Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou (17 page)

“N’Awlins.”

Elaine’s heart turned flip-flops in her chest.
Craig lived in the same city as she did
. Their relationship didn’t have to end when they left Bayou Miste. The flip-flops stilled. But Craig considered her only a passing distraction.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know all this. You two have been out on the swamp for the past few nights. What did y’all talk about?”

“Nothing much.” What talking they’d done hadn’t included a word about Craig’s professional life. He’d led her to believe he was nothing more than a helper at his uncle’s marina.
The louse.
Like the little silver ball in a pinball machine, Elaine’s mind bounced between the joy of knowing Craig lived in New Orleans to the hurtful knowledge he’d lied to her all along.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
She massaged the bridge of her nose to still her ricocheting thoughts.

“Anyway. Back to lessons on love—Packaging 101.” Josie dropped another section of hair and continued cutting. “You just need a look that will knock a man on his butt. Cher, the khaki slacks have gotta go.”

Elaine’s hand dropped to her lap. “They do?”

“Definitely. You could wear a brown paper bag with more appeal that those. What you need is something that’s form-fitting and shows every curve to its advantage. I’ve got just the dress for you.”

“Dress? But I work in a lab. Dresses aren’t practical in a lab.”

“Maybe not in a lab, but definitely at the Raccoon Saloon.”

“Huh?” Now she was really confused. Josie’s energy and thought processes left her head spinning. “You lost me.”

“Tonight’s ladies’ night at the Raccoon Saloon. You’re coming with me.” Josie waved a comb at Mozelle. “You too, if you have enough gumption to crawl out of the Bayou.”

Mozelle pursed her lips consideringly. “I’ll go if you go,” she challenged. “Been needin’ to get out for a long time.” She puffed out a breath. “Haven’t set foot in that place since 1991. I’m way past due for a night of foot-stompin’ fun.”

“What exactly is a Raccoon Saloon?” Elaine asked.

“
Cher
, it’s only the most happenin’ place in the basin on a Tuesday night. It’s just outside of Bayou Miste, so it’s close to home. All the guys come out on ladies night cause that’s when the women put on their finest and strut their stuff.”

“Strut?” Knots formed in Elaine’s stomach. “I don’t know how to strut.”

“Girl, by the time, I’m through, you’ll have every man in the parish panting after you.”

Elaine nearly choked. “I don’t want every man’s attention.”

“Honey chil’, every single, able-bodied man will be there. Your man, whoever that might be, most likely will be there too. Which brings me to the next love lesson
—
making your man jealous.”

“This is getting way too complicated.”

“No, this is the easy part. All you gotta do is pay attention to someone else while your guy is watching.”

“Isn’t that duplicitous?” she asked, appalled.

“I don’t know about duplicitous, but it gets a guy’s blood boilin’ if he’s interested.” Josie snipped one last time and stepped back to look at her handiwork. “Oh, my.”

With the beautician standing between her and the mirror, Elaine couldn’t tell what she meant. Her heart pounded in her ears as she expected the worst. “Is that a good ‘oh, my’ or a bad ‘oh, my’?”

“Sometimes I simply amaze myself. Take a look,
cher
.” Josie stepped out of the way.

In the mirror, a stranger stared back at Elaine. Gone was the bush of hair spread in a V from the tip of her head to below her shoulders. In its place were soft, layered curls brushing the tips of her shoulders and providing a frame around her face. She lifted a hand and actually ran her fingers through the tresses without getting hung up in snarls. “Wow.”

“
C’est magnifique!
” Mozelle exclaimed.

“I don’t think you need the highlights. Your own hair color is beautiful on its own. Coo-wee!” Josie fanned herself. “Look at me, talking a customer out of a paying job. I must have sniffed swamp gas.”

“Probably all that hairspray I used on Miz Mozelle.” Mirna Mae stepped up and smiled approvingly. “Nice work, Josie. Better watch out, Craig’ll look twice at this one. Looks like you’ll have a bit of competition, after all.”

“Really, I’m not interested in Mr. Thibodeaux,” Elaine insisted weakly, still shocked at how incredible she looked.

Josie shot a sly grin at Mirna Mae. “I think she doth protest too much.”

“She’s new in town, give her a break, Josie,” Miz Mozelle said.

“So, are you with me or not?” Josie challenged, shooting a glance between her and Mozelle.

“I’m in.” Mozelle crossed the room to stand beside her. “Well?”

“Oh, no.” Elaine pulled the cape from her shoulders and stood. “I have too much to do.”

“Come on.” Josie turned her around and grabbed her hands. “You have to show off your hairdo. Lord knows I could use the advertisement. And, you bein’ new will be like a man magnet. All the guys will be clammerin’ to meet you and maybe some of them will rub off on me.”

“No, really, I can’t.” Elaine searched her brain for the perfect excuse. “I don’t feel right borrowing a dress from you. You hardly know me.”

“Honeychile, I feel like we’re old friends already.” Josie pulled her toward the door. “Now get on home and take a long soak in the tub.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’ll be by at 8:30 with the dress. We’ll have a great time. I guar-on-tee it.”

The door closed and Elaine stood staring through the glass.

Josie wiggled her fingers, smiled, and then turned back to Mirna Mae, pumping her arm with a sharp downward thrust. Through the glass door, Elaine could hear Josie say, “Yes!”

Steamrolled
.

Elaine tried to look at the bright side. Craig was some kind of fancy lawyer. Surely, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a rowdy establishment like the Raccoon Saloon. And maybe a night without Craig would help her prove to herself she wasn’t interested.

Because she wasn’t.

Really.

Chapter Sixteen

Throughout the day, as Craig slept beneath the bed in frog form, dreams plagued him. In them, his father repeatedly reminded him of his responsibility to carry on the family business. The words “it’s your legacy” rang out over and over, until they became more of a chant intermingled with the beat of Voodoo drums.

When Craig felt his brain would explode from the constant barrage, Elaine’s voice could be heard as if in the distance, “We have to stop them. We have to do what’s right.”

Instantly the drums stilled and his father’s voice faded. Craig relaxed and fell into a long, deep sleep.

When he awoke, he lay face down on a hardwood floor. Boards pressed against his back and dust bunnies tickled his nose.

Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Ah-choo!
He banged his head against the solid object behind his head and swore.

“Craig, is that you back with the human race?” Uncle Joe called from another room.

Craig’s eyes flew open and he glanced around.
Where the hell…?
Oh yeah, he’d crawled under the bed to keep from being eaten or stepped on while he slept.

What had been a cavern of space to a frog was now a weight on his shoulders. Craig wriggled his way from beneath the bed, stood up, and brushed the fuzzy stuff from his chest and other body hairs. He flexed his shoulders. The wound from the night before gave him a twinge, but seemed to be healing nicely.

“That scientist lady dropped by before dusk and said she wouldn’t be goin’ out on the swamp tonight.” Uncle Joe stuck his head around the corner, got one glimpse of Craig’s naked form and made a face. “You also got a couple friends out on the porch waiting for you. Might want to put on more than dust fuzzies before greetin’ them.” Uncle Joe chuckled and ducked back into the bait shop.

The pillow Craig lobbed through the air bounced off the doorframe. “Funny. Very funny.” Craig grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the antique dresser in the corner and slipped into them. Why had Elaine called off the night?

He should be glad. Things were getting too hot and heavy for his liking. Elaine wouldn’t understand when he went back to New Orleans and resumed his life as a scumbag attorney.

Whoa, where’d that thought come from?
Scumbag attorney?
The adjective was high-powered, not scumbag. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. The bayou was getting to him. Not a good sign.

All right.
So, he didn’t have to escort Elaine through the swamp. That left him with a night free to pursue other women in the hopes of finding a cure to his…er…problem. The whole Voodoo thing still had him nervous as hell. “This situation is impossible.”

“Then do somethin’ about it,” Uncle Joe called out.

Craig walked barefoot through the bait shop and out onto the porch overlooking the dock. Night had settled in and flying insects danced around the light fixtures.

Mo lounged against the porch rail while Larry sat on the bench whittling a stick with the knife he kept strapped to his boot.

“Found you a female yet?” Larry asked without looking up.

“No.” Craig leaned against a square pole.

“Dat’s what we thought.” Mo pushed away from the rail. “Put on your dancin’ shoes. It’s ladies’ night at de Raccoon Saloon.”

Even though he’d been thinking about going out to find a woman to break the spell, when it came right down to it, he really had no desire to carouse. “I don’t feel much like dancin’.”

Mo crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not takin’ no for an answer. I dôn much like havin’ a frog for a friend.”

“And I enjoy being a frog?” Craig didn’t like the way Mo assumed the same position he had a few days earlier when Madame LeBieu had issued her summons.

Larry sheathed his knife and stood. The two men each grabbed an elbow and marched him back through the bait shop.

They can’t be serious
.

“Come on guys. You don’t have to rough me up again.” He jetted out a breath. What choice did he have? “I’ll go.”

When they reached the back room, Mo and Larry dropped his arms and stood with their feet spread, determined looks on their faces.

“We wouldn’t be doin’ dis if it wasn’t for your own good,” Larry said.

“Yeah. Just like the other night,” Craig muttered, fished his deck shoes from beneath the bed, and slipped into them.

“You’ll need a nicer shirt if you want to attract a nice-lookin’ woman,” Mo said. “Unless you prefer someone like DeeDee Dubois.”

“And comb your hair,” Larry added.

Dieu
. Now he had Mo and Larry telling him how to dress.

Twenty minutes later, the four were on their way to the Raccoon Saloon to get the best table before the band cranked up at nine. Uncle Joe had volunteered to drive. By the amount of cologne his uncle wore, he’d planned on going with or without the younger trio. Craig elected to take his own car to avoid questions and provide a quick escape if the evening turned out even half as depressing as he suspected it would.

As they passed the rental cottage, Craig could see lights on inside. Elaine was home. He’d much rather be with her than out carousing for other women.

Boy, he had it bad. If he didn’t watch out, he’d find himself head over heels for the woman.

Good thing he was a confirmed bachelor.

Or else he might really be worried.

…

“I can’t believe I let her talk me into this,” Elaine muttered. The noise in the Raccoon Saloon was so loud she could have shouted and no one would have heard her. She gave another tug at the miniscule dress she was wearing and groaned.

“Don’t you worry, sweetie, you look be-ew-ti-ful. You won’t sit down once for all the dancin’ you’ll be doin’,” Miz Mozelle said.

The ramshackle establishment appeared pieced together out of weathered boards, corrugated tin, and aged advertisements. By the size and shape of it, the Raccoon Saloon had probably been an old barn at one time. Cars lined the parking lot and the music blared from beneath the eves.

“Come on. I know one of the band members and if I hurry, I can get in a few requests.” Josie rushed ahead, darting through the darkened doorway before Elaine could protest her desertion.

She should have known she was in big trouble when the beautician came by earlier dressed in a hot pink micro-miniskirt and a pink and black polka-dotted Daisy Mae midriff shirt worn off the shoulder.

When she’d tossed an electric blue swatch of stretchy fabric at her, Elaine had caught it in one hand. “This looks like a sleeve, where’s the rest of it?”

Josie’s mouth had quirked up on one side as she waved her hand. “
Mon cher
, that’s it. Now run along and pour yourself into it. The band starts at nine o’clock and I want to be there for the first dance.”

Now, Elaine felt altogether too conspicuous in her altogether-and-not-much-else. Half a dozen men had already whistled at her, and two’d had the nerve to pinch her fanny. She’d never been subjected to such lewd behavior before in her life.

Appalled at the uncomfortable familiarity, she nevertheless felt a strange sense of power fill her gut and stiffen her spine. She flung back her newly-cut hair and straightened her shoulders. This movement had the added benefit of pushing her chest out a little farther. She hoped the sleeve wouldn’t slip down and expose the tight strapless bra Josie had seen fit to provide as well. It was a little too snug, pushing her boobs up higher to emphasize her already generous cleavage.

She could imagine the horror of her fellow Tulane professors if they could see her now. They’d have her fired on the spot.

But who knew her here in Bayou Miste? Here, she could be anything she wanted to be and the thought was shockingly exhilarating. That and the new “do” went a long way toward blocking one tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed Cajun from entering her mind.

Much.

The floor was already crowded with people dancing to a mix of Cajun and country-western tunes from the jukebox. Josie beckoned her and Miz Mozelle to the bar, and they perched on stools with a good view.

Not two seconds after they sat, three dark-haired Cajuns sauntered over and asked them to dance. Josie and Miz Mozelle immediately slid off their stools and led their guys to the crowded dance floor.

Feeling suddenly shy, Elaine shook her head. “Not, yet. I’d like to order a drink first.” She smiled, hoping the big guy wouldn’t push the issue.

Without a word, the man nodded and turned away.

She swung around on the barstool and ordered white wine. “Make that two,” she said, on second thought. The false bravado an alcohol buzz could provide was just what she needed.

The first glass of wine she swallowed in one long, steady chug. With the second glass in her hand, she turned back to the crowd. The song changed to a slow tune and half the couples left the floor, while the other half swayed to the music. The band milled around on the stage pushing equipment into position.

She gazed longingly at the couples locked in each other’s arms as if they were the only ones on the dance floor. She felt envious of them, wishing she had someone to hold her tight and make her feel that way. Little tingles reverberated from her insides to her epidermis. The wine had the effect of giving the bare bulbs hanging sporadically throughout the open room a fuzzy halo effect. She wasn’t drunk, just mildly buzzed, and no doubt a tad less inhibited.

The big Cajun from a few minutes earlier appeared in front of her. “You wanna dance, now?” he asked.

Not nearly as inhibited by shyness this time, she nodded and slid from her stool. She remembered the slinky blue dress and tugged the hem down and the neckline up, to ensure the fabric covered all the right places. Then she threw back her shoulders and practiced one of the moves Josie had taught her earlier at the cottage. Swing your hips side to side. If she put one foot in front of the other, the swaying motion would be automatic.

Following the big brut, she pasted a smile on her face and swayed. Catcalls and whistles followed her all the way to the dance floor.

Wow.
Who knew Elaine Smith could attract so many admiring wolf-calls?
Brian, eat your heart out.

Before she had time to bask in the glory of male admiration, the guy pulled her into his arms, snug up to his barrel chest.

Elaine gasped and tried to pull away. “Please, I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sorry.” He loosened his hold only a little and snuggled his cheek against her hair. The man smelled of woods and tobacco and he held Elaine entirely too close for her comfort.

She was just trying to think up a good reason to excuse herself when the song ended.
Thank goodness
.

But, the man showed no intention of letting her go.

While the jukebox had played, the band completed setup. Couples either split or drifted back to their seats, leaving only Elaine and her bulky captor standing with only a few die-hard couples amid the sawdust. She tugged and tugged, but the guy wouldn’t let go of her hand.

“The song is over,” she said, since the idiot didn’t quite grasp the obvious.

“Ah, come on. Just one more dance,” he said, his grip tightening until she felt her bones would crunch.

“There’s no music,” she insisted.

“
Laissez les bon temps roulet!
” The lead singer shouted into the microphone, drowning out her protests. “Welcome to the Raccoon Saloon. We’re the Ragin’ Cajuns and the first song for the evening is “Devil with a Blue Dress” a request in honor of one of our guests tonight. Anyone care to give it a guess as to which one?”

Elaine groaned. Just what she needed, more attention and music when she couldn’t get rid of the overgrown baboon clutching her hand.

“Really, my foot hurts.” And it did from being stepped on several times. “I’m going to sit this one out.” When he loosened his hold, Elaine quickly stepped away and glanced around trying to get her bearings.

This evening was clearly turning out to be a huge mistake. How could she gracefully escape back to her safe little cottage?

…

Craig had sat peeling the label off his longneck bottle, wondering for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing in the Raccoon Saloon. He hadn’t made a single move to find a woman. Every time one came up to ask him to dance, he’d muttered something about not enough beer yet.

Mo, in a clumsy attempt at a two-step, danced by with a brassy redhead, stopping in front of Craig’s table. “How ’bout dis one?” he asked.

Craig squelched a cringe.

Larry waltzed by, completely out of step with the music and pumping his partner’s arm up and down. The man really had no business being on the dance floor. As he passed Craig, he shouted, “What about her?”

Craig ducked his head and continued peeling paper from the brown glass.

“Ain’t gonna get any closer to findin’ a cure for your spell by staring at yer beer, boy,” Uncle Joe commented from the next chair.

“Leave it, Uncle,” Craig growled. His mind wandered back to his uncle’s rental cottage. What was Elaine doing right now? Was she reviewing her notes from previous experiments? Or was she on the phone with her ex-fiancé? He tensed and almost left his seat to go find out.

He barely noticed when the song on the jukebox ended and didn’t bother to look up when Jacque, the lead singer called out for everyone’s attention.

When the band started playing “Devil with a Blue Dress,” he decided he’d had enough. He looked across the dance floor for an escape route. His gaze collided with an electric blue dress and the desperate expression of the one woman who’d been on his mind all evening.

Holy hell
.

Escape was no longer an option.

The strains of “Devil with a Blue Dress” registered in his suddenly feeble brain.
Oh, yeah
. She was definitely the devil for plaguing his every thought since he’d woken up. And she looked devilishly hot in that dress.

Before he could engage logic, he was across the floor standing in front of her, eyeing her as if she were an apparition that would disappear if he spoke. “Dance with me.”

Elaine didn’t protest or question his high-handedness, she just melted into his body.