Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou (8 page)

For someone afraid of the swamp, she had spunk. Even when he tried to scare her, she remained on course. She had purpose, a selfless purpose, unlike the people he worked with in New Orleans. There, they would chew her up and spit her out for fun.

His eyes narrowed and he studied her closer.
Or would they?
Somehow, he bet she’d hold her own if she believed in her cause.

“There! I saw one hop into the water.” She turned, her face wreathed in an excited smile. “Did you see it, Craig? Can you get closer?”

Her use of his name caused his heart to skip a beat. Had the Voodoo queen done more to him than turn him into a frog by day? Why was he mooning after this cute but geeky stranger? She wasn’t anything near his type. Maybe another trip to the witch was in order. Surely, his years as a skilled negotiator counted for something?

The skiff bumped against the shore, jolting him out of his musings.

She yelped and held tight to her seat. When the boat stilled, she looked around. “I don’t see any frogs.” After a moment she added, “What happened to the noise?”

As if someone had their hand on the master switch, the natural clatter of crickets and frogs had shut off. Silence surrounded them.

“Be still and quiet,” he whispered. “They’ll return.”

The two sat quietly, barely moving except to breathe. At length, a cricket chirped, followed by another, and soon the entire swamp roared with activity.

She smiled up at him. A frog hopped into the lagoon next to the boat. Her focus shifting to the water, she held the net ready and leaned toward the edge.

With the smooth strokes of a natural-born swimmer, a frog the size of Craig’s fist sailed on the surface. She reached over the side and slapped the net at the frog. When she pulled it from the water, it dripped empty. Her brows furrowed behind the rims of her glasses and her lips tilted in a pout. “Darn. He was a nice-looking one.”

“Next time, set your net in the water just below the surface and lift up when the frog swims over the top.”

“Like this?” She leaned over the side and lowered the net in the water.

“Yes. Now, hold still and wait for the next one.”

Minutes passed. She held still throughout, determination written on her pursed lips.

Soon a frog swam within range.

Elaine’s body tensed.

When the frog swam over the top of the net, she jerked the net up, frog and net dripping water all over the front of her white blouse. “
Woo hoo
! I got one!”

He gulped. The smile on her face combined with the water across her chest sucker-punched him in the groin. Lit by the lamplight, the lacy edges of her bra and the smoothly rounded globes beneath pressed against the transparent wet blouse.

Holding the net over the open bucket, she dumped the frog in with the dead fish, then slid the lid in place. The frog inside hopped, hitting the top with a bonk.

Craig flinched. He could sympathize with the frog. How frustrating to be so small and at the mercy of larger, carnivorous creatures! Not to mention stuck in a container with a stinky dead fish. His stomach clenched, and then knotted even tighter at his next thought. “Are you going to dissect him?”

Her attention back on the water, she answered, “Of course. I have to study the effects of the pollutants on his skin, liver, heart, and other organs.”

With a sick feeling, Craig looked away. Was his own fate to be someone’s science experiment? If he didn’t find someone to love him, that’s what could happen. Either that, or he’d be snake or alligator bait. Which would be worse—having his brains scrambled or being slowly digested by a reptile?

Perhaps getting the scientist to fall in love with him wasn’t such a bad idea.

As trusting and naïve as she seemed, it shouldn’t take long. Would a few flowers and dinner in a nice restaurant work on a woman as smart as Elaine? And maybe after dinner they could make love into the wee hours of the morning…

The pert breasts shining through her blouse called to him. He could imagine his hands cupped over them, her dark, wavy hair splayed across his white pillowcase.

“What’s wrong?” She glanced up at him and followed his stare to her blouse. “Oh, my goodness!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Busted
.

“I was enjoying the view.”

Anger flashed from her green eyes. She turned away and plucked at the material to lift it off her skin. She blew down at the wet fabric, but it would take a lot more than that to dry. With a huffy breath, she kept her back to him. “I guess there’s nothing to be done. If I want more specimens, I’ll have to live with it.” She threw a narrowed glance over her shoulder. “But you could have the decency not to look.”

“Sorry.” He grinned. “I’m just a man. Can’t help it. You have a pair of right pretty breasts.”

She swung her legs over the bench to the other side. But her clunky rubber boot heel caught the edge of the bucket, knocking it sideways. The lid flew off and frog and fish slid from inside.

“Get him!” She dove for the frog at the same time as Craig. But the amphibious hopper leapt beneath the bench she sat on. “Can you see him?” She lifted her feet and scooted back on the seat.

He could see one scared frog hunkered low. Just as he lunged for it, the frog hopped. Elaine toppled off the back of the seat, but he caught the escapee.

“I got him.” He scooped the dead fish back into the bucket and tossed the frog in after it, closing the lid down tight.

When he looked around, Elaine lay on the bottom of the boat, her ankles dangling over the seat, shoulders shaking.

He reached out a hand. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Her shoulders continued to shake, but she didn’t answer.

Worried, he slipped onto her seat. “Did you break something?” His hands ran up her legs checking for broken bones. When he reached her hips and waist, she exploded in uncontrollable belly laughter.

“What a funny pair!” She clutched her sides and gasped. Tears streamed down her face. “My glasses—” more laughter “—can you find my glasses?”

“No. Oh wait, there they are.” He plucked her glasses from her tangled hair and handed them to her.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” She held the glasses in one hand and swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her other arm. “I can’t get up.”

Craig glanced around. Her ankles were draped over the bench as she lay sprawled in the bottom of the boat. He slid her feet off the seat and wrapped his arms around her. “Just hold around my neck. I’ll lift you up.”

Her arms encircled his neck, her glasses still clutched in one hand. With their faces only inches apart, he could see the way the tears clumped in her long black lashes. Her pink cheeks glistened with moisture and her hair framed her face like fine black lace. And those lips…

The bug spray should have been enough of a deterrent to keep him away, but his gaze locked on her mouth and there was nothing he could do to stop his next action.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. The satiny texture drew him closer. His tongue pushed past her teeth and entered her open mouth to taste her sweetness.

He barely acknowledged the clunk behind him when her glasses dropped to the bottom of the skiff.

With her hands threaded into his hair, she pulled him closer. Her wet shirt soaked against his dry one, drawing attention again to her breasts. How he wanted to see them, touch them and taste them.

He cupped his hand over a firm rounded globe, reveling in the warmth generated through the wet fabric. Dare he toss aside her blouse and take those luscious—

Her fingers fumbled for his buttons, pushing aside the fabric to delve into his chest hairs.

Where had the prim and proper scientist gone? Who cared? As far as he was concerned, she’d just given him an invitation to reciprocate.
Hot damn, let the games begin
. With his lips still locked with hers, he reached a hand between them and unbuttoned the front of her blouse. Easing the shirt over her shoulders, he leaned back to take in the sight of perfect flesh encased in silky white lace.

She reached up and unsnapped the center clasp unleashing her breasts to his view. Dark, rosy brown aureoles puckered in the night air. He reached out to cup first one, then the other, tweaking the tips to hardened peaks.

Laying her back against the bottom of the boat, he leaned over her and took one luscious fruit into his mouth. The smell of flowers assailed his nostrils—a scent vaguely familiar to him. With his hands massaging her breasts, he moved up to press a kiss to her temple. “Not enough,” he whispered into her hair.

“Want more,” she moaned, nibbling at his neck.

He loosened the button at the top of her khaki slacks and slid the zipper downward. His knuckles grazed the smooth skin of her belly to the top of her curly mound.

His own pants felt like they’d explode he was so hard for her.

A buzzing sound pushed into his consciousness. He swatted at his ear, but the buzzing grew louder.

“What’s that noise?” she asked, pushing his hand from her breast.

He skimmed his hand down her torso to duck into the waistline of her pants. “What noise?”

She pulled his hand from her pants and tipped him off her. “
That
noise.”

Craig sat up and listened. The buzzing he’d assumed was a mosquito had grown into a loud, steady hum. “Sounds like a motorboat.” He glanced down at her, regret sizzling in his gut—and lower. Beneath his pretty scientist’s staid exterior burned a passion as hot as Madame LeBieu’s Voodoo fire.

He reached out and pulled her to a sitting position. In one swift movement, he pulled the edges of her lacy bra together and snapped the clasp in place. His fingers lingered against her breasts. “We’d better go.”

“What about the frogs?”

“We’ll come back for more tomorrow night.”

Her fingers paused in buttoning her blouse and she glanced up at him. “More?”

“Frogs, damn it.”

He practically leapt to his seat, rocking the boat in his hurry to get away from those eyes. Those trusting, soul-stealing eyes. Eyes a man could easily lose himself in.

Chapter Eight

Still sitting on the floor of the boat, Elaine forced the embarrassment from her face. “What if the boat we heard is the one dumping the poison into the swamp?”

“All the more reason to get the hell out of here.” Craig flipped the switch on the motor and pulled a rope. The engine rumbled, but didn’t start. He squeezed a rubber bulb on a hose and then pulled again. The engine sprang to life, idling in the water.

She settled her glasses on her nose and carefully maneuvered to her seat. Instinctively, she leaned forward and touched a hand to Craig’s knee. “We have to stop them.”

He stared down at her hand, his gaze intense. “I read about some big shot company dumping pollutants into the swamps. People in the area said they’d hired thugs to take potshots at anyone who came near the dumpsite. No one was able to prove it in the courts, but the locals swore by it. Some criminals will go to all lengths to avoid being caught, even killing. I’m not willing to take the chance.” He shifted in his seat.

His leg moved, and awareness shot all the way up her arm and down into her stomach.
Not a good idea, Dr. Smith
. She jerked her hand back to her lap, her fingers tingling. “We can’t let them get away with poisoning the bayou.”

He drew in a long, deep breath and made a show of panning the contents of the boat. “What do you suggest we stop them with? Have you got a gun in that satchel? Hell, you’ve got everything else.”

“No.” She ignored his sarcasm. “Everything but a gun. Can’t we wait around and see who it is? Think about it. What better way to stop the polluting than to locate the source? We have to witness them in the act.”

“Honey, if we can see them, there’s a good possibility they’ll see us. We don’t have time to ditch the boat, and I’m not so sure you want to crawl around on the mud islands in the dark. They’re full of snakes and alligators. Without a light…” He glanced over his shoulder as he backed the boat away from the shore.

A shiver wiggled its way down her spine. “Okay, next time I’ll pack a gun.”

His attention shot back to her. “You own one?”

She chewed her lower lip. “Not actually. Does Joe sell them in his bait shop?”

“Yeah, but they’re not like fish nets.” He flipped a switch on the engine, the motor revved and the boat shot forward. “There’s a wait time associated with buying guns. Have you ever owned one?”

“No.” She hadn’t thought about wait time. What did she know about buying a gun?

“And you’ve never fired one either, right?”

“No.” Okay, so maybe he had a point. But did he have to sound so superior? “How difficult can it be?”

“I can tell you right now, I’m not getting in the same boat with you if you’re packing a pistol.”

She tamped down her instant irritation. Not that she wanted a gun; she’d never even thought about owning one before. But his comment about not getting into the same boat cut to her pride. She’d worked with chauvinists who didn’t think women belonged in scientific laboratories, as if they didn’t have the brains God gave a gnat.

Just because she was afraid of water and clumsy in a boat, that didn’t give Craig the right to treat her like a ditzy halfwit. Inexperienced, maybe, but not clueless.

She’d gotten used to the rocking motion and was more comfortable moving around in the skiff. Hell, they’d almost made love in the damned thing. Her tummy tingled and she ached between her thighs at the thought of how close they’d come. In a boat, for Pete’s sake. In the water! He’d nibbled at her breasts and had his hand down her pants.

She cringed inwardly. Why did she suddenly have a propensity toward lusty thoughts about a man? She’d never fantasized about one before Craig. She needed to focus on her work. Men were nothing more than a distraction. Especially this man. And her own behavior—well she hadn’t beat him off with a stick—or a net, for that matter. She mentally kicked herself for the next five minutes. How could she let her hormones take control? She’d practically thrown herself at Fish Boy.

At least, with her new awareness of dangers in the dark swamp, she quit worrying about the water and focused on what might be lurking
in
that water.

Still, alligators seemed to be the least of their troubles. If the boat they’d heard belonged to the ones responsible for polluting the swamp, what would they do if they found Craig and Elaine fishing for evidence?

Her skin chilled in the damp heat. Were they capable of inflicting harm on those who discovered their crime? Those being herself and Craig. She glanced across at her pulse-pounding boat guide.

Sobering. Absolutely sobering.

She didn’t want him to get hurt because she was too foolish to recognize a dangerous situation.

The remainder of the trip back to the marina passed in silent contemplation of the dilemma she’d dragged Fish Boy into.

When the skiff slid up to the dock at Thibodeaux Marina, Craig jumped out while she held onto the rocking boat. As much as she wanted off the water, the climb out of the boat seemed such a risk.

With Craig busy tying the lines, she scanned the wooden dock for steps or a gangway. As far as she was concerned, even a six-inch gap loomed dangerously close to a chasm.

Then he stood before her, his hand outstretched. “Take my hand.” His low, commanding voice cut through her rising panic.

She stretched out her hand to his. All thoughts of water seeped out of her consciousness. She focused on the pale blue eyes in the dark, ruggedly handsome face.

Before she could say Atchafalaya, he lifted her out of the boat and pulled her straight into his arms. Pressed against his solid chest, she fought to breathe.

“I can’t help myself,” he whispered, and then he crushed her lips with his, forcing her teeth apart to allow his tongue entry. His hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts through her damp shirt.

Her knees melted and she clung to his shoulders, her arms finding their way around his neck. She felt sure the blouse was giving off steam from the amount of heat generated by his touch. She fully expected the fabric to burst into flames.

Had she really deluded herself into thinking she could ignore this man?
Yes
. Would she rue the day she got involved with him?
Yes
. Would she regret this kiss?
No
.

All too soon, he loosened his hold and backed away.

Rattled by her wanton response, she straightened her collar and cleared her throat. “Well, now. As good as that was, I’m thinking this might be a really bad idea.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
What must he think of her when she uttered such inanities? She held her breath waiting for him to crack a comment about not being interested anyway.

He smiled down at her in the lights dotting the pier. “Good, huh?” He lifted the back of his hand to her cheek and briefly touched her skin. “Next time, I’ll go for better.” Her eyes closed to his exquisite touch and opened again when the sensation disappeared.

He reached down into the boat and retrieved her bucket, flashlight, and satchel before he turned to face her. “Ready?”

More than you could begin to imagine
. If he hadn’t turned and walked away when he did, she would have embarrassed herself by panting or throwing her arms around his neck again.

This time, she didn’t argue with him about who should carry the bucket, and he didn’t ask. She followed him up the steps and out past the bait shop. Halfway across the road, Dawg joined them.

“Hey, boy.” Without slowing, Craig reached down with his free hand and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Been chasing any coons tonight?”

Dawg’s tail wagged all along his body and he barked.

“I think you have a fan there,” she said wryly.

“He’s a good dog.” He patted Dawg’s head. “Aren’t you, boy?”

As she walked beside Craig, the thick night air wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. “He came to visit me earlier today.”

“Did he bother you? If so, just let my uncle know and he’ll tie him up.”

“No! No, not at all. He created a great roadblock on my front porch. Which, come to think of it, could prove advantageous. Once I begin analyzing the specimens, I’ll want my privacy. With him spread out in front of the door, I’m sure visitors will think twice.”

“Maybe anywhere else but Bayou Miste. Unfortunately, the whole town knows Dawg and his habits. He’s been at it for the past ten years. They’d just push him aside and charge on through.”

Elaine smiled at the obvious affection Craig had for the lazy dog. And considering the number of times Dawg bumped into Craig’s legs and wagged his body, the feeling was mutual.

She’d never had a pet. Her life centered on her work. Outside the university she didn’t have much going on. Unless you counted her one creative outlet, her herb garden. Sadly, she didn’t have anyone with whom to share it. Nor had she wanted to.

Until now.

A gentle breeze caressed her skin and she leaned her head back and sniffed the fragrant aroma of blooming roses and honeysuckle. She glanced over at Craig. Walking with him in the early hours of the morning seemed so right.

As they neared the porch of her rental house, she glanced at the luminous dial on her watch and yawned. “I didn’t realize how late—early—it was getting. Thanks for taking me out in the boat.”

He set the bucket on the porch, then handed her the satchel and flashlight. When their fingers touched, Elaine snatched her hand away. Entirely too aware of him already, she wasn’t sure she wanted to finish what they had started earlier. The man overwhelmed her with his sheer masculinity.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked.

Craig lifted a tendril of her hair, and tucked it behind her ear. “I’m not sure. Check with my uncle tomorrow at dusk. If I’m not available, my uncle will take you out.”

Though disappointment burned in her chest, she forced a smile. “That would be just fine.” She wanted Craig to take her out again, not his uncle. Question was, did she want Craig to take her with the expectation of collecting more specimens…or of stealing another moonlit kiss?

“Elaine?” He touched a finger beneath her chin. “It would be a big mistake to get involved with me.”

“I know.” And she did, but she couldn’t help the way she felt around the man.

“No, really.” He brushed a finger along the side of her cheek.

Elaine leaned into his palm, lured by its warmth and the crazy sensations it sent skittering through her insides.

“I’m a confirmed bachelor with no intention of settling down anytime soon.”

So he wasn’t the settling down kind of guy. With a mission to accomplish, she didn’t have time to play around with the local bad boy. Besides they were completely wrong for each other. She straightened her body and expression, hopefully presenting a poker face, when her heart felt decidedly bruised. “Did I ask you to marry me?” His lips twisted as if he didn’t know whether to frown or smile. “No.” She stuck out her hand. “Well then, thank you for your assistance.”

He engulfed her hand in his larger one. Instead of shaking it, he tugged, bringing her up against him. With his free hand, he cupped the back of her head and brushed his lips over hers.

Logic completely shattered into so many ions blasting through her veins. She stood on her toes to get even closer. Her hands slid up his chest to circle around the back of his neck and delve into his thick, black hair.

How could kissing him be so wrong when it felt so right?

She pulled him closer, determinedly fighting off doubt—and common sense. After all, when you had a chance to eat lobster, you didn’t settle for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She kissed her very tasty lobster, enjoying the sensations, wishing the satisfaction would last…but knowing it wouldn’t.
Couldn’t
.

He was a fish boy—she was a scientist. He lived in Bayou Miste—she lived in New Orleans. He loved women, had them falling all over him. She…well…

She pulled back.
What am I doing?

“Kissing me,” he said, a smile curving his lips.

Heat rushed into her face, burning her cheeks. “Oh! Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes.” Craig’s hands retained their hold, warming the small of her back as his jeans zipper pushed against her tummy.

Thank goodness the cottage door was still closed behind her, a solid wood barrier between them and the ancient iron bed she’d slept in alone last night.

What would it be like to invite a complete stranger into her bed?

Or… Did he still qualify as a complete stranger? They’d shared a boat ride, a steamy kiss, and she’d seen him naked.

Twice.

All she had to do was unlock the door and invite him in. Let nature take its course. So what if he wasn’t into commitment. He might be worth a one-night stand. No, he’d
positively
be worth a one-night stand.

Come to think of it, he’d probably run screaming as soon as he sampled her inexperience. She and Brian had kissed and made love, of course, but those times had given her anything but these explosive, sizzling sensations she was feeling now. Staring into Craig’s eyes, she couldn’t imagine his lovemaking as anything less than exciting, mind-blowing, turn-the-furnace-to-full-blast, rock-your-boat ecstasy.

The cool night air closed in around her, suffocating her ability to breathe.
Or think
. She pushed against Craig’s chest and backed away until her ankles bumped into the porch steps. “Well, I have work to do.”

“Don’t you want to go to bed first?” His eyes twinkled in the light from her porch.

He was teasing her, and she didn’t know how to respond. Her body warred with her mind, and her mind won out. “I have to take care of the fish and frog before I can call it a night.” She backed up onto one porch step. “Thanks, again.”

“My pleasure.”

His warm words seeped into her pores, igniting the blood in her veins. All this sexual tension was turning her insides into a confused, raging inferno. Good grief, if she stood there much longer, she’d be begging him to take her to bed.
To hell with the fish or the frog, let’s rock the bedsprings.