Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou (7 page)

“Did you say something?”

“No, not at all.” She’d hoped for light and airy, instead she sounded completely flaky—like a woman ready to fall off the deep end of sanity. Which, frankly, was exactly how she felt. She filled her lungs with air.
I can handle this.
She smiled and opened her eyes.

Larger-than-life Craig no longer loomed safely in front of her. He stood about a yard away, down in the tiny rocking boat, his hand outstretched.

She swayed.

Oh, God
.

…

“Take my hand,” Craig ordered firmly, instinctively sensing Elaine’s fear. Although she hadn’t said a word, he felt it in the way her hand shook when she placed it in his.

What the hell? Was she afraid of
him
? Twice now, she’d landed in his arms, and the experience had been…well…not unpleasant.

His groin tightened.

Okay, she’d sparked something carnal in him. Big shock.

He almost laughed out loud. Wouldn’t she be appalled, if she knew?

He tamped down his lusty thoughts and tugged her gently to the edge of the pier. “Now all you have to do is step down. I’ll do the rest.”

Despite his uncle’s opinion, playing tour guide to this lab-rat scientist wasn’t going to solve his problem. Not if she was terrified even to touch him. But at this point he was stuck. Perhaps the solitude of the swamps would give him time to mull over his predicament. Come up with something better.

With her hand still in his, she stood staring down at the bayou. Her hair fell in gentle waves around her face, softening her features, making her appear vulnerable. The glasses perched on the edge of her nose couldn’t begin to hide her expressive eyes.

When she had fallen inside the shop, as well as on the dock, every one of his protective instincts had shot to the forefront. And when he’d lifted her to her feet and into his arms, his body had reacted immediately, every cell instantly alert. Thank goodness she’d pushed him away. Otherwise he’d have surrendered to the overwhelming urge to run his fingers through her hair and kiss her surprised, pink lips.

Of course, kissing was the right idea, as far as Madame LeBieu was concerned, he reminded himself. If he wanted to break her spell, he’d have to woo someone into falling in love with him.

So, why not the clumsy, pretty scientist?

A dart of anger lanced through him. Damn it! He’d come to Bayou Miste to secure another client for the law firm, not to make some timid, unsuspecting woman fall in love with him.

She wanted nothing to do with him, and he sure as hell wanted nothing to do with love.

Damn that Voodoo witch
.

Elaine stood frozen to the boards on the pier. The look of absolute terror in her eyes forced Craig out of his irate thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” He searched the boat, the dock, and the bayou. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

“Do…do you have a life vest?” she whispered.

“Yes, of course.” Craig dropped her hand and reached under a seat for the regulation orange vest. He pressed it into her fingers, and leaned forward to grab her bucket and stow it in the boat.

When he looked back, she stood exactly as she had when he’d handed her the vest, staring at the water, her eyes wide and worried.

“What’s wrong?” he asked irritably. Then he noticed her trembling hands, clutching at the vest. She was petrified. But not by him, it seemed.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He jumped at the reprieve. “You don’t have to. You could go home. I have other things to do.”

His tone must have cut through her fear, because she stiffened her spine. Her lips drew into a tight line. “No. I have to do this.”

“It’s your choice. But if we’re going, you have to get in the boat. Preferably sometime this century.”

She stared down at the life vest and back at him.

“For Pete’s sake.” He climbed out of the boat. “Give me that.” Grabbing the vest, he hooked it over her head. The subtle scent of flowers wafted in the air. He didn’t know what he’d expected—formaldehyde or rubbing alcohol, maybe. But not the hauntingly familiar scent of wildflowers. He withdrew his hands and noted her skin was as smooth and delicate as silk.

When he realized he was holding his breath, he forced air into his lungs. At that point he should have backed away. But of their own volition, his hands moved forward to lift her hair clear of the vest. The strands cascaded through his fingers to lay wild and soft against the orange fabric. He wanted to gather it up again and bury his face in the shiny tresses.

“Does this strap do something?” she asked, her breath warm against his ear.

A river of awareness coursed through his veins and into his groin. He had to get control of himself before he did something both of them would regret. Elaine Smith wasn’t his type. He preferred the tough as nails, what’s-in-it-for-me kind of woman. A woman who could hold her own against his cynical views and single lifestyle. Elaine, however, was— He groped for the right word to best describe his impression of her. Soft? Vulnerable? Passionate?

The last word that sprang to mind struck him. Why would he think of her as passionate? Was it her full lips and wide eyes? Or was he only projecting his own carnal thoughts onto her?

He gathered his diminishing willpower and set her away from him. Then he looked down at the strap in her hands. “That hooks around your waist.” As he reached for the strap, blood sang in his ears. Before he could take it from her, he stopped himself. His sense of honor warred with his lust. If he touched her again, lust might just win. He pointed at the strap and said, “It hooks around your waist and buckles there.”

He did an about-face and practically leapt back into the boat, causing it to rock violently. He fought to stay on his feet, thankful for the distraction.

When he turned back toward Elaine, her face was white.

“Will it do that when I get in?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“That rocking thing.” She swayed her hand back and forth, and her face paled even more.

Ah
.

Around boats all his life, he hadn’t considered she might be afraid of the pirogue. And all this time, he’d thought she must be afraid of
him
.

He smiled up at her. “No, I’ll keep it steady. You just hold my hand and step in slowly.”

Reaching up, he grasped her hand and tugged gently. At first she didn’t budge. Then, one foot at a time, she inched toward the boat. When both her feet were at the edge of the dock, she looked down into his eyes.

As if he were her anchor, she kept her gaze fixed on his and stepped down into the little skiff.

The pirogue rocked gently and she threw her arms around his neck in a stranglehold.

He would have cursed, if he could have breathed. He braced his legs wide, absorbing the sway of the boat until it stopped. With one arm around her waist, he reached his other hand behind his neck to loosen her grip. “It’s okay. You’re not going to fall. I’ve got you.” He kept his words soothing as he lowered her onto the hard metal seat.

Her arm around his neck only brought them closer when he bent over. His nose buried in her soft curls and he couldn’t help but inhale.
Definitely flowers
. He liked that it reminded him of springtime and wild roses in bloom.

Once seated, she released her grip on him, grabbing her seat, her knuckles turning white. “I’m sorry.” Her smile trembled and her green-eyed gaze darted around the pirogue.

“Why? Because you almost choked me to death?” He grinned wryly, his heart going out to her. “Don’t worry. I’m used to having women throw themselves at me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I was not throwing myself at you.” She sounded indignant, more like the self-assured scientist he’d met earlier.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He could remain objective around the confident scientist. Just don’t let the frightened mouse reappear or he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

He turned in his seat, reaching behind him to pull the cord on the outboard engine. After the second pull it sprang to life, chugging and coughing smoke until it settled into a steady rhythm.

With the tiller in hand, he turned to face Elaine. “Ready?”

Her hands clenched the cool metal on either side of her seat. She gulped, then nodded.

He smiled, feeling a grudging admiration for her. If she really was terrified, she was being pretty darn brave.

He eased the boat backward until it cleared the pier, then he swung the bow around and headed into the murky swamp. All the while, he watched the expressions fly across her face in the little bit of light shining from the boat lamps perched on long, narrow rods at the front and back of the vessel. Occasionally, a patch of moonlight filtered through the dense trees overhanging the waterway.

“I-I’m sorry about all the fuss…g-getting in the boat and all,” she said. “It’s just that I don’t know how to swim, and I’ve a-always had an aversion to deep water.” She peered worriedly over the side of the boat, shuddered, and then jerked her gaze back to his.

So it was the water she was afraid of. Not the boat.
And not him
.

For some reason, that cheered him.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt with a lopsided grin. “That would explain the stranglehold. I’ll try real hard not to tip us over.”

She stiffened. “Is it easy?”

“Is what easy?”

“To tip the boat. Is it easy to tip the boat over?”

“Not if you’re careful. Just don’t lean too far to either side.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said, her expression deadly serious. “Don’t you have bigger boats?”

“
Mais
,
cher
.” A smile tugged at the side of his mouth. She probably wouldn’t feel more comfortable unless the boat was a luxury cruise liner. He noted her fingers hadn’t loosened their grip on the bench seat, and his smile softened. She really was scared spitless. “If you want to catch frogs, you have to do so in shallow water. The bigger boats are for deeper water. They’d get bogged down where we’re going.”

She fell silent, her gaze still locked on him.

He steered the pirogue through the twisting channels, carefully avoiding overhanging trees. The little bit of breeze their speed stirred kept the mosquitoes at bay. He made wide, sweeping turns so as not to tilt the boat and upset her.

At first, her rigid stare made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t glance back or he’d risk running into a tree or small island, but he did glance at her from time to time. She wasn’t bad to look at. Not at all like the flashy or business-suited women he spent his days with in the Big Easy. Her appeal was subtle. A quieter, deeper beauty you had to take a closer look to find.

Kind of like the bayou itself.

“Are we going to where Bernie found the dead fish and alligator?” Her eyes lost their guarded expression, appearing more eager than frightened.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “Why exactly are you interested in dead fish and frogs?”

She hesitated chewing her bottom lip.

His years as a defense lawyer alerted him to her body language. It told him she was holding something back. Interesting.

Finally, she looked up. Green eyes peered at him assessingly through round glasses. “Can I trust you?”

Chapter Seven

Craig hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Can you trust me?”

Elaine regarded him evenly, hoping she hadn’t made a huge mistake in judgment.

“That’s my question.”
Could
she trust him? Besides being gorgeous in clothes and in the flesh, what else did she know about him?

“Yes, of course, you can trust me.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m not good at this cloak and dagger stuff.”

He nodded but didn’t comment.

She explained, “I received a sample of swamp water from an anonymous source. It was labeled Bayou Miste.”

“And?” he prompted.

“When I ran tests on the sample, I found high levels of uranium, thorium, and radium.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “How much?”

“Enough to threaten the ecosystem in this area if it’s not cleaned up immediately.”

“Shit.” He sat back and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

“Exactly. If the water samples and animal life I collect show the same toxin levels, the people and creatures in this area have a big problem.”

At least his reaction appeared to be genuine concern. She had taken a gamble letting him in on what little information she had in her possession.

“That’s why you’re here.” He stared somberly out at the dark, silent wilderness surrounding them. “This bayou is my uncle’s livelihood. He’s been here since before I was born.”

“What about you? Have you lived here all your life?”

“No.” He slowed the engine and nodded at her head. “Duck.”

“Huh?”

“Duck.” Craig reached across and pushed her head down. Something brushed against the back of her neck, snagged at her hair, then let go. It skimmed across her cheek with a mildly abrasive texture. Visions of snakes and spiders leapt into her mind. A scream bubbled up in her throat, but she clamped her tongue between her teeth and rode it out.

Craig let go of her head and sat back in his seat, leaning to one side. A low-hanging branch weighted by heavy Spanish moss whipped past.

Elaine sent a silent prayer of thanks to the teeth god for holding her tongue. He already thought she was a klutz and a wimpy nut case. No use adding fuel to the fire with an ear-splitting scream.

“You can sit up now, this area is fairly open.”

She cautiously straightened, and stared at the man seated across from her. Studying him beat fixating on the inky, black waters, and curiosity about her guide helped distract her from her fears. “So, how long have you lived here?”

“Why do you want to know?”

On the spot, Elaine grasped for a reason. “Maybe I want to reassure myself you know where you’re going.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to be worried about that?”

“I suppose.”

His gaze connected with hers and held for a few moments before he looked ahead of the boat again. “I’ve been around these swamps for the better part of twenty years. My uncle has had me guiding swamp tours and fishing trips since I was sixteen.”

“Aren’t you afraid of alligators or snakes?” A chill slipped down her spine.

“Nope, but I do have a healthy respect for them.” He smiled and she felt warm all over, as if she could conquer any alligator or snake as long as he smiled at her like that.

“Why did you come to the bayou?” he asked. His attention focused on navigating, he didn’t look at her.

“I told you, the water sample, toxins.”

“I know all that.” His gaze remained on the route ahead. “What I want to know is why you didn’t send someone who isn’t afraid of water to collect your samples?”

Perhaps because he wasn’t looking at her, she felt more inclined to be open. “I guess I was tired of hiding behind my microscope. I wanted to challenge myself, and face my fears.” And as much as she hated to admit it, she had her ex-fiancé to thank for opening her eyes to what she’d so recently refused to see.

Craig nodded with a half-smile. “Quite an adventurer. Didn’t you do any fieldwork in grad school that required you to get near water to gather samples?

“Yes, but not anywhere near expanses of water as large as this. I stuck to small ponds around farm fields.” She grinned sheepishly. “I guess I sound pretty wimpy.”

“No. I’d say you’re pretty brave for facing those fears. It can’t be easy. That you’re even in a boat surrounded by water is a testament to your sense of adventure and your courage.”

Elaine rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

He winked. He turned to the motor and flicked a switch. The engine shut off but the skiff continued to slide through the waters of the lagoon, illuminated by the boat lights. Silence descended for a brief moment before the cicadas picked up the beat of the night and roared to life around them. Although the water remained inky black, she could discern the shapes of cypress and willow trees towering above them, Spanish moss draped from their branches, touching the water like feathery fingers stirring a brew.

Without the noise of the engine, the swamp version of silence deafened her. What did she have to say to the black sheep nephew of a backwoods bait shop owner? She was a scientist and he was…well…a fish boy. Besides being exceedingly handsome, and knowledgeable about the bayou, with blue eyes she could fall into, what did Craig Thibodeaux have that other men didn’t? And, more important, what could she possibly have in common with him other than their shockingly intense sexual attraction?

She’d felt his gaze on her and the protruding zipper of his jeans when he’d held her close, both in the bait shop and on the dock. Granted, she’d tried not to think about it, but it was hard.

Oh, yeah. Hard and solid, and begging to be unleashed into her hands.

She sucked in a mortified breath, and stared down at her fingertips as if she’d find the subject of her thoughts pulsing and throbbing there. What was it about this man that inspired her to such lusty imaginings?

She’d never considered love anything more than a chemical reaction to the body’s need to reproduce. But these feelings weren’t something she could explain away as a mere chemical reaction.

She’d always assumed her hormones would tell her when it was time for children, and then she’d want to have sex. In the past, that passionate urge had never come, and even with her fiancé she hadn’t really been all that interested in his lukewarm embraces.

Was her body faulty? Were her chemicals out of balance? Was that why she couldn’t get excited to the point of orgasm with a man?

Daring to look up, she was captured by Craig’s gaze. His eyes were as pale as the night was dark. She felt a tug in her lower abdomen and a strange throbbing between her legs. Was
this
the chemical reaction she’d been waiting for? If so, what an idiotic time to turn up!

The small boat slowed when they entered a lagoon half the size of a football field. Some kind of lake? She eased around in her seat and strained to see to the far side. Moonlight glinted off the silvery scales of floating carcasses.

“There they are.” She pointed ahead excitedly, her fear of the water temporarily forgotten.

The stench of rotting fish and vegetation filled her nostrils to the point she almost gagged. She pulled her collar up over her nose, as the boat drifted closer to the pool of death.

“So many dead fish,” she whispered, afraid to open her mouth too wide for breathing in the unpleasant smell. She’d encountered her share of disgusting odors in the lab at the university, but this—

“How much of this stuff do you want?” Craig asked from over her shoulder.

“One of each species should be sufficient.” She pointed at one floating fish. “Can we get close enough to collect that specimen?”

“Do you have bug repellent in your bag?”

“Excuse me?” she turned back toward him.

“Bug repellent.”

Buzzing tickled her ear and sent a quiver down the back of her neck. She smacked at the buzz, hitting her neck. “I didn’t think to bring any.”

Craig grunted, reached under his seat, and pulled out a can with a green plastic lid. “Catch.” With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the can to her.

She let go of the seat to catch it in both hands. The boat rocked. The motion rattled her so much, she dropped the can and clutched the seat again. The cylinder clanked against the metal floor and rolled to Craig’s feet.
So much for being the grand adventurer
.

“Here let me.” He snagged the can and flipped off the top. Positioning it in front of her legs, he sprayed a long steady fog around her knees and thighs.

The fumes gagging her, she pulled her shirt collar more firmly over her nose.

“Scoot over,” he said, as he unclipped the life vest and slid it from her shoulders.

She slid gingerly a little to her left on the bench.

He stood, twisted, and sat next to her, his hip touching hers.

Breathing became an issue, with or without the dead fish and bug spray. Her lungs worked in small, jerky gasps, insufficient to provide oxygen to her brain. Which would explain the disconnect with her powers of logic. All she wanted to do was to reach out and touch the muscular thigh pressed to hers.

“Lean forward,” he said.

She complied, and Craig sprayed more of the smelly repellant across the back of her hair and down her back.

When she straightened, she looked up at him. Her gaze slid involuntarily from his eyes to his lips…only inches from her own. She cleared her throat. “Is that it?”

“Not quite.” He reached out with both hands. With his fingers skimming the sides of her cheeks, he leaned toward her.

Oh, God. He’s going to kiss me.

Heart thumping in her chest, she hovered on the edge of a mighty abyss. She met him halfway, eyelids drooping, lips puckered, inexorably drawn to him.

His gaze coupled with hers and his cupped hand rose up the side of her face. Then he removed her glasses, pressing them into her hands. “Hold these.”

…

Without her glasses on, Elaine’s green eyes peered up at him, rounded and appealing in the light from the two boat lanterns. His gaze progressed from trusting eyes to full, sensuous lips. Even slathered in smelly bug spray, the pretty scientist tempted him. Too much. The urge to lean forward and press a kiss to those lush lips nearly overwhelmed him. His hand tightened on the can of repellent and a spray of the potent chemicals blasted out, serving as smelling salts to his senses.

Holy crap.
He’d almost
kissed
her.

He sat up straight, sprayed a small amount in his palms and leaned forward again to wipe them against her cheeks.

The pungent smell took nothing away from those mystically green eyes or the silky smooth skin. And the breast rubbing against his sleeve ignited nerve endings best left dormant.

His fingers slipped beneath her hair to distribute repellent to the back of her neck.

Her eyes hovered half-closed, the rise and fall of her chest indicating the same difficulty breathing she’d had when he’d held her steady in his arms on the dock. The combination of silky hair against the backs of his hands, tender skin at his fingertips, and lips only a breath away, rocked his boat.

Moonlight chose that moment to filter through the trees to the little lagoon. Her face shone with an ethereal clearness, like an aberration…or an angel.

She blinked and, with jerky movements, leaned away from him until his hands dropped to his lap. She pushed her wild hair back off her forehead and slipped her glasses on. “How should we kiss the frogs?”

Craig frowned. From confusion over her words or from the sense of loss her movement created, he didn’t analyze. “What did you say?”

Despite the dim lighting, he could see the rise of color in her cheeks. “I mean, how do we catch the frogs?”

Jolted back to reality, he shifted his weight to slide over to his seat. He dug a fish net from beneath the bench, handed it to her, and glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock? With great effort, he stifled a groan. Six more hours to dawn, and he’d moved nowhere closer to resolving his problem.

With a glance across at Elaine holding the net, he realized he’d only added to his problems by agreeing to take the good scientist out for a late-night fishing trip.

No, she wasn’t the right woman to break the spell. Unlike Lisa LeBieu, this one had a heart, one he’d surely break when he left this Voodoo-ridden swamp.

She glanced around from the safety of the middle of the boat. “Can we get a little closer?”

Craig did a double-take until he realized she wanted closer to the dead fish. He lifted a paddle from the floor and dipped it in the water, propelling the boat forward.

She twisted around in her seat, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her neck.

The vision twanged his growing awareness of her. He knew how soft the skin was, and thanked the stars it smelled of bug spray. He dipped the paddle again. The force of his stroke inadvertently turned them away from the fish and toward the shore. Moving to the other side of the skiff, he straightened the boat’s direction with two compensating strokes. When they reached the fish, he dug the paddle in and slowed the boat to a stop.

“You have the net, scoop it up.”

She leaned forward ever so slightly, her neck craning to see the fish, now bumping against the side of the boat. She scooted closer, the skiff dipping down on that side. Peering over, she leveled the net and scooped the fish out of the water, holding it high. A triumphant smile graced her lips. “I did it!”

Her exuberance brought a smile to Craig’s face. “Very good. You caught a dead fish. Now, let’s move on to the live frogs.”

The excited smile turned downward and her nose wrinkled. She slid the fish into the bucket and closed the lid. “I’ve worked with a lot of stinky chemicals and samples, but this fish reeks.”

“Happens when fish die.”

Her lips twisted. “Where will we find the frogs?”

“Closer to the shore.”

She turned to look ahead, her expression eager.

His perverse sense of humor made him want to frighten her just a little. “That’s also where we’ll find the snakes and other swamp creatures, so keep your eyes open.”

His words had the desired effect. A tremor started at the top of her shoulders and shook her all the way down her spine. But she kept her back to him. Her spine stiffened and she focused her attention on the shore.