“I don’t have enemies.” When he snorted, I grimaced. “Ex-boyfriends don’t count.”
He rolled his eyes, distracting me momentarily. They were the color of sunset — all those colors, in fact — and downright beautiful. But brooding, too, like every problem in the world was packed behind them.
“I mean real dangers,” he said.
“Like tigers?” I tossed my purchases in the back seat.
He gestured curtly, changing the subject. “You shouldn’t leave your car unlocked.”
I waved around. “This is Auberre, not Paris. And even in Paris, no thief would bother with this car.”
The battered little Citroën had been built long, long before I graduated from high school. In my mind, that wasn’t too long ago, but our fifteen-year reunion was right around the corner.
I slammed the door and walked to the driver’s side.
But Roux blocked the way, arms crossed, legs braced. Did he think I was going to shove my way past him? And what the hell did he schlepp around in all those cargo pockets?
“What did the cop want?” he demanded.
“A baguette, a raisin bun, and a brioche.”
He glared down at me as only 180 pounds of muscled tiger shifter could.
“I mean, what information did he want?”
“No, you mean, what information was I dumb enough to give him?”
From the day I’d arrived at the château, I’d had secrecy drilled into me. I wasn’t to share any details about our houseguests (all supernaturals), their true professions (mercenaries), or what they suspected my beloved godfather of (all kinds of bad stuff). And I certainly wasn’t to mention any long-lost artworks.
Roux jutted his jaw. “Well, did you?”
“Of course not.” I huffed and walked around the back of the car.
Roux walked around the front and thrust a hand against the driver’s side door before I could open it.
“What did Claudette want?” he barked next.
“A job.”
He scoffed, then caught my expression and stared. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t.”
We glared at each other for ten full seconds before I gave in.
“Okay, I did. And as much as I hate to pull theI inherited the château, not youcard, I will. That’s my decision, not yours.”
“And your sister’s. She’ll be furious.”
I reached for the door handle, but he smacked his hand over it. I wasn’t as fast to react, so my hand landed on his, and a little zing went through me.
I whipped my hand back and shook it in the air.
“Yeesh. Attack me with static electricity, why don’t you,” I complained, then motioned to where Clement and Claudettestood talking, just down the street. “Do I need to call my police officer friend for help?”
Roux twisted to look over his shoulder, and my dirty mind pictured rows of rippling abdominal muscles. The guy was a real pain, but damn, did he keep his body sculpted.
Roux looked at Clem, then back at me.Downat me, in fact, making the most of his eight-inch height advantage.
