by Elle James
Representing high-dollar divorce and corporate law cases seemed a snap compared to finding someone to low him. Spending his days as a frog certainly didn't help circumstances. He was a man for the few hours a night when most people slept. How could he woo someone so quickly in the narrow time slot allowed?
For one, he could get that someone into bed as soon as possible. If his love candidate could be lured under the sheets, he could keep her awake into the wee hours, getting her to know and love him. That seemed like a much better plan than hanging out in bars or all-night diners hoping to meet an insomniac. Which meant he'd have to go for Josie or Elaine. Josie it was.
With the decision made, Craig felt a little more in control. He'd start the next night on his campaign to woo Josie. If Larry had no objections.
Craig parked the BMW at Uncle Joe's house and trotted back to the marina where he slipped out of his suit and into jeans, a long-sleeved denim shirt and deck shoes. He emerged into the bait shop.
“That you, boy?” Uncle Joe called out.
He and Bernie sat at a rickety card table with a chessboard between them.
“Elaine come by?” Craig asked.
“Sure did, about two hours ago.” Joe's fingers lingered over a black knight as he studied the board. He moved the knight forward and to the left, removing a white pawn from the game. “She left her things behind the counter. Wanted you to come get her when you got back.”
“Thanks.” He located the familiar bucket, satchel and net, swept them up in his hands and headed for the front door.
“What's this about you serving customers in the nude?” Uncle Joe called out “Can't afford a sexual harassment suit against the marina.”
Craig's face warmed but he kept going. “Don't worry about it, we'll talk later”
When he cleared the door, he trotted down to the dock and tossed the items in the boat. Adrenaline shot through him as he walked up the steps to the road and aimed for Elaine's cottage. Memories of their last kiss and Elaine in a towel replayed in his mind.
In human form, the correct body parts responded, causing him significant discomfort. If he didn't get a grip before he got to her door, further movement would prove difficult. He'd be tempted to throw her to the floor and -
Don't go there, buddy. Remember Josie? Your plan? Is Elaine anywhere in your plan?
No.
Regret formed a tight knot in his chest and he questioned his decision to exclude Elaine from the list. Of all the candidates, she interested him the most - which scared him down to his toes. Perhaps he had a masochistic tendency to deny himself pleasure.
Lights from the cottage windows shone into the night, illuminating his steps. He searched through the panes until he spotted Elaine's silhouette in the living room, bent over something.
As he knocked on the door, blood pounded in his veins. To get his physical reactions in check, he shook his head, rotated his shoulders and stamped his feet. His upper lip broke out in a sweat like it had on his very first date at the tender age of sixteen.
At the ripe old age of twenty-eight, these chemical reactions shouldn't be so prominent. Elaine was just a woman, a woman with a to-die-for body disguised in khaki. She was the only female Craig knew who'd go out on a boat in light-colored, ironed slacks.
The door opened and Elaine stood there in her neatly pressed white oxford shirt and khaki slacks. Although Elaine was covered from head to foot in starched clothing, Craig could still envision her in the bath towel, her hair in neat, wet waves down her back, a rosy hew to her freshly washed cheeks.
“Ready?” he asked, staring into moss-green eyes barely hidden by the tortoiseshell owl glasses.
“Yes,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.
“Me too.” Craig turned away before she could see how ready he really was.
Elaine sat back in the boat, smearing bug repellent on her neck, hands and ankles.
Craig hadn't spoken more than two words since he'd helped her into the boat. He kept a distance between them, and made their brief contacts short and impersonal.
Now he sat in brooding silence, guiding the small skiff through the black waters, his attention fully focused on the channel ahead.
Elaine couldn't stand the silent gap widening between them. “I identified the frog we caught yesterday as a rana sphenocephala.”
A frown dipped between Craig's brows.
The frown made her all the more determined to get him to talk. “It's more commonly known as a southern leopard frog.”
He looked at her briefly. “How can you tell them apart?”
Not exactly a warm response, but open-ended. Encouraged by his question, she hurried to answer. “We can identify the different species by location, coloring, shape, and sounds. The leopard frog, found in southern Louisiana, is an orange-brown color and has a low-pitched guttural sound, similar to a chuckle.”
A smile tilted the corner of Craig's lips. “Laughing frogs. Did you stay up all night waiting for the leopard frog to chuckle?”
Elaine returned his smile, warmed by his response. “No. But did you know Dawg has a pet bullfrog?”
Craig's body stiffened and he shot her a glance. “Oh?”
Confused by his tense reaction, she leaned forward. “Does that bother you?”
“No, not at all. Dawg makes friends with everyone. It really doesn't surprise me that he's made friends with a frog.” Craig negotiated a turn before he spoke again. “Are you going to dissect him?”
“Dawg?”
“No, the frog.”
“No, I don't think Dawg would appreciate my cutting into his pet frog.” She shook her head. “Funniest thing I've ever seen, though. A canine protecting a bullfrog.”
“Like you said, strange things happen in the bayou.”
“Did I say that?” She knew she'd said those very words to Dawg earlier that morning, but not to Craig.
“Must have heard it somewhere else.” Craig nodded ahead of them. “Duck.”
This time out in the skiff, Elaine didn't hesitate. She ducked. The same drooping Spanish moss scraped across her back and over Craig. They'd entered the same lagoon where they'd found the dead fish.
When Craig cut the engine, the boat skimmed silently through the water.
Elaine strained her ears to listen. “Hear that?”
“What?” Craig lifted the oar from the bottom of the boat and dug into the water to slow the craft.
“Exactly. Nothing. I don't hear another motor. I hope we'll have plenty of time to collect as many specimens as we want.”
“Get your net ready, we're about to bump into a small island.”
As the boat slid into the bushes and vines crowding the shore, Elaine braced herself. A rounded bump in the water loomed ahead of her. Her heart skittered to a stop. “What's that?”
Craig shone a flashlight beam at the dark brownish-black knob about the size of dog's head. “You're a scientist don't you know a cypress knee when you see one? They grow out of the roots of the cypress trees here in the swamps.”
Heat rose in her cheeks as she realized how stupid she must appear. But her chagrin was short lived as frogs hopped into the water, diving deep to escape the massive beast of a boat disturbing their evening song.
With her heart pounding in her chest, Elaine readied her net and leaned over the side of the boat. Her face stared back at her in the reflection of light from the boat lanterns. The inky black depths mesmerized her until her head spun and her vision blurred. The familiar panic associated with her fear of water rose up into her chest threatening to overwhelm her calm exterior.
Craig leaned across and touched a hand to her knee. “Do you want me to do it?”
With conscious effort, she ripped her gaze from the reflection and stared down at the hand warming her skin through the khaki fabric. When she didn't respond, she felt his hand squeeze gently.
“Elaine?”
She glanced up into eyes so blue she fell right in, drowning in their depths. He'd call
ed her by her first name. How resonant and beautiful his voice made it sound.
“Do you want me to help?” He smiled into her eyes and warmth spread from his hand up her thigh to throb gently in her groin. Molten blood coursed through her veins, scorching her insides and making her body tingle with awareness, awareness she'd sworn to ignore. “No.”
“No?”
She straightened away from him. “I can do this.” All she needed was to focus on the task. She stared at the water again, and completely forgot why. All her consciousness centered on the dark-haired Cajun mere inches away. Like a celestial body drawn to the sun, her body gravitated toward him.
The boat tilted as Craig shifted to straddle the bench seat. A leg appeared on either side of her and she leaned back against his chest his heat enveloping her.
“I want to help,” he whispered into her hair, his breath stirring the tendrils around her ears. “Don't deny me the opportunity to be macho.”
Elaine stilled, her body an engine heating to dangerously explosive levels. She'd never felt this alive and aware of her own sensuality.
“Look.” Craig reached around her and pointed to a frog swimming in the water close to the skiff. He wrapped his fingers around the hand with the net and leaned into her until the mesh rested in the water. Together, they waited until the frog moved closer.
Unable to breathe for fear of moaning, Elaine enjoyed the solid muscles pressed against her back. A brawny arm wrapped around her middle and his hand cupped hers, guiding the net through the water.
Even through the pungent odor of bug repellent, she could smell his aftershave and minty-fresh breath. Closing her eyes, she imagined him pressing a kiss to her temple. With the image so real, she could almost feel his lips brush her skin in a butterfly-light kiss.
Elaine's eyes popped open as she felt the caress again.
He kissed her temple!
What should she do? A girl could get lost out here. Lost to her purpose, lost to her self. And with a man like Craig? A man who probably cut a notch in his bedpost for every woman he bedded and left heartbroken.
Elaine jerked away. Craig's warmth burned her like the moth in the candle flame. If she hovered too close, she knew her wings would catch fire. Fear born of self-preservation urged her to struggle.
“Whoa, steady now,” Craig said, as if gentling a spooked horse. He spread his arms and legs wide to still the rocking boat.
Without his arms to hold her back, Elaine lunged for the other seat. But the rocking motion threw her off balance. Teetering near the edge of the boat, she flung out her hand toward Craig. Then the boat tipped and she toppled over the side.
The legendary slow-motion switch kicked in gear. Elaine absorbed the details of the overhanging trees, marveling at the long strands of moss stretching three, sometimes four feet in length. Craig stood, his mouth forming around her name. His fingers reached for hers, lips touching lips, with no purchase found.
Craig's beautiful blue eyes were the last image she committed to memory before water embraced her, sucking her down to the silt and aquatic vegetation on the bottom. Liquid filled her nostrils and throat as she opened her mouth to scream.
Afraid of the water, she'd never learned to swim, so she sank like a rock. Her lungs starved for air felt ready to burst and her head grew light.
Water churned beside her. Strong arms grasped beneath her shoulders, hauling her up. Up to the surface, to air and light. When her face broke through she struggled to crawl higher up the torso holding her. Panic filled her and she floundered, afraid she'd sink beneath the surface again.
A grunt was followed by strong arms clamping hers to her sides. “Stop kicking, woman.”
She coughed and spluttered, “Can't swim.”
“You don't have to,” Craig said, his voice calm and steady. “Stand up.”
Elaine kicked and flailed to keep her head from submerging again.
“Damn it woman, stand up!” He turned her in his arms to face him, holding her fight against his chest. Where she floundered in the water, he stood solid and still. "Try it.
Put your feet on the bottom. It's only about chest deep."
“Can't swim,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks.
“You don't have to, Elaine.” He stared into her eyes for a second more, then leaned forward and claimed her lips with his.
Shocked into stillness, Elaine clung to Craig. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her breasts pressed against his hard-muscled chest.
With her lips locked to his, her feet found the bottom and relief swept through her. Relief quickly transformed into desire as she returned his kiss, her tongue meeting his thrust for thrust.
When they came up for air, Elaine stared into his eyes. “You saved me.”
“No, the water wasn't very deep. You could have saved yourself.” He reached up to brush her cheek with his fingers. “However, if we don't get out of here soon, we'll be alligator bait.”
Fear charged through her veins again and she practically crept up Craig's body, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Ohmigod, where are they?”
“They could be anywhere. And as much as I enjoy you crawling all over me, I don't relish the idea of being dinner to a reptile.”
"Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry, I'm acting like a blubbering baby. It's just -
“It's okay. Just loosen up on my neck so I can get you back in the skiff.”
Mortified and still shaking from her traumatic experience, Elaine shut up and let him lift her back into the boat. She clung to the seat as the boat dipped down into the water when he pulled himself aboard.
When they were both settled on the metal benches,
Elaine let out a sigh. Thank God.
“Look over there.” Craig pointed to the water about ten feet from the boat. Light reflected red off two golf-ball-sized bumps on the surface. Elaine peered closer and saw the water swirl in long waves behind the bumps. “What is it?”
“Alligator.”
“Wow.” Her stomach flip-flopped. “That was close.”
“Yeah. And that's a big one.”
“Could it have...” she gulped, “ …killed a grown man?”
Craig nodded, his expression grim. “One that size could. He must be fourteen feet long.”
A chill coursed down her spine and set into her bones. Her teeth chattered so loud, the sound echoed between her ears.
Craig looked over at her. “We need to get you back to the house.”
“But we didn't catch anything.” What about her research? She hadn't caught a single frog or fish. The evening was a complete loss. Except for one fiery kiss.
“It doesn't matter. You need to get out of those wet clothes and into something dry or you'll get sick.”
“I'm okay,” she insisted. Another shiver shook her entire body, belying her words. Why am I arguing? All she could think about was that alligator. Maybe a hot shower would warm her body and erase the smell of swamp water from her hair and skin.
“Yeah, you're okay.” He turned to pull the rope on the motor. He tugged with such force, the engine leapt to life.
Elaine hunkered low as he turned the skiff and headed out the way they'd come. The wind from the boat's movement cut through her wet clothes, making her even colder.
Craig stared over at her and caught her shivering again. He slowed the boat to almost a complete stop, reaching his arms out to her. “Come here.” His words were a command, but spoken with tenderness.
Elaine placed her hands in his and allowed him to - her across to sit on the bench beside him. He wrapped his arm around her and, with the other hand, increased the speed on the boat and navigated them back toward Bayou Miste.
Was his embrace a prelude to something more or just a friendly attempt to comfort her? Although she felt warm and secure, Elaine knew she was in way over her head with Craig.
CHAPTER TWELVE
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When the boat bumped against the dock, Craig out and lied it in place. Then he reached down and pulled Elaine up to stand beside him. He rubbed her arms and turned her head so he could see her face more clearly in the faint dock light.
Her teeth were chattering and her lips were a sad shade of purplish blue. She looked like a pathetic drowned rat with big owl eyes. Nothing to stir a man's desires. Yet he wanted more than anything to taste those full lips and share his warmth with her.
A mighty tremor racked her body and she stared up at him with an apologetic frown. “I'm sorry. I just can't stop shaking.” A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. The single drop traced a path down her cheek and became Craig's undoing.
Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and marched across the pier and up to the road.
Elaine squealed and hooked an arm around his neck. “You don't have to carry me. I can walk.”
“Hush,” he said, breathing hard after the climb.
“Craig, put me down,” she said in her matter-of-fact voice.
“Just shut up and let a man be macho, okay?” He tempered his words with a brief smile. Then he concentrated on breathing all the way to her cottage. When he reached her porch, he set her on her feet and doubled over, making a show of gasping for air.
Elaine's mouth quirked upward and she fisted her hands on her hips. "You sure know how to make a girl feel all feminine and petite.
Craig straightened and winked, no worse for the wear after his uphill trek.
After a failed attempt to show a cold hand into her wet pocket, Elaine muttered, “I can't make my fingers work to get the key out.”
“Here, let me.” Craig moved up behind her and pushed her cold hand aside, sliding his into the soggy opening.
Elaine leaned back against him, her shivers creating small vibrations against his chest and groin. Even with her damp clothes pressing against his body, he felt warmth spread downward from where her back touched his chest.
When his large hand snagged on its way in, he wiggled it free and pushed deeper.
Elaine gasped, and her body stiffened.
At last, Craig's fingers touched metal. With his hand cupped over the keys, he could feel her thigh through the thin lining of her pants. His grip tightened, and he pulled her snug against him, reveling in her feminine form and the feel of her backside rubbing his front.