grandmother, who had married a Dubois. The name of the estate had changed at that time, but Pauline had returned the original name to the family property when she decided to modernize the house and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast some years earlier. On Saria and Drake’s wedding day, she’d given the Inn to Saria as she had no children and considered Remy’s little sister the daughter she’d never had. Pauline had then married the man of her dreams, the one man she’d loved always – Amos Jeanmard.
Remy rubbed his aching eyes. He didn’t want to be like Amos, sacrificing his personal happiness in order to preserve the leopard species. Amos had married the wrong woman, a leopard, and stayed with her for years. Only after she died did he marry Pauline, the woman he truly loved. A part of him understood, but he was tired of being alone. He wanted a family, a woman to come home to. He’d traveled the world looking in the rain forests in the hopes of meeting someone who not only attracted him physically, but who could live with a man like him. He had all but given up hope of finding a female that not only suited him, but who he could love.
Leopards were lethal cats, wild and savage and wanting a mate as well. A man couldn’t just bring home anyone, because if their cat became edgy and dangerous, so did the man. Sex could get rough and his temper could be short. He had great control, but lately his leopard had been displaying every negative trait a leopard had.
He sighed and forced himself to move through the trees toward the chateau. He’d been on for nearly seventy-two hours gathering evidence for a murder in the French Quarter and had been on his way home when Gage had called him.
He was edgy. Restless. His body hard and hurting. His mind a little chaotic. Not a good sign in the middle of a murder investigation and never good when he was going to see his wild sister. He didn’t need to say a word to her about going to the swamp at night, she’d know what he thought and she’d be on the defensive. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t blame her.
His leopard needed to run. Leopards didn’t do well cooped up. If they weren’t let out every now and then, the human side became every bit as dangerous as the animal side and he’d never felt so edgy in all his life, not even when he was in the jungle.
“Saria,” Remy raised his voice. “Where are you, honey?” He walked farther into the darkened entryway. As always, his heightened animal senses took over. He could see easily even with the lack of lighting. He inhaled, taking scents into his lungs.
It always smelled good at the Inn. There was always a seemingly endless supply of fresh coffee and he could count on his sister to have a large pot of stew or meatballs and gravy simmering on the stove. Saria and Drake managed to give the old place a welcome feel of home from the fireplaces to the fresh-baked bread and home-style cooking. Besides the rich aroma of coffee and spices, he smelled the faint scent of lavender. Without thought, he followed that drifting, inviting scent through the hallway toward the kitchen.
“Saria? I’m lookin’ for a cup of coffee. Where the hell are you?” he called out again. She should have known he’d be coming no matter how late it was, if for no other reason than just to make certain she was all right.
“Saria is in her darkroom developin’ her photographs. I can get you a cup of coffee if you like.” The voice came from the kitchen. Smoky. Suggesting dark nights and silken sheets. Sex and Sin. Velvet like a neat whiskey so smooth, yet burning all the way down.
Remy closed his eyes. His body tightened, a savage, urgent reaction to that amazing voice. No woman should be allowed to sound like that. That candlelight and “come take me to bed” tone gave her unfair advantages over a man.
He turned slowly. No one could possibly live up to that sultry, southern drawl so erotic and sensual, an invitation to wild