Free Cajun Spice by Desiree Holt

bit.”
    “You don’t have to feel good. You just have to get the job done.”
    There was a click, signaling the end of the conversation. Marc disconnected on his end and leaned on the balcony railing. What a fucking mess. What the hell did he do now? At some point, he’d have to come clean with Daisy, especially if he wanted to see her again. She’d have to know what kind of job he had. The important thing was to figure out how to tell her so she didn’t want to drive a stake through his heart.
    “So, I was your ‘business’ in New Orleans?”
    He’d been concentrating so hard on his dilemma he hadn’t heard the door slide open behind him. He spun around to see Daisy standing in the open doorway, a sheet wrapped around her naked body, a look of agony in her eyes. Her words cut into him like a sharp knife.
    “Daisy—”
    “You’re with the FBI, right?”
    “Yes, but listen,” he began.
    “No, you listen,” she snapped. “What were your orders, anyway? To romance me? Flatter me? Get into my head?” She swallowed. “My pants? And ferret out all of Craig Myers’ secrets I held?”
    “If you’ll let me explain,” he started again.
    He took a step forward, but she backed into the room.
    “What’s to explain? You had an assignment. You did it very well. I’m so damn sorry I had nothing to give you for all your efforts.”
    He followed her into the room as she continued to back up, but he was quicker than she was.
    “Don’t touch me.” Pain twisted her delicate features. She shook her head. “I can’t believe I was such a fool as to believe you. And asking if you could see me in New York? Was that in case I didn’t spill all the beans while we were here?”
    He shook his head and swallowed against the sick feeling that washed over him. Damn, damn, damn .
    “Daisy, it wasn’t like that at all.” He reached for her, but when she backed up again, he held out his hands, palms up. “Please let me tell you what’s going on.”
    “That would be a change. Right?”
    The anguish in her voice cut right into his heart.
    “Five minutes,” he persisted. “That’s all. Just give me five minutes. Then if you want, you can run right out of here.”
    She chewed her bottom lip. She looked so adorable, standing there gripping the sheet against her, nibbling on that pouty full lip. Marc wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and make all of this go away.
    “Please,” he asked again.
    He’d get down on his knees if he had to. Daisy Karr had come to mean so much to him in such a short period of time. If she was a thief, he was Batman, and he didn’t think either was possible. If she’d stolen anything, it was his heart, and now she was stomping on it—not that he blamed her. He should have flipped off his boss and told her what was going on the minute he was satisfied she wasn’t involved.
    Finally, she nodded. “Five minutes. Then we’re done.”
    “Okay. All right.” He blew out a breath. “I know you’re aware we’re onto Craig Myers. You were at work when agents from our office came there to pick him up.”
    “I’m surprised they didn’t take me instead,” she spat out.
    “We didn’t have any evidence of your direct involvement. And the way you answered all our questions reinforced that.”
    “So then, why did you follow me down here? I know that’s what you did.”
    Marc nodded, a sour taste in his mouth. “I won’t deny it. We lost the money trail, and my boss wanted to be sure you had no involvement. We hoped you had some idea of what he’d done with all the cash when he took it out of the offshore accounts.”
    Daisy shook her head. “And I’m such a stupid idiot I fell for your Cajun romance act. I suppose that was all an act. You’re very good at it, so you must have to do it a lot.” Something flashed into her brain. “That’s how you got a room at a sold-out hotel. The FBI gets whatever the FBI wants. Right?”
    He sighed. “Guilty as charged.
    “And when