by Elle James
“My nephew, Craig...” started.
Elaine's gaze swiveled back to the older man and she groaned inwardly. Why, when she thought she had her act together, did she continue to run into reminders of the half-naked Cajun with the coal-black hair and ice-blue eyes? Had it been so long since she'd had hot steamy sex that the first attractive man she saw made her ready to jump his bones?
She recalled sex with Brian and shook her head. No, those experiences had been anything but hot and steamy. But here in the sultry swampland where beads of perspiration pooled between her breasts and rolled downward to the band of her trousers, all kinds of images slid through her imagination. All of them included gliding her naked skin against Craig Thibodeaux's smooth, incredibly sexy muscles.
“So, what do you think?”
Elaine stared at Joe for a few seconds. Was he asking her a question? “I'm sorry; what did you say?”
Joe's blush deepened to a ruddy russet. “Would you consider going out with my nephew?”
His words slammed into her gut and plummeted lower, where they had no business plummeting. “Go out with your nephew? Craig?”
“Yeah.” Joe looked up and smiled, his expression as pleading as Dawg's had been out on the porch. “He really is a nice guy, once you get to know him.”
“Let me get this straight. You're asking me to go out with your nephew, Craig?”
Joe nodded, twisting his hat in his hand.
“Not that I'm interested, but why doesn't he ask me himself?”
“Oh, he doesn't know I'm asking for him. And frankly, I don't think he'd be pleased to find out I had asked for him. But if he does ask you, will you give him the benefit of the doubt and say yes?”
Elaine's breath quickened at the thought of going on a date with Craig. “I'm going out alone on a boat with him tonight. Isn't that enough?”
“I know this is strange, but try to get to know him.” Joe glanced at the mangled hat in his hands. “He's a little shy around the girls.”
Elaine propped a hand on her hip. “That's not what Ms. Reneau said.”
Joe frowned. “Mozelle is nothing more than a gossip. I wouldn't listen to her.”
“She said you were the black sheep of your family. Is that true?” Elaine couldn't believe she'd asked such a pointed question, but she was so flustered by Joe's asking her to consider going on a date with Craig she'd spoken without thinking.
Joe's lips tightened. “She's got no right to be telling complete strangers my life history. What's happened in my family is my own business, not hers.”
Immediately, Elaine felt contrite. She hadn't meant to pry. It wasn't like her to take any notice of gossip. She tried to get back to the issue at hand. “By the looks of him, Craig could date any woman he wanted. Why do you want me to go out with him?” Elaine tipped her head to the side. “And why does he walk around half-clothed?”
Joe gulped and tugged at his collar. “It's mighty hot around here in the summertime.”
Elaine laughed. “I hope most of the men in Bayou Miste don't try to beat the heat in the same way. I'm not guaranteeing I'll accept an offer of a date from your nephew, but I'll definitely think about it.”
Joe mumbled and turned toward the door. “That's what he gets for messing with a voodoo queen.”
Did Joe say voodoo queen? Elaine shook her head. Perhaps she'd heard wrong. “What was that you said?”
“Nothing.” Joe waved a hand over his shoulder. “I gotta get back to the bait shop. I left a motor running or something.”
“Thanks for helping me unload.” When Joe didn't turn or respond, she added, “I'll keep your request in mind.”
The older man turned and smiled. “You won't be sorry.”
She already was. If Craig wasn't the only guide she knew in the area, she'd keep as far away from him as possible. He unsettled her, and she didn't like to feel unsettled.
Elaine stood at the door for several minutes watching Joe amble down the road toward the bait shop. When he was hallway there, Elaine realized he'd left Dawg.
She waved her hand at the animal and nudged him with her foot. “Go on, Dawg. Go home.” Dawg stood, his tail thumping against the wooden planks of the front porch.
The animal's eyes were so soft and beseeching, Elaine caved and opened the door to go back inside and unpack. “Fine. You stay on the porch. See if I care.” She turned around to look back at him, but he'd gone. Elaine shook her head, marveling at the comings and goings around Bayou Miste.
She had a lot of work to do before evening and her rendezvous with the other Mr. Thibodeaux. At the thought of the Cajun hotty the trail of perspiration between her breasts increased. Unfortunately, the temperature outside had nothing to do with the tingling sensations rippling through her body. Damn her hormones! She marched to the window air conditioner and turned it down several notches to chill her skin.
CHAPTER FIVE
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“Craig! Craig!” The loud screech of the screen door heralded Uncle Joe's arrival at the marina.
Since he'd woken after sunup, all green and slimy,
Craig had paced the floor. Well, as much as a frog could pace. He'd hopped a path back and forth across his little bedroom floor throughout the day. Like an idiot, he'd closed the door prior to his transformation into a frog. Once a frog, he was stuck in the bedroom until Uncle Joe came looking for him and let him out His frustration level had topped out hours ago.
After his visit with Madame LeBieu, and before his metamorphosis, he'd sat down with Uncle Joe and covered all the bases if anyone came looking for him during the day.
His father was bound to demand to know his where-abouts and why he hadn't sealed the deal with Littington. His “working vacation” was supposed to be over in two days. With plenty of work piled on his desk and awaiting his attention, the family law firm would be less than thrilled if he extended his stay indefinitely.
If anyone asked for him from Bayou Miste, Uncle Joe was to say he'd been summoned to a nearby town and he'd be back late. Craig would call Jason Littington the following evening to arrange for a night meeting.
If his father or brother called during the day, Uncle Joe was to tell them he was taking some time to catch up on his fishing and would return the call that evening.
Meanwhile, he was stuck as a frog during the day, which had its own set of challenges. He hadn't eaten since the night before and he was getting desperate enough to eat a twelve-pack of flies. But the back bedroom was fly free and his froggy belly was starving. He'd tried to get his mind off his hunger by thinking about solutions to his little problem, but he'd come up short of any foolproof answers. How did you argue with a spell, or a voodoo queen, for that matter?
To get a woman to fall in love with him would be a piece of cake. But he didn't want the lady in question to think he was committing to anything other than a convenient relationship to break an inconvenient spell.
He hadn't had a committed bone in his body since Tracy in law school. From that incident forth, he'd made it clear to the women he dated that he wasn't interested in a long-term relationship, which was one of the major factors in his decision to take this pseudo-vacation.
Ah, the lovely Cassandra, one of the newest partners in his family's law firm. Beauty and a razor-sharp intelligence were a killer combination. Craig shook his little green head. What a shame she'd only been hunting a diamond engagement ring. Like Tracy; it turned out she only wanted him for his family connections and money. For a brief period Craig had thought she was going to be different, but she'd turned out like all the rest He wondered if she'd ever really loved him. Not that he wanted her to... until now. He should call her.
“Where are you, dagblast it?” Uncle Joe's voice called out on the other side of the wooden panel.
Craig hopped away from the door to avoid being pancaked.
“Craig?” The door swung open and his uncle towered above
him. “There you are.” Uncle Joe squatted near the floor. “That is you, isn't it?”
Craig nodded.
Uncle Joe grinned. “Takes a little gettin' used to, havin' a frog for a nephew. Almost thought I dreamt it all up.” He clapped his hands together once.
The sound reverberated through Craig's head and he staggered backward.
“I've got good news. That scientist doesn't have any significant other hangin' around New Orleans waitin' for her to come back. You can ask her out. That is, as soon as you're up to it. Get it?” Uncle Joe laughed so hard he fell back off his heels and landed on his backside.
Craig wished he could take credit for knocking his uncle over. How could he make fun of his nephew when he was in such a dire predicament?
Now, what had his uncle said about the scientist lady? She was single? Craig cringed. As if he needed his uncle to set him up with women. He could do that on his own.
And the scientist looked like someone with relatively little experience in the field of love. She'd definitely expect more than Craig was willing to give. Her moss-green eyes would look up at him and beg him to love her in return. No, Craig needed a woman who fell easily in and out of love. One who would be heartbroken for all of a day, until Craig left Bayou Miste. Then she'd move on to the next man. Craig knew the type, and Elaine didn't strike him as it.
“I even softened her up for you.”
Uh-oh. What did Uncle Joe mean by that?
“I asked her to consider going out with you and told her you were all right and not to listen to anyone who said otherwise.”
Craig croaked and flopped over on his back. Just what he needed, a matchmaking uncle.
“Craig! Are you all right? Didn't get a hold of a rotten fly now, did you?”
Craig flipped over onto his haunches and shook his head.
“Good. Gave me a heart attack.” Joe straightened. “Could you use some fresh air? I'll let you out the side door. Here, let me carry you.”
Craig hopped out of range of his uncle's hand and made his own hoppity way toward the door.
“Okay, okay. I get the hint. You always were a determined cuss. Have it your way.” Joe opened the door and allowed Craig to hop down the steps and out onto the grass.
Inside, the phone rang. Joe stared down at Craig and back to the bait shop. “Will you be all right out here by yourself? I'm going to answer that. Could be Littington.”
Craig nodded.
Uncle Joe dashed back inside to answer on the fourth ring.
The overgrown grass needed cuffing. Craig could barely see over the top of the jagged spears. He glanced down the road where Uncle Joe's rental house stood on the other side of Old Lady Reneau's. No one stirred outside in the midday heat.
He wasn't so certain being outside was a good idea. The world was a cruel place for a small green frog. Craig peered back at the bait shop. He could see beneath the porch. He never realized how dark and sinister the underside of the porch appeared. What dangers lurked there? He imagined a huge snake waiting to swallow him whole. Death by digestion. He shuddered.
“Woof!”
Craig jumped a full foot off the ground, his heart thumping against the thin wall of his chest. The grass cushioned his fall and he leaped to the side.
Behind him hovered a beagle, half the size of Dawg, but twenty times the size of Craig.
“Woof!”
The sound deafened Craig's ears and he raced for the steps to the bait shop. He didn't stand a chance of making it up the steps, but he could duck beneath. Suddenly, the underside of the bait shop didn't look so menacing. Next to the slobbering black, white and tan beagle, it was a haven, should he reach it before the dog decided to take a bite out of him.
Two inches from sanctuary sharp teeth closed around Craig, locking him behind the canine bars of ivory. The smell of dog food and dead animals permeated his senses.
Craig freaked and puffed out his body. His skin oozed a natural coating of bitter-smelling oil. The dog gagged and Craig fell from its mouth to the grass below.
Craig staggered to all four feet and gazed up at the beagle. The dog foamed at the mouth and shook his head, obviously trying to get rid of the nasty taste of scared frog.
Huh! Serves him right. Eating defenseless frogs.
A deep-voiced bark sounded from the house down the street and Craig looked up in time to see Dawg barreling down the road toward him and the beagle.
The beagle stared at the much larger animal, tucked his tail between his legs and sped off in the opposite direction.
Way to go Dawg! That's putting the fear in him. When Dawg reached Craig, he ground to a halt, his back end swinging around the front of his body. He sniffed Craig and whined.
Craig could swear the dog knew him. If so, Dawg was a lot smarter than he'd ever given him credit for.
Dawg nudged Craig with a cool dry nose, knocking him over. Then a long wet tongue snaked out to rasp against his chest. The ground shook with rhythmic thumping. Craig's heart kicked into hyperdrive. Was it the voodoo drums? He righted himself and noticed Dawg's tail whacking the ground.
Damned wishful thinking. That old witch wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy. She wanted him to grovel and suffer for a while. To hell with that. He'd think of something or someone to get him out of this.
Craig glanced around. Yeah, but who and what?
Mo and Larry ambled down the street, two very large characters in a small town. They'd make great bouncers in a New Orleans bar.
Larry leaned down and scooped up a little green frog resting in the grass. Bringing his hand up to eye level, he whispered in a voice loud enough for Old Lady Reneau to hear, “Hey, Craig, is that you?”
“Of course it ain't him. Dat frog don' look nothin' like Craig.”
“How you know what Craig looks like as a frog? Have you seen him yet?” Larry placed the frog in question back on the ground.
“Course not, fool! I think he'd look like a lot smarter frog den dat. Oat one's hoppin' away like it don' know me.”
Craig croaked a laugh.
Larry cupped a hand to his mouth and yelled. “Craig!”
Both men wore the maintenance uniforms of Littington Enterprises, crumpled and dirty from a hard day's work.
“Hey, there be Dawg. You thank dat be Craig with him?”
Mo leaned down to stare at him. “Nah, this frog looks dumb too.”
“Yeah, but you know how Dawg hangs with the boy like he ain't got any better sense.”
Mo tipped his head sideways and frowned. “That you, Craig? If it is, hop twice.”
Craig rolled his eyes, a technique infinitely easier as a frog. He hopped twice.
Larry grinned widely and rocked back on his heels. “What do you know? It is Craig.”
“Yeah,” Mo grumbled, “but he still don't look too smart”
Larry planted a hand on his hip. “Have you ever seen a smart frog, Mo?”
“Guess you got a point” Mo dropped to the step beside Craig. “Hey, man, Larry and! got this thang figured out.”
Craig nodded his head, hoping to encourage Mo to continue.
“We thank we got you some ways out of dis problem.”
All right already, spit it out! Would they go and plead with the old bat to free his body to return to normal? Would they sacrifice themselves to allow him to be free?
Larry plopped onto the stoop and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, carefully straightening it. “We made a list of candidates.”
Candidates? Oh no, not them too? Between Larry, Mo and Uncle Joe, they'd have him married off before the sun rose on a new day.
“Yeah, we figured you could use some help, being as you're a little short on time.” Larry snickered. “Short, get it?”
Mo elbowed him. “Get on with it.”
“Anyway, we thought of every single woman in the parish who might fall for you. Top of the list is DeeDee DuBois.” Larry lifted a hand. “Just hear me out She's twenty-four and available. B
etter still, she doesn't have any prospects.”
“Larry put her on da list. Personally, I couldn't get past her slack jaw and pockmarks, but she'd be willing and would fall in love within da first fifteen minutes of a date. Hell, she'd fall in love with a warthog, she's dat desperate.”
Craig used his front foot to make a gagging motion.
“No?” Larry looked down the list. “Maddie Golinski.”
“She's too young. I thought we took her off da list. She's only fifteen. Give it to me.” Mo snatched the list and continued down.
“How about Lisa LeBieu?”
Craig shook his head side to side in a swift motion. No way. She was the one who got him into this pickle in the first place.
“Guess not.” Mo ran his finger farther down the list.
“I'm sorry to say, but dis town don't have many unattached girls. All da good ones been spoke for. You gonna have to settle for one of da not so good ones.”
Craig hung his head.
“Cheer up buddy. At least you be seeing dem at night. If you find a dark enough place, you can pretend she's pretty.” Larry smiled. “Dat's what I do.”
“You're a sad, sad little man, Larry.”
Larry frowned and stood. “Am not!”
Mo rose, a full two inches taller than Larry. “Are too.”
“Not!”
“Too!”
Larry's frown lifted and he stared down at Craig. “Hey, I just remembered. What about my sister, Josephine?”
Craig remembered a gangly preteen in pigtails. Josie, the little girl who used to kick him in the shins.
“You haven't seen Josie in eight years. She be all growed and not half bad to look at.”
Mo crinkled his eyes into a narrow squint and touched a finger to his chin. Finally, he shrugged. “Hate to admit it, but Larry's got a point. She's just returned from beauty school.”
“Yeah, she's learned a trade and everythang. 'Bout to drive Mom and the girls nuts doin' all their hair and nails.”
Craig couldn't get past the image of the twelve-year-old Josie. And his best friend's sister. Since he didn't plan on a lifelong commitment, he couldn't get involved with a friend's sister.
