Free Seeker of Shadows by Nancy Gideon Page B

responsibility,” he growled, “whether I want it or not.”
    And he didn’t want it, or her. That truth was a hurtful jab but still her pride rallied. “You don’t owe me anything. I don’t want your sense of obligation hanging on me like chains. I’ve had all of that I can tolerate. Now let me do the work I came here to do.” In her frustration, she put her hands flat on his chest and shoved. Set like a mountain, he didn’t budge.
    Huge hands curled about her wrists, startling a jump in her pulse. Suddenly, his hot gaze dropped, sweeping her from top to toe like the spotlight on a police cruiser. His deep voice became a gruff rumble. “What have you done to yourself?”
    Uncertain whether his tone implied approval or disgust, Susanna rebelled against it. “Nothing for the likes of you.”
    His features flushed with angry insult and a more uncontrollable emotion she feared and conversely hoped was desire. The sudden darkening of his eyes warned he’d been pushed beyond his limit, too, as he yanked her up against the unyielding wall of his body.
    The contact shocked both of them into a moment’s pause. With the breath panting from them, their gazes held and searched in a confusion of helpless attraction and dismay. And then Jacques bent inexorably down to her in a measured move that she could have avoided if she chose to. She didn’t choose to. She waited, her heart sighing urgently, Oh, yes. At last.
    His kiss was a pure glimpse of heaven, forceful at first because she’d stirred his passions into a frenzy, yet quickly softening to a yearning so sweet she ached to the soul in response. The familiar cushion of his full lips intensified by the prickly outline of facial stubble had her lost in a delirious haze. Nothing had ever felt so strong, so right as the emotions crowding up inside her.
    Before she could wake herself to take action, to touch him, hold him, to respond to the hunger surging through him into her, Jacques abruptly jumped away to regard her through wide, stricken eyes.
    Susanna lifted a shaking hand to her mouth, not to scrub away the taste of him but to marvel at the delicious bruising of her lips. She couldn’t catch her breath. How had she existed for so long without this crazy zing of feelings, her skin tingling, her blood hot and heavy, need pooling damply at the apex of her thighs? Her body cried out for more, but one look at his frozen features told her nothing else would be forthcoming, except what she didn’t want to hear.
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered, apparently devastated by his lack of control as she stared blankly up at him,trembling in what he had to assume was a trauma of shock. “I never . . . I would never . . . I don’t know what happened.”
    She made her words necessarily cold and concise. “You overstepped yourself, Mr. LaRoche, and it will not happen again.” Her conscience writhed as she watched him assemble his scattered thoughts behind a self-preserving wall.
    “Don’t worry, Dr. Duchamps. I’m not the kind of guy who has to force himself on females.”
    “I’m sure you’re not. You have them trailing behind you throwing beer and gumbo in your path.” He almost started to smile but she couldn’t allow him even that little bit of relief. “I am not one of those females. I have a mate and a child waiting for me at my home in Chicago. I have no interest in the kind of dalliance you might offer.”
    Finally, umbrage overtook all other emotions as he told her with a prideful stiffening, “You have no idea what I might have to offer and I’m not about to enlighten you.” Then he surprised her again with his sudden gruff admission. “I would never do anything to disrespect you or your family. Again, I apologize.”
    Her mood and tone thawed despite her intention of keeping him at arm’s length. “Accepted. I’m here to work and I appreciate the offer of your facilities. In return, I’ll do you the courtesy of letting you know when I’ll be here and