Damn,

damn, damn.

“Daisy, it wasn’t like that at all.” He reached for her, but when she backed up again, he held

out his hands, palms up. “Please let me tell you what’s going on.”

“That would be a change. Right?”

The anguish in her voice cut right into his heart.

“Five minutes,” he persisted. “That’s all. Just give me five minutes. Then if you want, you

can run right out of here.”

She chewed her bottom lip. She looked so adorable, standing there gripping the sheet against

her, nibbling on that pouty full lip. Marc wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and

make all of this go away.

“Please,” he asked again.

He’d get down on his knees if he had to. Daisy Karr had come to mean so much to him in

such a short period of time. If she was a thief, he was Batman, and he didn’t think either was

possible. If she’d stolen anything, it was his heart, and now she was stomping on it—not that he

blamed her. He should have flipped off his boss and told her what was going on the minute he

was satisfied she wasn’t involved.

Finally, she nodded. “Five minutes. Then we’re done.”

“Okay. All right.” He blew out a breath. “I know you’re aware we’re onto Craig Myers. You

were at work when agents from our office came there to pick him up.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t take me instead,” she spat out.

“We didn’t have any evidence of your direct involvement. And the way you answered all

our questions reinforced that.”

“So then, why did you follow me down here? I know that’s what you did.”

Marc nodded, a sour taste in his mouth. “I won’t deny it. We lost the money trail, and my

boss wanted to be sure you had no involvement. We hoped you had some idea of what he’d done

with all the cash when he took it out of the offshore accounts.”

Daisy shook her head. “And I’m such a stupid idiot I fell for your Cajun romance act. I

suppose that was all an act. You’re very good at it, so you must have to do it a lot.” Something

flashed into her brain. “That’s how you got a room at a sold-out hotel. The FBI gets whatever the

FBI wants. Right?”

He sighed. “Guilty as charged.

“And when you did your little thing to get me checked in early? What was that all about?”

Marc rubbed his hand over his jaw. “You won’t like it.”

“I don’t like any of this,” she pointed out, “so let’s have it.”

“Craig had cancelled the credit card you gave me. My boss called and got it reinstated.”

Daisy frowned. “But—” Then a light dawned in her head. “That wasn’t just for my

convenience. You wanted to be able to track any time I used it. In case it had something to do

with Craig. If I was running errands for him.” She could barely control her anger.

“You’re right and I’m sorry, but I was just doing my job.” He moved forward and reached

out to her again. “You have to know that after I got to know you I hated deceiving you that way.”

She held up her free hand. “Don’t come one step closer. Let me tell you a few things for

your report, Mr. FBI Agent.” She blew out a breath. “The condo we lived in was in Craig’s

name, and I’m assuming when I get back to New York, I’m homeless. Finding a place to live

will be a problem because my boss fired me after your friends left the office. I had given Craig

some of my money to invest, and I can kiss that good-bye. At least I have a tiny nest egg I held

back for emergencies. I’d say this constitutes one for sure.”

Marc was stunned. His boss had been so sure Daisy Karr would have some kind of lead for

them. Yet here she was, broke and homeless, scammed by the snake the way Myers’ clients had

been.

“I’m sorry, chere. I—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Two things.” He knew he was running out of time with her. “One, I never for a minute,

after I’d spent a tiny bit of time with you, believed you were involved in Myers’ scheme at all.

And two, none of this was an act. All of it has been 100 percent real. Guar-on-damn-tee it.”

“Is that it?” Pain shimmered in her eyes.

“No, that’s not it. I fell in love with you, Daisy. I’m not going to let you get away from me.”

He swallowed hard. “I fell in love with you, Miss Daisy Karr. I want to be in a relationship with

you. Build something together.”

“Build something together?” Her eyebrows shot up. “On a foundation of lies? No, thanks.

I’ve been lied to enough for this year.”

“Don’t do this, chere. Don’t walk away from what we’ve got here.”

“What we’ve got? She clutched the sheet even more tightly. “We have nothing. Nothing at

all. I’m done with lies and I’m done with me.” She shook her head. “What an idiotic fool I’ve

been. I must have left my brain on the side of the road.” She glared at him. “I’m a college

graduate with a master’s degree, yet I let not one but two men completely fool me. Well, I’m

done. No more. My life is my own, such as it is, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Daisy—”

“I’m going to get dressed and go to my room and try to forget we ever met.”

She grabbed her clothes then paused for a moment. Yanking the chain with the daisy on it

from her neck, she tossed it at him “Here. You can buy a different flower for your next target.”

Then she walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Hard.

Marc paced as he waited for her to come out, wondering how in hell he’d managed to get

himself in such a mess.

By doing your job.

Because he’d never expected to meet a woman who swept his feet out from beneath him.

He made one more attempt when she came back into the room, but she ignored him, grabbed

her purse, and opened the door.

“At least let me give you a ride to the airport,” he pleaded. “And pay for your reservation

switch.”

“I don’t want anything from you. Not anymore.”

Then she was gone, leaving Marc with a hole in his heart and a sick feeling in his stomach.

Grabbing his cell, he punched speed dial for his boss.

“Talk about late calls,” Larry said. “You have something already?”

“Yeah, but it’s nowhere near what you expected.”

In a tight voice, he relayed his conversation with Daisy, nearly word for word.

“And you believe her?” Larry asked.

“I do.”

“Well, not being as trusting a soul as you are, I’m going to check out the money he invested

for her and see if it’s protected. That will give us an indication she’s not exactly a victim here.”

“Check all you want, but you won’t find anything except she’s out a bunch of bucks along

with everything else. I’ve been in this business long enough to smell out a liar, even an

accomplished one.” He picked up a half-full champagne flute and chugged the contents. The fact

it was stale didn’t matter. He needed something to calm his nerves.

“Don’t let her come back to the city by herself,” Larry cautioned. “The condo is off limits,

and she won’t have a place to stay.”

“Exactly how do I accomplish that? She’s made it pretty clear she wants nothing to do with

me.”

The connection hummed with silence. Then his boss spoke again.

“Well, the credit card is still active, so she’ll be able to get her plane ticket changed and pay

any extra fees. I’ll make a hotel reservation for her and have someone meet her at the airport.”

Marc gave a short laugh. “Good luck with that. She’s liable to kick whoever it is in the

nuts.”

Larry cleared his throat. “Meanwhile, there’s something we still haven’t addressed. You’re

one of our best agents. I don’t want to lose you over this.”

“Lose me how?”

“You know the rules about fraternizing. We have policies in place. And she still hasn’t been

fully cleared.”

Marc ground his teeth. “I’ve dotted every I and crossed every T my entire career. Would I

go against regs just on a whim? I’d walk away from this woman first.”

More silence.

“You hear me, boss?”

Another pause.

“You really fell for her, didn’t you, Cajun?” Larry said at last.

“Yes, I did. Enough to walk away from the bureau if it means I have a chance with her.”

He could hear Larry’s heavy sigh over the connection. “I’ll probably get my ass chewed out

for this, but if you’re sure she’s not involved, I’ll take your word.”

“Thank you.”

“But if she screws us over, it’s my ass as well as yours. Just keep that in mind”

“I will,” he agreed. “And…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. But if you are right, I’ll do whatever I can to patch this up for you.”

“Good luck with that.” He filled the flute again. “Just keep me in the loop with whatever you

find out about Myers and the rest of the money. If we can get our hands on the remaining cash

plus the diamonds, we can refund everything his clients lost. At least one good thing will come

out of this.”

He hung up, tossed his cell phone on the bed, and slugged down more stale champagne. He

stared at the remnants of the strawberries and chocolate sauce, remembering how a great evening

had turned sour.

Shit!

He threw the glass against the wall, watching it smash into tiny shards. Too bad. The hotel

could put it on his tab. Then he went about the business of getting dressed and packing.

And planning how to win back the woman he’d fallen so deeply in love with.

Chapter Five

Three men were waiting for her at the airport when she deplaned. The one obviously in

charge came forward with his hand outstretched.

“Larry Choate. Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the New York FBI field office.”

Daisy glared at him, ignoring his hand. “Marc’s boss,” she guessed, her voice laced with

venom.

For a moment, she’d wondered how they even knew when she would be arriving. Then she

realized the FBI could find out anything it wanted. She was sorry now she hadn’t changed her

reservations to first class and stuck them with the bill. She had no intention of paying off that

card. She’d send it to the New York office with as nasty a note as she could write.

He nodded. “I am.”

“I hope you’re satisfied now that I had nothing to do with Craig’s schemes. If you’ll excuse

me, I want to go home, lock my door, and try to forget any of this happened.”

The man sighed. “I’m sorry but that just won’t be possible, Miss Karr.”

He explained in a tired voice about the search warrant he’d obtained for the condo. That they

weren’t finished with it, so it was off limits until further notice. He apologized profusely, but she

didn’t want his apologies. She wanted to smack him in the face. Or kick him in the balls. Or

both.

“We’ll make sure you get into town safely,” he told her. “And the FBI has arranged for hotel

accommodations for you until you can find another place to live. You know we can’t allow you

back into the condo except to remove your things. Under supervision,” he added.

“So, I’m still a suspect?”

He shook his head. “No, but there are other considerations here. The FBI will confiscate it

and hold it while we figure out exactly how much all the clients of the firm lost. Then after us

comes the IRS if he owes back taxes, which I can probably guarantee you is the case. I wouldn’t

plan on doing anything there except collecting your personal belongings, and under strong

supervision. I’m sorry about that.”

“So I’m homeless along with everything else?”

“I wish I had a different answer for you.” He sounded genuinely regretful, but Daisy figured

he could also be a good actor. “Once everything shakes out, we’ll do our best to help you find a

place to live.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” she snapped. “I’ll find my own place.”

She didn’t want to hear any of it, even as she realized that, for the moment, she had no

choice except to accept what he offered. But on the other hand, she figured they owed her. She

also didn’t want to listen to him all the way to the hotel singing Marc’s praises and apologizing

for putting them both in this situation. He told her Marc had reported right away that he didn’t

think she was involved but he, Larry, had kept pushing.

“I hope you’ll try to see this from our point of view,” he told her over and over again. “I

accept full responsibility.”

“No, Marc has to accept a lot of it.” She shook her head. “He could have told me.”

“No, he couldn’t,” Larry corrected her. “He was under orders. We had no idea if you were

involved in Myers’ little scheme, and it was his job to find out. He was under strict orders.”

She glared at him. “To seduce me?”

The man shook his head. “That was all on him. And for the record, he doesn’t get

emotionally involved with women as a routine thing. It’s just not who he is.”

“What isn’t? Falling in love?” She shook her head. “How could he put that out there and still

do what he did?”

“Because he never expected it to happen with you. Marc Doucet doesn’t jump in and out of

relationships. When he told me how he felt about you—cussing me out at the same time—I was

shocked at first. We all thought of him as a confirmed bachelor. But the more I spoke with him,

the more I could see how deep his feelings for you were.” He gave her a tired smile. “I’m going

to ask you to find a way to forgive him, or at least talk to him. But that’s up to you.”

He escorted her into the hotel, made sure she was registered, and told the desk to give her

whatever she needed.

“Someone’s going to call you tomorrow about employment,” he said after she was set.

“I don’t want—”

“Miss Karr? This was our screwup, the way we handled it, everything. So I see it as our

responsibility to try and make it right. But if you can’t accept anything else, at least listen to

Marc.”

She was so confused. Well, as she thought about it now, maybe he couldn’t have told her his

real purpose in meeting up with her. At least not in the beginning. But after they got to know

each other better. Became intimate. God, what a misleading word. They’d had sex. Raw and

raunchy, slow and refined, but that was what it was. If they’d been truly intimate, he’d have told

her what was going on, not led her on.

Wait a minute, Daisy. The guy was doing a job. What would you have done?

Daisy rode up in the elevator and rolled her suitcase into the hotel room, closed and locked

the door, and threw herself on the bed. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, and sick at

heart. Truth be told, she had foolishly fallen in love with Marc Doucet, her Cajun spice, and it

killed her that once again she’d allowed herself to be taken in by a man.

She shut off the voice in her head. She wasn’t interested in listening to reason. She wanted

to kick and scream and vent all her anger and dismay, preferably at Marc. Then she wanted to

have a good old-fashioned cry. Because truth be told, in only a few days she had fallen in love

with Marc Doucet. They hadn’t said the words to each other, but she had decided to give him her

cell number and see if they could reconnect when she had a job and a place to live and a future.

Maybe a future with him. That was before she’d learned what an idiot she had been.

When it came crashing down on her head, she’d shattered. On top of everything else, it was

all too much for her to handle. Now she had to pick up all the bits and pieces of her life and see if

she could build a new one—fortunately without Craig but unfortunately without Marc. She could

do it. She wasn’t without skills or training or knowledge. And she was too strong to let crap like

this defeat her. Tomorrow. She’d start tomorrow, in the morning. After a good night’s sleep.

But first she was going to indulge in a really good cry. She was definitely entitled.

*****

Marc managed to get a flight out right after Daisy’s and had barely arrived home before

Larry showed up at his door.

“I don’t want to discuss anything with you,” Marc told him. “Not now, anyway. I need to

straighten out my thoughts. Besides, right now you’re not my favorite person.”

“I understand.” Larry nodded his head. “I did what I had to do, and I am truly sorry an

innocent woman got hurt. From what we’ve found out in the last few hours, she was as much a

victim in this whole thing as Myers’ clients.”

“Too bad you didn’t know that before this little fiasco played out.”

His boss sighed. “Marc, you’re a very good agent. An excellent one. I know you’re aware of

what was needed and dug in and did it. But I never expected you to fall for the target. You didn’t

expect it, either.”

Marc snorted. “No shit.”

“I know this has been a bitch of a situation for you,” Larry told him, “but maybe I can help a

little with the straightening out.”

“Yeah? Can you get Daisy to change her mind?”

“No, that’s up to you, but I can give you the time off to go forward with it.” He sighed.

“We’ve been working with Interpol on this, and tonight they arrested Craig Myers with most of

the money in diamonds as he was about to make a sale. There are still some bucks unaccounted

for, but I think he’s ready to make a deal. So basically, the case is closed except for tying up

some loose ends and handing it over to the federal prosecutor.”

“Thank god for that.”

“Get some sleep.” Larry started for the door. “You look like crap. She’ll throw you out in

the street if you show up looking like that.” He handed Marc a small card.

“What’s that?”

“The hotel where we put her up and her room number. Good luck.”

Marc was up early, but as tired as he was, he was too antsy to sleep. His brain was in

overdrive, and his emotions were all over the place—a rare thing for a man who usually had a

tight rein on them. He fueled his body with coffee from the café on the corner then ran some

important errands before he caught a cab to the hotel.

He was showered, shaved, dressed in a nice shirt and slacks. Not that his appearance would

sway Daisy but better than showing up looking like a bum. At ten o’clock, hoping she was still in

the room, he juggled his packages and knocked on her door. When she opened the door, he

looked at her and his heart swelled. She was slightly rumpled from sleep, her gorgeous hair

tumbled around her face. She had a short red satin robe wrapped around her, the lapels open just

enough that he could see the matching nightie beneath it. He had to restrain himself from barging

into the room, throwing her on the bed, and ripping off her gown and robe.

That sure won’t score me any points.

“Daisy.” He was surprised he could get his tongue untangled enough to say her name.

She nodded once. “Marc.” She narrowed her eyes, studying the things he was carrying.

“What’s all this?”

“Hi. My name is Marc Doucet, and I happen to be in love with a smart, sexy, gorgeous

woman named Daisy Karr, and I’ve made a royal mess of things. I can do a lot better if she’ll

give me half a chance.”

Conflicting expressions washed across her face, anger and resentment tempered with humor.

“May I please come in?”

He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Finally, she stood aside and gestured for him to

enter the room.

“For you,” he said, with a slight bow, and handed her the big florist box he was carrying.

When she opened it, her eyes widened.

“Daisies?”

He nodded. “Daisies for Daisy.”

“Where did you get them this time of year?”

“It wasn’t easy, I can tell you that.” When she started to speak, he held up his hand. “I know,

I know. Flowers don’t begin to make up for this mess, but”—he gave her a lopsided smile—“at

least they got you to open the door.” He plucked one from the box and handed it to her. “With

my love.”

He set the rest of the flowers down along with the box of gourmet candy.

“Trite, right?” He tried another grin. “I thought I’d go with the tried and true.”

“Marc,” she began again.

“Not done here.” He took a small white box from his pocket. When he opened it and held it

out to her, her eyes widened at the sight of the daisy love charm on a thin silver chain.

“The charm.” She looked at it as if afraid to touch it, but he saw a softening of the look in

her eyes.

“They tell me this chain is indestructible,” he assured her. “Not even the worst fit in the

world can destroy it.” He opened the clasp and gestured, asking silent permission to fasten it

around her neck. When she shook her head, a pain shot through him and his heart clenched.

“I have some things to say first,” she told him, tightening the sash on her robe.

Not that it did much good. It pulled the fabric tight to her body so the roundness of her

breasts and the hard points of her nipples were clearly defined.

Don’t slobber. Let her say her piece.

“Take all the time in the world,” he told her. “I have nothing but time, and I plan to spend it

on you.”

“I was very angry at you,” she began.

“And with good reason,” he interrupted. “I should have been totally up front with you the

moment I knew this was more than trying to coax information from you with a little flirtation.

My bad and I take full responsibility.”

“And I’ll let you.” She ran her tongue over her lower lip, and his cock hardened almost to

the point of pain. “Your boss talked to me about it, too. I understand your situation. It just—”

She waved a hand in the air.

“Hurt,” he finished for her. “I know that, and if I could take it back, I would. I promise you

that.”

“I’ve done a lot of thinking about things. I didn’t get too much sleep last night.”

“Neither did I.” She gave him a stern look, so he shut up.

“I’m sure you can understand that at the moment I have real trust issues where men are

concerned. It bothers me that someone as smart as I think I am was duped not once but twice.”

“I—” he started but she glared at him. “Okay, okay. Go on.” But please can there be a good

part here?

“But.” She held up a finger. “First, I was too ambitious where Craig was concerned, and I

think I used him as much as he used me. I truly believed he could help me move ahead at the

investment firm.”

He nodded, afraid to open his mouth.

“Second, despite everything, I believe I lost at least part of my heart in New Orleans to a

very spicy Cajun. When Agent Choate made me take a hard look at the situation, I realized you

were between a rock and a hard place. So”—she moved so she was right in front of him—“I’d be

willing to start over with a certain Cajun if he swears never to omit the truth again and always be

up front with me.”

“Can he tell you that the first thing he wants to be up front with is he loves you?” His pulse

had accelerated with anticipation. Was he really going to get a chance here?

Her full lips curved in a slow smile. “I think that would be a very good place to start. As

long as he means it?”

Thank god.

“More than you know.” He fastened the necklace around her neck before she could change

her mind.

“I have a lot ahead of me,” she told him. “I need to find a place to live. Get a new job—”

He couldn’t wait a moment longer. He cupped her cheeks with his palms and brought her

mouth close to his. “I think I can help with that. But first this.”

Her lips tasted so sweet, and when she opened her mouth for him, he wasted no time

sweeping his tongue inside. It took every bit of self-control not to rip off her robe and gown and

toss her on the bed.

Slowly, jerkhead. Slowly.

When he finally, reluctantly broke the kiss, he still cradled her head in his palms. He was

drowning in those hazel eyes with the tiny flecks of gold, and if he didn’t get inside her soon,

he’d explode. But he had things to say.

“Now. About that job. Forensic accountant, huh? I spoke to my boss about it and—”

She touched his lips with the tip of a finger.

“After,” she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “After what?”

“This.”

Enthusiastically, she tumbled to the bed, taking him with her. They didn’t get back to talking

for a long time afterwards.

PRETTY FACE by SABLE HUNTER

Cody’s life is defined by two great truths. She is in love…and she has committed a great sin.
Cody has been playing with fire and she’s about to get burned. Hungry for attention, she allowed
a wonderful man to fall in love with her. Their only contact has been on the internet and
telephone conversations. Cody put a good spin on her life by telling half-truths and sending
photos of a woman with a beautiful body and a pretty face, only the woman wasn’t Cody.
Scarred by abuse, she hides from prying eyes.

Cody loves Hunter enough to let him go. Full of guilt, she is prepared to disappear from his life.
Hunter begs to meet her but she refuses. But if Cody won’t come to him, Hunter will come to
Cody.

Louisiana is in the midst of Mardi Gras, a time of love, laughter and letting the good times roll.
Masks are worn at Mardi Gras and the mask Cody wears will hide more than a pretty face.

http://sablehunter.com/

****

CAJUN SPICE by DESIREE HOLT

Daisy Kerr’s life has reached the edge of the cliff and fallen off. Her so-called fiancé Craig
Myers has embezzled millions from the investment firm where they both work and left her
holding the bag. The FBI thinks she’s somehow involved, she’s been fired from her job and the
condo she lives in belongs to Craig. Heartsick and depressed, she decides to use the tickets Craig
had bought for their trip to Mardi Gras and see if she can “Let eh good times roll” in New
Orleans. For a few days she can party and forget about her troubles. Maybe even meet a sexy
Cajun man to take her mind of her troubles. A fling sounds really good to her right about now.

Leaving the airport she meets Marc Doucet, a Louisiana native now living in New York. He tells
her he’s in town on business but he’d love to show her the ropes of Mardi Gras. And a whole lot
more. It’s not long before he’s really putting some Cajun spice in her life and then some. Sex had
never been so good or made her feel so special. Maybe they might even see each other back in
New York if she can straighten out the mess her life is.

But what Daisy doesn’t know is Marc is an FBI agent sent to ferret out any knowledge she might
have of Craig’s scheme. His plan was to romance her, until romance landed in their laps for real.
When Daisy overhears him in a phone conversation with his boss she feels betrayed once again
and can’t get out of town fast enough. It will take a grand gesture on Marc’s part to get past the
new walls around her heart and convince her what they have is real.

****

HURRICANES & HANDCUFFS by JODI REDFORD

Gabrielle Scott is fed up with helping her playboy boss seduce and woo his countless bimbettes
courtesy of her culinary masterpieces. Yeah, the pay is good, and you can’t beat the luxurious
digs she’s treated to as his resident personal chef. But she can’t afford the frustration of living
under the same roof with the one man who drives her crazy in every possible way. The damnable
truth? She’s in love with the irredeemable bastard, and the only way she’ll get over him is to get
naked under him. The plan? Attend Jax’s annual Mardi Gras ball incognito and entice him into a
hot night of sin—right before handing in her resignation.

Jaxon Noble always gets what he wants. Especially when it comes to the opposite sex. So when
Gabbi shows up at his party in an eye-popping costume and outrageously flirts with him it’s a
foregone conclusion that she’ll finally be his. He’s more than happy to go along with her game,
and the combustible heat they generate together proves it was well worth the wait to have her.
But when morning comes and Gabrielle calmly announces she’s quitting, Jax is faced with the
sobering fact that perhaps money can’t buy everything. Or more to the point—the only person
who’s ever meant anything to him.

For someone who’s used to winning at all costs, losing Gabbi isn’t an option. And Jax will pull
out every sweet and sexy trick to convince her to take a chance on a forever with him. Even if it
means handcuffing her to his bed.

http://www.jodiredford.com/More_Books.html

****

WICKED PERFECTION by MAGEN MCMINIMY

When Malea’s best friend, roommate, and infatuation is arrested, tried, and convicted, she’s left
alone. What she once loved about their cozy little apartment in chilly, fog-ridden, Northern
California turns out to be too much for her still-aching heart. With her budding career as an
author, Malea can go anywhere, and no place sounds better than the warmth and spice of The
Big Easy.

They say time heals, but it’s been over three years of Malea spending her time working, and
searching for a connection to help her forget the only man she ever loved—unrequited as it may
have been—the pain still stings as loneliness settles against her heart.

When the Quarter fills with laughter and music in celebration of Mardi Gras, will Malea find
what she needs in the crowded streets of the French Quarter? Or will an unexpected encounter
change the game completely? As they say, Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler…

This Mardi Gras Season, let the sinful good times roll with Wicked Perfection, A Night Sinners
Novella and part of the Red Hot Cajun Nights multi-author series (stands alone for reading
enjoyment).

*Wicked Perfection is a M/M/F story intended for readers of 18 and older.

Find out more at:

http://www.magenmcminimy.com/wicked-perfection-red-hot-cajun-nights

****

TRAPT: A TWISTED WOLF TALE by RENE FOLSOM

Mardi Gras is coming, and no one is more excited than Jolie—The Big Easy’s resident good
witch. Amidst the festivities, darkness creeps under the blissful veil of love she is entangled with.
Her twin sister, the evil witch Melanie, is out to destroy Jolie before her powers can usurp her
own, willing to stop at nothing to do so. Jolie, aided by Asher and his seven-man wolf pack, are
set to keep New Orleans safe from Melanie’s sorcery, or die trying.

Enjoy the story of Jolie and Asher, a modern-day retelling of the classic tale Snow White.

This Mardi Gras season, let the sinful good times roll with Trapt, a Twisted Wolf Tale and part
of the Red Hot Cajun Nights multi-author series (stands alone for reading enjoyment).

Warning: This supernatural urban fantasy romance novella contains adult situations and is
meant for ages 18+.

Find out more on Rene’s website at

http://renefolsom.com/trapt

****

ALL SMOKE NO FIRE by RANDI ALEXANDER

Dax Marshall is surprised when country music singer Marilou Roselle calls him out on stage to
perform the song he hoped to sell her. But he’s shocked when she invites him to ride with her to
New Orleans for a Mardi Gras performance. He makes the uncharacteristic choice to call in sick
to his job on the oil field, and head south with her. But somewhere between South Dakota and
Louisiana, he falls for the intelligent, motivated, sensual woman.

Marilou sees great potential in Dax. He has a deep, seductive voice and a strong, sexy body, but
she knows he’ll always stay behind the scenes as a songwriter if she doesn’t push him toward a
singing career. The attraction between them grows hotter than a Bourbon Street bar on Mardi
Gras Day and they give in to their wild desire. But Dax learns he’s not Marilou’s first “project”
and heads home, confused and heartbroken. Can she convince him that their bond isn’t like those
other times, that what she feels for him is real?

http://randialexander.com/preview/smoke-fire/

****

BEHIND THE VEIL by SHYLA COLT

The world as we knew it didn't end in fire or nuclear radiation. It ended the same way it began,

with magic. Once the creatures that lived in the darkness stepped into the light, the world

changed forever.

As the people of New Orleans crawl their way from the ruins of an old life, new alliances must

be made. Delta always knew she’d take her place as Queen of the Bayou witches, but she never

imagined marriage to shape shifter King, Ridge Tassin would be part of the deal.

The fire burns bright between them, and what seemed like a curse may be the best thing that’s

ever happened. Under the glitz and glamor of the first Madi Gras since the world burned, they

will say their vows and assume power, or perish trying.

www.shylacolt.com

And please come find me on the Internet:

www.desireeholt.com

www.desiremeonly.com

My Amazon page:

http://www.amazon.com/Desiree-

Holt/e/B003LD2Q3M/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1387729370&sr=1-2-ent

Twitter: @desireeholt

Facebook:

www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor

Pinterest:

www.pinterest.com/desiree02holt

YouTube:

www.youtube.com/desiree01holt

Google+: Desiree Holt

LinkedIn: Desiree Holt

And of course on Goodreads

And please email me at

desireeholt@desireeholt.com

. I love to hear from my readers.

Document Outline

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
PRETTY FACE by SABLE HUNTER
CAJUN SPICE by DESIREE HOLT
HURRICANES & HANDCUFFS by JODI REDFORD
WICKED PERFECTION by MAGEN MCMINIMY

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