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

about sex. It wasn’t aneed, just a drive, and one could sublimate one’s drives if it mattered enough. In his case, it mattered way too much.
    “I just know,” she said gruffly.
    Huh. So she was affected, too, more than she cared to admit.
    Grumpily, she added, “You’re so horny it hurts, and it’s making me extremely uncomfortable. You need to leave. I appreciate your checking out my house, but I need to call the cops and get a police report.” Her eyes widened. “Hey! How did you know about this mess?” She drove him ahead of her into the living room. “What were you doing in my house earlier, and how did you get in?”
    “I picked the lock,” he said. “I’ve already informed Gideon O’Toole, a friend of mine in the police force. He’ll be over shortly. I asked him not to come until I got rid of Nathan.”
    “Gideon O’Toole,” she said. “He’s the one I spoke to when my roommate died a couple of weeks ago. He was sweet.” Pause. “He’s a friend of yours?”
    “Why not?” Constantine was used to incredulity—how could a vigilante be cozy with a cop?—but in her, the surprise annoyed him enough that he added, “His wife has been one of my closest friends for years.”
    She stared at him, brow wrinkled, as if trying to read him. He resisted the temptation to smooth that worried brow. She had a lovely face, thoughtful and determined, with warm hazel eyes and kissable lips that tempted him every time he looked at her.
    “Even murderous vigilantes have friends,” he added.
    She nibbled her lip, blinking. He wished he were the one doing the nibbling.
    “I can produce references,” he added plaintively.
    “Are you suggesting we should be just friends?” She huffed. “I don’t think so.”
    “Since you seem determined to support my sorry ass, we’ll have to be just something for at least a day or two,” he said. Why was she so sure he lusted after her? “I told Gideon about what happened this morning on the mounds, by the way. Wanted him to hear it from me first.”
    “Fine, but why did you decide to check out my house?”
    Evading the question, he said, “Either the guy was skilled at picking locks or he had a key. I saw no sign of forced entry anywhere.” The thoughts ticking through her mind showed clearly across her face—chagrin, worry, anger, a touch of fear. “I’ll replace the lock for you,” he said.
    “That’s not necessary,” she said immediately. “Where was Lawless when you arrived?”
    “The dog? He was hiding under the house.”
    “He doesn’t usually like strangers,” she said, picking up a few CDs, shuffling them, dropping them again.
    Constantine winced; he believed in treating CDs with respect. “Animals like me.” He didn’t care much about what most people thought of him, but he had to stifle a wish that Marguerite…
    No.
He squatted, gathering the CDs, gently sorting them and restoring them to their cases. Marguerite’s eclectic taste included all of his own CDs. He probably shouldn’t find that encouraging, but…
    He shouldn’t want to be encouraged, period. Next he would be rationalizing, telling himself it would be different this time. Then he would come on to her, and when she succumbed to his advances, all hell would break loose.
    One of his own early CDs had been broken in two. He would definitely replace that one whether she wanted him to or not.
    “You don’t need to tidy my stuff,” she said. He ignored her, and she added, “Why did you decide to check out my house? How did you even know where I live?”
    “I’ve seen you at the Impractical Cat a couple of times. I wondered who you were, so I found out. You teach linguistics part-time at Hellebore and do faux finishes to supplement your income.” He flashed his rock star smile. “Gorgeous honey-colored hair and hazel eyes aren’t exactly a dime a dozen.”
    “That’s mighty close to coming on to me,” she shot back. “Now answer my question.”
    “I walk along the bayou