Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (4 page)

“Two tablespoons of cayenne, to top it all off, as all Cajun cooking includes the stuff.”

“Um, now you’re making me hungry,” Calliope whispered.

“Bring to a boil and then count to ten.” The handwriting scrawled at the bottom of the page. Lucie had to squint to see the words “turn over” written in tiny letters. She flipped the sheet and read on.

“Turn off the heat and let the brew sit so the potion cools down a bit.” As the liquid came to a boil, she counted aloud. “One, two, three, four, five.”

Alex and Calliope chimed in, “Six, seven, eight, nine, ten!”

A quick twist extinguished the flame and Lucie fanned the potion, hoping to speed the process.

Alex leaned over the recipe book to read the next set of instructions. “Says here to sprinkle the potion on the wings of a love bug.”

“You mean those disgusting bugs that fly around piggy-backed, mating all the time?” Calliope asked.

Alex’s lips twisted. “It says love bug. What else could it mean?”

Calliope jumped up from her stool. “I’ll go outside and see what I can find. There are usually a bazillion of them making bug-gut glue all over my car.”

Before Lucie could utter a word, Calliope rushed out the door. Just as well. Finding the bug would give her something productive to do while they waited for the potion to cool.

Alex bent over the recipe book. “You realize you have to turn this hexed bug loose in the same room with you and your intended target, don’t you?”

“I do?” Lucie leaned over Alex’s shoulder and read the scribbled words, then grimaced. “That’ll be a trick to get me and Eric in a room all by ourselves.”

“How are you going to manage that? Sneak into his bedroom at night? I understand they have a pretty impressive security system at the Littington mansion. I don’t think you’ll get by that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”
What
, she didn’t know.

Calliope rushed back in, a frown marring her freckled forehead. “What’s wrong with this place? Only last week there were hundreds, even thousands of the little creatures.”

“What do you mean?”

Calliope grimaced. “No love bugs.”

“No love bugs?” Alex and Lucie said in unison.

Lucie’s heart sank into her shoes. “All this mixing and angsting for what? Nothing! A big fat goose egg. Great! Just great!”

Calliope held out her hand. “I did find a ladybug. I figure one flying bug is as good as the next. Can you use a ladybug?” Calliope stopped talking long enough to inhale. “Gag!” She clapped a hand over her nose. “That stuff really stinks.”

“It’s not the smell that counts. It’s how well the potion works,” Lucie held out her hand. “You couldn’t find a single love bug? Jeez, I still have dead ones stuck all over the front of my ‘Stang. Why is it you can find them when you don’t want them, but as soon as you need one—”

“You can’t find one,” Alex finished. “Sounds like the story of
my
love life.”

Calliope’s brow furrowed. “You have guys stuck all over the front of your Jeep?”

“The way my mother keeps throwing them at me you’d think I’d be scrapin’ them off my bumper.” Alex leaned over the cookbook. “Does it
have
to be a love bug?”

“The recipe says, ‘Sprinkle the brew on a love bug’s wing and in a loud, sweet voice you must sing, “Fly little bug, fly high up above and make my lovebirds fall in love.”’”

“Hey, I thought this was a love spell for people,” Calliope said.

Lucie flipped the page back to read the title. “It says ‘Love Spell.’”

Alex shrugged. “Whatever. You need a flying bug. All you have available is the blasted ladybug. What can it hurt?”

“Ah, jeez!” Lucie slammed the book shut. “I can see it happening already. Another Voodoo spell gone awry, courtesy of the misfit granddaughter of Madame LeBieu. This time, they might even give me the front page of the
Bayou Miste Herald
.”

“Don’t sweat it, Lucie.” Alex slipped the ladybug out of Lucie’s hand into her own. “Maybe the spell wasn’t meant to be.”

“Yeah.” Calliope’s face lit up with a huge grin. “And you can stay here in Bayou Miste with us.”

With her two best friends, maybe. But top them with a dead-end job, a foreclosure hanging over her grandmother’s head, and a nonexistent love life, no way. And to make matters worse, Ben Boyette had come home to stay. Lucie’s heart sank into her empty belly like a lead fishing weight.

With the ladybug curled in her fingers, Alex headed for the door. “I’ll just let this little guy go while you dump that mess down the sink.”

Lucie’s mind reviewed the options like a CD disc spinning round and round.
Marriage to a rich man or financial ruin
. Live in a mansion or out on the streets—or in this case, the swamps—of Bayou Miste
. Marry Eric Littington and leave, or watch Ben Boyette parade his new girlfriends around town while she ate her heart out.

“Alex, stop!” she shouted.

Alex froze in mid-stride
.

“Give me that damn bug.” Her voice echoed in the silent room, calm and surprisingly firm.

Eyes wide, Alex slowly turned back toward her and held out her hand. “Are you sure you want to do this? Seems a bit cold-blooded of you to target poor, unsuspecting Eric with a spell.”

A wall of guilt finally broke through her determination and threatened to overwhelm her. She’d never loved Eric. She’d liked him as a friend, but she’d never had any deep emotional attachment to him. Then again, her grandmother couldn’t possibly live out on the streets or in the swamps without a roof over her head. Lisa wasn’t a reliable source of income. It was up to Lucie to come up with a plan to save her grandmother’s home and, so far, this was all she could come up with.

She drew in a deep breath past the lump rising in her throat. “I know it sounds cold-blooded, but don’t worry, I’ll do right by Eric and make him a good wife. You’ll see.” Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of Ben married to someone else. “I have to do this for
Mamère
.” And she couldn’t stay in Bayou Miste, no matter what. “Alex, please. Give me the bug.”

“It’s your life, but don’t be mad if we say ‘we told you so.’” Alex uncurled her fingers, revealing the tiny red and black ladybug.

Lucie scraped the hard-shelled creature onto the wooden cutting board and settled a mason jar over it. Grasping a wooden spoon, she stirred the concoction on the stove one last time for good measure.

With her eyes pressed closed, she chanted to herself, “Please let this work. Please help me find love and happiness.” Opening her eyes, she dipped the spoon into the odiferous mix, cupped her hand beneath it, and stepped back to the center island cutting board. Then she inhaled deeply and nodded at Alex. “Will you remove the glass jar?”

Her hand slow and steady, Alex reached out, her fingers hovering over the jar. “You don’t have to go through with this, you know.”

“Just lift the damned jar, please!” Lucie’s arm shook and liquid spilled from the spoon into her hand.

The glass came up, exposing the harbinger of her freedom. The tiny ladybug opened its protective shell and flexed its wings.

Quickly, before the bug could fly away, Lucie dribbled the liquid over the board until one tiny drop touched the ladybug’s wing. Then in a clear soprano, she sang, “Fly little bug, fly high up above and make my lovebirds fall in love.”

The ladybug flicked its wings several times. A faint greenish glow like that of a firefly lit the tiny insect’s wings.

“You did it!” Calliope clapped her hands.

“Yeah, you’ve done it all right.” Alex closed her eyes. “All I have to say is, look out Bayou Miste, we’re probably in for a helluva ride.”

Chapter Four

“I’ll need to check for bugs in every room of your office and house.” Ben stood inside Eric Littington’s office wearing a faded navy-blue coverall and carrying a canister of Bug B Gon.

A giant grin spread across Eric’s face, and he rose from the leather chair behind his desk. “Look at you!” He rounded the desk and circled Ben, his gaze running up and down the length of his body. “I got to admit. You look like the real McCoy.” Eric leaned closer and sniffed. “You even smell the part.”

His lips twisted into a wry smile. “I’d better, if this is going to work.”

“So, when you said you need to check for bugs, I assume you mean the mechanical ones?” Eric shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped back.

“Yeah.” Ben set the sprayer on the carpet, pulled his bug detector device from his pocket, extended then antenna, switched it to vibrate, and turned it on. Then he walked slowly around the room, searching for all possible locations a wiretap or bug could be hidden. “The downside to my cover is that you’ll have to pay to get your home and office sprayed.”

“Not to worry. We’ll manage.” Eric walked to the window. “I’m glad you’re the one on this case, after all that’s happened in the past couple weeks. This game is starting to get dirty. I want to know who’s been tailing me and who hired the dirtbag.”

“We can guess at the who-hired-him part.” Ben moved a chair beneath the ceiling fan in the center of the room and climbed up to examine the fixture. “Your opposing candidate has to be the one who did the hiring. But your decision to come to Bayou Miste was good. We should have no problems spotting a stranger. Hopefully, we’ll have this business wrapped up in a day or two.”

Ben’s wishful thinking was overriding his patience and good sense. All he could think of was that he wanted out of Bayou Miste as quickly as possible.

Last night at the Raccoon Saloon had been a shock to his system. The sight of Lucie LeBieu waiting tables in her Hooters-style short-shorts and that ridiculously minuscule t-shirt had raised his heart rate to runner’s speed. For the first five minutes, he’d thought she was her twin sister, Lisa, until someone shouted her name. Damn, she’d gotten even more beautiful over the past seven years. And every time he recalled those shorts and her incredibly long legs, his blood flowed south in a New Orleans minute, entering places it had no business going. Especially where Lucie LeBieu was concerned. If she didn’t want anything to do with him seven years ago, she surely didn’t want him now.

But those silky smooth thighs, tinged mocha by her Cajun-Creole heritage, called to him, even now. The chair he stood on wobbled, jerking him back to Eric’s office at Littington Enterprises. He shouldn’t be thinking about Lucie when he had a job to do.
Concentrate on the task at hand and you’ll wipe her clean from your mind
.

“Enough about the case.” Eric hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. “How about that waitress last night at the Raccoon Saloon?”

The chair rocked violently. Ben waited until he had it back in control before he answered. “What waitress?”
So much for wiping Lucie from his mind
.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You were there, too.” Eric stared hard at him. “As I recollect, you couldn’t keep your eyes off her.”

Schooling his expression into his best poker face, he hopped down off the chair, ignoring Eric’s words. He continued his search for hidden devices, scanning around the rim of the large oak desk dominating the room. If his stomach was a little knotted, he didn’t need to share that information with Eric. He and Lucie LeBieu were no longer an item.

“Her name’s Lucie LeBieu, isn’t it?” Eric didn’t wait for an answer. “Beautiful, just beautiful. She’s one hot latte. I can’t get over her.”

You and me both, buddy
. Hell. Did he say that out loud? Ben looked at Eric. When Eric didn’t respond, he breathed a silent sigh.

“Wasn’t she the kid who used to tag along behind us in school?” Eric shook his head, staring out the window. “She’s grown into quite a woman. And those legs.” Eric whistled. “Wow.”

Ben’s stomach did a flip-flop. Oh yeah, the legs. At times, deep into the night, he could still feel them wrapped around his waist. He circled the desk and dropped onto his back to scan underneath. Out of Eric’s view, he adjusted his coverall, appalled that the mere thought of Lucie could have him as hard as a cypress tree in no time at all.

“I think,” Eric’s voice drifted to him, “I’ll ask her out.”

Ben sat up, whacking his forehead against the underside of the desk. The room dimmed with tiny pinpricks of light squiggling through his vision. He fell onto his back and lay still, willing the miniature glow worms to go away.

“You all right under there?” Eric’s face wavered into view.

“Yeah.” Ben rubbed the knot forming on the right side of his forehead. “Just knocked my head.”

Eric stared at him. “You’re going to have a nice-sized goose egg. Want an ice pack?” He lifted a phone. “I could have the on-site clinic bring one up.”

“No, I’ll be fine.”
Stupid, but fine
. As long as Eric didn’t mention Lucie again. Ben climbed to his feet and straightened his clothes. Not that he had a hard-on anymore
.
Nothing like a bump on the head to kill the urge. Maybe he needed to clobber himself every time he thought about Lucie.

“So what do you think about what I said?” Eric asked.

“I think we’ll find your rat, no problem.”

“No, not about that. About Lucie.”

He glanced around the room, looking for a mallet or something. Anything to bop against the growing lump on his forehead. Pain would help him erase her from his brain
.
He reminded himself that pain was the only thing she’d given him in the past.

His glance swept across Eric. The man was waiting for his response. What could he say?
Go ahead, screw the only woman I ever cared about
. He forced a shrug. “Why not? It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“With every eye on my campaign, I’ve been afraid to ask any woman out.” He shoved a hand through his thick blond hair. “Next thing you know, the papers will latch on to the relationship and make it sordid, or have me married before a preacher could say ‘dearly beloved.’” Eric sighed. “I guess I’d better not. No use dragging Lucie through the media circus.”

Quietly, Ben released the breath he’d been holding. “I’ll just check your father’s office for bugs.”

“Thanks, Ben.” Eric’s smile was genuine, and a little sad. “I’m glad I can count on you.”

“That’s what friends are for.” He opened the door to Jason Littington’s office and stepped in. He stood several seconds, staring off into space, rubbing the lump on his head.
Did I really tell him to go for it
? With a sharp tap on the goose-egg-sized bump on his forehead, he sent pain stabbing through to his stupidity.

Hell. He’d rather poke a finger in his eye than see Lucie with another man.

…

Lucie stepped up to the guard’s counter at Littington Enterprises. “Is Eric Littington in his office?”

In his crisp gray and blue uniform, Pascal Pasquale answered without looking up from his X-Men comic book. “Who wants to know?”

“Get real, Pascal.” Lucie tugged the hem of her sleeveless powder-blue shirt, regretting her choice of clothing as her overlarge chest stretched the fabric all out of proportion. The matching skirt was too short and tight as well. She’d borrowed the outfit from Lisa’s closet, wanting to attract Eric’s attention and still look her best when he fell in love with her. “You know who I am. Is he in, or isn’t he?”

When she quit fiddling with the shirt, she glanced up.

Pascal’s gaze fixed on the disproportionate parts, and his mouth hung open like that of a whale trolling for plankton.

She closed her eyes and counted to five. Then she opened them and lifted Pascal’s chin with the tip of her finger until his teeth snapped shut. Pasting on a flirty smile, she leaned over the top of the desk and purred, “Be a sweetie, and see if Eric is up in his office.”

“He’s up—he’s in. Ah, hell, Lisa, why’d ya have to go and bend over like that?”

“I’m Lucie, not Lisa.”

“Lucie?
But you look like Lisa.” Pascal’s brows twisted over his nose.

Okay, so dressing like her sister might not have been the best idea.

The phone rang on the desk and Pascal fumbled to answer. “Littington Surprises—I mean Enterprises, may I help you?” He spun his chair, giving Lucie his back.

While Pascal negotiated his way through the phone call and queried Eric’s office, Lucie drifted around the lobby. She checked her purse again for the clear pill bottle she’d scraped the ladybug into. The bottle was still there. The ladybug, with its strange, alien-like green glowing backside, climbed around the inside.

“Miss LeBieu.”

Lucie spun toward the desk.

Pascal stood at attention, his eyes staring straight ahead, not at her.

He reminded her of one of the guards at the queen’s palace in London. All he needed was the fuzzy hat and a red jacket to complete the image. Well, that and a haircut. You could take the Cajun out of the swamp, but you couldn’t take the swamp out of the Cajun. “Mr. Littington will see you now. Take the elevators up to the fourth floor. First office on the right.” The man had gone all business.

“Thanks.” As she walked toward the elevator, Lucie caught Pascal’s gaze sliding sideways, following her, his brows drawn together in a confusing mix of anger and longing. What the heck?

She stepped into the elevator, and as the doors closed, she turned to smile at Pascal. Not too much. She didn’t want him to think she had any feelings for him other than friendship. In the fifth grade, she’d been nice to him on the playground. Afterward he’d clung to her like a leech. For the entire school year, he’d practically stalked her until her grandmother had threatened to put a hex on him.

No, getting mixed up in a stalker situation with Pascal wouldn’t be good for her campaign to snag the bigger fish. Eric was her first-class ticket out of Bayou Miste.

And away from Ben…

As soon as the doors slid open on the fourth floor, butterflies attacked her stomach in a swarm. At the back of the elevator she hesitated. Did she really have the nerve to hex a man to get him to marry her? Had she no shame?

Guilt weighed on her conscience. Her hesitation stretched long enough that the door started sliding closed.

Did she want to stay in Bayou Miste indefinitely? A vision of Ben in the dim lighting of the Raccoon Saloon, smiling across the table at his buddy Eric swam into her head. She could just imagine him smiling across the table from his latest girlfriend, or wife, God forbid.

Her hand shot into the narrowing space between the two doors. The door continued closing, smashing her fingers. With a rush of adrenaline, she gripped the rubber edge with her free hand and pried it open, stepping through to the other side.

Well! A deep, shaky breath, a pat to the treasure in her purse, and she was ready for the next step in her journey. No doubt remained in her mind. This town wasn’t big enough for her and Ben.

Her skin twitched at the thought of him moving on with his life without her. She couldn’t stand it. No sir. She was better off making a clean break and starting a new life as the wife of a promising young politician on the rise. Imagine the people she’d meet, the galas she’d attend on Eric’s arm.

The tight shoes and even tighter smiles she’d have to endure in the name of public appearances
.

Her footsteps faltered in sympathetic anticipation of her social obligations and sore feet. If she didn’t marry Eric, she’d be forced to leave Bayou Miste penniless and start over anyway—without a single familiar face or friend. Her shoulders straightened.

Her mother, Lynette LeBieu, had been content to move from place to place without money or support. Thank God she’d relented and dropped her and Lisa with her grandmother at the age of six. Otherwise, they would still be scrounging for their next meal, possibly out of a Salvation Army shelter, or worse, a trash can.

Ever since then, she had refused to leap without a net, and Eric Littington would make a terrific net. If she had to become a social icon, she could handle it. She was used to being gawked at. Her looks had garnered more than her fair share of tongue-lolling stares. She’d just have to class up her act a little.

Eric Littington
. The letters were engraved in bold letters across the brass nameplate. The matching brass doorknob beckoned to her to open the door. She could hear a muffled voice through the thick oak panels. Maybe she should wait until Eric wasn’t busy.

A little devil in the back of her head yelled, “Do it!”

Before she could lose her confidence, or maybe before she could regain her sanity, she knocked.

“Come in.”

The brief, commanding words spurred her forward and into the room.

Cell phone to his ear, Eric stood with his back to her, speaking in short, clipped tones. “Yes, I’ll be available tomorrow. Noon is fine. Please thank the mayor for me.” He turned and glanced at Lucie, his eyebrows rising along with the curve of his lips. “Look, Bryan, I have someone in my office. No, I don’t need you here. Take those days off I promised you. Yeah
.
Catch a big one for me, will ya? I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Eric hit the off button, shoved the phone into his pocket, and strode toward her. “Lucie, I didn’t expect to see you here. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

She blinked twice, her mind a complete blank. Her real reason was to snag the eligible bachelor in a marriage merger, but she couldn’t say that. As the silence between his question and her answer lengthened, she blurted, “I want to make a contribution to your campaign. But if you’re too busy, I’ll come back another time.” Feet getting colder by the minute, she sensed yet another opportunity for escape, another chance to bow out gracefully before she committed another heinous Voodoo blunder. She backed toward the still-open door.

“No, of course I’m not too busy. However, my campaign manager usually handles the contributions.”