Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (12 page)

The old woman stared straight into her eyes, her gaze direct and unflinching. “Let me get my tea, den we be settin’ for a come-to-Jesus talk.”

A lead weight sank to the bottom of Lucie’s stomach. She felt as she had when she’d gotten caught stealing a watermelon from Charlie Hughes’s watermelon patch. Had her grandmother found out about the spell? If so, who’d spilled the beans? Alex? Calliope? They were the only ones that knew. Now, here she was quaking in her slippers, fixin’ to have an inch or two skinned from her hide.

The microwave binged. With a teabag in one hand and the cup of hot water in the other, the most sought-after and feared Voodoo queen in the Atchafalaya Basin made herself at home on Lucie’s couch. “Come. Sit.”

“I can explain,” Lucie blurted.

The older woman held up a thick finger. “Don’t you be talkin’. Let me tell you a thing or two.” Her grandmother dipped the tea bag into the steaming water several times, dragging out the agony until Lucie thought she’d scream. “I don’t know what you be up to, and maybe I don’t want to know.”

“You don’t?” She sagged against the arm of the couch, relief filling her stomach like a cool drink of water.

Gran LeBieu gave her one of those stares that might as well have been attached to a curse.

Lucie stiffened and straightened away from the couch, her stomach churning again.

“Is dere something you be wantin’ to tell your ol’
Mamère
?”

A flood of heat filled her face. “No, there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on, nothing at all.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire
, a wicked voice called out in her head. How could she sit there and tell her grandmother a bald-faced lie? This woman had taken her in when her own mother had abandoned her.

Lucie dropped to her knees in front of the old woman, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, Gran, I can’t lie to you. My life is so screwed up, I don’t know what’s up from down.”

Gran LeBieu patted her hands. “Everyt’ing is going to be fine. Jes you wait and see.”

Lucie buried her face in her grandmother’s bright-red muumuu. “Have you ever done something you wished you hadn’t, but you can’t undo it without hurting others?”

“You be talkin’ in riddles, girl.” Gran LeBieu’s forehead wrinkled.

With a sigh, Lucie pushed to her feet and turned away. She really should tell her grandmother everything, starting with— “You know Eric Littington, don’t you?”

“Jason Littington’s boy?”

“Yes.” She spun to face her grandmother. “He’s handsome, smart, and going places in his political career.”

“Nice young man, if I recall.” The old woman’s brows wrinkled. “What’s your point?”

Cold feet set in, and Lucie’s good intentions froze. She forced a casual shrug. “No point, I was just making a comment.”

“What about dat Benjamin Boyette?”

Her heart flip-flopped. Now why would Gran LeBieu bring him up? She couldn’t remember saying anything regarding Ben since her grandmother walked through the door. “What about him?”

The older woman slid a sideways glance at her. “He’s handsome, smart, and going places.”

“Gran, he’s a bug exterminator.”

The old woman’s lips thinned. “It’s an honest livin’.”

“Besides, why should I care?” Her nonchalance had cost her with that pesky little voice inside telling her she was fibbing. She still cared.

Her grandmother’s brows rose on her dark forehead. “Why, indeed?”

She fought not to squirm under her grandmother’s scrutiny. “It’s not like it was before he left, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ anything.”

“He never loved me.”

Gran LeBieu shook her head, a sad frown creasing her forehead. “You sent him away.”

“It was something he’d wanted all his life. If I had married him, he would never have gone.” The seven-year-old loss still hit her square in the gut. “And what do I get for my sacrifice? He called me a bayou bimbo!”

“He was hurt and angry.”

“What was I? Chopped sushi?” Lucie wrapped her arms around her middle, fighting tears. She refused to shed another over that man. “Gran, he didn’t come back.”

“Would you? If I be recallin’ rightly, you threw his love back in his face.”

“He didn’t come back.” She repeated, her voice fading off as a damned tear spilled from the corner of her eye.

“Have you told da boy you still love him?”

“I
don’t
love him
.
He’s rude and overbearing, and couldn’t care less about me. Besides, I’m going to marry Eric Littington.”

Every line in Gran LeBieu’s face spelled disapproval. “Do you love Eric?”

The question was the crux of all the arguments she’d had with herself and her friends. But she’d gone into this plan with her eyes wide open, and she wasn’t ready to back down. “What does it matter? Lots of marriages are based on respect. Love is too hard and…messy
.
”

“Can’t have de satisfaction of making a mud pie if you don’t get your hands in de mud.”

Lucie pouted as she had when she was a child. “What if I don’t like mud?”

“Mud is good for de swamp girl.”

“That’s just it, I’m tired of living in the swamp. Eric is my ticket out.”

“Marriage should not be a ticket, it should be all about de love between a man and a woman.”

With her heart still aching from a years-old wound, Lucie couldn’t hear her grandmother. Didn’t want to. “Love hurts too much.”

The older woman nodded once. “Sometimes. Nothing be worthwhile if you don’t work hard for it.”

“Love has to be equal on both sides.”

“’Xactly. Think of what you be sayin’, girl. Eric is a good man. Does
he
deserve to be one side to an empty equation? Dat don’t add up, Lucie.”

“I have thought about it.” She threw her shoulders back and stood with her feet slightly apart. “I’m going to marry Eric and we’ll live happily ever after, just like a friggin’ fairy tale.” Her bold statement had lost its effect with the big tears that chose that moment to pop over the edge of her eyelids and slide down her cheeks.

“Then why aren’t you happy, now? Don’t you want to know de joy of loving and being loved?”

Her mouth moved but nothing came out. Why wasn’t she happy? Wasn’t Eric falling in love with her just as she’d planned?
Hell.
“I don’t care if I ever fall in love again.”

“Love has a way of finding you.” Her grandmother touched a finger to Lucie’s chin and tipped it up. “You jes got to be patient and be ready for it when it comes.”

“I was patient for seven years. I can’t be patient anymore.” She scrubbed the tears from her cheek. “That’s why I’ve done something stupid. Gran, I—”

Her grandmother laid a chubby finger over Lucie’s mouth. “You don’t have to tell me everything right now. When you be good and ready, come see me.”

She smiled through her watery eyes. “You’re right, Gran. I made this mess, I need to try to fix it first before I call in the big guns.”

“Remember, yer ol’
Mamère
is only a boat ride away. If you be needin’ me, I be dere.” The old woman swallowed one more sip of tea and stood. “Now, I got a handsome young man waitin’ to take me back to de swamp where I belong.”

She leaned forward and kissed her grandmother’s cheek
.
“Thanks for coming to see me, Gran.”

“Don’t wait too long to call on de big guns,
ma petite
.” Gran LeBieu kissed her on the cheek and let herself out the door and down the steps.

Lucie leaned against the doorframe and resisted the urge to follow the older woman out into the swamps where she could hide from all her mistakes.

Her grandmother climbed up into a rusty old pickup with Maurice Saulnier. After a few chugs and coughs, the ancient chariot lurched to life and out of the driveway.

As the truck disappeared down the narrow street, Alex’s bright-red Jeep fishtailed around the corner, honking and burning rubber as if a maniac were at the wheel.

What the hell?

Lucie waited until Alex’s Jeep screeched to a complete stop before she descended the stairs. No sense putting herself up as a target to the crazed driver.

Before the engine shut off, Alex and Calliope flung the doors open and leaped out.

“Did you see the front page?” Alex asked.

“Oh my God, Lucie,” Calliope interjected. “It’s all over the parish and clear down to N’Awlins
.
”

“What is?” Lucie asked.

“The picture of you kissing the most eligible bachelor in the state of Louisiana
.
” Alex ducked back into the Jeep and pulled the New Orleans
Times-Picayune
from the seat.

Lucie swallowed the wad of guilt lodged in her throat only to have it hit rock bottom in the pit of her stomach
.
There, occupying half of the front page, was a picture of her in a lip-lock with Eric Littington
.

Chapter Twelve

“So, Miss I-Can-Fix-Everything-With-Magic, what are you going to do about this?” Alex tapped her finger against the picture of Lucie kissing Eric.

Lucie cringed. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Alex folded the paper and whacked it against her palm. “You can’t do
nothing
. What about Ben?”

“What about him?” She feigned indifference. But she wondered if he’d read the article, and, if so, did he give a rat’s ass?

A plain four-door sedan slid up against the curb, followed by another and another, like a rental-car parade.

“What the heck’s going on?” Lucie asked.

Out of the first car leaped a reporter in jeans and a tan sports jacket, camera in hand.
Snap!

The flash blinded her and she staggered backward, suddenly all too aware of the cutoffs, tank top, and house shoes she wore. Had she even combed her hair this morning?

“Miss LeBieu, what are Eric Littington’s intentions toward you?” the reporter asked.

The second car parked and another reporter dressed similar to the first leaped out, pad and pencil poised. “Miss LeBieu, does Mr. Littington pay you for your favors?”

“What!” She stood in stunned silence as cars filled the street, and more reporters shouted questions.

“Come on,” Alex grabbed her elbow, spun her around and hustled her up the stairs.

Calliope followed at a slower pace, her eyes rounded.

Lucie pushed through her doorway into the safety of her apartment, away from the shouting reporters.

“No, Eric hasn’t made his intentions known that I know of,” Calliope was saying at the top of the stairs.

Alex snagged Calliope’s arm and yanked her through the door. Then she leaned out and shouted, “Miss LeBieu has no comments to make at this time. Please, go away.”

Just inside the front door, Lucie peeked out at the crowd gathering in the driveway below. Her head spun and her stomach felt like the inside of a coffee grinder. “Where did they all come from?”

Alex shut the door, leaned her back against it, and crossed her arms over her chest. “From all over Louisiana.”

Lucie pushed a hand through her tangled hair. “Why such a big deal over a little kiss?”

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Alex stomped into the living room. “Honey, if you haven’t figured it out yet, you’ve been sniffing too many swamp fumes. Eric’s running for a high government office. Any little scandal means big news.”

“Um, I like the guy with the brown hair in the denim shirt.” Calliope stood next to the window and was staring out of it. “Do you think I could get him to go out with me?”

“If you promised him the scoop on Lola LeBieu here,” Alex said.

Calliope turned to look at Alex, a small frown creasing her forehead. “Who’s Lola?”

“Lucie, you yutz!” Alex raised her hands to the ceiling. “I was talking about Lucie!”

Lucie couldn’t help the little grin that sneaked out. Calliope could be so clueless at times.

“And what are you smiling about? You could ruin Eric’s entire campaign.” Alex paced across the room and spun to face her. “And what about Ben?”

“Could you please leave Ben out of this?” she asked in frustration.

“I can’t. He’s my brother. How do you think he’ll feel when he sees this?” She shook the paper at Lucie.

Why did Alex have to be so pushy about Ben? “Why would he even care? He’s been away for years and hasn’t spoken word one to me. Besides, we don’t have a clue whether or not the spell worked.”

“I sure as hell hope it didn’t.” Alex twisted her hair in the back and clamped it in place. “That bug flew over DeeDee Dubois and Mo Saulnier, as well as Larry Ezelle and Elaine Smith. Now wouldn’t they all make fine couples?”

“Ooh, there’s one with blond hair and blue eyes.
Yoo-hoo!
” Calliope yelled through the window, fluttering her fingers. Then in a conversational voice she said, “I heard Elaine left town in a hurry this morning.”

Lucie’s heart flip-flopped and bounced up into her throat. “She what?”

Calliope turned toward Alex and Lucie. “She left town.”

“How do you know?”

“I thought everyone knew.” Calliope’s attention strayed back to the window.

“Apparently not.” Alex walked to Calliope and grabbed her shoulders. “Focus, Calliope. How do you know about Elaine?”

“Hey, you don’t have to hold on so tight.” The redhead shook Alex’s grip loose and brushed her hands over her arms. “Miz Mozelle called Mirna Mae, who told Josie Ezelle, who called me.”

Lucie paced in front of the couch, her head spinning with this new development. “Why did she leave?”

“Josie said something about postponing the wedding. Oh, I don’t know. You know I have this short-term memory problem. I can’t remember all the details. All I know is that she left town this morning.”

“Did Craig go with her?” Lucie held her breath, waiting for the answer.
Please, let Craig have gone with her
.

“No. I do remember her saying Craig didn’t go.”

Alex glared at Lucie.

She held up her hands. “Now, don’t go putting one and one together to come up with five-hundred and fifty-seven thousand, Alexandra Belle Boyette. There’s bound to be a perfectly good explanation for Elaine leaving town.”

“You saw the way Maurice was mooning over DeeDee last night. Eric’s been all over you since bug-day, and Ben’s moping around like he lost his best friend. And now Elaine’s gone.” Alex propped her hands on her hips. “How many lives do you have to wreck before you fix this problem?”

Her chest hurt and her eyes stung. “Oh, I don’t know!” How had everything gotten so messed up? “I barely make enough money at the Raccoon Saloon to pay my own rent. How am I supposed to help
Mamère
with her mortgage? And it’s been such a long time… I just wanted someone to fall in love with me and get me out of this hellhole. Is that so bad?” Tears spilled over and trickled down her cheeks. She dashed them away and turned her back on Alex’s accusing face.

“Oh, Lucie.” Alex’s voice softened and she moved to put her arms around her. “Wanting to be loved isn’t the problem. It’s how you’re going about it. You can’t
make
a person fall in love with you by using magic.”

“Magic works for Gran LeBieu.” She shook off Alex’s hands and walked away. “Why not me?”

Alex followed. “Do you really want to be with someone the rest of your life knowing you tricked him into marrying you?”

That thought had occurred to Lucie. Often enough to keep her belly in knots. “Eric is so nice. I think he really cares about me.”

“Is it the magic or does he truly love you?”

“I don’t know.”

Alex could be relentless. “And how do you feel about Ben? Do you still love him?”

“How can I respond when I don’t know the answer myself?” Why couldn’t Alex leave her alone?

“Well, I suggest you find out.” Alex strode to the door and paused. “Come on, Calliope.”

“Oh, good. Let’s hurry before the blond gets away.”

“Good grief,” Alex muttered. “You’d think you’d gone a whole day without a man in your life.”

“I’ll have you know,” Calliope said, “I haven’t been out since a week ago last Saturday.”

“Wait a minute.” Alex frowned. “You went out with me.”

Calliope flipped her long, red hair over her shoulder and smiled as she stepped up to the door. She had that feral look in her eyes she got when she was on the hunt for a man. “That doesn’t count.”

“Figures.” Alex stared over at Lucie. “Think about it, Lucie. I’ll call tomorrow.” She turned to Calliope, her hand hovering over the doorknob. “On the count of three.”

“What?”

“We’re going to rush through the door, down the steps, and out to the Jeep.”

Her smile turned upside down. “You mean I can’t stop and say hi to the nice man with the blond hair and blue eyes?”

“No, Calliope,” Alex said.

With a heavy sigh, Calliope’s lower lip jutted out. “Darn. Oh, well. Toodles, Lucie. Or should I call you Lola?”

“One. Two. Three!” Alex yanked open the door and shoved Calliope out.

The mob of reporters all yelled at once and camera flashes blinked like fireflies on steroids. Lucie slammed the door shut and leaned against it.

What had she gotten herself into? Did she really want to be the center of attention for the paparazzi and have her entire life laid open to the media?

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She jumped away from the door.

“Miss LeBieu, just a few questions,” a reporter called through the solid wood.

With her hands pressed to her ears, she shouted, “No comment.”

“Please, Miss LeBieu, we’ll only take a moment of your time.”

“Go away or I’ll call the police.”

Silence.

She breathed a sigh and pressed her fingers to her temples. Everything was happening so fast her head hurt.

Wow. The spell must really be working. How could she doubt it? The attraction between Maurice and DeeDee couldn’t be explained any other way. And Eric would never consider going out with her and risking his campaign.

Holy swamp fungus! She had a date with Eric today! She glanced at the clock. In exactly twenty minutes. With a fleeting look down at her shorts and tank top, she yelped.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Don’t you ever give up?” she yelled. “Go away!”

“Lucie, it’s me, Ben. Let me in.”

Ben? Her heart lurched into overtime. What was Ben doing here? She didn’t want to talk to him. Every time she did, she got more confused. Maybe if she didn’t answer, he’d go away.

“Lucie, I’m not going away, so you might as well let me in.”

She groaned. What was he, her punishment for crimes involving magic? She unlocked the door and walked back into the living room.

Space, she needed space
.

The door opened and Ben stepped in. The tiny apartment seemed to shrink with the addition of his broad shoulders.

She couldn’t breathe. Had he stolen the air as well as the space?

Ben’s hair was mussed as if he’d run his hands through it several times. He used to do that when he was upset about something. Not that she remembered every little detail about him. Such as how he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of his favorite Garth Brooks song. Or how he’d stop and stare at the sunset on the bayou. Or how he’d twirl her hair around his finger when he wasn’t thinking about anything at all. Her stomach knotted into a sharp pain. No, she didn’t remember every little detail. “Why are you here?”

…

“You know why I’m here.” Ben took in the view of Lucie in her short shorts and bright-pink tank top and had to remind himself why he was here.
To warn Lucie off Eric
. Perhaps he was overstepping his authority, but he felt partially responsible for the success of Eric’s campaign.

Lucie’s shoulders slumped. “No, I don’t know why you’re here. You made yourself clear last time I saw you.”

He ignored her words and stalked toward her. “Just tell me one thing.” He stared into her eyes. “Do you love him?”

Say no
.

“By him, I assume you mean Eric?” She looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. She was stalling. If she really loved Eric, she wouldn’t hesitate with her answer. Would she?

He stopped in front of her. “Do you love him?”
Uh-oh, he’d gotten too close
. Now he could smell her perfume, a soft blend of roses. The same scent she’d used seven years ago. Some women never changed. The memories envoked threatened to overwhelm him, and he swayed toward her. If he raised his hand he could brush his fingers against her breasts.

The same breasts that were rising and falling in an erratic rhythm.

What was he thinking? This was Lucie, his ex-fiancée. The woman who hadn’t loved him enough to marry him seven years ago.

Lucie stepped back, and inhaled. “I don’t know why everyone is making such a big deal over a little kiss.”

“Was that all it was?”

“Yeah, just a kiss.” She tipped her head back and met his gaze square-on, as if challenging him to argue with her.

“If I had kissed you, you wouldn’t say that.”

Her lips parted in a silent gasp, her eyes opening wide, before they narrowed. “You think pretty highly of your talents, Mr. Boyette.”

“Do you doubt me?” He stepped closer.

She inched backward and pushed a stray hair behind her ear. “You flatter yourself. I’m not the least bit interested in you.” Her gaze darted to the far corner of the room, avoiding his.

“That’s not the impression I got the day before yesterday.” That kiss had been crazy good.

She made a face. “Temporary insanity.”

He reached out and turned her face back to his. “Are you afraid of me, Lucie?”

Her chin rose out of his grip. “No, I’m not.”

When he closed the distance again, her breath caught but this time she remained in position, her shoulders stiffening as if bracing for impact. She pushed her hair behind her ear again.
Ah-ha
. She had to be only a step away from all-out panic.

He almost smiled. He liked to make her uncomfortable. She sure as hell made him uncomfortable, from the twitch next to his eye all the way down to his— Well, everywhere. “Does he make you moan like I used to?” he whispered.

She stared at his mouth, her tongue swiping nervously across her lips. “Past tense. Ancient history,” she said, her voice breathy.

“Are you sure?” He ran his palm along her jawline and into the hair at the nape of her neck. God, she felt all silky and feminine. His groin tightened.

She tipped her head backward, but she didn’t move away. “I’m immune to you, Ben. You’re old news.”

He drew her closer until his lips were only a sigh away. “Does he make you shiver in anticipation?”

Her body quivered beneath his hand as if directed by his suggestion.

All teasing forgotten, he sealed her lips with his. He’d come to prove a point. Admittedly, at that exact moment, he couldn’t remember what the point was. All he knew were the touch, the feel, and the incredible scent of her. Like an erotic addiction, destined to scorch his soul.

When her lips parted on a gasp, he dove in, tasting and teasing, his tongue against hers. His hand swept down her back to cup her cutoff-clad derriere, hauling her belly against the stiff ridge of his denim fly.