Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (5 page)

“Can I leave my phone number for him?”

“Sure.” Eric grabbed a card and pen from his desk and handed it to her.

After she’d jotted her number on the back, she smiled and handed it to Eric. “Call me sometime.”

Eric reached out and grabbed her hands. “Please, stay. I’ve been thinking about you since I saw you at the Raccoon Saloon last night.”

Warmth spread up her neck into her cheeks.
Just great
. He’d seen her in her waitress outfit. Not necessarily first lady or congressman’s wife material…

She tried a carefree laugh that came out a pathetically nervous giggle. “Oh, that. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t dress like that, normally. Nor do I engage in barroom fights on a regular basis.” Wow, that sounded really bad. What congressional candidate even spoke to a woman who got into a barroom fight? She mentally kicked herself for succumbing to the need to deck LeRoy last night.

“What a shame.” He smiled, his voice melting into her skin like heated butter. “It was the highlight of my evening.”

Maybe there was still hope. “You mean you don’t think less of me?” Lucie forced a flirty smile she didn’t really feel.

With a grin smoothing across his face, he squeezed her hands. “I could never think badly of you.” A devilish twinkle lit his eyes. “Not even if you took to the tabletops and stripped.”

She matched his grin. “Sorry, not in my repertoire.”

She hadn’t known Eric well in school. Four years older than her, he’d gone off to a private boarding academy in New Orleans before she had gotten a chance to get to know him. She remembered he used to hang out with Ben at the Boyettes’ house, but beyond that, he was a stranger.

His clear blue eyes smiled down at her. “Do I pass?”

For the second time in as many minutes, warmth flooded her cheeks. He was smart, but was he clairvoyant? Could he read her mind? Did he know she was after him as her future husband, the future father of her children? Her one-way ticket out of the swamps?

For once she was at a loss for words. She’d rehearsed her reason for being there, but now with the time at hand, those butterflies had turned into condors beating the insides of her belly with powerful wings. Her grandmother would say her conscience was warring with her
.

The silence stretched longer and she still hadn’t answered his question. “I’m sorry…what did you ask me?”

“Did I pass?”

“Oh yes! Of course!” Her brain kicked in gear and she coughed, initiating her plan. “I have a tickle in my throat. Do you happen to have some water?” She didn’t have to fake the cough much. She’d almost choked on her lie.

Gran LeBieu would wash her mouth with soap if she knew Lucie was lying. Hell, she’d do a lot worse if she found out what her granddaughter was up to.

She knew her grandmother better than anyone else. Gran paraded her gruff, don’t-mess-with-me attitude for the masses, but beneath her Voodoo queen persona was a heart of gold. The heart Lucie had grown to love and rely on.

Her grandmother also believed in what was right. And what she was about to do wasn’t right. She knew that. But…what option did she have?

She glanced around the office, noting the solid mahogany desk, the smell of furniture polish, leather couches, and oil paintings. Her choices were simple—swamp or luxury.

Swamp. Luxury. Swamp. Luxury.

The tinkle of ice cubes clinking against crystal glass jerked her back to the present situation. With renewed determination, Lucie dug in her purse and removed the pill bottle.

As Eric, with his back to the room, poured water from a glass pitcher, she uncapped the bottle and stared down at her future.

Chapter Five

Ben made a complete sweep of Jason Littington’s office and found nothing. No bugs, funky wires, or miniature cameras. On his way back through to speak with his friend, he reached for the doorknob and paused. Was that a feminine voice?

Eric wasn’t alone.

And he’d recognize that sound anywhere. Lucie’s voice drifted through the slight opening in the doorway between Eric’s office and his father’s.

What the hell?
Ben’s first instinct was to charge in and demand to know what she was doing there. Thank God his investigative instincts kicked in. He hovered near the door, out of sight. Wouldn’t hurt to know why she was there to see Eric
.
He considered it part of his job to know who was spending time with the congressional candidate. How better to protect him?

And if he felt a little twinge of jealousy, he wouldn’t let it affect his work. No sir. He was a professional. Even where Lucie LeBieu was concerned.

Especially
where Lucie was concerned.

He peeked through the doorway.

Eric stood at the bar pouring water into a glass. Lucie had her back to Ben, digging in her purse.

With the barest nudge, he opened the door a little more. The hinge creaked. He ducked out of sight and peered through the narrow slit between the hinges like a young voyeur sneaking a peek into the girl’s locker room. Only he was close to thirty. And Lucie stood in the other room, doing who knew what. Though, that outfit was nearly skimpy as underwear…

Her digging stopped and she glanced back over her shoulder toward Eric, exposing her profile to Ben’s view.

One hand shot out, and she shook a small plastic bottle over the massive mahogany desk.

Ben squinted, but couldn’t see what, if anything, fell onto the polished wood.

“Here.” Eric held out a glass of water to Lucie.

Without missing a beat, she turned and smiled, accepting the glass with one hand, while her other hand dropped the bottle in her purse. “Thank you, Eric.” She walked toward the portrait behind the desk and pointed. “Who is that man?”

What the heck was she doing? Her finger pointed at the painting, but she wasn’t looking at it. Instead, she scanned the top of the desk and the surrounding floor.

“That’s my Grandfather Littington. He built this corporation from the ground up.” Eric’s shoulders pushed back and his chest swelled. “Despite the ugliness of the chemical spill—”

“Which wasn’t your fault,” Lucie cut in, a frown dipping between her eyes as she looked around.

“—the Littingtons have always strived to make this business one the community could be proud of.”

Ben had heard this line before.

“Hey, you don’t have to preach to me.” Apparently, Lucie had heard it, too.

Eric cleared his throat and took her hands in his. “Sorry. That is actually part of the speech I’m giving tomorrow in Bayou Miste’s town square.”

Ben’s fists tightened. Did Eric have to hold her hands so…so
much
?

Not that he cared, or anything.

The desk phone buzzed.

Eric sighed and dropped her hands. “I’m sorry, but do you mind if I answer?”

“No, go right ahead.” Lucie rubbed her hands on her skirt. “Do you want me to wait out in the hallway?”

“No, stay right where you are.” Eric winked, punched the speakerphone button, and stared across at her. “Yes?”

“Mr. Littington, the protesters are back at the gate.” The secretary’s voice called out over the intercom. “What do you want done? Should I call the police?”

“No, no. They have a right to protest.” Eric lifted the receiver to his ear and punched off the speakerphone. He strode to the window and slid open the glass. A faint chant floated in. “So far, they don’t appear to be violent. As long as they don’t interfere with the employees coming in and out, leave them alone.”

Ben didn’t envy Eric’s life. To deal with campaign opposition shenanigans was enough, but to answer to a swarm of irate environmentalists was double the pain-in-the-neck.

Hidden behind the door, he felt more and more the amateur sleuth than the special investigator. Where was the high-powered detective he was known as in Baton Rouge? Why was he lurking behind a door, spying on Lucie LeBieu when he should be out solving murder cases?

Fed up with himself and his grade-school techniques, he shifted to step around the door.

A movement caught his attention and he froze.

Lucie scooped a small speck off the desk and tossed it into the air over Eric’s head. The spec spread its tiny wings and circled around, heading toward her, making an orbit around her head. Brows drawn together, Lucie flapped her hand, shooing the bug back at Eric.

Ben squinted. What kind of bug was it? And why was Lucie intent on directing it at Eric?

His attention still focused on the protest below, Eric remained oblivious to Lucie’s erratic movements. “Did you tell him my father left for the day?” Eric said into the phone. He glanced back at Lucie.

She wiggled the fingers on her upraised arm and smiled, then clamped her arm down at her side.

Eric mouthed the word “sorry” before he turned back to the window. “No, he won’t be available for comment today.” His toe dug into the thick burgundy carpet, and then his foot stilled and his head shot up. “Me?” Another look back at Lucie.

She stood as still as a lurking alligator, a silly, innocent smile pasted on her face. When Eric wasn’t looking, her eyes shifted upward, searching for the insect.

What was she up to? He shifted to get a better view of the entire room.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be right down.” Eric clicked a button on the phone and tossed it onto his desktop. Running a hand through his hair, he stepped up to Lucie. “I’m sorry, Lucie. Since my father isn’t here, they want me to come down and say a few words to the demonstrators.”

“Is it the group that’s been carrying signs all over Bayou Miste?” Lucie asked.

“Yeah. They won’t leave unless I talk with the reporter.”

“Don’t they know Littington Enterprises is paying for the cleanup?”

“Yeah, but any time chemical pollution is mentioned, the environmentalists see it as an opportunity for publicity.” He grimaced. “If I don’t say something, they could paint an unfavorable picture of my campaign.”

“They could make it ugly even if you do say something.”

“True, but at least I won’t have ignored them.” He caught her hands in his. “Will you wait here for me? I really wanted a chance to talk to you.”

Her gaze swept the room, her eyes rolling upward until they fixed on the bug circling over her and Eric’s heads. A smile spread across her face and she stared back into Eric’s eyes. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

He squeezed her hands and let go, hurrying out of the office. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” he called over his shoulder, the elevator’s beep ringing out in the hallway.

Ben took the opportunity to breathe deeply.

Good. With Eric out of the room, he had a chance to find out what Lucie was up to.

As soon as the office door swung closed, Ben eased out of the other room.

With her back to him, Lucie swung at the winged creature flying over her head. “Come here, little ladybug,” she said in a fierce whisper. “Can’t have you getting loose.”

The bug altered directions and flew straight at Ben.

He stared at the flying insect. What was all Lucie’s fuss about a harmless ladybug?

The woman in question spun on her heel in hot pursuit. When she saw him standing there, she planted both feet in the thick carpet, almost toppling over. “You!”

Her surprise was worth the tedious wait behind the door. A deep-throated laugh rushed up from his throat and almost erupted when the ladybug collided with his forehead
.
The red and black spotted critter dropped to the rug, almost blending in with the maroon-and-black Persian carpet.

He squatted and scooped the bug into his palm.

“Oh crap, oh crap.” Lucie danced around next to him, wringing her hands. Then she shoved her hand beneath his nose. “Give me that.”

With her fingers wiggling in his face, he bunched his fist, trapping the ladybug in his palm. Rising slowly to his feet, he studied her wide-eyed, flushed face. “Now, what would you be doing in Eric’s office with a ladybug, Lucie LeBieu?”

“I’m here visiting Eric, of course.” She shoved her hand out to him again. “I just wanted to catch the bug and take it outside where it belonged, that’s all.” Bright pink flags of color flew high on her cheekbones.

“Lucie, Lucie, Lucie.” Ben shook his head, his hand still firmly clutching the bug. “Your face gives you away. You’re lying, aren’t you?”

“No!” Dark brows drew downward. “Oh, keep the damned bug. I have to get back to work.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he glanced at his watch. “At two o’clock? Raccoon Saloon doesn’t open until 7:00 p.m.” Ben
tsked
his tongue. “Another lie? And you just promised Eric you’d stay until he got back. That makes three.”

“Shove it, Ben Boyette. If you’d just give me the darn bug, I’ll be leaving.”

Instead of complying with her demand, he circled around her, moving in slow, deliberate steps. “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing in Eric’s office?”

“It’s none of your business.” Lucie crossed her arms over her chest, her chin tilting up at a stubborn angle. “Besides, why should you care?” She reached out and flicked the bright red ant embroidered on his blue uniform. “You’re just the exterminator.”

Score one for the swamp witch. Direct hit to the ego. “Seems like this was the same argument we had seven years ago.”

“Yeah, and what did it buy you? You’re back in Bayou Miste. Why didn’t you stay gone?”

“Maybe—” He stepped closer until his face was only two inches from hers. Her floral fragrance assailed his senses. How well he remembered that scent. The impact hit him like a football tackle to his knee joints. He shook his head and moved closer.

She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. The bayou princess wasn’t backing down. He almost grinned. He liked it when she was feisty. She wasn’t scared of him or anyone else.

But she
was
bothered. Her breath quickened, as evidenced by the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the light-blue, low-cut shirt.

He smoothed the back of his knuckles along her neck and down to her collarbone. “Maybe I missed you.”

For half a second, she stood as if transfixed, her eyes wide, her breathing halted altogether. Then she snorted, a very unladylike sound. “When alligators fly, maybe. Ben Boyette, you’re so full of it.” She stepped back two paces and held out her hand. “Are you going to give me that bug, or what?”

The back of his hand still tingling, he had to reevaluate his position. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to touch Lucie. All the images envoked only laid open an old wound he wasn’t willing to expose.

Not here
.
Not now.

He’d spent the better part of the past seven years trying to shake the residual effects of Hurricane Lucie from his life. Touching her, feeling the warmth of her skin against his, was like stoking an eternal flame. How the hell was he going to put it out?

She stood there, her dark brown eyes shining bright, her hair slipping from the clip holding it behind her head. If he tweaked it just once, all that long, glorious black hair would slip free and tumble over her shoulders like so many times before.

“Well?” she demanded, her hand still out, palm upward, her deep brown eyes revealing a little… What? Desperation?

His fingers loosened and he almost caved in. But he stopped himself in time and clenched his hand around his prize.

No. He wouldn’t be lured into the eye of the storm again
.
Having weathered the turbulence once was more than enough for any man. He had to put some space between them. “If you just want to let the bug loose, let me do it for you.” Ben strode toward the window. He shoved his hand through the opening, his fist still closed
.
“Here goes.”

“No!” Lucie dove for him, slamming her body against his, grabbing for his hand.

Staggering against her attack, he opened his fingers.

The ladybug slipped free and dropped out of the window, falling…falling…

She lunged for the insect, grasping at air, her body tilting over the window ledge.

He caught her around the middle to keep her from following the bug. Like a punch in the gut, the warmth of her skin and flowery scent of her shampoo bombarded his senses once again. He fought the urge to pull her close and kiss her senseless. Just like old times.

For a moment he let his memories wash over him. Lucie in his arms felt so natural, so right. In a second, his resolve turned to mush, his muscles went slack.

Oh, no.
He clenched his teeth.
Not again.
Not Lucie.
She’d
rejected
him
, not the other way around.

Thank goodness all her attention was fixed on the bug’s descent. Otherwise she couldn’t have missed the blatant evidence of the surge of emotions and testosterone coursing through his body.

She sagged against his arms and tipped her head backward against his chest. “Oh, no,” she moaned. “Not again.”