Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (17 page)

Pascal took it and shook. “I deserved it. I acted like a damned fool.”

Jean set a glass of whiskey in front of Pascal. “Love has a way of making us humble.”

“Yeah,” Ben and Pascal said at the same time.

Ben stared down into his beer. “Doesn’t help, either, when the competition looks better than anything you got to offer.”

“No shit.” Pascal tossed the whiskey back and swiveled on his seat to stare out into the crowd. “Makes you wish the competition would just go away.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “But even without any competition you don’t always get what you want.” As well he knew. He hadn’t had any competition seven years ago, and Lucie had still pushed him away. “Having the competition out of the picture doesn’t always mean the lady will fall for you.”

Pascal frowned. “Gives you more of a chance, though.”

“Only if there are feelings there to begin with.” So, if Eric were out of the picture, would Lucie reconsider being with him—Benjamin Franklin Boyette, bug exterminator?

Hell, she’d told him he wasn’t good enough once, why would she think any more highly of him now?

Because they’d had great sex last night
. Wasn’t that enough to convince her he was the only man for her?

Although he’d changed out of the uniform of his undercover profession, as far as the lovely Lucie knew, he was still nothing more than a bug man hanging around pesticides. It stank. If she’d ever loved him, she’d be able to look past that and love him for who he was inside, regardless of the outer shell of a navy blue uniform with a giant ant on the front.

But then again, Eric had everything going for him, especially with his classic good looks—not that Ben considered himself a slacker. Eric was rich—however, money didn’t buy everything, as Eric himself could tell you from his childhood experiences. But to top it all off, Eric was well known and climbing the political ladder. Hell, he could be president someday—the leader of the friggin’ nation.

That sinking feeling hit Ben’s belly like sour beer.
Damn
.

Pascal banged his empty glass on the counter. “Hell, some folks get all de breaks!”

“Whatcha bellyachin’ about now, Pascal?” Lucie walked around Ben to the other side of Pascal and laid her tray on the counter. “I need a Coors, two Bud Lights, and a rum and coke.”

Jean slid a mug full of beer her way and stuck another under the tap. “Gotcha.”

“Ah, Lucie,” Pascal said. “If you’d just marry me, I wouldn’t have such a bellyache.”

“Pascal, I told you back in the fifth grade, I like you, but I just don’t love you. Can’t we be friends and call it a day?”

She hadn’t said two words to Ben yet. But he knew she was aware of his presence by the way she completely avoided making eye contact. And the way she was flirting with Pascal as if tossing her avoidance in his face.

“I love you, Lucie.” Pascal grabbed her hand. “Always have, always will.”

Now, there was a sentiment Ben could relate to.

“No, you don’t.” She tugged her hand loose. “It’s just a crush. You’ll find someone who curls your toes, and you’ll forget all about me.” Her words were gentle, her smile genuine.

He had to admire Pascal. The guy had a lot of balls to up and spit it out so publicly.

Ben scratched his head. Hmm. He hadn’t tried that tactic. But based on her response to Pascal, he wasn’t so keen on the technique. Unlike the redneck Cajun, public humiliation wasn’t his style.

Well, at least he wasn’t alone in the boat called
Lucie’s Conquests
. But the old saying “Misery loves company” was as empty as his life.

Tired of her cold shoulder, he straightened and smacked his hands together. He preferred anger to indifference. Perhaps he could stir her up a little. “What are you going for, Lucie, a record of notches on your bedpost for all the hearts you’ve left broken in your wake? Chalk up another for Hurricane Lucie!”

She didn’t respond with words, but if her glare had been a fillet knife, she’d have sliced clean through him in one long, painful stroke.

He smiled.
Now we’re getting somewhere
. At least she’d acknowledged his existence.

“Give it up, Pascal.” He patted the Cajun on the shoulder. “She’s not interested in the likes of us. We’re just homegrown swamp gators and she has bigger fish to fry. Besides, she’s in love with someone else.”

Having thrown the gauntlet, he awaited her response. Now maybe she’d answer his question.

“What do you know about love, Ben Boyette?” she snapped. “I bet you wouldn’t know love if it slapped you in the face.” She didn’t wait for a response, just lifted her tray and flounced off. Her cutoff shorts showed a whole lot of leg to the rest of the world, as evidenced by the appreciative whistles of the patrons of the Raccoon Saloon.

“Try me, honey,” he called after her, although she’d already gone out of earshot.

Pascal emitted a low whistle.

He turned to face the other man and noted how he, along with everyone else in the room, watched Lucie’s progress across the crowded floor.

Ben was appalled. Did
he
look like that? With the sad, kicked-puppy eyes and chin so far down he could have passed for a basset hound?
Holy shit
. Was there no cure for the woman?

He spun back to Jean. “I’ll take a whiskey, too.”

Jean handed him a glass of amber liquid and stared at him through the smoky haze. “You feeling all right, Ben?”

“Not really.”

Pascal turned to Jean as well. “Give me the same.”

“Pascal don’t look any better,” Jean said. “Must be something goin’ around.”

“Of that, you can be sure.” Ben tossed the drink back, searching for that numbing feeling Pascal had spoken of earlier. Maybe he should take his own advice and give up.

Why should she be interested in mudbugs when she could have lobster?

…

The night had been interminable. Lucie had smiled and flirted with the customers as always, but her heart wasn’t in the light banter and careless conversation, and her tips showed it.

How was she supposed to come to a decision about Eric when Ben kept showing up and confusing her even more?

She’d breathed a huge sigh when the bane of her existence finally left the bar. Now she could concentrate on her work and getting through the night without collapsing into a sniveling crybaby. Pascal still sat at the bar, his sullen gaze following her around until well after midnight, when he also gave up and left.

Every muscle in her body flagged and she counted the minutes until the bar closed at 2:00 a.m. She swept, filled napkin holders, and scrubbed tables until the last waitress left and only she and Jean remained. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically. All she wanted was a hot shower and cool sheets. When the routine cleanup was complete, she looked around for the bartender. “Jean?”

No answer.

Her heart scudded to a groaning low. “Jean? You better not have left without me!”

“I told him I’d lock up.” Ben stepped out of the shadowy doorway that led to the back stockroom.

“But my Mustang is still in Morgan City. He was my ride,” she wailed, very near bursting into tears.

“Now I’m your ride.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” She threw her hands up into the air. “I’d rather walk.”

“It’s two miles to your apartment. Are your feet up to the task after you’ve just spent the past six hours on them?”

His raised eyebrows nearly got him a flyby with the napkin holder she still held.

“So are you going to swallow your pride and ride with me or not?”

Her feet really did hurt and she didn’t have the strength to walk. “Damn you, Ben.”

He grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Chapter Seventeen

“If you’re going to try to talk me out of marrying Eric, save your breath. That particular topic is not up for discussion.” Lucie climbed into the front seat of the bug exterminator truck and let her head drop back against the headrest. All she wanted was a hot bath and bed.

Alone
.

“We don’t have to discuss anything if you don’t want to.”

“Good, because I don’t.”

He shifted into reverse and backed out. “Fair enough.”

“Then why did you offer to take me home?”

“Because I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

She emitted a very unladylike snort. “Like I buy that.”

“No, really. I’m having a really hard time concentrating on my work since I got back to town. All because of one dark-haired Cajun hottie. I think your grandmother must have put some kind of hex on me.”

Every previously relaxed muscle in her body tensed to alert.
Had he guessed?
Did he know about her unfortunate spell? Her heart did flip-flops in the pit of her stomach, threatening to upend the bowl of Jean’s famous gumbo she’d eaten four hours ago.

With a stolen look at Ben’s calm profile, she shook her head. No. No way. Her friends were all sworn to secrecy. But what about Calliope? Had she inadvertently let it slip?

Only one way to catch a fish—go fishing. With a deep, steadying breath she asked, “What makes you think magic was involved?”

“Why else would I be completely distracted?”

Her laugh sounded forced even to her own ears. “How much concentration does it take to spray houses for bugs?”

A smile quirked at the edge of his lips. “You have a point. But I wouldn’t want to miss and spray Granny Saulnier’s prized poodle or Mo’s alligator. Even though Granny Saulnier wouldn’t mind T-Rex out of the picture, she’s kinda attached to FeFe. By the way, what color is she today?”

“Granny Saulnier’s hair or FeFe?”

“Both.”

“Lilac.” Lucie laughed despite her previous fear of being caught in her little stint at playing Voodoo queen. Ben’s teasing comments about FeFe and T-Rex defused her worries and had her leaning back against the seat again, her lids drifting shut.

Although her eyes were closed, her other senses were at full alert. Despite the chemical odor of the truck, she could smell the sandalwood and whiskey on him. She could hear every breath he took, and hear the rustle of his button-down chambray shirt as he maneuvered the narrow streets of Bayou Miste. If she let the last seven years of loneliness slip from her mind, she could almost imagine she and Ben were still together out on a date. He was even driving at a slug’s pace to prolong their time together, just as he had when they were young and in love.

Just like old times.

But that was a long time ago. Too long.

“This reminds me of the good old times.” Ben’s voice covered her like a liquid blanket, warming her in places she’d only dreamed about until last night.

“Some of them were.” She’d give him a little leeway without getting snippy.

He chuckled.

She peeped through one eye. “The comment wasn’t meant to make you laugh.”

“Sorry. I was recalling the time we rode the Ferris wheel twenty times at the Shrimp and Petroleum Festival in Morgan City. We wanted to break Craig Thibodeaux’s record of most minutes spent kissing on a Ferris wheel.”

“Yeah, I had motion sickness for a week.” She smacked his arm. “To this day, I can’t ride on a Ferris wheel without getting queasy.”

“I forgot about that.” His brows dipped for a few moments, then his face brightened. “Do you remember the time I brought you water lilies from the bayou? I spent five hours beating off the mosquitoes and alligators to get them.”

“Yeah, I remember. I was so excited until I stuck my nose in one of the flowers and a red wasp stung me. My nose swelled up like a baseball and I ended up in the Morgan City ER overnight. And that was the same week as my senior class pictures. I thought I’d never live it down. Come to think of it, I still get comments from old classmates.”

“Oh, yeah.” The truck was crawling now. At this rate of speed, she wouldn’t get to her home, shower, or bed for a week. Yet she didn’t protest. Reminiscing, although sadly nostalgic, was fun.

“I know,” Ben burst out. “How about the time we went skinny-dipping in Bayou Black. You gotta admit that was a blast.”

“Until the alligator ate my clothes.” A smile sneaked up on her and for a moment she forgot all her worries. “I had a helluva time explaining to Gran LeBieu why I was wearing your shirt and nothing else. Next thing I knew she was handing me a box of condoms. ‘Use them!’ she said.”

“Think that alligator choked on your swimsuit?”

“At the time, I sincerely wished he had. That was my favorite bikini.” She sighed. “I guess that was my punishment for being stupid.”

“A pretty small sacrifice if you ask me. Could have been your skin he bit into.” Ben shuddered. “Scared the crayfish out of me.”

“Ben Boyette, now I know you’re lying. Nothing ever scared you. You were always running around with your hair on fire, driving too fast, pulling dangerous stunts—except when you were with me. You couldn’t have been scared of a little ol’ alligator.”

“Little, hell! He was twelve feet long and only ten feet away from where you stood in the water.”

Warmth filled her at his admission. “So, why were you scared, Ben?”

…

Ben’s heart mimicked the pace it had beat when Lucie had stood naked before him, the water swirling around her hips. Rivulets gleaming in the moonlight had trickled off her hair and down over breasts bathed blue by the moonbeams. He’d been so entranced, he hadn’t seen the alligator until it was almost too late.

He sucked in air and blew it out through clenched teeth. “I was an idiot to let you talk me into swimming in the bayou to begin with. Especially Bayou Black.” He gripped the steering wheel until his fingers turned white. “I could have lost you forever.”

He’d been so upset at the thought, he’d asked her to marry him the next day.

And she’d accepted. How happy he’d been, imagining himself in love and Lucie loving him, too.

His elation had lasted all of two days, until Lucie dumped him.

“Why did you quit detective work?” Lucie asked.

He stiffened, surfacing from the mire of his past. “Why do you want to know?”

She glanced down at her hands. “Just curious. When you left Bayou Miste, you were hell-bent on a career in law enforcement. What changed your mind?”

He didn’t answer right away. What could he say without telling her the truth? He was undercover and no one was supposed to know the real reason he was in Bayou Miste. The only thing he could think of was an incident that had almost made him resign from the force. “On a routine stakeout, I made a mistake. A bad one.”

“Did you get fired over it?”

“No.” He hoped his clipped response would put off her natural curiosity and make her too uncomfortable to dig deeper. Years had passed since he’d talked about his partner, Skeeter.

But she wasn’t willing to drop the matter yet. “I’ve never known a Boyette to give up on anything. Why did you leave?”

“The mistake cost my partner his life.” All the old pain and guilt rushed over him, making him relive the horrible moment he’d held Skeeter’s lifeless body in his arms.

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t have the stomach for law enforcement after that. I didn’t want the responsibility of another person’s life in my hands.” If not for his lieutenant’s support and confidence in him, he would have quit three years ago when it happened.

She sat in silence, her face reflecting the meager light from a half moon shining through the truck window.

He pressed his foot to the accelerator, uncomfortable with spilling his guts to her. The rest of the short trip to her apartment flew by. As he turned into her driveway, he slammed on the brakes before he hit the car already there. Or rather, the ancient boat.

The license plate was from California.

Lucie stiffened beside him. “Don’t even park, Ben.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” He stared at the car in front of them, his hands clenching into fists, ready to take on anyone who dared to hurt her. “Does this car belong to someone you know?”

“No!” Lucie inhaled sharply and blew it out, her eyes glistening in the light from her porch. “Yes! I think… Hell, could you take me to Alex’s house, please? I can’t go in there. I just can’t.” Her voice broke on the last word and she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Although he’d much rather stay and face whoever had made her cry, he shoved the shift into reverse and pulled out of the driveway.

Her hand shot out, touching his arm. “Wait.”

“What do you want to do, Lucie?” He pulled against the curb, put the truck into park, and turned to face her. “Do you want me to go with you to face this person? Are you scared? Is he dangerous? Tell me!”

She hung her head, gulping hard, making a valiant attempt to stem the flow of tears. “No, not dangerous. And no, I don’t need you to protect me. This is something I have to do myself.” She reached for the door handle and swung the truck door open.

“Wait! Are you sure?” He frowned. He was about to insist on accompanying her to her apartment, when she looked up and gave him a watery smile. A very unconvincing smile
.

“Yes, I’m sure. You can go home. No one is going to hurt me. Not anymore. Really, I’ll be okay.” She gave him the same shaky smile. “Thanks, Ben.” After stepping down from the truck and closing the door, she strode across the driveway and stood at the bottom of the steps for a moment, as if gathering her chaotic thoughts.

He waited at the curb, uncertain whether to wait in the truck or ignore her protests and go after her.

As he sat in frustrated indecision, she trudged up the steps and entered her apartment.

He sat a moment longer, wishing he’d gone with her.

Who the hell could it be, who had her so panicky one moment and so depressed the next?