She stood several feet from him but he was instantly aware of everything about her. His senses were heightened by his leopard, he had no doubt about that, but this time his reaction was all man. She wore faded and ripped blue jeans and a short tee that clung to her curvy form lovingly. Her face was young, but her eyes were old. Her hair was thick, a dark blonde, but heavily streakedith silver, gold and platinum strands. Beautiful dark chocolate eyes spiced with golden flecks seemed at odds with the sun-kissed hair that was worn in a ragged, jagged cut that would never have suited anyone else, but somehow only enhanced her appearance.

Drake could barely breathe, knew he was staring, but couldn’t stop himself. She stood there, just looking at him with a curious expression, waiting for an answer. Her lashes were long, and she had a tiny scar on her chin, and melting dimples. Her mouth was a thing of fantasy, full lips like a fascinating bow, her teeth small and white, although her canines were sharper than normal. He had a strange urge to drag her into his arms and taste her.

She regarded him with a mixture of reticence and wariness. “I’m Saria Boudreaux, your guide. You are Drake Donovan, aren’t you?” She tilted her head to one side, studying him with concern. “If you don’ feel good from the trip, it’s all right, we can wait before we get you back on the boat. Maybe get you somethin’ to eat?”

Her accent curled in his stomach. He could feel the reaction pulse through his groin. “I’m fine, Miss Boudreaux. I’ll be staying at the Lafont Inn, as you recommended. You said it was close to the canals and marshes I’ll be visiting?” He’d made certain the bed-and-breakfast she’d recommended was rarely visited and near the bayou where there were groves of trees, marsh and swamp. He’d rented the entire B&B on the chance he’d need his team as well as to ensure their privacy.

She nodded. “Call me Saria, it will be easier since we’ll be spendin’ a week together. Is that your bag?” She indicated his small war bag with a nod of her head.

He’d be damned if she carried it for him. He reached down and lifted it himself, sending up a silent prayer that his very full groin would allow him to walk. “Just Drake then. Thanks for meeting me so late.” He never had such a reaction to a woman. It had to be the fierce need of his cat.