Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (9 page)

“Oh, no, I’m waiting for Lucie to take my order,” Eric said. “She should make it over here soon. I’d much prefer her to bring my beer. She’s better-looking. No offense.”

Ben smacked his palm on the table. “Well, I’m not waiting.”

A grin lifted the corner of Eric’s mouth. “Ben Boyette, you’re avoiding my question.”

“Man’s got a right.”
To avoid a question and to get his own beer
.

With a shrug, the blond man sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Suit yourself. But I suspect there’s more to your story than you’re letting on.”

A lot more. And you’re not getting it, buddy
. Ben lurched from his chair and stomped toward the bar. As he passed by folks he knew, they raised a hand and smiled in greeting, only to drop the smile and settle for a subdued
Hi
. Ben realized he was scowling like a cranky black bear and forced himself to walk like a normal person, masking his emotions in a friendly Cajun grimace.

Once again, Lucie LeBieu had slipped under his skin and made him itch.

Determined not to stare around the saloon, he kept his eyes on his goal, the bar. He ordered a beer and exchanged a few pleasantries with Jean. A moment later he didn’t recall a single word of their conversation.

Longneck in hand, he turned back in time to see Lucie smiling and laughing down at Eric Littington. With her equipment, her tank top should have been declared indecent. And those shorts. Well, Ben’s mamma had taught her daughters better than that. Why, every man in the room was staring at her like she was a side of slow-roasted meat. Good enough to salivate over and most definitely good enough to eat.

He groaned. His footsteps slowed and faltered until he barely moved. Every step closer raised his blood pressure another notch and his libido exponentially. What was
wrong
with him? He didn’t care about her anymore. He didn’t love Lucie as he had seven years ago. She was trouble now, and had been from the get-go.

But he couldn’t help himself. And he couldn’t stand by and let her flirt with Eric. He had to interfere. Every ounce of testosterone screamed for him to do something about it. She just wasn’t right for Eric.

Then who the hell
was
she right for?

Me.
The irritating little voice in his head shouted,
Me! Me! Me!

A bellow from two tables beyond her caught Lucie’s attention. She excused herself from Eric and hurried to take another order. But instead of going back to the bar she turned down the corridor to the ladies’ room.

Like a hunting dog closing in on the fox, Ben slipped into the shadows of the hallway and waited for her to come out.

As he lurked at the end of the corridor, hidden in the corner, he knew his actions were bizarre and unwarranted, but he couldn’t stand by and let her continue to target Eric. He had to show her how wrong she was.

Several women exited the bathroom.

He leaned on the wall and willed his blood to quit pounding against his ears. But as soon as Lucie stepped through the doorway, his heart hammered against the wall of his chest. Quickly, before she could dart out of the hall, he grabbed her from behind and pulled her to him.

She gasped and jabbed her elbow into his ribs.

Sharp pain shot out from the point of contact, but he didn’t let go of his grip on her arm.

“Let me go, or I’ll scream,” she warned.

“Jeez, Lucie, it’s just me,” he gasped out.

“Ben?” She turned to face him. “What the hell are you doing lurking outside the ladies’ restroom?”

“Maybe I was headed for the men’s room.” He dropped her arm and pressed his fingers to his ribs. “Ouch. I think you broke my rib.”

“You deserved it.” After a moment, her tight lips softened and she sighed. “Here, let me see.” With deft fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt down to where his hand still pressed to his rib cage. “Move.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her knuckles brushed his chest, the touch doing crazy things to his erratic heartbeat. But when she reached inside and pressed her fingertips to his skin over the sore spot, he’d had all he could stand. He pinned her to the wall, trapping her hand between them
.

“Do you know what you do to me?” His voice was a low growl.

Like a cornered animal, her eyes widened, and her gaze darted to either side of him. “Let me go,” she said in a breathy whisper.

His raging body demanded more. He couldn’t let her go if his life depended on it. He told himself he would only kiss her once, to prove Eric wasn’t the one for her. But the rampaging testosterone in his body told him once would never be enough—not with Lucie.

With one hand caressing her cheek, he slid the backs of his other fingers up her bare arm to trail across her collarbone.

She shivered beneath his touch, goose bumps rising on her creamy arm. “Your skin is just as I remembered it. Smooth and” —he leaned down to inhale her fragrance, his lips lingering near her neck—“smelling of roses.”

Her warmth drew him to her and he pressed a light kiss to the pulse beating in her throat. Branding a slow, deliberate path upward, he brushed his lips against her chin and across to claim her mouth. The kiss was everything he’d been fantasizing, and more. Much more.

With a sigh, she leaned into him, ever closer, her hips firmly pressed against his, her arms snaking around his neck. She threaded her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him even deeper into the kiss.

He felt as though he’d come home. This was where he belonged, in this woman’s arms, kissing her, holding her, loving her like there was no tomorrow and no yesterday. Just here, now. Only the two of them.

His tongue dove deep, twisting and sparring with hers, their kiss taking on a frantic urgency. Her hands slipped inside his shirt, climbing up his chest to feather through the curls there and tweak his nipples.

His blood on fire, he leaned into her, pushing his knee between her legs. He wanted to shove her high up the wall and down over him, taking her right there.

“Ah-
hem
.” A feminine voice sounded behind him, but he couldn’t focus on anything but Lucie. His head was in a sex-induced fog.

Lucie broke the kiss first. “Ohmigod,” she whispered. Then she pushed at him, fighting to be free.

“Next time you two should get a room.”

He stepped away from Lucie and turned toward the source of the interruption.

Alex.

“There won’t be a next time.” Lucie’s face was flushed, with a thin sheen of perspiration glowing in the dim light from the ancient fixtures. “This shouldn’t have happened. It changes nothing.” She poked a finger into his chest. “Ben Boyette, you stay away from me, do you hear? Stay
away
from me.” Then she turned and fled back into the crowded barroom.

Were those tears he’d seen shimmering on her eyelashes? Imagine that. Lucie LeBieu never cried. He must really have gotten to her.

A smile curled the edges of his lips.

“I wouldn’t be so smug.” His sister crossed her arms over her chest and shot him a look that reminded him of their mother.

“She still has feelings for me,” he said. The thought exploded in his chest.

“Yeah, but there’s seven-year-old baggage that goes with those feelings. Something to do with words said in anger.” Alex tapped her chin. “Hmm. Do the words ‘You’re nothing but a teasing bayou bimbo’ ring a bell?”

His brows furrowed. How did she know about those stupid words he’d said all those years ago? “In case you’ve forgotten, Lucie dumped
me
.”

Alex shook her head and turned to leave. “You men are so damn clueless.”

He reached out and snagged Alex’s arm. “What are you talking about?” Something wasn’t right with this entire picture. “Didn’t you hear me? Lucie dumped me back then. Why would she do that if she still loves me? It makes no sense.”

“Maybe you should ask her.” With that parting shot, his sister shook off his hand and left him standing in the darkened hallway, feeling like the clueless man women were always complaining about.

Damn.

Couldn’t Alex give him a break and just spell it out?

Chapter Nine

Ah, this was the life
. Lucie arrived at the parish pavilion in Eric’s smooth, sexy BMW. A good-looking man beside her, the smell of leather and luxury filling the air—what more could she want?

Ben Boyette
, a little voice whispered in her head.

Shut up! I don’t need the man
. He didn’t care a fig about her, so she had to get him firmly out of her head.

Somehow.

“Something wrong?” Eric asked.

Huh? Oh, yeah. She was with Eric. She sent him a dazzling smile. “No, no. What could possibly be wrong?”

“I don’t know, but you looked like you were about to start a fight with your seat belt.” He pulled the car into the pavilion’s gravel lot, shifted into park, and turned toward her.

She immediately loosened her grip on the silvery safety strap and forced a smile wider on her lips. “I must have been daydreaming.”

“Well, I hope you weren’t daydreaming about me, then. If I went by the look on your face, I’d be tarred, feathered, and hung out to dry.”

Lucie winced. “That bad?”

“Yes.” His gentle grin lightened his response.

“If it helps, I wasn’t terrorizing you in my dream. I was just thinking of work.” That wasn’t too far from the truth. She’d been at work when Ben had kissed her.

“Well, tonight you don’t have to think about work. Just concentrate on having a good time. With me.” He leaned close.

Oh, lord. He was going to kiss her. A sudden surge of panic pressed against her lungs.

He flicked the button and released her seat belt. “I have to warn you, since this shindig was an open invitation to everyone in the parish, there might be reporters here.”

“Is that a problem?” Reporters were a norm around Bayou Miste, ever since the big chemical dumping issue. Protesters brought as many as they could into the bayou.

“Well, they do get in the way sometimes and ask a lot of questions,” Eric said.

“I should think you would be very good at answering their questions, in your line of work.”

“Yes, but since you’re with me they’ll be asking you questions, too.”

“Oh.” Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Being Eric’s date had inherent social obligations. Hmm. “Don’t worry.” She smiled brightly. “I won’t embarrass you.”
I hope
.

“I don’t think you could ever embarrass me. I just meant for you to be prepared. They may ask some very personal questions.” His lips twisted. “Sometimes they aren’t very tactful.”

“I’ll consider myself forewarned.”

He climbed out of the sports car and hurried around to open the door for her.

She’d have to thank her friends for helping her shop for the perfect dress for the occasion. The smooth, silk crepe hugged her body from her breasts to her hips where the skirt flared out, swirling down to midcalf. The creamy white fabric complemented her black hair and deep, olive skin tones. Although she was still Lucie LeBieu inside, the clothes definitely gave her the confidence she needed to stand beside Eric.

As she hooked her arm through the congressional candidate’s elbow, she fixed her smile on her face and prepared to meet her future.

“Eric, Lucie, good to see you.” Ben joined them as soon as they stepped beneath the pavilion. Dressed in scrumptious black jeans accentuating the taut muscles beneath, and topped by a matching long-sleeved black shirt, he looked incredible.

Lucie wanted to stomp her high-heeled foot. Why couldn’t Ben just disappear off the face of the earth? He always managed to show up wherever she was and throw off her focus.

On second thought, why should she care?

She glanced up, her gaze meeting his. Warmth spread from her chest downward. Okay, so staring into Ben’s eyes wasn’t such a good idea. She looked away first. Back to Eric—her future.

“Ben,” Eric shook his hand. “How’s the bug business?”

“Great.” Ben grinned. “Neutralizing as many as I can find.”

Was that a wink Eric gave Ben? She must be seeing things. Ben and Eric sure were spending a lot of time together for a potential congressman and an ordinary bug exterminator. Okay, so Ben wasn’t so ordinary. But he was a bug exterminator. Not that killing bugs was a bad business to be in, especially in southern Louisiana.

“Please excuse us.” Eric gave his smooth politician’s smile. “I’d better make my presence known to my father.”

“By all means.” Ben sketched a mocking bow. A slow, sexy smile spread across his face as his gaze slid up her legs.

Damn Cajun
. Didn’t he know when to give up? Didn’t he know they were finished seven years ago?

Then why did his kiss bother her so much?

“Lucie,” Eric was saying, “I’d like you to meet my father, Jason Littington.”

Oh yeah, she was with Eric
. A man who resembled an older version of her date held out his hand. She had to pull herself together. She’d do well to display her best manners and behavior if she wanted to make a good impression on her future father-in-law. She took the proffered hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Littington.” There, that wasn’t so hard. She could do this.

“The pleasure is mine.” He half-bowed over her hand in a charming, old-fashioned way. “I’ve heard so much about you.” His suave words were a contradiction to his slightly narrowed eyes.

Instead of feeling flattered, she had a sudden attack of nerves. In the older man’s firm, almost painful grip on her hand, she sensed latent animosity. And what did he mean he’d heard so much about her?

She stopped short of defending herself. That would only lend credence to whatever rumors he’d digested as gospel. With as much grace as she could hope for, she pulled her hand free and playfully batted her long lashes at the man. “Oh, don’t believe everything you hear, unless it was all good. You can believe that.”

Eric’s face was a little pale and strained. Apparently, she had been a topic of discussion in the Littington household, and father and son had varying opinions. Interesting. A twinge of guilt rippled through her stomach. She hated to be the object of contention between the men. But if she wanted to attain her goal of saving her grandmother’s home and getting the hell out of Bayou Miste, she’d have to suck it up and make it right.

“Mr. Littington, I think it’s great what you’re doing toward the cleanup effort in the swamp. I know you weren’t responsible for the chemical dumping, and think it quite magnanimous of you and Littington Enterprises to fund the effort to remove the toxins.”

Wow. She sounded as good as any politician running for office. Butter up the backers, that’s how to win a campaign.

“I understand you work at the Raccoon Saloon.” The elder Littington completely ignored her eloquence with a statement that wasn’t a question. As if he implied her job as a barroom waitress wasn’t good enough.

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled, and her fighting instincts kicked in. What the heck did he expect? That she could afford to sit at home and learn needlepoint, paint her nails, and eat bonbons all day?

Eric cupped her elbow. “Dad, if you’ll excuse us, I believe Miss LeBieu would like a drink, wouldn’t you, Lucie?”

Before his father could protest, Eric led her in the direction of the bar.

“You warned me about reporters, but you didn’t warn me about your father.” She cringed at how waspish she sounded, but her nerves were just a little on the frayed side.

“I’m sorry. My father’s behavior was inexcusable. His heart is generally in the right place, but he gets a little nearsighted when it comes to his only son.”

“I see.” She ground to a stop, pulling her elbow free of his grip. “And I’m not good enough for you?”

“Oh, you’re good enough for me.” He grinned. “You’re great for me.”

“But it’ll take a little more convincing to win your father’s approval.” Poor Eric. Up against his father over her.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Sweet tea, please.” She figured alcohol, a future father-in-law, and reporters wouldn’t mix at this party.

“I’ll be right back, don’t go away.” Eric got in line behind a number of locals intent on making the most of the open bar.

“Did you find the bug yet?” A feminine voice whispered into her ear.

Lucie turned to find Calliope dressed in a wispy, floral halter dress. Beside her stood DeeDee Dubois in a very flattering cotton sundress in pastel peach. Her bushy brown hair was combed neatly and pulled back from her face, emphasizing her high cheekbones.

“Ohmigosh, DeeDee.” Lucie backed up a step, her gaze sweeping over the other woman. “You look fabulous.”

Well, as fabulous as DeeDee could look. Her facial features tended to resemble those of a bulldog, but with the shy smile and a little lipstick, she almost looked pretty.

“Thanks, Lucie.” DeeDee blushed and ducked her head
.
“Calliope made me her science project for the night.”

Lucie hugged Calliope, then DeeDee. “I’d say her experiment worked. You look great.” She glanced behind them. “Where’s Alex?”

Calliope balanced on her toes and spun in a circle. “She’s here somewhere. Ah, there she is.”

“Where?” Lucie asked.

“Behind the column at the dark end of the pavilion.”

“What’s she doing there?” DeeDee asked.

Calliope chuckled. “Her mother’s here and she’s snagged another man for Alex to consider.”

Barbara Boyette had Larry Ezelle by the elbow, leading him around like a dog on a very short leash.

“Poor Alex.” While Mrs. Boyette wasn’t looking her way, Lucie grinned and waved at her friend. “We really need to find her a man before her mother drives her nuts.”

“Oh yeah, right. We.” Calliope rolled her eyes. “If you get your way, there will be no ‘we.’ Looks like it’ll be totally up to me. You’ll be in DC.”

“Are you going to Washington, Lucie?” DeeDee asked.

“Er…” Lucie caught Eric’s gaze. That was the plan. Although, the excitement just wasn’t there. “Maybe someday.”

The band started a new set with a lively rendition of “Whatever Boils Your Crawfish.”

“That song is one of my favorites. Come on.” Calliope grabbed DeeDee’s arm, steering her toward the action.

“I’ll join you in a bit,” Lucie called after them.

But they didn’t respond. DeeDee and Calliope had already made it to the bandstand and dance floor that Eric and his father had erected for the occasion. The two women laughed, tapping their toes to the music.

The fiddle player flirted with them, jumping down from the stage to play for the two ladies before he made his way around the dance floor.

A sad smile curved Lucie’s lips. She’d miss her friends and the music you could only find here in the Louisiana bayous. Washington, DC, would be a lot different.

The song changed to a slow, haunting melody about a woman whose lover never returned from war. A sudden yearning, so overwhelming she could hardly breathe, filled her chest. She glanced toward Eric, still making his way to the front of the drinks line.

He shrugged at her and turned to answer a question from the man standing beside him.

Couples crowded onto the dance floor, moving into tight embraces, swaying to the strains of the song. Craig Thibodeaux drew his new fiancée, Elaine, into his arms.

Poor Craig. Lucie’s twin had caused him so much grief when she’d tried to make a play for him. That Lisa was bad news. Seeing Craig and Elaine locked in each other’s arms, she was glad her sister’s interference hadn’t worked. The couple was right together—their love practically oozed from the pores of their skin.

Must be nice.

What would it feel like to be held like that? To be loved so completely you’d sacrifice your life for another? She’d felt that way about Ben. Had sacrificed her needs for him. And for what? Only to be told she was just like her sister—nothing more than a bayou bimbo. That had been his parting shot those seven long years ago.

But before that disastrous day and those hurtful words, Ben had held her close and she had known magic.

“Dance with me.” A strong arm circled her waist, the other reaching for her hand.

She melted against Ben, a natural progression from dream to reality. Her hand slipped around his neck and she leaned her cheek against his chest.

Wordlessly, she floated around the dance floor, refusing to allow rational thought to intrude and wake her from this fantasy. She and Ben had always seemed to fit, flowing together as if they’d partnered their entire lives. Her body knew his and responded to his every move in perfect synchrony.

With his chin resting against her temple, Ben dropped her hand and gathered her even closer, his hands sliding down her waist to balance on her hips. With increasing pressure, he pulled her hard against him until the ridge behind his button fly rubbed against her belly.

Liquid mercury coursed through her veins, sending tendrils of fire pulsing lower to the juncture of her thighs. Breathing grew difficult, but she didn’t care. Her body rubbing against his sizzled at every contact point. Trembling, her fingers convulsing, she clutched at his hair. She wanted more. She wanted to be naked beneath him, writhing at his touch and immersed in passion only Ben could induce. Skin to skin with nothing more between them than sweat.

“May I cut in?”

Ben jerked to a halt, his head coming up, staring down at her as if asking the ultimate question.

Still dazed by what could only be considered foreplay on the dance floor, she tried to focus on Ben. Then her gaze shifted to Eric.

Holy cypress knees! What had she done?

The fire burning low in her belly extinguished, to be replaced by the warmth stealing up her neck. She glanced around to see how many people had watched her and Ben practically make love to the music. She repressed a groan when Calliope gave her a thumbs-up.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Warm hands squeezed around her waist and she realized Ben still held her, the music was still playing, and the world, other than Calliope, hadn’t stopped to gawk at her humiliation.

She jumped back, brushing her fingers down her dress, schooling her face into an innocent smile.

Ben’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but then he turned and waved a gracious hand toward her. “Of course you can have her, Eric. I was just warming her up for you.”