Welcome to Temptation: A Romantic Comedy

by Hughes, Charlotte

  The years had not erased the taste of him from her memory. His tongue coaxed her mouth open wider, making gentle forays between her lips that sent her head spinning. His palms slid down the small of her back, cupped each hip, and pulled her tighter against him, cradling her against the base of his thighs, where his arousal was more than evident. Had another man done the same thing, it would have seemed indecent and out of place, but for a man like Gator, it was as much a part of the kiss as his lips. Gator did nothing halfway. And Michelle could only stand there and hang on for dear life, praying her knees would not buckle beneath her.

  When he finally raised his head, he was smiling.

  “Nothing has changed between us, Mic,” he said with his voice soft with invitation. “After all these years, I still want you. Just as badly as I did when you were sixteen and didn’t really know what you were doing. Its better when you’re older, you know. But this time I refuse to stop after a few hot kisses.”

  Michelle realized she was gasping, and she had to wonder if Gator’s kisses were more dangerous than anything the storm could do to her.

  Chapter Two

  By noon, the fierce wind howled and shrieked like a wild animal, and the house shuddered with each violent gust. Dressed in dry clothes that Reba had pulled from an upstairs closet, Gator dickered with a battery-powered radio that produced a great deal of static. He’d muttered a few curses under his breath when he realized he’d left his police radio back at the shelter. Not that it would have done much good anyway since he was so far out in the bayou country. He was going to insist that Reba get a telephone after this thing was over. At her age, with her car running only half the time, she had to have some way of contacting people. It was too easy to forget about her living out here all alone, and he wouldn’t always be around to remind folks.

  Michelle, wearing pants that were too big and had to be pinned at the waist, gazed through a partially boarded window where the trees outside shook and swayed, as though some great Pandora’s box had been opened and had unleashed something awful and evil. Tree limbs and debris were tossed against the house, and then sucked in another direction. Her ears popped suddenly, signaling a change in pressure that was as frightening as the wind outside.

  Gator stepped closer, still holding the radio at his ear. “Better come away from that window,” he said. He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth before something hit the house with force; it felt as though it had been lifted momentarily from its foundation. Reba, who’d been rocking in her chair frantically for the past hour, stopped and glanced up as the lights flickered once and went out. They were shrouded in near darkness.

  “The water is rising fast,” Gator said, going to the window he’d ordered Michelle away from only seconds before. Reba joined him..

  “It looks like the end of the world,” she said softly, holding a small calico kitten. She looked from Gator to her granddaughter and back, and she appeared to be on the verge of tears. “You were right. We shouldn’t have stayed. If anything happens to the two of you, it’ll be all my fault.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” Gator said, anchoring his hands on her frail shoulders reassuringly.

  Michelle would’ve had to be deaf not to catch the gravity of his voice. Once again, she stepped closer to the window. They were drawn to it like moths to a porch light. She tossed Gator an anxious look over her grandmother’s head and found him watching her, a thoughtful expression on his face. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he sorry now for staying? She suddenly remembered the kiss they’d shared and glanced away quickly. She returned her gaze to the window, where the bayou, usually without current, was now a pulsing, moving thing with ripples and whitecaps. It reminded her of the way her stomach pitched about each time Gator looked at her with those black eyes.

  Gator finally insisted they move to the center of the room, away from the windows. For the next couple of hours they waited and listened as reports filtered in on the radio although some of it was interrupted with bouts of static. They lunched on ham and cheese sandwiches and spice cake and made small talk as they listened and waited. Time crept by slowly while Reba rocked and quietly hummed church hymns. Gator tried to pull Michelle into conversation.

  “Remember the time we got caught in that storm at the swimming hole?” he asked.

  Michelle slid her gaze in his direction and felt her face grow warm at the memory. “No.”

  The smile he gave her told her he knew she was lying. “Think for a minute. It’ll come back to you. It started lightning, and we had to leave the water.”

  How could she forget, she wanted to rail at him. She had ended up in the front seat of his old pickup truck, alone with him, wearing only her bathing suit and smelling of suntan lotion. Something in her stomach fluttered as she remembered how he’d looked in his bathing trunks that day.

  Gator had matured much faster than the rest of the boys his age, and that day, with his naked chest glistening with oil and his wet trunks clinging to him, Michelle had been convinced of that maturity. That was the day Gator had kissed her for the first time, though heaven knew he’d tried a dozen times before. She couldn’t remember exactly how it had begun, but all at once she’d found him close, his mouth touching hers tentatively, as if he were half-afraid she’d scurry away like the squirrels had when the rain had begun. But she hadn’t. She had raised her lips to his eagerly. That one kiss awakened everything in her body, those gentle stirrings that he had aroused in her the first time she’d seen him. She had touched his chest, had drawn tiny playful circles in the light coating of oil that covered him, and had watched in wonder as his nipples had contracted. She had lain in bed that night for hours, thinking about it, wondering what it would have been like had she not put a halt to the kissing that in just a few minutes had grown hot and frantic. And then she’d buried her head under her pillow and squeezed her eyes tightly closed, trying to convince herself that no sixteen-year-old girl should ever feel the things Gator had made her feel.

  “Yes, I remember,” she finally said, meeting the look in his eyes. She wondered if he knew how powerful that look was. It was almost hypnotic. She felt as though she were being pulled toward him, like a small fish being reeled in on a line. “It seems so long ago,” she added, thinking out loud. She wondered how it could still be so vivid.

  “Sometimes it seems like yesterday,” he said.

  Something slammed against the side of the house, and Michelle jumped as reality closed in with an urgency that made her tremble. The noise heightened, until the whole area sounded like a war zone. Water lapped onto the back porch and seeped under the back door. They tried in vain to mop it up with towels. Mister Ed squawked and flapped his wings while the hound paced the floor nervously. And then, just when Michelle thought she could take no more, the wind and rain stopped and all she could hear was her own frantic heartbeat. All three hurried over to the window and gazed out at the carnage of small trees and limbs and debris. Everything was dead still. She looked at Gator. “Is it over?”

  Gator shook his head. “‘Fraid not, Mic. I think it’s just the eye passing over.”

  She liked the way he said her pet name; it always came out sounding like “Meek.” She remembered a magnolia-scented night when he’d whispered her name in her ear, his breath hot against her cheek. She’d sneaked out with him on a dare. She remembered him pulling her down beside him on his mother’s old-fashioned quilt, a light summer breeze toying with her hair and fanning her body. His usual playful manner had disappeared that night; the teasing was gone. He’d been a man filled with such a passionate need that it had frightened her.

  Suddenly, they were no longer mere teenagers experimenting with touch and feel. The slow burning in Michelle’s lower belly had blazed into something wild and reckless, teetering out of control. It had jolted her to the soles of her feet. No boy had ever made her feel those things. She had run from him, leapt from the blanket and torn through the woods as though the devil himself were after her. She
had slipped back into her grandparents’ house soundlessly, but her heart was beating so loud that she’d been half-afraid the walls would come crashing down around her. It would serve her right, she’d told herself over and over. No decent girl would slip out at midnight to be with the likes of Gator Landry.

  That was the last time she’d seen him, and she was almost thankful when her parents had come for her the next day. She’d put the summer and her three-month relationship with Gator Landry behind her. She’d never even told him good bye. But she’d figured it was just as well. Gator probably hated her for running away from him. Or perhaps he’d had a good laugh over it with his friends. She’d vowed not to humiliate herself further where he was concerned.

  Michelle forced her thoughts back to the present. Another few minutes passed in absolute silence before Gator decided to venture outside and have a look around. She followed, wearing rubber knee boots to keep dry. Nothing moved. The air was heavy and oppressive, so thick, Michelle was certain she could chew it. They rounded the house and she gasped, finding a great live oak completely unearthed, lying across the back of her new BMW. Her heart sank.

  “Well, there goes all hope of getting out of here, she said, feeling the sting of tears at her eyes. She and Gator stepped closer to survey the damage.

  He shook his head but tried to sound optimistic. “Good thing it didn’t fall on the front of your car, or it would have crushed your engine.”

  Michelle laughed hollowly. “What does that matter? It’s still a wreck and I just-bought the damn thing.” She was crying now, but she didn’t care. “I special-ordered that color and had to wait two months to get it. All those months of doing without, saving every dime I could get my hands on. Giving up my vacation days,” she added on a heartfelt sob.

  Gator’s gut clinched at the sight of her tears. He could stand anything but a woman’s tears. “Aw, Mic, don’t cry.” He draping one arm over her shoulder. “We’re lucky to be alive. I can get somebody out here to pull that tree off your car. You can take it to a body shop, and they’ll have it looking brand new again. Just be thankful it was your car and not one of us.”

  Michelle couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard she tried. “We could still die,” she said, swiping at the tears miserably. “The back side of the storm is supposed to be as bad as the front, if not worse. If something happens to Grand, I’ll never forgive myself for not putting my foot down and forcing her to leave.”

  “I think she had her mind made up,” he said softly. “It wouldn’t be anybody’s fault.”

  Michelle hiccupped. “Oh, Gator, I’m so scared. I’ve never been this scared in my life. I’m used to seeing unpleasant things. I see them every day as part of my job. But this is different. The whole house could fall down around us. We could—” She paused and shook her head.

  “Don’t think like that, Mic,” he said gently. “We’ve taken every precaution.”

  Nevertheless, tears streamed down her cheeks, fear and exhaustion warring inside her. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images around her.

  Gator hugged her close, feeling his heart swell with genuine concern. “You’re one of the bravest women I know,” he said at last. “And I’m not going to let this thing hurt you or your grandmother. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

  Michelle opened her eyes. For once there was no sign of laughter or amusement on his face. His look was both tender and sincere. It felt wonderful in his arms, she decided. Secure. She felt safe for the first time in hours. As crazy as it sounded, she did trust him, and she knew he would do anything to prevent them from getting hurt.

  “Sometimes, I get tired of being brave all the time,” she confessed. “People come into the emergency room looking so bad, it’s all I can do not to turn and run in the other direction.” She swallowed a lump at the back of her throat. “They look at us as if we’ve got the power to make them live and—” She stopped. “We don’t always. They beg us not to let them die, their families beg us to keep them alive, but sometimes we just can’t.”

  “You can only do so much,” he said, smoothing her hair back from her face with a big hand. Gator couldn’t believe the feeling of tenderness that had welled up in him over her confession. She had always seemed so self-assured, so in control of her feelings. That was one of the reasons he had always enjoyed teasing her. He wanted to see if he could crack that cool exterior, make that wall of reserve come tumbling down around her. He had teased and tormented and tried his damnedest to seduce her even though he knew better, but he’d never stood by and watched her heart seemingly break into a million pieces. It suddenly became of the utmost importance to protect her and Reba.

  Michelle squirmed deeper into his embrace and closed her eyes again, unaware of the effect she was having on him. It had been so long since she’d been held by a man. Everybody needed to be hugged, or simply touched by another human being from time to time, she told herself. She gave so much of herself to her patients; was it wrong to ask for something for herself? She slipped her arms around Gator’s waist, and pressed herself against his solid body, wishing to draw upon his strength.

  She had spent so many years offering strength and nurturing others that it felt wonderful receiving the same back. The storm would return with all its fury before long, and they could very well die, but for now she wanted to bask in the warmth of Gator’s embrace. Nothing else mattered at the moment. She was obviously in shock, she told herself. People did strange things when faced with their own mortality. But she forced the thought away, focusing instead on his scent and the way his lips felt in her hair and against her forehead as he tried to offer comfort.

  “Kiss me, Gator,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.

  He needed no further prompting. Gator lowered his head and captured her lips. Michelle remained as still as the world around them as his warm mouth opened over hers. His tongue was hot as it forged past her lips and explored her mouth with a thoroughness that left her tingling inside and out. His hands moved to the small of her back, caressing and kneading the tense muscles there while the muscles low in her belly coiled tightly. She opened her eyes slowly when Gator raised his head.

  “We’d better go back in now,” he said. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted her as a teen, but he could not afford to lose his head. He had promised to protect her and Reba, and he had every intention of doing just that. “Your grandmother will be worried.”

  Michelle nodded dumbly, and they headed for the house. She knew it was just a matter of time before they caught the backlash of the storm.

  #

  The second half of the storm, which seemed to go on forever, shattered windows, snapped trees in half, and a surge dumped water throughout the first floor of the house. Gator, having foreseen the event, had ordered both women upstairs into a short hall where there were no windows. Reba had insisted on bringing the animals up as well, so they huddled together in silence while Mister Ed squawked from his cage, the cats slinked from room to room, and Mae West growled menacingly from her box filled with puppies. Their only light was provided by an old kerosene lamp. Sometime later they dined on cold pork and beans and cornbread. From time to time, Gator shined his flashlight down the stairwell.

  Michelle had avoided talking to him as much as possible once her fear had abated and common sense had returned, along with the jolting realization that she had asked Gator to kiss her. Good grief, she still couldn’t believe it! This was a man who no doubt spent his Saturday nights staring into a beer bottle and playing musical beds with any woman who was willing, she reminded herself, and she had played right into his arms. Surely he realized she had been near hysteria at the time.

  “What are you looking for?” Michelle finally asked when Gator checked the stairs again with his flashlight. “Is the water getting higher?” It had already crept to the second stair.

  “Rising water isn’t the only thing we have to worry about,” he said dully, snapping off the light.


  “Then what?”

  “He’s looking for snakes,” Reba said matter-of-factly. “Where there’s water, there’s snakes.”

  Michelle swallowed. “Snakes?”

  Gator nodded. “Cottonmouths.”

  Michelle could almost taste the fear in her own mouth. She shuddered, and then scooted closer to her grandmother, trying to shut out the images around her. Somehow she would get through all this, she promised herself, and tomorrow, or at least soon, she’d have someone pull that tree off her car so she could return home. If only the wind and rain would stop. If only the water would go down and take the snakes with it. If only Gator hadn’t kissed her and brought back all those disturbing feelings.

  When the wind finally died down again to a steady whine, Gator insisted they try to rest, since none of them would be going anywhere until morning. After closing the bedroom door and stuffing clothes beneath it to prevent snakes from entering, Gator positioned himself in an old overstuffed chair while Reba and Michelle shared the antique iron bed and its feather mattress. Michelle was certain she’d never fall asleep, but somehow exhaustion forced her eyes closed. She opened them briefly when she heard Gator scuttling about the room with his flashlight, shining it on the floor and under the bed. But she was too tired to question him. Of course, had she known he was still looking for snakes …

  #

  Morning came, and with it a beautiful blue sky. Michelle felt her heart soar at the sight of it, and she threw her arms around her grandmother, who gazed out the window beside her, looking very forlorn at the devastation around them.

  “We’re alive, Grand,” Michelle whispered to the distraught woman. “Right now that’s all that matters.”

  Gator, wearing another night’s growth of beard, offered her a slight smile, and she thought he had never looked sexier. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. The sooner she got away from Gator and the bayou, the better.