Colette ran out
the door and hopped in her own truck to go after him. No, her mom’s hysterical
laughter and rapid French told her that Laurette-Marie was on the phone with
her aunt, the two of them getting a kick out of the excitement happening in
Bayou Ange.
Colette spent the thirty-minute drive to Maison Rouge
imagining all kinds of horrific scenarios. She’d pictured her daddy shooting
Zach dead and winding up in prison. She’d pictured Zach mauling her daddy and
ending up in prison. Yet entering the bakery with the scent of delicious sweets
permeating the air to see her daddy and uncles standing shoulder-to-shoulder
facing a relaxed and almost indolent Zach hadn’t appeared in any of her
imaginings.
The stupid tiger didn’t seem to realize he was in danger.
She tried to ignore the heat that flared in her lower abdomen when she saw him
again, especially when he looked a million times yummier than the desserts
lining the showcases of his shop. The aura of his power seemed to seep from
every inch of the shiny, modern appliances and worktables. He looked like a
king and seeing him in the light reminded her of just how beautiful he was. A
bandana covered most of his head, but she could see the strands of black, gold
and white peeking out the back. It gave him a piratical appearance, which was
only compounded by his sensual topaz eyes.
Then he sent her that look. It was a look she’d never been
the focus of before and it nearly buckled her knees. The heat and intent in
that gaze said he had plans for her and they didn’t involve playing cards. It
was the kind of stare her body recognized as a silent promise, reminding her of
how well he kissed, how easily he made her forget everything. Heat and moisture
flooded her pussy even as her nipples hardened into sharp, throbbing peaks. His
eyelids lowered even farther in a blatant come-hither glance that had her feet
moving before she realized it, obeying his silent command without thought. Only
the solid wall of her relatives in front of her kept her from making a complete
fool of herself.
And that’s when her daddy reached for his gun. Colette
nearly had a heart attack, but luckily her Uncle Tudu was a little less rash
and caught his brother’s arm, stopping him. “Jail time, Willis. You promised Mama
you wouldn’t shoot anyone.”
Her dad stopped trying to whip out his gun and levered one
finger at the tiger shifter who didn’t seem to realize how close he’d just come
to being murdered in his own kitchen. In a voice that would’ve made an
evangelical preacher jealous, he thundered, “You stay away from my daughter, y’hear?
She doesn’t need trouble like you.”
God, please strike me dead. But of course He didn’t.
Colette had to suffer through the pitying and amused looks from everyone in the
damn building. How many women her age had to put up with an overprotective
father who seemed ready to go to prison over his daughter? She wasn’t sure she
wanted an answer to that question. She only wanted the embarrassment and
humiliation to end.
She shot Zach an agonized look. He didn’t seem as relaxed
now. If anything, he appeared highly pissed off. Either he didn’t like being
threatened, or he didn’t like anyone implying that he would want anything to do
with a human in the first place. The fury on his face was enough to make Colette
glad she wasn’t the focus of that look, even though she didn’t want her dad to
be the target either.
To prevent anyone from spilling first blood, Colette touched
her dad’s tense shoulder. She cast a quick glance around the bakery, trying to
judge the audience. Since the chances of anyone knowing Cajun French were low,
she addressed him in that language to give them a little privacy. “He doesn’t
really want me. He’s just trying to get you riled up.”
It didn’t seem to help her dad’s tension much, but at least
he seemed less likely to go for Zach’s throat. She glanced over at the tiger,
who apparently wanted
the door and hopped in her own truck to go after him. No, her mom’s hysterical
laughter and rapid French told her that Laurette-Marie was on the phone with
her aunt, the two of them getting a kick out of the excitement happening in
Bayou Ange.
Colette spent the thirty-minute drive to Maison Rouge
imagining all kinds of horrific scenarios. She’d pictured her daddy shooting
Zach dead and winding up in prison. She’d pictured Zach mauling her daddy and
ending up in prison. Yet entering the bakery with the scent of delicious sweets
permeating the air to see her daddy and uncles standing shoulder-to-shoulder
facing a relaxed and almost indolent Zach hadn’t appeared in any of her
imaginings.
The stupid tiger didn’t seem to realize he was in danger.
She tried to ignore the heat that flared in her lower abdomen when she saw him
again, especially when he looked a million times yummier than the desserts
lining the showcases of his shop. The aura of his power seemed to seep from
every inch of the shiny, modern appliances and worktables. He looked like a
king and seeing him in the light reminded her of just how beautiful he was. A
bandana covered most of his head, but she could see the strands of black, gold
and white peeking out the back. It gave him a piratical appearance, which was
only compounded by his sensual topaz eyes.
Then he sent her that look. It was a look she’d never been
the focus of before and it nearly buckled her knees. The heat and intent in
that gaze said he had plans for her and they didn’t involve playing cards. It
was the kind of stare her body recognized as a silent promise, reminding her of
how well he kissed, how easily he made her forget everything. Heat and moisture
flooded her pussy even as her nipples hardened into sharp, throbbing peaks. His
eyelids lowered even farther in a blatant come-hither glance that had her feet
moving before she realized it, obeying his silent command without thought. Only
the solid wall of her relatives in front of her kept her from making a complete
fool of herself.
And that’s when her daddy reached for his gun. Colette
nearly had a heart attack, but luckily her Uncle Tudu was a little less rash
and caught his brother’s arm, stopping him. “Jail time, Willis. You promised Mama
you wouldn’t shoot anyone.”
Her dad stopped trying to whip out his gun and levered one
finger at the tiger shifter who didn’t seem to realize how close he’d just come
to being murdered in his own kitchen. In a voice that would’ve made an
evangelical preacher jealous, he thundered, “You stay away from my daughter, y’hear?
She doesn’t need trouble like you.”
God, please strike me dead. But of course He didn’t.
Colette had to suffer through the pitying and amused looks from everyone in the
damn building. How many women her age had to put up with an overprotective
father who seemed ready to go to prison over his daughter? She wasn’t sure she
wanted an answer to that question. She only wanted the embarrassment and
humiliation to end.
She shot Zach an agonized look. He didn’t seem as relaxed
now. If anything, he appeared highly pissed off. Either he didn’t like being
threatened, or he didn’t like anyone implying that he would want anything to do
with a human in the first place. The fury on his face was enough to make Colette
glad she wasn’t the focus of that look, even though she didn’t want her dad to
be the target either.
To prevent anyone from spilling first blood, Colette touched
her dad’s tense shoulder. She cast a quick glance around the bakery, trying to
judge the audience. Since the chances of anyone knowing Cajun French were low,
she addressed him in that language to give them a little privacy. “He doesn’t
really want me. He’s just trying to get you riled up.”
It didn’t seem to help her dad’s tension much, but at least
he seemed less likely to go for Zach’s throat. She glanced over at the tiger,
who apparently wanted
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