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Cajun Hot Press
July 2018 (revised)
He has to stop kissing her…
A long-time deep cover agent for the FBI, the last thing on Special Agent Remi Beaulieux’s mind is getting down and dirty. Certainly not with a woman like Muse Summerville, the wild-child witness he’s tasked with protecting from the wrath of the New Orleans crime boss she reluctantly agreed to testify against. The FBI has rules about that sort of thing. But in the twenty-four hours since he laid eyes on her, Remi finds himself breaking every last one of them.
And she’s got to stop letting him…
For years, Muse has hidden behind her reputation as a party girl. But she has a secret she’s not about to reveal to any man alive, especially not a bad boy rogue who begins to stir emotions she’s always assumed she was incapable of feeling. But sharing every moment of every day—and every sultry second of every night—with her sexy protector is making it hard to hide anything. Suddenly, her life isn’t the only thing on the line.
New Orleans, Louisiana
She was prettier than her mug-shot.
FBI Special agent Remi Beaulieux leaned his elbows back on the crowded bar, popped a stick of Juicy Fruit gum into his mouth and contemplated the woman working the crowd.
Prettier and more cheerful. The FBI photographer must have caught her on a really bad day. He lifted his shot glass and took a sip of tequila. Not that it mattered. He’d just wanted to get a look at her in person.
Remi’s specialty was undercover work, posing as a bad guy, convincing the other bad guys to trust him long enough to hang themselves. After weeks of meticulous planning and putting his cover in place, tomorrow he’d be slipping into the James Davies crime organization, playing the part of a drug smuggler drumming up business.
He wanted to know all the important players by sight. Muse Summerville had been the FBI’s inside man–or woman– with Davies, right up until two weeks ago when she’d ended her relationship with Gary Fox, one of Davies’ main gofers.
He watched as she lifted the hair off her neck and made eyes at about the tenth guy in as many minutes, a big dude in a Harley T-shirt and combat boots.
Obviously she was real broken up about it. Not that he was interested in the details of Muse Summerville’s love life.
Still, Remi couldn’t help but admire the view. A lithe, tall blonde with miles of shapely leg and a cute, flirty sundress short enough to make a man pray for a stiff wind. No wonder they were swarming around her two deep.
He took another sip of tequila, wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and watched as she gave a woman a big hug and started talking with her animatedly, all the while smiling and waving to passers-by who greeted her.
Popular lady. No surprise. Her background file said she had lots of friends. But what did surprise Remi was that there were just as many women as men. Now, that was interesting.
The big old wooden paddle fan twirling above the dance floor must have been doing its job, for she tipped her face up and let the breeze caress her face. It was a gesture so sensual a low hum of appreciation rumbled from his throat.
She was surely not what he’d expected.
The Eyes Only FBI file jacket on Muse he’d skimmed earlier was thick and revealing to say the least. It had been filled with page after page of information she’d gathered on James Davies over the past six months, as well as a sketchy profile of Muse and her flamboyant lifestyle. In person, Remi had been expecting a jaded, street-wise woman with no hint of vulnerability, flashing sex appeal like a neon sign.
Bien, she was sexy, all right. And obviously used to taking care of herself.
But that’s where the similarities stopped. Despite the tight dress, spike heels and bright lipstick, there seemed to be a genuineness and intelligence about this woman that defied her reputation as a wild-living party-girl. She was intriguing as hell.
Not that she was his type.
He suddenly realized she’d caught him watching her. Her gaze faltered as it collided with his, moved on, then returned.
She was exactly his type.