Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou (12 page)

Even through the pungent odor of swamp and bug repellent, she could smell his aftershave and minty-fresh breath. Closing her eyes, she imagined him pressing a kiss to her temple. With the image so real, she could almost feel his lips brush her skin in a butterfly-light kiss.

Her eyes popped open as she felt the caress again.

He kissed her temple.

What should she do? A girl could get lost out here. Lost to her purpose, lost to herself. And with a man like Craig—a man content to be a fish boy all his life, cutting a notch in his bedpost for every woman he bedded and left heartbroken.

She jerked away. His warmth burned her like the moth in the candle flame. If she hovered too close, she knew her wings would catch fire. Fear born of self-preservation urged her to struggle.

“Whoa, steady now,” he said, as if gentling a spooked horse. He spread his arms and legs wide to still the rocking boat.

Without his arms to hold her back, Elaine lunged for the other seat. But the rocking motion threw her off balance. Teetering near the edge of the boat, she flung out her hand toward Craig. The boat tipped and she toppled over the side.

The legendary slow-motion switch kicked into gear. She absorbed the details of the overhanging trees, marveling at the long strands of moss stretching three, sometimes four feet in length. Craig stood, his mouth forming around her name. His fingers reached for hers, tips touching tips, with no purchase found.

His beautiful blue eyes were the last image she committed to memory before water embraced her, sucking her down through the duckweed and muck, to the silt and aquatic vegetation on the bottom. Vile liquid filled her nostrils and throat as she opened her mouth to scream.

Terrified of water, she’d never learned to swim. So she sank like a rock. Her lungs starved for air felt ready to burst, and her head grew light.

Water churned beside her. Strong arms grasped beneath her shoulders, hauling her up. Up to the surface, to air and light. When her face broke through, she struggled to crawl higher up the torso holding her. Panic filled her and she flailed, afraid she’d sink beneath the surface again.

A grunt was followed by strong arms clamping hers to her sides. “Stop kicking, woman.”

She coughed and spluttered, “Can’t swim!”

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “Stand up.”

Elaine kicked and flailed to keep her head from submerging again.

“Damn it woman, stand up.” He struggled to keep her from drowning him too. Finally managing to turn her in his arms to face him, holding her tight against his chest. Where she floated, he stood solid and still. “Try it. Put your feet on the bottom. It’s only about chest deep.”

“Can’t swim,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks along with the swamp water.

“You don’t have to, Elaine.” He leaned forward and claimed her lips with his.

Shocked into stillness, she clung to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts against his hard-muscled chest. With her lips locked to his, her feet found the bottom. Relief quickly transformed into desire and she returned his kiss fervently, her tongue meeting his, thrust for thrust.

When they came up for air, she fell gratefully under the spell of his eyes. “You saved me.”

He smiled. “No, the water wasn’t very deep. You could have saved yourself.” He reached up to brush the moisture from her cheek with his fingers. “However, if we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll be alligator bait.”

Fear charged through her veins again and she practically crept up Craig’s body, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Ohmigod, where are they?”

“They could be anywhere. And as much as I enjoy you crawling all over me, I don’t relish the idea of being dinner to a reptile.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, I’m acting like a blubbering baby. It’s just—”

“It’s okay. Just loosen up on the neck so I can get you back in the pirogue.”

Mortified and still shaking from her near-death experience, she shut up and let him lift her back into the boat. She clung to the seat as the vessel dipped down into the water when he pulled himself aboard.

When they both settled on the metal benches, she let out a shaky sigh.
Thank god
.

“Look over there.” Craig pointed to the water about ten feet from the boat. Light reflected red off two golf ball-sized bumps on the surface. She peered closer and saw the water swirl in long waves behind the bumps. “What is it?”

“Alligator.”

“Wow.” Her stomach flip-flopped. “That was close.”

“Yeah. And that’s a big one.”

“Could it have—” she gulped “—killed a grown man?”

Craig nodded, his expression grim. “One that size could. He must be fourteen feet long.”

Despite the warm night, a chill coursed down her spine and set into her bones. Her teeth chattered so loud, the sound echoed between her ears.

Craig looked over at her. “We need to get you back to the house.”

“But we didn’t catch anything.” What about her research? She hadn’t caught a single frog or fish. The evening was a complete loss.

Well. Except for one fiery kiss.

“It doesn’t matter. You need to get out of those wet clothes and into something dry or you’ll get sick.”

“I’m okay,” she insisted. Another shiver rocked her entire body, belying her words. Why was she arguing? All she could think about was that alligator. Maybe a hot shower would warm her bones and erase the smell of swamp water from her hair and skin.

“Yeah, you’re okay. If that water is polluted, it’s not doing you or me any good.” He turned to pull the rope on the motor. He tugged with such force, the engine leapt to life the first time.

She hunkered low as he turned the skiff and headed out the way they’d come. The wind from the boat’s movement cut through her wet clothes, making her even colder.

He glanced over at her and caught her shivering again. He slowed the boat to a stop, reaching his arms out to her. “Come here.” His words were a command, but spoken with tenderness.

She placed her hands in his and allowed him to pull her across to sit on the bench beside him. He wrapped his arm around her and, with the other hand, increased the speed on the boat, navigating toward Bayou Miste.

Was his embrace a prelude to something more? Or just a friendly attempt to comfort her? Although she felt warm and secure, and was no longer drowning in the swamp, she was suddenly struck with an unsettling, but certain knowledge.

She was in way over her head.

Chapter Twelve

When the pirogue bumped against the dock, Craig jumped out and tied it in place. Reaching down, he pulled Elaine up to stand beside him. He rubbed her arms and turned her face to the light from the single lamp, whose dingy yellow glow was besieged by every bug in the parish.

Her body quivered beneath his fingers and her lips were a sad shade of purplish-blue. She looked like a pathetic drowned rat with big owl eyes. Nothing to stir a man’s desires. Yet, he wanted more than anything to taste those full lips and hold her in his arms, warming their bodies.

A mighty tremor racked her and she stared up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stop shaking.” A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. The single drop traced a path down her cheek and became his undoing.

Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and marched across the pier and up to the road.

She squealed and hooked an arm around his neck. “You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.”

“Hush,” he said, breathing hard after the climb.

“Craig, put me down,” she said in her matter-of-fact voice.

“Just shut up and let a man be macho, okay?” He tempered his words with a brief smile. Then he concentrated on breathing all the way to her cottage. When he reached her porch, he set her on her feet. Seeing her embarrassment, he lightened the mood by doubling over, making a show of gasping for air.

Her mouth quirked upward and she fisted her hands on her hips. “You sure know how to make a girl feel all feminine and petite.”

He straightened and winked, no worse for the wear after his uphill trek. “Light as a feather, I assure you.”

After a failed attempt to shove a cold hand into her wet pocket, she muttered, “I can’t make my fingers work to get the key out.”

“Here, let me.” He moved up behind her and pushed her cold hand aside, sliding his into the soggy opening.

She leaned back against him, her shivers creating small tremors against his chest and groin. Even with two layers of wet clothes pressing against his body, he felt warmth spread from where her back touched his chest downward.

When his large hand snagged on its way in, he wiggled it free and pushed deeper.

She gasped, and her body stiffened.

At last, his fingers touched metal. With his hand cupped over the keys, he could feel her thigh through the thin lining. His grip tightened, and he pulled her snug against him, reveling in her feminine form and the feel of her backside rubbing his front.

A soft moan escaped her lips, her muscles relaxed, and her head dropped back against his shoulder.

Fire raced through his veins, and he felt the moisture in his clothes start to steam.
Sweet mercy
. He jerked the key free and shoved it into the lock.

With his arm around her, he guided her inside and closed the door behind them. When he stared down at the trembling waif of a scientist, all he could think of was making mad, passionate love to her.

Why?

“You need to get out of those wet things and take a hot shower.” He said the words, but he made no move to leave her to go it alone.

She reached up to unfasten a button, her fingers shaking and stiff. After several attempts, her arms dropped to her sides and she looked up with half a smile. “Maybe I’ll just shower with my clothes on. Thanks for save—getting me out of the water and carrying me up to the house. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t mention it.” He should have left, but he found himself reaching out to flip the top button of her blouse. “Here, let me help.”

Her hands came up to stop him. When he hesitated, she tentatively caressed his forearms. It was all the encouragement he needed.

He loosened the next button, and the next, until he reached the waistband of her dripping khaki slacks. He slipped his fingers beneath the big button and pushed it through, then slid the zipper down.

A gentle tug freed her shirt from inside the trousers. With his hands poised over the edges of her blouse, he finally looked up.

Behind the rims of her glasses, her eyes darkened to a forest green. Her lips, having regained their natural rosy tint, parted, and her tongue snaked out to wet them.

“Need more help?” he asked, his voice gruff with the effort to control his more primitive instincts. He wanted nothing more than to rip the shirt from her back, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her off to bed. Was he possessed? Had the Voodoo witch cast a love spell on the scientist? Or him…?

“Please,” she whispered.

That’s all it took.

…

Caught in a haze of fire, Elaine stared up into Craig’s eyes as he shoved the blouse over her shoulders. His desire-filled gaze raked over her and she trembled, wondering if he liked what he saw.

Slowly, she reached up behind her and unclasped her bra.

He smoothed the straps over her shoulders and down her arms until her breasts were bare and free of constraint. The bra dropped to the floor.

The hunger in Craig’s eyes sparked a similar need inside her. When he lifted a hand to cup her breast, she leaned into him.

He frowned when his warm fingers touched her skin. “You’re still cold.”

“I’m getting warmer by the second,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“You still need that shower.” His hands dropped to her waist and he pushed her slacks over her hips and slid them down her legs, trailing his knuckles across her thighs, calves and ankles. “Come to think of it, so do I.”

She shivered at the thought of them naked together under the hot, streaming spray, soaping each other’s bodies until—

“See? You’re still shaking.”

She didn’t bother to tell him she wasn’t shaking from cold. She stepped out of her slacks and stood in front of him dressed only in her lacy white bikini panties, feeling incredibly feminine and, for the first time in her life, truly desirable. She pulled her glasses off and set them on the table. Everything was soft and fuzzy around the edges.

Now, what? Her skin warmed from within, the fire inside her building to a raging inferno. Would he follow through? She hoped he’d continue his he-man tactics and sling her over his shoulder, carrying her off to bed, where they’d shake the cottage’s very foundation. Whatever move he decided to make, he’d better make it quick, before she chickened out.

He raked a hand through his hair and backed up a step.

No.
Hell
, no.

He couldn’t be getting cold feet now! Her body was ablaze, and he was the one who’d lit the match.

“Don’t stop now,” she whispered and closed the distance between them. Had she ever been so bold?

“I don’t think we should,” he said.

“Then don’t think.”

Her words shocked even herself. Since when had Elaine Smith ever not thought?
Since Craig Thibodeaux appeared naked in front of her
, that’s when.

He looked into her eyes. “You know it can only lead to hurt.”

She slipped a button loose on his shirt, spread the damp fabric apart, and kissed his chest. “I’ll take my chances.”

“I told you, I’m not one to commit.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.

He lingered until the imprint seared a permanent place in her memory. A slow burn knotted her stomach. She’d always known he was a player, but frankly, at this moment she didn’t care.
She wanted him
.

“I’m not asking for any promises.” With a flick of her finger, she worked another button free.

His hands stopped hers and he held them until she looked up into his eyes. “I don’t want to make you cry.”

She stared up into his light blue gaze and wondered at her ability to push all else aside for a brief moment of pleasure. But push she did. “I’m a big girl. I can handle this. Now, will you shut up and lose the clothes?” She wound her fingers into his hair and pulled him down to her lips. Before she kissed him, she whispered against his mouth. “I want you, Fish Boy.”