Lian Roch (Bayou Heat)(20)

Okay, tomorrow, she mused, nearly dropping her book as she tried to free a hand to get her keys. She’d think about this tomorrow.

“Let me help you?” came a male voice a few feet away.

Lydia’s head lifted and her heart nearly dropped onto the carpet under her feet. She froze, her keys instantly forgotten. Clutching the food and the book to her chest, she took in the man standing just outside her door. It was him. Of course it was him. The guy from the beignet place. Her insides pinched. From fear, and lord, from something else entirely. Something she refused to name. Something she should not be feeling at all.

Her gaze tracked over him. He was terrifyingly good-looking. Tall, lean, big hands, thick wrists, dark blond hair and icy blue eyes that warned of a highly intelligent mind. Just like earlier, he wore a black suit, white shirt, and dark purple tie, and as he walked toward her it was like witnessing the very essence of confidence, sexuality and ultra masculinity.

“This is disturbing,” she said, trying like hell to remain cool and calm, and act like she could kick his ass if she had to. “You outside my door.” Dammit. Her voice was shaking. Or maybe that was her insides. It was just…the way he was looking at her. Not like he wanted to do her harm, but like he wanted to know what her skin tasted like.

She blushed and walked past him to her door.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

She could feel him behind her. His warmth. “Too late.” She transferred the book and food bag to her left arm, then went searching—not for her keys this time, but her cellphone. If this gorgeous bastard from Haymore tried anything, she was calling the police.

“I just need to know,” he said, coming around her and leaning all six feet, suit-clad, hard jawed gorgeousness against the doorframe. “Are you certain you’re carrying a Pantera child?”

The need to drop everything and cover her belly with her hands, protect her tiny child, was intensely strong. But Lydia kept her composure. “That’s an odd question for the man who’s representing the very company whose samples I used.”

“I’m not representing this Haymore you speak of.”

She turned to look at him just as her hand closed around her cell.

His eyes darkened to a stormy sky blue. “And I’m not a man.”

Heat and panic erupted within her. Her breathing shallow and uneven, she brought cellphone out of her purse and quickly dialed 911. “You need to get the hell out of here. Maybe get yourself to a psych ward. The cops are coming.”

But the cellphone never made it to her ear. The man slipped it from her so fast she hardly felt it leave her hand. He stabbed the off button, then turned to look at her.

“You need to come with me, Ms. Page.”

Her heart was beating so fast, she worried she might pass out. “And you need to run before I scream my head off.”

“I am not going to hurt you,” he insisted tightly. In fact, he looked put out, insulted by her suggestion. “I am Pantera, and I want to help you.”

The book she was carrying slipped from her arms and dropped onto the floor. Her mind whirred. And she tried to keep up with her thoughts—with what he’d just said to her. Pantera. This tall, imposing, stunning, gorgeous nut case was Pantera?

No.

She stared into his eyes. She didn’t believe him. Couldn’t. But then she saw something flash within those ice blue orbs. Something she couldn’t explain, but something her body, skin, and blood recognized.

She gasped, covered her mouth. “It’s not possible.”

“What samples are you talking about?” he asked. “What did you get from this Haymore Center?”

Oh god. Was this really happening? “I was artificially inseminated.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this, telling him this.

Something flickered in his blue eyes. Gratification? Or relief? “So you have not lain with one of our males, then? No Pantera has a claim on you?”

Lydia stared at him. “No.” The way he spoke. The words he used. Could this be real? Could he actually be a Pantera shifter?

“If the child is Pantera,” the man continued as if what they were discussing was not completely insane-sounding, “wouldn’t you want to know its origins, community, history and medical issues?”

“I don’t want to do this,” she said, digging into her purse, grabbing her keys. “Just go. Please. I don’t know how you found me or who you really are, but—”

He sniffed with irritation. “Unless you’re thinking of hiding the child? Is that it? Hiding it away so the humans don’t have to see it.” The sudden ferocity in his eyes was a living, breathing thing. “Perhaps you’re ashamed of its—”

“Hey!” His words, and his accusation, were like boiling water on a hot day. Forgetting her fear, she whirled on him and air-stabbed him with her key. “Never,” she said through gritted teeth. “Okay? I would never be ashamed of my child.”

She turned back and jammed her key into the lock. This was madness. All of this. She needed time. She needed to think. Maybe he would go away. Maybe he’d leave a number where she could reach him. Dammit! She was so confused. She pushed the door open.

“Come with me, Lydia,” he said.

Just as she stepped inside her hallway, her head came around. “You know my name.”

He nodded, as if that was answer enough.

Apprehension tugged at her insides. “If I say no, you’ll try and take me anyway, won’t you?”

Sharp eyebrows lifted over intense blue eyes. “Are you saying no?”

Her breathing uneven, she slipped farther inside. She was just about to shut the door in his face and on those words, when she heard a noise coming from her living room. Her heart slammed against her ribs as true fear coursed through her.

The man’s lip curled and his nostrils flared. “Don’t move.”

Without another word, he rushed past her—so fast she barely saw him. Lydia stood there frozen, trying to decide what to do. Suddenly, the sounds of fists hitting bone, and glass breaking against hardwood rent the air. Fuck! Where was her cell? Did he have it? Could she get into the kitchen and use the house phone?

But before she could make any kind of move, the man emerged from the shadows of her living room. Calm, cool, looking as though he hadn’t been touched.

“Leave the food,” he said tightly, his eyes moving over her, examining every inch of her. “I’ll feed you once we get to the Wildlands.”

Lydia noticed she’d dropped the bag of Chinese on the floor. The book, however, was still clutched to her chest.

“What was that?” she demanded in a thin whisper.

He took her hand in his. It was cool and large and callused. “Come on. It’s not safe here. That bastard had a gun.”





Chapter 4





“Roch,” he told her as she hesitated in the backseat of the cab they’d taken from New Orleans to La Pierre.

It wasn’t his usual method of travel. He liked to run, or, when he was traveling for business, use one of the vehicles from the Pantera’s car club. But he was in a hurry today, and he wouldn’t have Lydia walking any farther than necessary.

She glanced up at him, her expression wary, yet intrigued. A look Roch was getting used to with her.

“That’s your name?” she asked. “Roch?”

He nodded as the cab pulled to a stop in front of The Cougar’s Den. He quickly paid the driver, then opened the door and stepped out. He offered Lydia a hand. “Come. We need to walk a little now.”

She took it, and Roch tried not to purr at the feeling of her soft skin against his palm. If it was possible, she looked even more beautiful in the rich, afternoon light of the bayou. Her curls were pulled back off her flawless face in a loose ponytail, and the warmth of the day was making her cheeks flush pink.

He led her out of The Cougar’s Den parking lot and toward the bayou and the Wildlands, making sure their route through the terrain was relatively uncomplicated. It had been nearly impossible to keep his eyes off of her on their drive. His hands, too. He’d felt her anxiety and had wanted to comfort her. But he needed to remember that she didn’t belong to him. He was merely discovery, protection and delivery. If she truly was carrying a Pantera cub within her, priority number one was going to be to find out how that had happened. How a clinic in New Orleans had managed to get their hands on Pantera sperm samples.

Then they were going to have to find the father.

As they walked, heat and irritation slashed through him at the thought. Not to mention the words, and the warning: I found her and I get to keep her.

Foolish male, he chided himself.

“Just for the record,” she said as they trudged through thick grasses and around massive cypresses. “I’m coming with you because I decided to.”

“Of course.”

“Not because someone forced me,” she continued, her tone no doubt similar to the one she used in a court of law. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

“I believe that,” he said with a hint of amusement. He would like to see her in court, badgering witnesses, fighting for justice for her client. He imagined she’d be magnificent.

“Are you making fun of me?” she asked with just a touch of humor.