[Bayou Gavotte 03.0] Heart of Constantine by Barbara Monajem Page A

humdinger of a headache this morning.”
    “Oh, poor baby! You’ve already had enough trauma in your life.” Marguerite went down on her knees beside the dog.
    “Below his ear,” Constantine said. “I cleaned him up.”
    She separated the shaggy hair to examine the abrasion. “Thank you! He must have been outdoors, probably outside the fence, when the house was broken into. Since Pauline died—she was my roommate—he’s worse than ever about digging his way out and wandering in the woods.” Her voice choked up a little, but she swallowed it down. “You came in through the doggie door and surprised the bad guy, huh?” Lawless licked her hand, and she wiped it on her shorts as she stood. “He was Pauline’s dog, and they’d really bonded,and then she died. I wish I knew more about taking care of dogs.”
    I wish I knew more about taking care of women
, Constantine thought. Looked like he was stuck taking care of this one whether she liked it or not—until he defeated the Enemy. But now, at last, he had a witness who knew something. Zeb
had
to talk. There was no other way.
    He had to keep Marguerite close and safe and also maintain his distance. He had to make her trust him, but he couldn’t risk trusting her, even though surprisingly—stupidly—he kept wishing he could. Not that it would accomplish anything. He couldn’t have sex with her if he trusted her because he couldn’t risk hurting her, and he couldn’t have sex with her if she was untrustworthy because—
    Because you might
really
hurt her. You’re going to confuse yourself to death and save the Enemy the trouble,
said some cheerful, self-satisfied, and wisely distant bird.
    He followed as she glanced into all three bedrooms. “They don’t seem to have touched what little jewelry I have. Pauline had even less. Why waste their time burgling such an unpromising house?” She turned and bumped into Constantine, who had been wondering much the same thing.
    As well as inhaling the scent of Marguerite and her bedroom. He’d known immediately which one was hers when he’d gone through the house earlier, and not just because one of the other bedrooms was an office and the third had no sheets on the bed. Now her scent assailed his nostrils, and his prick rose rapidly to attention. Damn. Usually, he had complete control over his libido. Maybe Lep was right, and it had been just too un-fucking long.
    “Get out of my way,” she said, her voice quivering.
    “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
    “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, shoving at him. “Stop looking at my bed. What I said out there on the porch is irrelevant. The answer is no.”
    What?
“I didn’t mean what I said out there either. That was for Nathan’s benefit.”
    “Maybe, but you meant it all the same. You may not intend to do anything about it, but you want it. I can tell, and it’s really getting on my nerves.” Pause. “And not in a good way!”
    “What do you mean, you can tell?” He was certain his cold demeanor was as secure as always. He was keeping his thoughts corralled inside his head. He looked down at his jeans. Sure, there was a bit of a bulge, but…
    She looked down as well, and a beautiful blush rose up her throat. “Move!”
    He backed away down the hall, hands raised. “Sure, you’re an attractive woman, but I didn’t come on to you. I kissed you this morning because it was a good way to get rid of Nathan.”
    “No,” Marguerite said. “You kissed me because you wanted to. You were pretending you weren’t interested, but…” She shook her head. “You are just plain weird, and you’re creeping me out.”
    Not enough, evidently; she was way more pissed off than scared. “How could you possibly know whether I wanted to kiss you? I gave no sign. I didn’t give one now either, until you gave me the once-over.” Women were always giving him the once-over, but he never responded in such an alarming way. He’d learned to be totally Zen