Bayou Heat (5 page)

Marshall didn’t take the bait. But then, he never did. And if he noticed Teague’s
battered face, he didn’t mention it. Not for the first time, Teague wondered what
Marsh really thought of him. Did he have any idea what kind of man Teague had become?
Did he care?

And why did any of it matter now?

Marsh brushed off a folding metal chair and sat. His Italian leather loafers, hand-tailored
pleated trousers, rumpled white linen shirt, loose designer tie, wire-rim
glasses, and disheveled blond hair made him look like exactly what he was: a slightly
harried professor who happened to be swimming in family money.

“Yeah well, they can have it.”

Teague smiled, on familiar ground now. “Father on your case to leave the ivy-covered
walls of the university for the ivy-covered walls of the Sullivan law practice again?”

Marshall ignored the question. “So, have you made contact yet?”

Sometimes Teague hated being right. Again, he asked himself why it mattered that Marsh
was only here about the favor he’d promised. It would be wiser to ask himself why
this particular woman had brought Marsh to ask favors at all.

“Not yet. Why, is our Miss McClure getting antsy already?”

“Dr. McClure.”

Teague didn’t react. “I told you before that this wouldn’t be simple. I’ll let her
know when it’s time.”

“But you can get her in?”

Teague’s sixth sense kicked in. He was careful to keep his demeanor the same as he’d
cultivated over the last year, that of the wastrel black sheep, member of one of Boudry
Parish’s wealthiest families who didn’t give a good damn about what anyone thought
of him. He’d been a natural for the part.

“Yeah, I’ll get her in.”

Marsh smiled. “Thanks. I really appreciate your help on this.”

Marshall’s smile seemed easy and sincere, but the
skin on the back of Teague’s neck still itched. “What, is there a promotion in this
for you if she finds the cure for cancer out there in the bayou or something?”

Marsh laughed. “You know Sullivan money only buys political offices, not tenure. But
I will say this is a real boon to our university, and it won’t hurt me any to be the
one to facilitate Dr. McClure’s research while she’s here.”

“I’d never even heard of the field before you mentioned it.”

“She’s made quite a name for herself, both on her own and with the extensive research
she did with her father when he was alive. He’s a legend. Sort of the Indiana Jones
of the botany field.”

Teague heard the words, but he was more interested in watching Marsh’s face. His half
brother enjoyed his work. That Marshall had been strong enough to follow his own path
was something Teague admired the hell out of. It was the one true bond he felt he
had with him.

As children, their father had made Teague’s life a living hell. But Marsh hadn’t had
it easy either, despite appearances to the contrary.

Not that he’d ever appreciated Teague’s attempts to help him out. Teague had always
been amused by the fact that ironically it was he, perhaps better than anyone else,
who understood what Marsh had gone through.

After all, they were both bastards.

But Marsh hadn’t thanked him for stepping in when they were kids, for using his fists
when Marsh preferred to use his brains, and that independent streak had continued
into adulthood. Perhaps for good reason. Marsh had ultimately gotten what he wanted.

Maybe Teague was reading more into this unusual request for help than actually existed.
They were both adults. Perhaps Marshall was just trying to behave as if they were
a normal family.

It was all Teague could do not to choke on the thought.

“I’ll contact her just as soon as the time is right,” he said shortly.

“Thanks, Teague. I really do appreciate it.” Tension filled the short silence that
followed, until Marsh rose, absently brushing at his pants.

“Sure you can’t stay for a beer?” Teague had no idea where that came from, except
that he suddenly didn’t want to sever this new bond. Stupid. He’d made it a policy
not to offer anything of himself to anyone. Ever. He did what he did because he wanted
to. No one owed him. He owed no one.

Except Grand-mere. And soon even that debt would be paid. If it ever truly could be.

“No, I have to get back.”

Teague swallowed the sigh of relief and ignored the small sense of hurt in the easy
rejection. Like he said, stupid.

Stupid to want. Even more foolish to need.

The silence spun out a bit awkwardly, and Teague sensed Marshall wasn’t quite sure
how to end the conversation either. Teague noticed his fingers curling into his hand.
Against the impulse to shake hands?

Teague’s own fingers tightened into fists beneath the desk. “Yeah, another time maybe.”

Now it was Marshall’s turn to look relieved. “Sure.”

And then he was gone.

Teague stared at the doorway, hating the empty feeling inside his chest.

Swearing harshly, he yanked up the phone. He was here to do a job. Nothing else. Including
getting mixed up with his half brother and a wild-haired scientist.

One job. After that he’d never have to step foot in Bruneaux or Louisiana again.

Erin rubbed the grit from her eyes as she opened the door to her apartment. Another
all-nighter at the campus lab, and archives had turned up nothing she hadn’t already
documented. Not that she’d expected it to. But she wouldn’t be a responsible scientist
if she didn’t examine all of the data the college had collected.

And, boy, were they avid collectors. She had been fascinated by the firsthand recounting
of various
Rada
and
Petro
ceremonies dating as far back as the late 1800s. The reactions of some of the participants
in these wild, untamed rituals had varied. But she had no new insights as to what
caused the responses. At least nothing pharmacological.

She knew from experience in Haiti and Africa with her father years ago that it would
be next to impossible to get the local initiates, or
hounsis
, as the followers of the voudoun religion were called, to agree that there was a
scientific reason for participants’ ability to perform
such seemingly impossible feats during their rituals.

Mac had been convinced, as were others before him, that there was a medical reason
for this. And after their extensive research, Erin had become fascinated by the possibilities
as well.

But she wasn’t there to convince the
hounsis
, or change their perspective on their religion. She would come to her own scientific
conclusions. They were free to agree or disagree with her findings. All she needed
from them was trust, to share with her the specific plants and derivatives used in
these ceremonies.

“And my ticket in is a bad-tempered Cajun with a gun,” she muttered as she dumped
her file-stuffed backpack on the chair inside the door. She groaned in relief.

“I didn’t bring the gun tonight,
ange
,” came a dark voice from the depths of her apartment.

Erin froze for a split second. That voice had plagued her thoughts for almost a week.
Thoughts that hadn’t always been about their business relationship. She tried to tell
herself that the thrill stealing over her was due to her anticipation of what her
visitor might have come to tell her about seeing the
mambo
. But at four in the morning, she doubted it.

“Hiding out from another jealous husband, Comeaux?”

He chuckled, a sexy, dangerous sound that vibrated in the hot air. Her pulse instantly
went into overdrive. No doubt the man had perfect night vision; nocturnal predators
often did. Or she’d have been tempted to
slither into the chair—with or without her backpack still on it.

Wait a minute. Hot air. It was hot in here. Again.

Without benefit of the light, she stalked to the air conditioner.

“Off. You turned off my air.” She swung toward the direction the voice had come from
earlier. Her bed.

She could barely make out the shadowed sprawl that was him. Against her will, she’d
pictured him on that very bed many times. He was far more dominating a presence there
than she’d ever imagined. He filled her bed to overflowing … just as he had her tub.

Just as he would you
, her little voice whispered.

“I’m used to the heat,
mon ange
.” There was a pause. “I like it.”

Feeling herself sinking fast, Erin shook herself free of the spell his seductive voice
was weaving around her. “Well, I’m not. I have spent the best part of the last several
hours fantasizing about my nice cool room and my nice cool shower.”

“The shower is available,
chèr
.”

Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she could see the white flash of his teeth in the
slant of moonlight. His tone made it clear he didn’t consider the bed off limits to
her either.

The feel of his hands on her skin was still a vivid memory. So clear she swore she
could feel them right now. Warm, slightly rough, gently firm, demanding, taking.

Swallowing tightly, she squeezed her eyes shut, but
it was no defense against the mental image of his mouth coming closer to hers.

During the last week of long hours, she’d spent too much time thinking about Teague.
He roused in her too many conflicting thoughts, too many unsettling emotions. But
one thing was clear. Any time spent with him on … unbusinesslike pursuits, would be
a mistake. She’d fought too long and too hard to waste one precious moment or one
hard earned cent on anything but her study.

And that meant the only invitation she was accepting from him was to meet the
mambo
.

“Well, if you think it’s safe for you to be on the streets, then I’d appreciate it
if you’d leave me to take a shower alone for a change.”

“I wasn’t planning on joining you.”

Erin felt her cheeks heat, knowing she’d asked for that one. Why did his teasing make
such a direct hit on her female ego? She’d never really thought she had one.

Maybe that was why. What he made her body feel had nothing to do with science or basic
function. He made her feel utterly female. He made her ache.

No man had ever made her ache.

She straightened her shoulders.

“This time,” he added.

Oh, boy.

“But if you want to cool off, then do it now.”

“I beg your pardon?” she demanded, taken aback by his sudden command. “I realize you
have no respect for my privacy, but if you think you can just—”

“Erin.”

That one word brought her little speech to a shuddering halt.

Her name on his lips. So simple. And yet her body had leapt in response to that single,
softly spoken word. “What?”

She heard the bed springs groan under his weight as he moved. He came off the bed
and moved toward her, the action fluid and graceful, like that of a sleek black panther
she’d once seen, moving through the night, intent on one thing. Cornering its prey.

Without meaning to, she backed up a step. Her thighs pressed against the cold radiator,
her back against the air conditioner.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” she asked as he loomed in front of her.

He paused. His dark features were cast in the stark light of the moon, making him
seem hard and chiseled. More like cold marble than warm man.

“Don’t ask me what I want.”

Erin straightened, drawn to the thread of uncertainty she heard in his voice.

“I just might tell you.” Rough, almost hoarse. This time the intent was clear. Heat.
Sexual heat.

“Teague, I—” She stopped short when she heard the same longing note in her own voice.

Suddenly he stepped back, the shadows swallowing him up once again. When he spoke
this time he was near the door to the hall.

“Get a shower and put on something cool. I’m here to take you to the
mambo
. Now.”

Less than ten minutes later, dressed in fresh clothes and a scowl, Erin climbed into
Teague’s truck. His ancient truck.

Sweat formed on her upper lip and across her forehead. She didn’t have to look at
the dash to know there would be no air-conditioning. She closed the rattling door
and yanked the seat belt across her lap. “At least something works in here,” she grumbled.

Erin felt him climb in, and the cab grew hotter. Talk about body heat. Erin didn’t
look at him. Her pulse hadn’t quite recovered from that brief but intense moment they’d
just shared in her room. No. She couldn’t think about that now. Ever.

She forced her mind to the night’s turn of events. She was exhausted by the long day,
and now wired with the confusing energy Teague’s nearness provoked in her … This was
not the way she’d planned to take
what would probably be the single most important step in her study. Making first contact.

She shot Teague a covert glance and tried to ignore the trickle of sweat wending its
way down between her breasts. As usual, he was calling the shots.

For now, she amended silently.

Erin fully intended to make the most of this encounter with the voodoo priestess.
If she played her cards right, she might be able to gain enough of the
mambo
’s trust to eliminate the middle man. Then Teague would be out of the picture for
good.

She felt his gaze shift to her at that exact moment.

“Don’t get any bright ideas,
chèr
.”

He’d spoken softly, the words barely drifting to her across the quiet space of the
truck cab … yet they were no less menacing than if he’d held a gun to her head and
shouted them.

Damn the man, anyway. He was too perceptive by half. “I can take care of myself.”
Mac may not have been a traditional parent, but he had seen to that. The realization
that she didn’t always appreciate it did little to soothe her nerves.

“You want to get back out of the swamp, you do what I say, when I say.” There was
not so much as a hint of the teasing Cajun bad boy she’d discovered naked in her tub.
This man was all dark shadows and uncompromising edges.