Drake’s eyebrow shot up at the blatant lie, but he played his part of the city man not quite used to the noises in such a rural setting. “Really? You didn’t hear that horrible cat fight last night?”

The older woman shook her head. “We don’ have a large feral population here. The gators keep them down.”

She gestured for him to sit and turned her back to him, preventing him from seeing her expression, but he was leopard and he could smell a lie—and she was lying. They had a feral population of large cats and she knew it. She was definitely covering up for the leopards. Her sister was married to a Mercier, one of the families he suspected of being leopard. She had a connection all right, and she was protecting them.

“This was something big,” he insisted, pulling out a high-backed chair.

Saria skipped into the room, hair still damp from the shower, her dark eyes sparkling, skin glowing, looking like sunshine to him. Her faded blue jeans were worn and soft, molding to her curves. She wore hiking boots and a thin tee that hugged her breasts and slimmed her waist. For a moment he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. She was so damned sexy and there was no forgetting the vision of her crawling across the floor toward him, her eyes fixed hungrily on his cock. He nearly groaned aloud and felt his body stir at the memory. He hadn’t exactly gotten any sleep lying there, as hard as a rock. No cold shower and no amount of relief helped. Saria, damn her, looked as if she’d slept fine and was as fresh as the new morning.

He studied her face, looking for signs of tears and guilt. She sent him a sunny smile, just as though nothing at all had happened between them. In fact, it was if she barely knew him other than as a client. That did a little damage to his ego, he had to admit. He’d almost rather have had her crying her eyes out than ignoring what had happened between them.

It was only the awareness of Pauline scrutinizing him with a knowing grin that brought him out of his near hypnotic state. He sent Pauline a rueful grin and pulled out a chair for Saria.

“Good morning,” he greeted her, ignoring the desire to shake her up a little by kissing her perfect mouth. He’d spent a few hours in hell thinking about her mouth.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” she said and dropped into the chair, seemingly as if she’d forgotten the night’s events. “Miss Pauline, breakfast smells so good. I cut my shower short because my tummy kept rumbling.” She blew the woman a kiss.

Drake settled into a chair across the table from Saria. She was doing the right thing, but perversely, he wanted her attention. He had a crazy desire to leap over the table and kiss her just for the hell of it. Pauline got kisses, even if they were air kisses, but he went untouched.

He forced himself to be casual as well. If Saria could act like they were client and guide, so could he. “This does look wonderful, Miss Lafont. I didn’t expect you to get up so early and fix us something to eat.”

“I couldn’t let you go out for the day without eatin’ ,” the innkeeper replied. “And please call me Pauline. Everyone else does.”

He turned his attention to the amount of food spread out on the table, determined to act as blasé as Saria. Carefully he lifted each lid to look into the heated dish.

“That’s breaded, pan-fried trout fillet, poached eggs and hollandaise sauce,” Pauline offered, a hint of pride in her voice.

Saria scooted some onto her plate. “And no one makes it quite like Miss Pauline, Drake. You’ve got to tryI’ve worked for years to get this dish right. I’m nearly there, too, but not quite yet. I need a little more time to figure out the right seasonin’.”

He took a healthy helping, ignoring the drawling, sexy way she pronounced his name. “I can see I’ll be gaining weight while I’m here,” he said. “I do love to eat.”

Pauline beamed. “I love cookin’. Try some of my Creole rice cakes.” She took the lid off another warmer.

Both Saria and Drake helped themselves.

“You have to try a couche-couche,” Saria added. “It’s Cajun-style fried corn meal mush, very yummy.”

Pauline poured them both coffee and added a large plate of hot beignets within reach of both of them. “The cream is fresh,” she said. “You’ll want that with your café.”

He grinned at her. “I suppose that means the coffee’s strong.”

Saria nodded. “Café au lait is best with beignets anyway.” She took a sip of the rich aromatic liquid and then a bite of the warm doughnut.

He glanced at her and his heart nearly stopped. Her eyes were dark chocolate and laughing, the golden flecks brightly gleaming with mischief. The tempting bow of her mouth had a trace of white powdered sugar on it and he nearly leaned over the table to lick it off. She was so beautiful to him, so filled with life, so damned sexy he could barely breathe with wanting her.

“You’re eating dessert before you eat your breakfast.” He tried to sound stern, but it was impossible when she was enjoying herself so much. She definitely was tucking into her food, unafraid of ruining her figure.

“It’s all about the calories, my friend,” she said. “Eat up.”

He did lean across the table then, unable to stop himself, and brushed the powdered sugar from her mouth with gentle fingers, lingering a little, mesmerized by the softness of her full bottom lip. Her eyes went dark, desire flaring for a moment, just enough to satisfy him.

Pauline cleared her throat, reminding him he wasn’t alone with Saria. The innkeeper managed not to smirk at him. Drake cut her off neatly before she could switch subjects. “I was just telling Pauline about the horrible noises I heard last night. Something large was fighting or killing something else. It sounded like large cats to me.”