by Elle James
“Come on guys. You don't have to rough me up again.” He sighed. What choice did he have? “I'll go.”
When they reached the back room, Mo and Larry dropped his arms and stood with their feet spread, determined looks on their faces.
“We wouldn't be doin' this if it wasn't for your own good,” Larry said.
“Yeah. Just like the other night.” Craig fished his deck shoes from beneath the bed and slipped into them.
“You'll need a nicer shirt, if you want to attract a nice-lookin' woman,” Mo said. “Unless you prefer someone like DeeDee Dubois.”
“And comb your hair” Larry added.
Great. Now he had Mo and Larry telling him how to dress.
Twenty minutes later, the four were on their way to the Raccoon Saloon to get the best table before the band cranked up at nine. Uncle Joe had volunteered to drive. By the amount of cologne his uncle wore, he'd planned on going with or without the trio. Craig elected to take his own car to provide a quick escape route if the evening turned out even half as depressing as he knew it would.
As they passed the little rental cottage, Craig could see the lights on inside. Elaine was home. He'd much rather be with her than out at a bar looking for another woman. Boy, he had it bad. If he didn't watch out, he'd find himself head over heels for the woman. Good thing he was a confirmed bachelor, although his confirmation had been slipping lately.
“I can't believe I let her talk me into this,” Elaine muttered. The noise coming from the Raccoon Saloon was so loud, she could have shouted and no one would have heard her. She gave another tug at the miniscule dress and groaned.
“Don't you worry, sweetie, you look beautiful. You won't sit down once for all the dancin' you'll be doin',” Mozelle said on one side of her.
The ramshackle establishment appeared to be pieced together out of weathered boards, corrugated tin and aged advertisements. By the size and shape of it, the Raccoon Saloon had probably been an old barn at one time.
Cars lined the parking lot and the music blared from beneath the eaves.
“Come on. I know one of the band members and if I hurry I can get in a few requests.” Josie rushed ahead, darting in the darkened doorway before Elaine could protest her desertion.
She should have known she was in big trouble when the beautician had come by earlier dressed in a hot pink micro-miniskirt and a pink and black polka-dotted Daisy Mae midriff shirt worn off the shoulder.
When she'd tossed an electric-blue swatch of stretchy fabric at her, Elaine caught it in one hand. “This looks like a sleeve; where's the rest of it?”
Josie's mouth quirked up on one side and she planted a fist on her hot-pink hip. “Honey, that's it. Now run along and pour yourself into it. The band starts at nine and I want to be there for the first dance.”
Now she felt altogether too conspicuous in the barelythere blue piece of fabric. Half a dozen men had already whistled at her - and she hadn't even made it inside yet! She'd never been subjected to such lewd behavior before in her life.
Appalled at the familiarity, she felt a strange sense of power fill her gut and stiffen her spine. She flung back her newly cut hair and straightened her shoulders. This movement had the added benefit of pushing her chest out a little farther. She hoped the sleeve wouldn't slip down and expose the tight strapless bra Josie had seen fit to provide as well. It fit a little too tightly, pushing her boobs up higher to emphasize her already generous cleavage.
She could imagine the horror of her fellow professors at Tulane if they could see her now. They'd have her fired on the spot.
But who knew her in Bayou Miste? Here, she could be anything she wanted to be and the thought was strangely exhilarating. That and the new 'do went a long way toward blocking one tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed Cajun from entering her mind.
When Mozelle and Elaine entered, the floor was already crowded with people dancing to a mix of Cajun and country-western tunes from the jukebox. Josie met them just inside the door and led them to the bar, where she grabbed them three stools with a good view.
Not two seconds after they sat, three dark-haired guys sauntered over and asked them to dance. Josie and Mozelle immediately slid off their stools and led their guys to the crowded dance floor.
Feeling suddenly shy, Elaine shook her head. “Not yet. I'd like to order a drink first.” She smiled, hoping the big guy wouldn't push the issue.
Without a word, the man nodded and turned away.
Elaine swung around on the barstool and ordered white wine. “Make that two!” she said, on second thought. The little false bravado an alcohol buzz could provide was just what she needed.
The first glass of wine she swallowed in one long, steady thug. With the second glass in her hand, she turned back to the crowd. The song changed to a slow tune and half the couples left the floor. The other half swayed to the music. The band milled around on the stage, pushing equipment into position.
Elaine gazed at the couples locked in each other's arms as if they were the only ones on the dance floor. She found herself envious of them and wishing she had someone to hold her tight and make her feel that way. LittIe tingles reverberated from her insides to the outer layer of epidermis. The wine had the effect of giving a fuzzy halo effect to the bare bulbs hanging sporadically throughout the open room. She wasn't drunk, just mildly buzzed and a tad less inhibited.
The big guy from a few minutes earlier appeared in front of her. “You wanna dance now?” he asked.
Not nearly as concerned this time, Elaine nodded and slid from her stool. She remembered the slinky blue dress and tugged the hem down and the neckline up, to ensure the fabric covered all the right places. Then she threw back her shoulders and practiced one of the moves Josie had taught her earlier at the cottage. Swing your hips side to side. If she put one foot in front of the other, the swaying motion would be automatic.
Following the big brute, Elaine pasted a smile on her face and swayed. She caught a number of men looking her way, appreciative smiles on their faces.
Wow. Who knew Elaine Smith could attract so many admiring stares? Brian, eat your heart out.
Before Elaine had time to bask in the glory of her successful sauntering, the guy pulled her into his arms and snugly up to his barrel chest.
Elaine gasped and tried to pull away. “Please, I can't breathe.”
“Oh, sorry.” He loosened his hold only a little and snuggled his cheek against her hair. The man smelled of woods and tobacco and he held Elaine entirely too close for her comfort.
She was just frying to think up a good reason to excuse herself when the song ended. Thank goodness.
But the man showed no intention of letting go of her.
While the jukebox played, the band had completed setup. Most couples either split or drifted back to their seats, leaving Elaine and her bulky captor standing with only a few die-hard couples amid the sawdust. She tugged and tugged, but the guy wouldn't let go of her hand.
“The song is over,” she said, since the idiot didn't quite grasp the obvious.
“Alt, come on. Just one more dance,” he said, his grip tightening until Elaine felt her bones would crunch.
“There's no music,” she insisted.
“Howdy tall!” The lead singer shouted into the microphone, drowning out Elaine's protests. "Welcome to the
Raccoon Saloon. We're the Ragin' Cajuns and the first song for the evening is “Devil with a Blue Dress,” a request in honor of one of our guests tonight. Anyone care to give it a guess as to which one?"
Elaine groaned. Just what she needed, more attention and music when she couldn't get rid of the overgrown baboon clutching her hand.
“Really, my foot hurts.” And it did from being stepped on several times. “I'm going to sit this one out.” When he loosened his hold, Elaine quickly stepped away and glanced around, frying to get her bearings. This evening was turning out to be a huge mistake. How could she gracefully escape back to her safe little cottage?
&nb
sp; Craig sat peeling the label off his longneck bottle, wondering for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing in the Raccoon Saloon. He hadn't made a single move to find a woman. Every time one came up to ask hint to dance, he'd muttered something about not enough beer yet.
Mo, in a clumsy attempt at a two-step, danced by with a brassy redhead and stopped in front of Craig's table.
“How 'bout dis one?” he asked.
Craig squelched a cringe and shook his head ever so slightly.
Larry waltzed by, completely out of step with the music and pumping his partner's arm up and down. The man really had no business on the dance floor. As he passed Craig, he shouted, “What about her?”
Craig ducked his head and continued peeling paper from the brown glass.
“Ain't gonna get any closer to findin' a cure for your spell by staring at yer beer, boy,” Uncle Joe commented.
“Leave it, Uncle,” Craig growled. His mind wandered back to his uncle's rental cottage. What was Elaine doing right now? Was she reviewing her notes from previous experiments? Or was she on the phone with her ex-fiancé? Craig tensed and almost left his seat to go find out.
He barely noticed when the song on the jukebox ended and didn't even look up when Jacque, the lead singer, called out for everyone's attention.
When the band started playing “Devil with a Blue Dress,” Craig decided he'd had enough. He looked across the dance floor for an escape route. His gaze collided with an electric-blue dress and the desperate expression of the one woman who'd been on his mind all evening. Escape was no longer an option.
The strains of “Devil with a Blue Dress” registered in Craig's suddenly feeble brain. She was the devil for plaguing his every thought since he'd woken up. And she looked damned sexy in that dress.
Before he could engage logic, he was across the floor standing in front of her, eyeing her like an apparition that would easily disappear if he spoke. “Dance with me.”
Elaine didn't protest or question his high-handedness; she just melted into his body.
He crushed her to his chest. God, she smelled good. Their bodies fit perfectly together on the dance floor just like they had in bed. Their moves were smooth and natural, a form of foreplay, igniting longing for a more intimate setting. “Why didn't you want to go out on the bayou tonight?” Craig whispered against her ear.
“Mmmmm... this is much better than swamp water and mosquitoes.” She snuggled closer.
“Agreed.” He shifted his knee between hers and pressed his thigh against her pelvis. “I like the dress. I barely recognized you.”
“I'm glad you did.”
“Me too,” Craig replied. “And here I thought this evening was going to be an incredible bore.”
“And now?”
“I'm completely enchanted.”
“Big words for a dock hand,” she said against his shirt. Her warm breath heated his chest.
“Us dock hands have hidden talents that would amaze the untrained skeptic.”
Elaine lifted her head and stared up at him, her eyebrows rising into the short curling strands caressing her forehead and cheeks. “Or perhaps you dock hands aren't revealing the whole truth.”
Craig frowned down at her. “What do you mean?” Did she know about his condition?
She stopped dancing and stood staring into his face. “I know your secret, Craig Thibodeaux.”
His heart hammered in his chest. “But how?” If Elaine knew about the spell, she'd be out of the running to help cure him of Madame LeBieu's trickery. An empt)c sick feeling spread through his chest and into his gut. Would he lose the chance to make Elaine love him? Did he want her to love him?
A sweaty, meaty hand clamped onto his shoulder, pulling him away from Elaine. “What the hell?” Craig spun to face his attacker.
A man as broad and solid as a hundred-year-old cypress frowned down at him. Craig didn't consider himself short at six foot two inches, yet this guy towered over him in height and circumference. As with all bullies of gargantuan proportions, Craig followed the rule: Never show fear. “Beat it Gator.”
Gator frowned down at Craig and shot an accusing glance at Elaine. “She said her feet hurt. Otherwise, she'd be dancin' wit' me.”
“Maybe her feet are feeling better now. I can be pretty hard to resist.” Craig joked, hoping to soothe Gator 's irritation.
Instead Gator's frown deepened. “Are you sayin' I'm easy to resist?”
Damn, he'd done it now. He'd stepped smack-dab in the middle of Gator's sore spot. “No, Gator, I was just implying that I didn't really give her the chance to say no.”
“Are you sure you weren't makin' fun of me? It sure sounded like you were makin' fun.”
“No, no, Gator. You're hard to resist too.”
“I don't think I like you, Craig Thibodeaux. I think I'm going to smash your face.”
Craig's heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. Surely the big oaf wouldn't take a swing? Not in a public place. Craig was wrong.
A gigantic, meaty fist came out of nowhere and clipped him on the chin, knocking him halfway across the dance floor and flat on his back.
Stars swam before Craig's eyes in bright white, red and gold, and that was while they were closed! When he opened them, Gator was headed his way.
Elaine yelled and leaped onto the big brute's back, pummeling him with her fists.
Gator's thunderous expression was enough to make a grown man cringe. Craig didn't think even Gator would kick a man while he was down, but obviously Elaine did.
She rode piggyback, with her dress crawling up her thighs and revealing way more than she'd want to know. Her screams intensified and she yelled every curse word in the dictionary and some he thought might be in Latin.
The picture was priceless. He could already see tomorrow's headline: SCIENTIST GONE MAD ON THE BACK OF GIANT APE. A chuckle rose up in his chest and escaped in a rush. One chuckle led to another and soon his sides were splitting and tears poured from the corners of his eyes.
Gator, with Elaine still on his back, stopped in front of Craig and stared down, confusion written into the frown between his eyes. “You laughing at me, Craig?”
With a quick swipe at his eyes, Craig stood and looked up at Gator. “No, not at all.”
“I didn't mean to hit you so hard.” Gator stared down at his hands. “Darn hands. Momma says I don't even know my own strength. Guess she's right.”
Elaine stopped pummeling and slid from Gator's back, her skirt riding up even farther to reveal lacy white bikini underwear. She rushed to his side. “Are you okay, Craig?”
Craig's laughter ceased as a red-hot surge shot through his veins to his groin. “I was until I saw those sexy-as-hell undies you're wearing.”
Elaine's face suffused with color all the way out to her ears. She stood and tugged frantically at the hem of her dress, cursing in a most unladylike fashion. “That's what I get for worrying about you, Craig Thibodeaux. I'm leaving.” Elaine spun on her spiked heels and took off across the dance floor, pushing against anyone standing in the way of her and the door.
Craig shot to his feet and lit out after her. No way in hell was he going to let her get away without exploring those white lacy panties a bit further.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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The jerk! Here she'd been upset by Gator's punch and all Craig could do was point out her exposure in front of God and everybody else at the Raccoon Saloon. Elaine could do without his type. She shoved past the same men who'd admired her earlier and shot quelling looks at them when they dared to make crude comments about her underwear.
Just as Elaine reached the door, Josie caught up with her. The blonde hugged her and smiled. “Congratulations, Elaine. You graduate with honors!”
Elaine frowned. “What?” Then she looked back.
Craig was threading his way through the crowd, gaining ground. If she didn't hurry, he'd catch her
before she could make her escape.
“Hold up, Elaine,” Craig called out.
Panic seized her and she ducked out the door into the night alt Once outside, she realized her mistake. She hadn't brought her car and she didn't have a ride home.
Her heels teetered on the gravel in the parking lot and she winced. Great! I've succeeded in cutting off my nose to spite my face.
She'd turned to go back in and round up Mozelle and Josie, when Craig burst through the door.
“Thank God I caught you,” he said, reaching for her hands.
Elaine pulled away. “You didn't catch me. I don't have a car here. I was on my way back in to get Josie.”
“If you want to go home, I can take you,” he offered.
“I don't trust you to get me there.” Why did he have to look so damn delicious all in black?
His smile curved the corners of his mouth and his eyes sparkled in the few lights shining over the parking lot. “If you can trust me to take you out on the water, you can trust me to get you home.”
“I believe I'd be in way over my head if I trusted you again.”
Dark brows drew downward over ice-blue eyes. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“I know your secret.”
His body stiffened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She flung her hand in the alit “You're not a dock hand. You're an attorney!”
Craig inhaled deeply and let the breath out, his body relaxing. “Is that all?”
“You mean there's more?”
“No, of course not,” he replied, a little too quickly.
Elaine's eyes narrowed. “I don't know what to believe.”
“I'm an attorney.” He shrugged. “So, what's my occupation got to do with us?”
“Trust! Don't you get it? I can't trust you to tell me the truth, and I can't trust myself when I'm with you.” Elaine clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes growing rounder with her slip of the tongue.
Craig's gaze softened, and he closed the gap between them.
All the fight leached out of Elaine's body. She didn't put up an iota of resistance when Craig pulled her into his arms. “Problem is, I can't trust myself when I'm with you either. For some strange reason, I can't keep my hands off you.” He leaned closer, his mouth hovering over hers. “Nor my lips.”
