by Elle James
“What about the frogs?”
“We'll come back for more tomorrow.”
Elaine's fingers paused in buttoning her blouse and she stared up at him. “More?”
“Frogs, damn it!” Craig practically leapt to his seat, rocking the boat in his hurry to get away from those eyes. Those trusting, sexy eyes. Eyes a man could easily lose himself in.
CHAPTER EIGHT
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Still sitting on the floor of the boat, Elaine pushed the hair from her face. “What if the boat is the one dumping the poison into the swamp?”
“All the more reason to get the hell out of here.” Craig flipped the switch on the motor and pulled a rope. The engine rumbled, but didn't start. He squeezed a rubber bulb on a hose and then pulled again. The engine sprang to life, idling in the water.
Elaine settled her glasses on her nose and carefully maneuvered to her seat. Instinctively, she leaned forward and touched a hand to Craig's knee. “We have to stop them.”
“I read about some big shot company dumping pollutants into the swamps. People in the area said they'd hired thugs to take potshots at anyone who'd come near the dumpsite. No one was able to prove it in the courts, but the locals swore by it. Some criminals will go to all lengths to avoid being caught, even killing. I'm not willing to take the chance.”
Craig stared down at her hand, his gaze intense.
Awareness shot all the way up her arm and down into her stomach. Not a good idea, Dr. Smith. She jerked her hand back to her lap, her fingers tingling. “We can't let them get away with killing the bayou.”
Craig drew in a long, deep breath. His eyebrows rose and he made a show of panning the contents of the boat. “What do you suggest we stop them with? Have you got a gun in that satchel? Hell, you've got everything else.”
Elaine shook her head, ignoring his sarcasm. “Everything but a gun. Can't we wait around and see who it is? Think about it. What better way to stop the polluting than to locate the source? We have to witness them in the act.”
“Honey, if we can see them, there's a good possibility they can see us. We don't have time to ditch the boat, and I'm not so sure you want to crawl around on the little islands in the dark. There full of snakes and alligators. Without a light...” shrugged and, looking over his shoulder, backed the boat away from the shore.
A shiver wiggled its way down her spine. “Okay, next time I'll pack a gun.”
Craig's attention shot back to Elaine. “You own one?”
She chewed her lower lip. “Actually, not. Does Joe sell them in his bait shop?”
“Yeah, but they're not like fishnets.” He flipped a switch on the engine, the motor revved and the boat shot forward. “There's a wait time associated with buying guns. Have you ever owned one?”
“No.” She hadn't thought about wait time. What did she know about buying a gun?
“And you've never fired one either, right?”
“No.” Okay, so maybe he had a point. But did he have to be so superior? “How difficult can it be?”
“I can tell you right now, I'm not getting in the same boat with you if you're packing a pistol.”
Her brows drew together behind the plastic rims of her glasses. Not that she wanted a gun, she'd never wanted one before. But his comment about not getting into the same boat cut to her pride. She'd worked with chauvinists who didn't think women belonged in scientific laboratories, as if they didn't have the brains God gave a gnat!
Just because she was a woman didn't mean she shouldn't be able to defend herself. She was as smart and capable as any man. Unless, of course, Craig was doing wicked things to her tongue or breasts. Then she had a hard time stringing, two coherent thoughts together.
Her eyes widened. Why did she suddenly have a propensity toward lusty thoughts about a man? She'd never fantasized about one before Craig. She needed to focus on her work. Men were nothing more than a distraction. Especially this one. And her behavior - well she hadn't beat him off with a stick - or a net, for that matter. Elaine mentally kicked herself for the next five minutes. How could she let her hormones take control? She'd practically thrown herself at this virtual stranger.
At least with her new awareness of dangers in the dark swamp, Elaine quit worrying about the water and focused on what human threat might be lurking in that water. Alligators seemed to be the least of their troubles.
If the boat they'd heard belonged to the ones responsible for polluting the swamp, what would they do if they found Craig and Elaine fishing for evidence?
Her skin chilled in the damp heat. Were they capable of inflicting harm on those who discovered their crime?
Specifically herself and Craig? She glanced across at her sexy boat guide.
Sobering. Absolutely sobering.
She didn't want him hurt because she was too foolish to recognize a dangerous situation.
The remainder of the trip back to the marina passed in silent contemplation of the dilemma she'd dragged Craig into.
When the skiff slid up to the dock at Thibodeaux Marina, Craig jumped out while Elaine held on to the rocking boat. As much as she wanted off the water, the climb out of the boat seemed such a risk.
With Craig busy tying the lines, Elaine scanned the wooden dock for steps or a gangway. As far as she was concerned, even a six-inch gap loomed dangerously close to a chasm in her mind.
Then Craig stood before her, his hand outstretched. “Take my hand.” His low, commanding voice cut through Elaine's rising panic.
She stared up into his eyes and stretched out her hand to his. Their fingers touched and electrical shocks singed her nerves, racing up her arm, into her chest. All thoughts of water seeped out of her consciousness. She focused on the ice-blue eyes in the dark, ruggedly handsome face.
Before she could say Atchafalaya, she'd been lifted out of the boat and pulled straight into Craig's arms. Pressed against his solid chest, she fought to breathe.
“I cant help myself,” he whispered, and then he crushed her lips with his, forcing her teeth apart to allow his tongue entry. His hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts through her damp shirt.
Elaine's knees melted and she clung to Craig's shoulders, her arms finding their way around his neck. She felt sure the blouse steamed with the amount of heat generated by his touch. She fully expected the fabric to burst into flames.
Had she really deluded herself into thinking she could ignore this man? Yes. Would she rue the day she got involved with him? Yes. Would she regret this kiss? No.
All too soon he loosened his hold and backed away.
Rattled and embarrassed by her wanton response, Elaine straightened her collar and cleared her throat. “Well, now. Let's not do that again.”
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! What must he think of her when she uttered such inanities? She held her breath, waiting for him to crack a comment about not being interested anyway.
But Craig didn't say anything; he just smiled down at her in the faint glow cast by the lights dotting the pier. He lifted the back of his hand to her cheek and briefly caressed her skin.
Her eyes dosed to his exquisite touch and opened again when the sensation disappeared.
Craig reached down into the boat and retrieved her bucket, flashlight and satchel before he turned to face her. “Ready?”
More than he could begin to imagine. If he hadn't turned and walked away when he did, Elaine would have embarrassed herself again by panting or throwing her arms around his neck.
This time, Elaine didn't argue with Craig about who should carry the bucket and he didn't ask. She followed him up the steps and out past the bait shop. Halfway across the road, Dawg joined them.
“Hey, boy.” Without slowing, Craig reached down with his free hand and ruffled the dog's ears. “Been chasing any 'coons tonight?”
Dawg's tail wagged all along his body and he barked.
“I think you have a fan there,�
�� Elaine commented.
“He's a good dog.” He patted Dawg's head. “Aren't you, boy?”
As she walked beside Craig, the thick night air wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. “He came to visit me earlier today.”
“Did he bother you? If so, just let my uncle know and he'll tie him up.”
“No, no, not at all. He created a great roadblock on my front porch. Which, come to think of it, could prove advantageous. Once I begin analyzing the specimens, I'll want my privacy. With him spread out in front of the door, I'm sure visitors will think twice.”
“Maybe anywhere else but Bayou Miste. Unfortunately, the town knows Dawg and his habits. He's been at it for the past ten years. They'd just push him aside and charge on through.”
Elaine smiled at the obvious affection Craig had for the lazy dog. And considering the number of times Dawg bumped into Craig's legs and wagged his body, the feeling was mutual.
She'd never had a pet. Her life centered on her work. Outside the university she didn't have much. Unless you counted her one creative outlet, her herb garden. Sadly, she didn't have anyone with whom to share it. Nor had she wanted to, until now.
A gentle breeze caressed her skin and she leaned her head back and sniffed the fragrant aroma of blossoming roses and honeysuckle. She glanced over at Craig. Walking with him in the early hours of the morning seemed right.
As they neared the porch of her rental house, she glanced at the luminous dial on her watch and yawned.
“I didn't realize how late it was getting. Thanks for taking me out in the boat.”
He set the bucket on the porch, and then handed her the satchel and flashlight. When their fingers touched, Elaine snatched her hand away. Entirely too aware of him already, she wasn't sure she wanted to finish what they had started earlier. The man overwhelmed her with his sheer masculinity.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked.
Craig stared down at her, lifted a tendril of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “I'm not sure. Check with my uncle tomorrow at dusk. If I'm not available, my uncle will take you out.”
Though disappointment burned in her chest, Elaine forced a smile. “That would be just fine.” She wanted Craig to take her out again, not his uncle. Question was, did she want Craig to take her with the expectation of collecting more specimens or of stealing another moonlit kiss?
Elaine quivered, hoping Craig couldn't read the longing in her eyes. With a mission to accomplish, she didn't have time to act like some lovesick teenager bent on making out with the local bad boy.
She stuck out her hand. “Well then, thank you for your assistance.”
He engulfed her hand in his larger one. Instead of shaking it, he tugged, bringing her up against him. With his free hand, he cupped the back of her head and brushed his lips to hers.
Logic completely shattered into so many ions blasting through her veins. Elaine stood on her toes to get even closer. Her hands slid up his chest to circle around the back of his neck and delve into his thick black hair.
How could his kiss be so wrong when it felt so right?
She pulled him closer, determinedly fighting off doubt and common sense. After all, when you have a chance to eat lobster, you don't settle for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She kissed her very tasty lobster, enjoying the sensations, knowing the satisfaction wouldn't last.
He was the local bad boy - she was a scientist He lived in Bayou Miste - she lived in New Orleans. He loved women, had them falling all over him. She... well...
Elaine pulled back. What am I doing?
“Kissing me,” he said, a smile curving his lips.
Heat rushed into Elaine's face, burning her cheeks. “Oh, did I say that out loud?”
“Yes.” Craig's hands retained their hold, warming the small of her back, and his jeans zipper pushed against her tummy.
The cottage door stood closed behind her, a solid wood bather between them and the ancient iron bed she'd slept in alone last night. What would it be like to invite a complete stranger into her bed? Did he still qualify as a complete stranger? They'd shared a boat ride, a kiss and she'd seen him naked. Twice.
All she had to do was unlock the door and invite him in. Let nature take its course.
Come to think of it, he'd probably run screaming as soon as he sampled her inexperience. She and Brian had done their fair share of kissing and making love, but their attempts had been anything but stellar. Staring into Craig's eyes, she couldn't imagine his lovemaking anything less than exciting, mind-blowing, turn-the-furnace-to-full-blast, rock-your-boat sexy.
The cool night air closed in around her, suffocating her ability to breathe. She pushed against Craig's chest and backed away until her ankles bumped into the porch steps. “Well, I have work to do.”
“Don't you want to go to bed first?” His eyes twinkled in the light from her porch.
He was teasing her, and she didn't know how to respond. Her body warred with her mind and her mind won out. “I have to take care of the fish and frog before I can call it a night.” She backed up another step. “Thanks again.”
“My pleasure.”
His warm words seeped into her pores, igniting the blood in her veins. If she stood there much longer, she'd be begging him to take her to bed. To hell with the fish or the frog, let's rock the bedsprings!
Elaine pressed a hand to her chest. Ohmigod. What am I thinking? She fumbled in her satchel for the keys, jammed them in the lock and raced through the door. “Bye!” she said without looking back into those mesmerizing blue eyes.
Perhaps having Craig's uncle take her out was a much better idea after all. All this sexual tension was turning her insides into a confused, raging inferno.
The door shut behind the intriguing Dr. Smith, yet Craig stood and stared at the small house, finding it difficult to leave. What was it about the scientist lady that riveted him to the spot?
He shrugged. Must be getting punchy with all that voodoo witch's talk of love. He had to remind himself Elaine was probably a woman who fell hard for a guy. Would it be fair to use her to get him out of this mess?
Her moss-colored eyes staring up at him from behind those disguising glasses left him feeling a little unsteady.
Should he go after her to break the spell or set his sights on a local girl?
The lights switched on one by one inside the house. He, could see Elaine's shape silhouetted against the window shades as she moved around.
Craig needed more information about the scientist, if he chose to woo her. Not that he'd committed to that route. There were plenty of other fish in the swamp. H could check them out as well. But for now... he glanced at his watch.
His heart jumped in his chest. One o'clock. Four hours to sunup.
Craig strode to the end of the road and turned left into his uncle's yard. Much like every other house in the small community, the little clapboard structure had seen better days. A fresh coat of paint held the harsh effects of mold and humidity at bay. Two rockers sat on the porch in the moonlight, a quaint welcome to visitors.
Craig knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked louder, still no answer.
Where the heck could Uncle Joe be? He never stayed out late except on Saturday night.
For that matter, what day was it? Craig prided himself in controlling his schedule. Not knowing what day it was added another stick to his frustration bonfire. He rubbed his chin. What did he do yesterday? He'd taken Lisa out on Thursday, which would make that Voodoo Day. Friday, he'd spent the day as a frog, and that would make today Saturday, or early Sunday morning.
Craig shook his head. Had two days already passed since the voodoo queen cursed him? Two days out of the two weeks he had to undo the damage! Geez, time was running out.
Catching flies for the rest of his life was not an option.
Speaking of options, now would be a good time to contact Cassandra. He swung by his car for his cell phone. On the fourth ring, her answering machine picked up. Totally
relieved Cassandra hadn't answered herself, Craig left a message he hoped didn't sound too bizarre.
Now for Uncle Joe. He had to be at his favorite honky-tonk on the outskirts of Bayou Miste. Craig debated driving his BMW but the two-mile walk would do him good. Enjoying the feel of human leg muscles propelling him forward in an upright position, Craig walked faster and faster until he broke out in a run. Damn, it felt good to jog again. He hadn't exercised much since he'd arrived at Bayou Miste.
He missed his usual early-morning run through the streets of New Orleans. The brightly painted houses along his route and a post-workout cup of his favorite coffee always helped to jump-start his day.
He raised his arms and jabbed at the air. He couldn't do this as a frog. The best he could hope for was a decent leap without splatting into a wall. He had to get a handle on frog movements. Not that he planned to be one for long.
Craig heard the music before he'd come within two hundred yards of the Raccoon Saloon. The parking lot was jammed with nice cars, old pickups and a few rusty bangers. Yeah, the locals liked their beer and music. The die-hards turned out like clockwork on Saturday night.
Craig stepped into the smoke-filled bar and practically gagged. The smoke bothered him more than usual tonight. He scanned the room, looking for Joe's scraggly white hair. With the small bar so packed and hazy, he couldn't see him right away.
A meaty palm smacked him on the back.
Craig staggered under the force.
“Hey, Craig.” Mo stood with a beer can in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Good to see you, man. Well, I mean, it's good to see you as a man, anyway.” He tipped the can, draining the contents in two gulping swallows, then crushed the aluminum in his fist.
“Hi, Mo.” Craig continued his perusal of the room's occupants. “Seen Uncle Joe?”
“Yup.” Mo jerked his head to the left corner. “Back dere with Bernie and Oscar.”
“Thanks.” Craig squinted through the tobacco fog until he located the table. Three older men sat at the back of the room, as far away from the speakers as they could get.
