Cajun Magic 01 - Voodoo on the Bayou (6 page)

Overwhelmed by his lack of a viable solution, Craig hopped away from Larry and Mo, dejected.

“We feel for you, man.” Larry called after him. “Can’t begin to know what you’re goin’ tru. Never been a frog before.”

“Yeah,” Mo agreed.

Craig could tell him. It stank. Almost stepped on, chewed on by a dog, less than two inches high, no way to communicate… For a man with a law degree, his future didn’t look so bright.

“Mo.” Uncle Joe’s voice carried through the screen door at the back of the bait shop.

Mo jerked his head toward the door. “Does your uncle know ‘bout de Voodoo gree gree?”

Craig nodded.

With a grin, Mo yelled, “Yo, Uncle Joe, I be out here wit’ your amphibian relative.” He pushed himself off the steps and turned toward the door.

Joe called, “Your grandmother just phoned. T-Rex is loose again, and your grandmother can’t find Fifi. You better high-tail it home or she’ll make handbags and luggage out of that ‘gator.”

“C’mon, Larry. Craig’ll figure dis mess out. He’s de one with all de diplomas. Need you to distract Rex while I sneak up from behind.”

“Why am I always de distraction?” Larry groused. “Dat’s jes a fancy way of sayin’ I be de bait for dat darn fool ‘gator.”

“Yep, but he likes de way you taste better’n me. We better hurry afore he makes a snack out of Mamere’s poodle.”

Craig tried to laugh at the hulk of a human worrying about his grandmother’s toy poodle, but all he could do was croak.

“Yeah, Craig, we know,” Mo reached out a hand to haul Larry to his feet. “You dôn have to thank us for all our suggestions. Just get to work on followin’ tru.”

“I’ll tell my sister you’ll be callin’. Dat’ll have de entire house in an uproar. Give dem somethin’ to do besides gripe about Josie’s beauty supplies all over de bathroom.”

“C’mon, Larry,” Mo said. “Good luck, Craig.”

“Yeah, and watch out for snakes and ‘gators. You ain’t much of anythin’ right now.” Larry waved a hand, and the two hurried off in the direction of Mo’s house where he lived with his gray-haired grandmother.

Craig gave a frog version of a sigh.

Thirty-three-year-old Mo still lived with his mother’s mother. The old woman was a hoot. She’d shared her moonshine and weed with them when they were hormonal teenagers full of themselves and bent on trouble. Craig knew Mo thought the world of his grandmother and woe be upon the person who upset her.

But Larry’s departing words sank deep. He wasn’t much of anything. The simple phrase struck too close to home. How true it was. Not only in size, but also in direction.

When was the last time he’d done something he could feel proud of? Mo took care of his grandmother. Larry, for all his complaints about his eight sisters, loved each and every one of them. He wouldn’t have offered to fix Craig up with Josie if he didn’t think highly of Craig.

Larry’s was a gesture of trust and faith in Craig to do the right thing. Only problem, Craig wasn’t looking for a commitment along with the love he had to find in some poor unsuspecting woman. He wanted her to fall for him, declare her love, break the spell, and he’d be on his way, a whole man—minus the heartbroken woman.

Jeez. It sounded heartless, even to him.

“Craig, I gotta service a few engines out on the dock. You’re welcome to come with me.” Uncle Joe paused on the steps. “Nah, you’d better stick close to home. No telling what could eat you by the water. Don’t worry, it’s not much longer ‘til the sun sets.”

Thank God.
Although, somehow the anticipated transformation didn’t hold as much appeal.

Not much of anything, huh?

He found a quiet spot beneath the step to wait and contemplate his choices. For the most part, he forced down the natural instincts to snatch the flies off boards, but a fat, juicy cricket managed to find its way past the shadows that hid him. The unsuspecting insect was toast with jam to his pallet, and why not? People ate cockroaches in some countries.

As soon as he turned back into a man, he’d make some calls, set up a couple dates, test the feminine waters of Bayou Miste. Like Mo said, he didn’t have much time and he couldn’t afford to be picky.

Perhaps he really should ask Cassandra to come down from New Orleans. He could tell her it was some kind of emergency or other. She’d do it.

And with the pickings so slim in this part of the country, that choice looked more and more like the winner. But even if Cassandra said she loved him, would it be true? Craig didn’t think Cassandra loved anyone but Cassandra. Could he afford to waste time on her?

Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford not to.

If she didn’t work out, he’d be stuck with the local lineup. He shouldn’t care whether or not they had teeth or their butts were as broad as the bottom of a pirogue. But he’d prefer to find a woman who could pretty well stand on her own in the looks department. His conscience couldn’t handle dumping the lovelorn if she had no hope of ever landing another fish in the sea.

If he remembered correctly, Josie wasn’t bad looking as a teen. If Larry had no objections, he’d check out Josie.

With the decision made, Craig felt a little more in control. He’d start a campaign to woo Josie.

As the last wisps of sun sank over the horizon, washing the lush green swamps into gray, Craig hopped onto the steps. No sooner was he settled on the planks, the metamorphosis began. His skin pulled and stretched, the bones and muscles extending, flexing, and growing. His body unfolded, straightening, pushing upward. He closed his eyes against the pain shooting through his nerve endings. Just when he thought he would explode out of his epidermis, the pressure subsided.

He opened his eyes and his vision cleared. He towered above the steps he’d had difficulty climbing just moments earlier.

Steps?

Oh, crap
.

Craig glanced down at his naked body parts and darted a quick glance toward the neighboring houses closest to the bait shop. Miz Mozelle stepped out onto her porch. As she turned toward the bait shop, he ducked in the side door.

“Whew. That was close.” He’d have to plan his morphing location better next time. Apparently, there’d be a few more next times. But not many, if he could help it.

Time to find his lady love.

Chapter Six

Elaine made her way to the dock with a large plastic bucket banging against her knees, a satchel containing her journal slung over her shoulder, and a large, yellow flashlight clutched in one hand. She’d chosen to walk the short distance from the rental house to the pier thinking to stretch the kinks out of her legs. But if she were honest with herself, she’d admit she was procrastinating. The thought of spending a dark night in a boat on the water with a handsome man paralyzed her.

She didn’t know which made her more uneasy—the man or the water. Either way, she’d plunged in way over her head. She had research to do and the source of the pollutants to discover. Wasn’t that enough to worry about?

The thought of being surrounded by water made her stomach churn. Whatever happened, she couldn’t lose her cool to a panic attack. This water was no different than what ran from her tap at home. Just a little more of it. But she would be safe in the boat, out of the wet stuff.

In the absence of street lights, the roadside blurred in the endless shadows of dusk. Elaine was glad she’d worn her shiny new mud boots. If anything lurked in the gloom, the calf-high rubber would protect her ankles. Unfortunately, the large boots didn’t quite fit, and she clumped her way toward the marina feeling about as graceful as a lumbering elephant.

Arms aching, she hurried the last few steps to the bait shop, plunked her bucket on the porch and almost breathed a sigh of relief. Almost. Craig waited inside. Her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. Perhaps if she repeated her mantra, she’d keep her wits about her and remain on track. “I am a scientist. I love science. I am a scientist. I love science.”

She felt better already, even allowing a smile to curve her lips as she pulled open the screen door.

Just as the night before, the bait shop stood in near darkness, the lights not yet turned on. Her heart jumped into hyper-drive. The last time she’d come in here, she’d met Craig in the flesh, and not much else.

“I am a scientist. I love science.”

The back door thumped and she heard soft shooshing of what sounded like bare feet on hardwood floors.

Bare feet
. Um…

She eased along a shadowy aisle. By the meager light filtering through the few windows, she could make out a display of strings, hooks, and lead weights.

“I am a scientist. I love science.”

A tall shadow emerged in the doorway behind the counter.

“Mr. Thibodeaux? Oh, there you are—”

The rising moon chose that moment to crest over the top of the trees and shine in a window, illuminating him in a bright moon glow.
All
of him.

She gasped, and her mind shut down all other information processing functions. A second after intellectual faculties ceased, every nerve ending in her body exploded in all directions. Her senses leapt into overload and her brain struggled to handle the volume of signals screaming along neural pathways.

Craig grabbed at the closest thing to him—a fish net.

All his perfectly placed body parts were on display. Broad shoulders narrowed to a tight abdomen and a thin line of black curly hair lead to his—

“Oh, my.” Elaine froze, staring at the net and all it didn’t cover.

He dropped the net and snatched a plastic bag of fake worms from the shelf beside him and covered his—

Good lord
.

Elaine kept staring. Her mouth worked but the only words to emerge were, “I am a scientist. I love sex.”

“What?” Craig asked, a harried smile tilting his lips.

“What what?” She resisted the urge to smack her forehead with her palm. Stupider and stupider. Who’d have thought she’d attained a double major in chemistry and biology, a master’s and a doctorate and graduated at the top of every class?

Craig pushed the hair back from his forehead with his free hand and leaned against a counter, crossing his bare ankles. His pose reeked of confidence, as if waiting on a customer naked constituted perfectly appropriate behavior—at least in Bayou Miste society. “Can I help you?” he asked in a voice completely at odds with his current state of undress.

“Oh, yes.” Elaine’s response was a breathy whisper.

When he shifted the fake worms to cover more skin, she tore her gaze from his body and darted it up to his eyes. Heat rushed into her face. The hotter her face grew, the faster her breathing became. She had to get a grip or hyperventilate.

Oh, how much easier to sink to the floor in blessed oblivion! But she didn’t faint, much to her chagrin. She closed her eyes, inhaling the potent smells of earthworms and fish. With her concentration shifted to the unattractive aromas, she managed to rein in her galloping hormones.

She opened her eyelids and pressed her lips together. “This is getting to be a habit, Mr. Thibodeaux. Do you provide such service to all your customers, or just me?”

“Are you embarrassed by nudity? I thought all scientists approached the human body in a clinical manner.”

“Yes, of course.” She didn’t look at him. She stared at everything but him…shadows in the corners, light fixtures on the ceilings, packages of fake worms.
Oh, geez
.

She compelled her gaze to his face.

His lip turned upward on one side as if he was daring her to say anything more about his lack of clothing.

“Do you want me to wait outside? I don’t mind in the least. In fact, I’ll do just that.” She backed down the aisle, but her bucket bumped against a shelf behind her, clipping the backs of her knees. Her legs buckled and she toppled to the floor in a heap of bucket, nets, and notebooks.

He leapt forward, tossing the worms aside and reaching out to grab her hand. “Are you all right?” He hauled her to her feet so fast she pitched forward and crashed against his chest.

Her fingers laced through his curly chest hairs and her breath caught in her throat. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. Then she noted something hard and stiff pressing into her belly. And it wasn’t a package of fake worms.

What would it feel like to reach down and touch—

Elaine looked up into his face. Eyes as blue as a summer sky were hooded in shadow, but his lips curved in a knowing smile.

Embarrassment kept her close. If she backed away, he’d be on full display. But if she stayed where she was, no telling what her crazed senses would do. The scientific method escaped her when she most needed it. She should be reviewing alternatives and examining all angles before coming to the most logical solution to her rising problem.

And rising it was.

Perhaps a closer examination—

A loud click split the air, and the fluorescent lights above hummed to life.

“Craig? You in here?” Joe Thibodeaux’s voice called out.

Elaine jumped back guiltily at the sound. What would Joe think if he saw her in a compromising embrace with his unclothed nephew?

Her face burned and she shoved away from Craig’s chest, ducking behind a cardboard display of sunglasses. “I’ll just wait outside,” she whispered. And with one last look at the gorgeous hunk of naked male standing before her, she ran for her life.

Once outside the bait shop, she collapsed onto a weathered bench, pressing her hands to her fiery cheeks. She closed her eyes, but Craig’s image burned in her memory. The muscled plains of his chest and shoulders, the narrow hips, tight abdomen and…and…
Oh. My. God.
All bathed in shimmering moonlight and nothing else.

How could she ever face the man again, when her body responded to him even when he wasn’t standing beside her?

She really had to rein in her galloping pulse. She opened her eyes and looked around, realizing all her gear lay scattered across the floor inside the bait shop. Hopefully, Craig would bring it out. She couldn’t go back in there.
No way, no how.

Two very short minutes later, Craig banged through the screen door. Blessedly dressed in jeans, a denim shirt, and deck shoes, sure enough, he was carrying all her equipment.

She couldn’t look at him without heat suffusing her cheeks. Thank goodness for the darkness of night and dim porch lights. She stood and held out her hands, looking at her stuff instead of his face.

“What is all this stuff?” he asked.

“I’ll be collecting water samples, fish and frogs to study.” She held out her hands. “I’ll take those.”

“No need.”

“No, I insist. It’s my gear, and I can carry it.” She couldn’t decide whether to smack her palm over her mouth or her forehead. Why couldn’t she just shut up and let the man do his job?

“Suit yourself.” He set the bucket, satchel, and bright yellow flashlight on the porch.

While he bent to accomplish the task, she couldn’t help but notice how his hair glowed blue-black, reflecting the light above his head. She had to resist reaching out to touch the ebony waves.

He straightened and his gaze met hers. Briefly.

Her heart leapt to her throat and she dived down to gather her things. With her bucket looped over her arm, satchel over her shoulder, and everything else gripped loosely in her hands, she followed him down the steps to the dock.

An unavoidable challenge.

His narrow butt was just as tempting clothed as naked. His broad shoulders blocked her view of the water. Or was it she could only see him? In truth, if she looked up, she’d stare over the top of his head straight out into the swamp.

She swallowed, her thoughts an incoherent tangle of emotion and fear, with no logic to balance those unfamiliar, raw feelings.

He turned left and she got her first up close and personal view of the inky black water, not four feet away from her. She stood rooted to the wooden planks of the jetty, mesmerized by the swirling shadows created by the marina lights reflecting off the smooth surface. Her already speeding heart threatened to jump out of her chest.

Suddenly, Craig’s retreating figure was a lifeline she desperately needed to grab onto.

Stomach in her throat, she ripped her gaze from the dark, liquid depths and locked in on the man she found completely distracting. Already, the growing distance between them seemed insurmountable. Much farther and she’d be paralyzed, incapable of following him.

Well then, get your pale white ass in gear and catch up
.

She forced her feet to move, stumbling after him, keeping her eyes on her goal. Looking ahead instead of down, she charged forward. Then her clunky boot caught on something protruding from the jetty and she pitched forward.

With her arms too full to provide balance, she knew she was doomed.
Not again
. She tossed the bucket off her arm, chucked the flashlight, and threw her arms in front of her to brace for landing, praying she wouldn’t fall into the water.

“
Oomph
.”

Her palms connected with rough boards moments before her chest and head, absorbing only a little of the shock. She hit hard. Winded, she groped to either side of her for the reassuringly solid planks of the dock. When she was sure she wasn’t dangling over the edge, she lifted her head.

Her hair escaped its ponytail and swung into her face, blocking her view. When she pushed it aside and looked up, a pair of deck shoes stood inches from her nose. She let her hair fall back over her face, wishing it would hide her complete embarrassment.

Craig Thibodeaux squatted beside her and gently lifted the strands to peer underneath, concern written in his frown. “Are you okay?”

Elaine grimaced. “I think the only thing damaged is my pride.”

His smile seeped into her bones, warming her to her toes and tempering some of her humiliation. “Don’t worry. I’ve tripped on that same knothole at least a hundred times. Don’t know why Uncle Joe hasn’t done something about it.” He straightened and extended his hand.

She reluctantly accepted the hand. Fear of rolling into the water outweighed her fear of her reaction to his touch.

With one strong tug, he brought her to her feet, and slipped his arms around her waist to steady her.

She breathed in the musky, intoxicating scent of male, her heart skittering into her belly. Everywhere she touched him electric shocks ran through her nervous system, racing through her body to pool with pulsing intensity between her thighs.

“Oh my,” she whispered. Pushing the hair from her eyes, she dared to sneak a peek up at his face.

His arms were steel bands around her back, but his expression held a hint of laughter. “Are you going to make it from here to the boat, or do you want me to carry you?”

Startled at the tempting image his words evoked, she shoved against his chest and stepped a few inches away, willing her heart to calm its erratic beat. “I can manage, thank you very much.” Laced with irritation, her voice sounded ungrateful even to her own ears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so snippy. Thank you for helping me up. I’m not usually so clumsy.”

“Is it just when you’re on docks? Or when you’re around men?”

Just with you.
She bit her lip to keep from speaking the words aloud. Instead, she gathered her bucket and satchel, and scanned the dock for her flashlight.

The bright yellow torch had rolled to within an inch of falling off the edge. Her stomach sank to her knees at the thought of retrieving it. She couldn’t ask Craig to get it, and she couldn’t leave the darn light. With a thundering pulse and fingers tightly crossed, she inched toward the edge.

Before she came within two feet of it, Craig strode over and scooped it up. “Come on, we need to get going.”

He pressed the flashlight into her hand and grabbed her elbow, hurrying her toward the boat. She felt as if she were caught in a river, headed toward the falls with no way to make it to shore. Her heart hammered in her chest and her hands grew slick.

She wasn’t ready for this.
She couldn’t do it
.

As they neared the end of the pier, she glanced around for the boat. Her expectations ran along the lines of an airboat or maybe a pontoon boat. Preferably an ocean cruiser, if only it would fit. What she found was a dinky metal skiff with an even dinkier engine mounted on the back.

Her world tilted and turned all hazy around the edges. “Breathe,” she muttered to herself.