Read Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two Online
Authors: Elle James
Tags: #Entangled, #suspense, #Romance, #Voodoo for Two, #Elle James, #voodoo on the bayou
Lucie smothered a giggle at the man’s horrified expression. Served him right. She’d like to wax his body for his rude insinuation.
“Then you and your shutterbug friend here better leave before I call the police.” With the threat of being waxed hanging over them, the two men didn’t resist. Josie, as smooth as you please, ushered them out of the shop and locked the door with an exaggerated
click
.
Alex and Calliope loosened their hold on Lucie and stepped away.
“Thanks, guys.” She rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Yeah. That’s what friends are for.” Alex gave her a twisted smile and glanced out the window, where a growing crowd of reporters swarmed around the salon. “I’m afraid this may be one mess we can’t get you out of. Only you can do that. And by the looks of that mob, it ain’t gonna be easy.”
…
Ben paced the sidewalk across the street from the jewelry store Eric had entered thirty minutes earlier. Who’d tipped the reporters off about Eric’s proposal? And why the hell was Eric already having a ring fitted? Lucie hadn’t said yes. At least that’s what she’d told him. Had she lied?
Last night had nearly put him in the grave with a heart attack. Or was that with a broken heart? When he’d responded to Lucie’s frantic call, he’d been hit with a double whammy.
Someone had taken a potshot at Lucie and Eric. His stomach still flip-flopped when he thought of the possibility of Lucie lying in a pool of blood because of some fanatic with a gun.
He had a sinking suspicion he’d screwed up last night. Why couldn’t he keep his big foot out of his mouth when he was with her? By sleeping with her, he’d really thought he convinced her not to marry Eric. Then he’d gone and opened his stupid mouth and made her madder than a wet hen.
She’d kicked his ass out of her apartment so fast she’d had to throw his clothes out with him. Thank goodness Miz Mozelle hadn’t come out to witness his humiliation.
Now, with Eric on the verge of making the biggest mistake of Ben’s life, he couldn’t even begin to think straight. Tough, nothing-but-focused Benjamin Franklin Boyette was in a tailspin and he couldn’t pull out. All he knew was that he had to stall this business with the ring. And he had to get Eric out of town before the reporters converged on him, and his friend made some stupid announcement about his intentions to marry Lucie.
But how could he stall him without looking like a jealous ex-lover, which he was feeling more like with each passing step?
“There’s his car!” a man shouted.
Ben recognized him as one of the protestors from Bayou Miste. Apparently, they’d followed the reporters to Morgan City. A mob of people dressed in white t-shirts with green lettering and cartoon pictures of dead frogs and fish scattered all over them moved en masse toward the jewelry store.
Ben crossed the street and ducked in before the crowd got there.
“Eric, you got trouble brewing.” He glanced over his shoulder and pulled the door closed.
“What’s this?” The sales clerk blinked twice behind his owlish glasses before straightening. “Sir, you can’t hold that door, this is a place of business.”
“Ah, Ben.” Eric turned and smiled across at him. “I’m glad you’re here. I need your opinion.”
“No time for that.” He braced himself for the first protester, who reached for the doorknob. “You need to go through the back door if you want to avoid the mob outside.”
“What mob?” Eric squinted and then his brows rose. “More demonstrators?”
“That and reporters.” He leaned back, his hand gripping the knob as the man on the other side of the door attempted to pull it open.
“Don’t worry about them. They have just as much a right to shop here as I do.” Eric continued smiling, much to his annoyance. “Let them in, Ben.”
“They aren’t here to shop, Eric, and you know it.” He didn’t relinquish his hold.
Other demonstrators knocked on the windows, their muffled yells falling on Eric’s deaf ears. The man was completely befuddled. Ben recognized the Lucie effect. Hell, he had it himself. Problem was, he didn’t know how long he could hold out against the growing crowd. His hands were starting to sweat.
“Do you think Lucie would like my mother’s engagement ring or a new one all her own?”
Ben groaned. He had to stop Eric from getting a ring and keep him safe all at once. How the hell could he do that when Eric was floating on cloud nine? “Why don’t you wait until the woman says yes?”
Eric leaned against the counter and sighed. “I hope she says yes.” Then he frowned at Ben. “Can you think of any reason she wouldn’t?”
Because she doesn’t love you, she loves me!
He bit hard on his tongue to keep from saying what was in his heart. Hell, he didn’t know what she was thinking. Never had. But Eric was an honorable man and she couldn’t find a better one to marry. As rough of a life as she’d had, she deserved someone like Eric to wrap her in silk and diamonds. “No, I can’t think of any reason for her to say no.”
How could he hope to compete with Eric? His heart sank to a new low, pretty much at bottom-clinging pond silt. Especially after what he and Lucie had been up to the night before. Eric was his friend, yet here he was betraying him by omission—and by deed last night.
“I think she’d like one of her own.” Eric leaned over the counter and pointed at the glass. “I’ll take that one in a size six.”
Damn, Eric even knew her ring size. Ben remembered it from all that time ago, when he’d asked Lucie to marry him. He still had the ring tucked away in a drawer at his mother’s house.
The door shook as yet another protestor struggled to open it.
Get a grip, man. She’s not yours, never has been
. Last night had meant nothing to her.
But the world to him.
“I’ll have to have it sized,” the clerk said, glancing nervously at Ben. “Really, sir, you should step away from the door.”
“How long will it take?” Eric asked, completely oblivious to Ben’s struggles or the clerk’s distress.
The man behind the counter shot a desperate look toward Ben. “It could be ready by tomorrow.”
“That’s good.” Eric smiled. “I have just the place I want to take her.” Eric handed the clerk his credit card.
Just as the congressional Romeo was signing the credit slip, Ben’s hands slipped off the knob. “Ah, hell. Look out, here they come.”
Eric tucked the receipt in his pocket and turned as half a dozen people in frog t-shirts spilled into the store, carrying signs and chanting, “Clean the swamps!”
They were followed by reporters armed with cameras and microphones.
Ben edged in front of Eric, creating a physical barrier between the demonstrators and the candidate.
With a hand on his shoulder, Eric spoke softly into his ear. “Ben, you can’t keep them away, let me handle this.”
Fine. He stepped aside. It was Eric’s funeral.
As he shifted, he noticed a man standing among the demonstrators, dressed in a white t-shirt with “I Love LA” written in green letters. Ben wouldn’t have noticed, except he didn’t quite fit with the others. He didn’t have the “I want to save the world one seal pup at a time” look about him. He was older and he sported deep frown lines around his narrowed eyes.
Ben recognized the man as the leather-jacketed stranger in the bar the first night he’d met with Eric. As this realization struck, the frowning man reached into a satchel.
Was he going for a gun?
Ben tensed. Before he could react, the man removed his hand from the bag and lobbed a bright green balloon through the air, straight for Eric.
“Get down!” Ben yelled so loud the demonstrators around him ducked. Without thinking, he reached out to catch the balloon. When rubber met flesh, the balloon burst, splattering thick paint the color of shamrocks all over his hand and down his arm.
“What the hell?” Eric said.
Ben spun toward his friend and the reason he’d been assigned this mission.
With a puzzled frown denting his forehead, Eric rubbed at the paint on his cheeks. He looked like a victim of an alien massacre with green blood spatter from the waistband of his wrinkle-free khaki slacks up to the top of his neatly combed hair.
A collective gasp rose from the demonstrators gathered around Eric. Cameras flashed like so many strobe lights, temporarily blinding Ben.
Then a single voice shouted, “Save the frogs!”
A moment later the roof shook with the combined voices of a dozen demonstrators chanting, “Save the frogs!”
Ben grabbed Eric’s elbow and ushered him to the back of the store where the nervous salesman stood rubbing his hands together as if working up a lather. “Oh dear, oh dear.” His gaze locked on Eric’s shirt.
“Where’s the back door?” Ben asked.
The salesman threw his hands in the air. “In the back. Where else?”
He pushed Eric around the counter toward the rear of the small building.
The worried clerk surfaced from his stupor long enough to protest, “Sir, you’re not allowed in the stockroom!”
Ignoring the man, Ben led Eric through the maze of boxes and jeweler’s worktables to the back door.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He took off at a trot down the alley behind the store, listening for Eric’s footsteps behind him.
After passing several buildings, he slowed and looked around.
Eric caught up and grinned. “This campaign is getting more interesting by the minute. How are we supposed to get to our cars?”
Ben was just trying to figure that out when he noticed the bright-red Jeep parked in the alley a few buildings down from where they stood. “Alex.”
“Alex? As in your sister, Alex?” Eric asked.
“Yeah. I think we have a ride back to Bayou Miste.”
Just as they reached the Jeep, Alex burst through the back door, followed by Lucie.
His stomach clenched. She looked stunningly beautiful, her long black hair falling in shiny waves around her shoulders, framing her face.
“Ben! What are you two doing here?” Alex asked.
Eric strode straight up to Lucie and grabbed both hands. “Lucie, my dear. You’re gorgeous.”
Her gaze darting from Eric to Ben, her cheeks flushed, then her eyes widened as she focused on the green splatters. “Good Lord, Eric, what happened?”
Eric held up his hands. “It’s okay. A few overzealous protestors and a balloon full of paint. Nothing a new shirt and shampoo won’t take care of.”
“But that’s awful!” She dropped one of Eric’s hands to reach up and wipe a spot of paint from his brow. She darted a look at Ben, her lips tightening around the edges.
If he’d thought she’d gotten over her anger from last night, he was sadly mistaken. Yet his gut tightened as she tenderly caressed Eric’s cheek. She obviously cared about the guy.
But how much?
And how could she love another man when she’d made such passionate love to him last night?
He pulled his keys from his pocket and tossed them to Alex, then held out his hand. “Let me have your keys. You can take my car. It’s parked in front of the jewelry store a couple blocks down.”
“But you’re covered in paint!” Alex wailed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have your seats professionally cleaned,” Eric reassured her.
“But— But…” Alex’s brows met over her nose and she looked ready to cry. “My Jeep’s my baby.”
“We’ll be careful. Now quit blubbering and hand over the keys.” Ben held his hand palm upward, crooking his fingers impatiently.
Calliope stuck her head out the back door of the hair salon. “Hey Lucie, Alex, you better hurry, they’re going around— ” she stopped midsentence and stared at Ben and Eric. “Hello guys, where’s the party?”
“Hi, Calliope.” Eric grinned. “The party is down the street, only I don’t recommend the decorations.” He slid into the passenger seat as if he were sliding into a limousine.
Calliope giggled. “Me, neither. Although I do look good in green, I don’t fancy that particular shade.”
Ben climbed into the Jeep and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “If you two are through discussing color choices, maybe we could get the hell out of here?”
“Testy, aren’t we, Mr. Boyette?” Lucie turned to Calliope. “What were you saying when you came out?”
“I was saying something?” Calliope scrunched her eyebrows together. “Oh, yeah. That crowd is leaving the front door as we speak. I suspect they might be headed around here to the back to catch you.”
“Get in, Lucie,” Ben ordered.
“Yeah, come with us,” Eric reached out and caught her hand.
“Damn,” Lucie muttered.
Ben figured the last place she wanted to be was anywhere near him. But the rising hum of a dozen voices spurred her into action. She yanked open the back door of the Jeep and hopped in.
He fought to keep from busting out with a smile, and his heartbeat sped up in anticipation. After he dropped Eric off at his house, he could pick up where he left off last night with Lucie.
If he could get her to forget about what he’d said…
After what they’d shared, Lucie couldn’t be serious about marrying Eric. And he fully intended to remind her why.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucie hunkered down in the back of Alex’s Jeep, as much as a person could with her knees jammed into the back of the seat in front of her.
Ben’s seat
. For every bump, she banged her knees into Ben’s back through the cushion. Deliberately? Maybe. She held onto the roll bar and set her teeth against the jolting ride—mad because she’d been chased out by reporters, madder because she had to leave her Mustang, and maddest because she’d had to ride in the same car as Ben.
Holy swamp goo! What the hell was she doing in the same vehicle as the man she’d made love to
and
the man she planned to marry? Sadly, they weren’t the same person. Guilt wadded in the back of her throat like an old sock.
Could her life be any more difficult?
Eric craned around to look at her, his boy-next-door face and sincere smile making her feel more like a heel by the minute. “Darling, would you like to join me for lunch?”
Panic filled her belly with butterflies. She couldn’t be in the same room alone with Eric. Not after last night. Surely her face would give her away, or she’d say something equally revealing. No. She couldn’t. Not yet. Eric was too nice a guy to lie to. She had to find a way to fess up before the hole in her gut turned into a genuine ulcer. Eric deserved better than two-timing swamp trash.
She wanted to sink through the floor and disappear.
My God
. She’d become her mother and her sister! Sleeping with any man who’d call her pretty.
She shot dagger looks into Ben’s back. And prayed he could feel them. Oh, for a Voodoo doll to stick full of pins!
Just as she was projecting daggers into him, he looked up into the mirror and smiled at her. That smirky, I-know-what-you’re-thinking look. She kicked her foot under his seat hard enough to make him jump, causing him to swerve onto the shoulder.
Eric grabbed the dash. “What’s wrong?”
Ben’s brows lowered, practically connecting over his nose. “Thought I saw a skunk.”
“Great. All I need to top off the paint on my shirt is to smell like a skunk. Not candidate material, if you ask me. You sure it was a skunk?”
Lucie couldn’t resist. “Takes one to know one, huh, Ben?”
Eric laughed and jabbed his elbow into Ben’s rib. “I believe she just called you a skunk. Are you going to take that from her?”
“I’ve taken a lot more than that.” Ben glanced back at her. “Would you care to expand on that, Lucie?”
He wouldn’t dare kiss and tell. She narrowed her gaze at him.
Would he?
“What has my friend Ben taken from you that you didn’t willingly give?” Eric asked, still oblivious.
“See, that’s just it.” Ben slowed to take a corner. “I only took what she more than willingly gave me.”
“Sounds mysterious.” His teasing tone belied his serious look. “And here I thought you two weren’t even close after your breakup so long ago. What else don’t I know about you, Lucie, darling?”
She gulped and choked on her own spit, bursting into a fit of coughing.
“Are you okay?” Eric turned in his seat, all teasing gone. “Ben, perhaps you should pull over. I think she can’t breathe.”
She coughed and coughed, tears running down her cheeks, her face burning with the effort to breathe. Between fits, she choked out, “No need to stop. Just take me home.” She swallowed in spasms and finally got her throat under control. Whew! She couldn’t have timed that any better. With all her sputtering, Eric hadn’t noticed she never answered his question.
A musical jingle sounded from the front seat.
Good, maybe Eric would get involved in a long conversation on his cell phone and not ask her any more revealing questions that would make her spill her guts like an eviscerated pig. No, that wouldn’t do. She still hadn’t made up her mind whether to say yes or no to Eric’s proposal. But she knew she’d have to come to grips with sleeping with Ben. And probably confess.
Oh, man, oh, man. What had she
done
?
“Hey Neal, what’s up?” He listened for a moment. “At the house? Now? I’m in no condition to meet with a contributor. Okay, okay. I’ll sneak in the back door. Stall him until I can duck into the shower and get the paint out of my hair. Aren’t you going to ask me what paint? Oh, you’ve heard?” He shook his head. “Great.”
Finally, she was getting a break, Eric had an appointment to keep. Yay! That could buy her a little time to figure out her dilemma.
And her future.
Eric turned around in his seat, a crooked smile lifting one side of his mouth. “Lucie, I must apologize. My campaign manager insists I speak immediately with one of the chief contributors to my campaign fund. Apparently the paint incident has made it around and I need to show my game face.” He laughed out loud. “
Without
the paint. Could we reschedule lunch to dinner?”
Another break! Thanks to heaven and cypress knees. “I’m sorry, Eric, I have to work tonight.”
His blond brows furrowed momentarily, then shot upward. “Even better. We can go out tomorrow night. There’s something I have to pick up in Morgan City, anyway.” A secretive smile curled his lips.
What was that look for? “I’m sorry, Eric, I have to work tomorrow night, too.” Could she be lucky enough to avoid him for another entire night? She held her breath.
“Then I’ll pick you up from work.”
Her breath shot out in a whoosh. “But that’s two o’clock in the morning!”
“All the more reason to see you home.” His smile widened. “We can go to Morgan City for breakfast.”
Wait. Breakfast? Or
breakfast
?
Damn!
Okay, so she’d have a little more than thirty-six hours to make up her mind. That was doable. Wasn’t it? Deciding whether or not to marry Eric should be easy enough in that amount of time.
His grin was so infectious, she couldn’t say no—at least to the date. Nor would she give Ben the satisfaction of thinking he had anything to do with her reluctance to go out with Eric. She pasted a happy smile on her face and met Ben’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sounds wonderful.”
Ben’s brows furrowed and the Jeep lurched forward.
Ha
. Let the man stew. He didn’t own her or have any right to tell her whom she could or couldn’t marry. Or have breakfast with.
When she glanced out the window, she was surprised to see the sweeping driveway leading to the Littington estate. The trip from Morgan City she’d thought would be endless was almost over.
“Pull around back, if you would.” Eric ducked low in his seat as they passed a black Lincoln Navigator.
As soon as the vehicle came to a halt, Eric jumped out and reached in to assist Lucie to the ground so she could switch seats. For a moment he held both her hands in his and gazed lovingly down at her.
Guilt washed over her in waves. Eric was so nice. Perfect husband material. And by the look in his eyes, he was smitten. She’d gotten what she wanted; all she had to do was to reach out and take it. Why was that so damn hard? Why wasn’t she the least bit happy?
“Do you realize how much your hair glistens in the sunlight? You’re beautiful, Lucie. And every moment away from you is an eternity.”
She tugged against his grip, uncomfortable with his pretty speech. How strange, when she’d always dreamed of a man saying such things to her. “Don’t, Eric.”
He chuckled. “What? Am I embarrassing you?” He turned to Ben. “I can’t believe I’m embarrassing a woman who can hold her own at the Raccoon Saloon.”
Ben snorted. “Yeah, hard to believe.” His words were for Eric, but his enigmatic gaze rested on her.
Eric stared down into her eyes. “I’m sorry you got dragged into what’s turning out to be a dirty campaign, but I’m not sorry I met you.”
“Eric—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Sadly, I have to go. But I will see you tomorrow when we can have a nice, long talk. There’s so much I want to say.” He kissed her knuckles. “Until then.” He helped her into the front seat and stepped back with a bow.
Ben revved the engine and pulled away—a little faster than she thought was necessary.
Eric stood for a moment, waving, then disappeared into the house. Poor, poor Eric. What had she done to make him so besotted?
Oh, wait. The love bug.
“Very touching.” Sarcasm dripped from Ben’s two words.
“At least he isn’t rude and degrading, like some people I know.”
“Namely me?”
She glared at him. “That’s where I would start the list.”
“What do you want with Eric? The man’s in the middle of a heated campaign. He doesn’t need distractions.”
“So, now I’m just a distraction?”
“You’ve always been a distraction, Lucie.” The soft look he shot her way tempered his harsh words. “You’re hard to forget.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window, willing the sudden tears not to spill from the corners of her eyes. After having cried an ocean of tears over this man, she didn’t need to shed another. Especially in front of the oaf. No sirree, not one.
“Not for
some
people,” she gritted out.
Warm liquid made a trail down the cheek closest to the window.
Oh no
. Why now? After seven years, she should be well over Ben. She reached up on the pretext of pushing her hair from her eyes, scrubbing at the tear before it made it to the bottom of her cheek.
He would
not
see her cry.
…
Ben knew what she was doing, had seen the glistening tears pooled in her eyes, and his heart cracked a little more. “What’s wrong with us, Lucie?”
“Nothin’. Because there isn’t any ‘us.’”
Well, that pretty much put him in his place. He pulled into her drive and shifted into park.
Lucie grabbed the door handle.
Before she could open it and jump out of his life again, he placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, we need to talk.”
She stared down at the hand on her arm and then up into his eyes, her frown expressing her anger, her watery eyes the hurt. “You should have thought of that seven years ago. Let go of me, Ben.”
“Let go of you, as in your arm? Or let you marry Eric?”
“Both.” Her face was set, but her bottom lip trembled. “Why did you come back to Bayou Miste, Ben? You don’t belong here anymore than I do.”
“I came back for the job.”
Lucie snorted and flicked the collar of his bug exterminator uniform. “Yeah, right. And I’m the queen of England.” She shrugged out of his grip and slid from the Jeep. “Leave me alone.”
As she walked away from him, he called out his window, “Do you love him?”
Her footsteps halted and for a moment she stood with her back to him. Then she turned. “If I told you I did, would you leave me alone?”
Not quite the answer he wanted
. He let all the air out of his lungs like a deflating tire. “If you really love Eric, as he seems to love you, I’ll step aside.”
“Then step aside.” One eyebrow rose in challenge.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I feel under no obligation to answer any question from you, Benjamin Franklin Boyette.” She spun, her hair flipping over her shoulder as emphasis, and walked away.
He sat for a moment, watching her hips twitch side to side as she climbed the steps to her garage apartment.
She hadn’t said she loved Eric. In fact, she’d deliberately avoided the question.
The lump of a heart that had been parked in his chest for seven long years suddenly felt lighter. His blood flowed freely through his veins after having been clogged for way too long. Clogged with unanswered questions, and a love long lost. The blood flowed so freely, he almost felt light-headed.
Lucie had not admitted to loving Eric.
Another thought slowed his dizzy brain. Even so, that didn’t mean he stood a chance with her. She’d shown him the door once; why did he think he could win her over a second time around?
He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Why did women have to be so damn complicated?
“Why do women have to be so damn complicated, Jean?”
Ben sat across the bar from Jean Dupree, the bartender . He’d gone about the business of protecting Eric all day when he would rather have been shaking a few answers out of Lucie’s head. He couldn’t get her off his mind, not for a single moment, and he was sick to death of being rattled by a woman.
“Do you think if I had the answer, I’d be tending bar in Bayou Miste?” Jean dried a mug and set it on the shelf behind him. “Take that one,” he nodded at Lucie. She was weaving her way through the crowd, a smile on her face, her skimpy t-shirt showing enough belly to keep the predominantly male customers happy and horny. “She’s worked for me the last seven years and she’s still not married. Every other waitress got married. Some several times. But not my Lucie.”
She hadn’t made it back to the bar since Ben came in. He was looking forward to her reaction, while at the same time dreading it. How many times did she have to tell him to get lost before he got the hint? Still, after last night, he couldn’t help but have hope. She couldn’t have faked her abandon during their lovemaking. Hell, she wouldn’t have let him do what he’d done if she didn’t care a little.
Would she?
Perhaps all the sly comments of some of her customers were true and she’d become a slut like her sister Lisa since he’d left town. He shook his head. No. He knew better. Lucie’s flirty act was a cover for a sad, lonely young woman whose promiscuous mother had dumped her and her sister when they were little girls. You didn’t get over something like that. Not ever.
Only Ben and maybe a few of her closest friends knew her background. She was so afraid of ending up like her mother, she flirted but never followed through.
Except with him.
Then why the hell hadn’t she married him, as she’d promised?
He downed his second beer and swiveled to face the room. “I just don’t understand women.”
“Me, neither.” Pascal Pasquale claimed the seat next to Ben.
“Want the usual?” Jean Dupree asked.
Pascal shook his head. “No, I need something to numb the senses. Make it a whiskey.”
“Hey, Pascal, sorry I had to get rough with you the other night.” Ben stuck out his hand.