by Elle James
Craig wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “Don't worry; sweetheart. We can repaint the walls, and I won't let anything happen to you,” he promised, wondering how in hell he could keep that promise when he turned back into a frog.
“I don't care about the paint.” Her voice caught on a sob, and with a shaking hand, she pointed to a metal object lying amid the strewn papers and books. “My microscope,” she whispered.
Leaving her side, Craig gathered the cold metal from the floor. He looked inside the lens and twisted the viewfinder until the image cleared. “The lens is intact.”
“Oh, thank God.” She took the tool from him and stared through the lens. Then she clutched it to her chest, tears slipping down her cheeks. “My parents gave me this microscope before they died.”
“I didn't know your parents weren't alive.” Craig frowned. He didn't know a lot about Elaine, and he found he wanted very much to learn more.
“I was in the last year of my master's program when they were killed in a car wreck.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty?” Craig did a double-take. “You were twenty finishing your master's?”
“Yes.” Elaine's back stiffened and her chin raised a notch higher.
“Damn, were you some kind of brainiac?”
Elaine winced. More tears welled in her eyes and spilled over.
Craig immediately felt like a clod. He reached out to take Elaine into his arms.
Like an animal avoiding the trap, Elaine jerked his hands loose and backed away. “I guess leopard frogs can't change their spots.”
Craig's arms fell to his sides. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Oh what's the use?” Elaine hugged the microscope to her chest and stared down at the floor. “Even with the sexy dress and haircut, I still don't fit in any more than I did growing up.”
“What do you mean, fit in?”
She turned and walked a few steps away. “I finished my undergraduate degree when most kids were graduating high school. I never knew what it was like to be a teenager because I was never around kids my own age.”
The pain in Elaine's voice drew Craig forward. “So that's why you've never been necking.” He slipped his arms around her and her microscope and pulled her back against him. He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. “I could never have guessed. You were fantastic.”
Slowly, her body relaxed into his. With a deep sigh, she tipped her head back onto his shoulder, giving his lips full range of her neck. “Do you really think of me as a brainiac?”
The hope in her voice was almost his undoing. Craig turned her in his arms and tipped her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I'm very much attracted by your intelligence and passion for knowledge. And your bravery to face your deepest fears humbles me. And babe, in that blue dress, mon Dieu, you're incredibly hot. But even in khaki slacks at the bottom of a boat, I can't keep my hands off you.” He proved it by sliding his hands down her back and over her rounded buttocks.
His movements had the desired effect when any remaining tension in Elaine's body eased and she snuggled against him. “You're not just saying this to get me in bed, are you?”
“Will it help?” He grinned.
She backed away enough to look at him.
Immediately, he wiped the stupid look from his face. “No really, I'm telling you the truth.” He stared down at her creamy breasts pushing up out of the strapless top of her knock-'em-dead dress and leaned down to press his lips to the cleavage before he looked back up into her eyes. “And if you look like the sexiest devil with that blue dress, that's just icing on the cake.”
“It's not even my dress.” Her hands slipped around his waist and dropped down to slide into his rear pockets.
Craig found it difficult to concentrate with Elaine's hands in his back pockets. Every movement was an incredible turn-on without even having skin-to-skin contact.
“What about the threat?” she asked against his neck.
“It's just paint.” He kissed a path from her jawline down to her collarbone.
“Shouldn't we call the police?” Her tongue did wicked things to his earlobe.
“Tomorrow.” Craig's lips hovered over hers. “I've had enough of the police for one night.”
Leaning back, Elaine frowned up into his face. “But won't your uncle be upset about his house?”
“Uncle who?” His hands tangled in her hair and he pulled her head back for better access to her soft lips. “Are you going to worry all night?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her eyelids drooping over near-black irises.
“Then let me help you forget.” He touched his mouth to hers, barely brushing the skin in a feathery stroke and coming back up to stare into her face.
“My memory's clouding,” she whispered huskily.
He kissed her again.
“What's my name?” Her hands circled his head and brought him back to her.
“It's Elaine,” he answered and claimed her lips, skimming his tongue past her teeth.
The fire in Craig's chest scorched his veins, making a beeline to his groin. His hands circled her waist and he pressed his bulging zipper against her tummy. “I find you far too sexy for my own good.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“And even though tonight wasn't my first time necking ...” Craig could feel her stiffening, “... it was the best time I've ever had in a bucket seat. You were so incredibly ... his lips hovered over hers, ” …hot."
Elaine rose up on her toes to meet his kiss. Her tongue tangled and teased while her hands tugged his shirt from his trousers. Then soft fingers ran up his back and down into the waistline of his jeans. She ground her hips into his, pressing the thin fabric of her dress against the hardened ridge of his desire.
Without pulling away, he said into her mouth, “Woman, you're killing me.”
Elaine backed up in his arms and did an amazing thing, for her. She batted her eyes and smiled teasingly. “I'm sorry, should I stop?”
Craig had never seen her do this before. “Are you flirting with me?”
Her smile faded, and she blushed a devilish shade of pink. “I've been taking lessons.”
“Lessons in flirting?” Craig shook his head. The woman who knew more about science than he'd ever known or wanted to know had to learn how to flirt. “You really did miss out on the finer things in life, didn't you?”
“Yes.” Again, her chin rose and a hale frown wrinkled the skin between her eyes. “But I'm a quick learner.”
“And, pray tell, who would be teaching you how to flirt?”
“My new friends, Josie and Mozelle.” She braced her hands on his arms to push him away.
“What else did they teach you?” Craig's hold lightened. “Although, I'm afraid to ask.”
“Let me go, and I'll show you.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper.
Like a shot, he dropped her arms and practically salivated for her next demonstration. He wasn't disappointed.
Elaine stepped away, turned around, and walked toward the tiny bedroom, her back to him, her hips swaying with every step. When she reached the threshold, she took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. Then she planted a hand on one hip, and, swinging a shoulder back so he could view the profile of one breast, shot a sexy smile in his direction. “Follow me, Cajun.”
The blue dress, the come-hither look and those incredibly already-been-kissed lips reached out imaginary fingers, grabbed his manhood and jerked him forward.
“Remind me to thank those ladies.”
He swept in behind her and pressed his hips to her buttocks. With a slow not-so-steady hand, he ran his fingers up the curve of her waist to cup that tantalizing breast. “I never knew school could be so exhilarating.”
“You ain't seen nothin' yet.”
Craig glanced over Elaine's naked shoulder at the clock and stifled a groan. With his body spooning her backside, h
e wanted nothing more than to he in bed and make love to Elaine into the light of the early morning. In fact, making love to Elaine could easily become a twenty-four-seven occupation, and he'd be perfectly happy.
Who needed a successful law practice, especially when it didn't provide nearly as much satisfaction as lying here with Elaine?
He sighed. Dawn would come and he'd be a frog in a few short minutes. He needed to get to his uncle before he transformed.
With one last, gentle squeeze of her warm hip, he slipped out of the bed and into his clothes.
Elaine rolled onto her back, one arm flung over the pillow next to hers. A small frown wrinkled her brow, but she didn't wake.
Craig leaned close, drinking in how her naturally dark eyelashes fanned out over her cheekbones and her tangled hair stood out darkly against the white sheets. He pressed a kiss to her lips, then turned and left before he couldn't.
He picked his way through the living room, avoiding broken glass and crinkly paper. The angry red writing on the wall sent a chill through his soul, strengthening his resolve to take this person apart, limb by limb.
A quick glance at the lightening sky forced Craig into a jog to his uncle's house. He needed to warn Uncle Joe to keep an eye on Elaine during the day and to not let her out on the swamp under any circumstances.
He leaped the last few steps up to the front porch of Uncle Joe's house and pounded on the door. The white clapboard house could have been identical to the one Elaine slept in a few doors down. Another glance at the sky and Craig banged even louder.
From inside the house sounds of furniture crashing to the floor were followed by loud cursing.
“Come on Uncle Joe -” Craig shouted.
The sun popped up over the horizon. Craig's skin and bones tightened, shrinking and contracting. Damn!
The front-porch light glared to life, temporarily blinding Craig.
“Who the hell's knockin' on my door at this time of the morning'?” When Uncle Joe, wearing only black boxer shorts decorated with bright red and pink hearts, opened the front door, the morphing was halfway over.
Craig hunkered in a squatting position, his features half man, half frog. “Uncle Joe,” Craig croaked. His words were barely understandable.
“That you, Craig?” Uncle Joe rubbed his eyes and peered closer. “You look a little green around the gills, boy.” He chuckled.
Alternating between words and croaking, Craig fought to get his message across before the transformation was complete. “Elaine... trouble... don't -”
Three words. Three lousy words. The transformation complete, he sat with his belly on the floor, kicking himself for not getting there earlier.
“What's that, Craig?” Uncle Joe squatted down. “I didn't understand a single word you said.” With a wry smile, he shook his head. “You really need to find you a woman.”
Like I don't know that?
“Joe, honey, is there someone at the door?” called a familiar female voice Craig couldn't quite put a name to.
Uncle Joe turned to yell, “No, sweet thang, musta been the wind.”
Uncle Joe has a female friend sleeping with him? Interesting.
Craig peered around his uncle's leg, but couldn't see anything in the darkened house.
“You gonna make it back to the bait shop all right?”
Craig nodded his froggy head.
“Snookems, you comin' back to bed?” called the voice from inside the darkened house.
His uncle's face turned beet red in the porch light. “Cotta go.”
As the door closed, Craig turned to hop off the porch. He needed to get back to Elaine. Even if he couldn't do anything to protect her, he could at least keep an eye on her.
The sun streaked through the window and shone across the bed before Elaine budged from sleep. Without opening her eyes, she indulged in a long stretch in the warmth of the late-morning sun. Wouldn't it be nice to make love all day long? Maybe she'd look for Craig today and suggest it.
Her eyes popped open, and she sat up in bed. Was she actually considering propositioning a man in broad daylight? Her? Elaine Smith? Social cripple and egghead extraordinaire?
Recalling last night's performance, and her major role in initiating it, Elaine's lips curled upward and she sank back against the pillows. She'd really done it. She'd seduced a very sexy man. Not once, but twice! And in the bucket seat of a sports car! Wahoo!
She really was becoming a wild woman, wasn't she? By allowing her sexuality full reign, she'd discovered a sense of power and confidence lacking in her life up until now. She could conquer the world.
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the sheets aside and leapt out of bed. She had work to do and time was wasting. After a quick shower, she bravely stepped into the small living room.
I can handle this. I can handle this. She stood staring around the room, assessing the damage. Nothing a broom, a can of paint and a little elbow grease wouldn't cure. Remember. I am the new improved Elaine. The Elaine who isn't afraid to go after what she wants.
Before she touched a thing, she called the police.
Hall the morning flew by as Elaine filed a report, and answered the same questions asked separately by each of the three Bayou Miste deputies who'd shown up on her doorstep. When they'd taken all the pictures they wanted, including one of her white lacy undies lying on the floor of her bedroom, the deputies filed out the door, promising to get right on it.
Finally Elaine could get on with the task of cleaning up the mess. Shoving the sleeves of her white oxford-cloth shirt up her arms, she dug in. She had a lot of work to do, to put the place to rights. And maybe afterward, she'd go shopping to replace every pair of khaki slacks in her wardrobe.
Two hours later, she stood back and examined the results of her cleaning spree and inventory. Aside from the paint on the wall, the cottage appeared almost normal. Some of the furniture was a little dented and scarred, and one chair needed a leg glued back on, but nothing major.
What worried her most was that every bit of her research from notes to specimens was gone. Even her dissecting fray with the frog she'd kept in the refrigerator, and the frozen fish in the freezer had been taken. The anonymous sample she'd received at the university the catalyst that had set this entire effort into motion, was nothing more than a broken jar on the wooden floor of the living room.
If she wanted to pursue this investigation, she'd have to start over. Did she have the stamina and courage to do that?
Damn right!
But first, she wanted to do a little background investigation. She needed to find out what industries were nearby that could be dumping that much pollution into the swamp. The best place she knew of to get information was from a local who liked to talk a lot. Now, who did she know who fit that description?
“Elaine? You up for visitors?” Mozelle Reneau stood outside the screen door carrying a basket covered with a dish towel. “I got pipin' hot beignets.”
“Please, come in.” Elaine hurried to open the door. The sweet smell of hot pastries filled her nostrils, reminding her she hadn't stopped to have breakfast. A glance at the clock made her realize she'd even missed lunch. Her stomach growled.
Dawg sprawled on the porch in front of the door. Elaine had to forcibly push him with the door to get it open enough for Mozelle to enter.
“That's got to be the laziest hound dog this side of the Mississippi.” Once inside, Mozelle exclaimed, “Good Lord!” She stood just inside the living room, staring at the red paint on the wall. “What happened?”
“Someone paid me a visit while I was out last night at the Raccoon Saloon.”
With a shake of her head, Mozelle carried the basket to the kitchen. “I don't know what gets into people to act so rude.”
“You and me both.”
“Well, don't you worry none. Nothin' a little paint won't cure.” She stood with her hands fisted on her hips. “There's just no excuse for threatenin' a woman like that.”
“Agreed.�
��
“I'll speak to Joe about it today.” She smiled a Mona Lisa smile.
“Thank you, Mozelle.” The strange smile wasn't lost on Elaine. She wondered what the older woman was up to.
“I noticed you didn't stay long at the Raccoon Saloon,” Mozelle said, arranging plates on the table while Elaine measured coffee into the coffeemaker.
Not sure how to respond, Elaine asked, “Was that a question or a statement?”
“Just an observation.” Mozelle set forks next to the plates, and then turned to face Elaine. “So did the lessons work?”
Heat crawled up Elaine's neck as she recalled how well the lessons had worked. She couldn't restrain the smile that tugged at her lips. “Yes.”
“Well, bless my soul, that makes two.” Mozelle grinned and turned back to unnecessarily polish a fork.
Elaine leaned her back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “Mozelle Reneau, what do you mean by two?”
“Oh, nothing.” She waved her hand in the air and remained uncharacteristically evasive for Bayou Miste's biggest gossip.
“You know you can't throw out a comment like that without filling in the details.” Elaine crossed the room and circled Mozelle to get face to face. “From what I've learned about you in the past few days, you have got to be bursting to tell me, so spill it.”
Twin flags of color rode high on Mozelle's pale cheeks. She sank onto the bright red vinyl-covered chair and smiled up at Elaine. “I asked a man to dance last night.”
Having hurdled that barrier herself, Elaine nodded, suspecting that wasn't all Mozelle had done. “Is that all, just one dance?”
Mozelle darted a glance toward the far corner ceiling. “Well, no. We danced several dances.” Her face flushed brighter.
“And?”
Mozelle stopped staring at the ceiling and looked directly into Elaine's eyes. “We danced all night. There, I said it.” She heaved a huge sigh, and her hand fluttered to her throat.
“Does the Raccoon Saloon stay open that late?”
The older woman's forehead wrinkled and she stared at Elaine as if she were dense. “Nooo. If must spell it out, we danced in the sheets.”
