To Kiss A Frog Page 10

  “You know, Craig,” Mo said. “Larry's right. You should go after his sister. She's had a crush on you since practically forever.”

  Craig's heart raced at the thought. Not out of anticipation, but panic. He liked choosing his own dates. The thought of Mo and Larry finding women for him curled his intestines. “I'm still thinking about it.”

  “Don't wait too long. More ya know it, dat full moon will be arisin'.”

  “Craig, honey.” A thin hand slipped under Craig's elbow and a buxom breast pressed to his arm.

  “Hello, Lisa.” Lisa LeBieu, with her long straight black hair and olive skin, would turn any man's head, but Craig had been scorched once already. He didn't feel comfortable standing in the same room with her, much less with her lounging all over his ann.

  She walked two fingers up his chest and tapped his chin. “I hear Grandma LeBieu put a hex on you.”

  Craig extricated his arm from her clutches. “Back off, Lisa.”

  She tried to hook his arm again.

  With another backward step, he came flush up against a wall. His head bumped a sconce, causing the light to shimmer.

  “What's the matter, Craig?” She stalked him until her full breasts pressed against his chest. “Afraid of poor little me?”

  “Yup.” Her approach reminded him of a black widow spider. Black hait red lips, all the soft feminine curves luring a man into her trap, and zing! “Do you mind? I'm here to see my uncle.”

  “I don't mind at all,” she purred, running her fingers across his shoulders. Her hand stopped and she plucked something off his shirt. “What's this?”

  Craig stared down at her hand. In the light from over his head, a long wavy hair glimmered. Elaine's hair. His mind conjured the image of her against the bottom of the boat, her hair spread wildly around her. Although he willed it not to, his groin tightened.

  Lisa's eyebrows dropped in a v-shape. “Who is she?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.” Inside, Craig cringed. God forbid Lisa LeBieu should get her claws into Elaine. The scientist wouldn't even know what hit her until Lisa had her stunned and cocooned. Protective instincts surged in Craig, something he hadn't felt toward a woman since his mother. Damn! What did he care about the owl-eyed professor?

  Lisa's eyes narrowed and Craig could swear she read his every thought. The room closed in on him. He had to get away from her, find Uncle Joe and get the hell out of there.

  With a smile forced to his lips, he tried to placate Lisa. “Sweetheart, I really need to see my uncle. Would you excuse me, please?” He laid his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away.

  Then he ducked and ran.

  Right into his uncle.

  “Craig, there you are. Been wonderin' when you'd get off the swamp with that scientist lady.”

  Craig stifled a groan. As vindictive as Lisa was, all she needed was the identity of the hair's owner and she'd be wreaking havoc all over the parish. Craig turned to gauge her response.

  Lisa stared down at the hair between her fingers, acorner of her lip curling upward, and not in a pretty, sassy way.

  “Leave her alone,” Craig warned.

  Lisa's black-brown eyebrows rose on her smooth forehead and her eyes rolled up to gaze into his. “A little too punchy, aren't we, frog man? What were you two doin' out on the swamp at night? Catchin' a little swamp nooky?”

  A slow burn rose around Craig's collar and up the back of his neck. What had he been thinking when he'd asked

  Lisa out in the first place? Sure, she was cute, sexy and had a great body, but she was trouble with a capital “T.” As his uncle had told him so eloquently when he was a young teen, “Think with your brain, not with your balls, and you'll stay right with the girls.”

  With Lisa and those cute curves, he hadn't been thinking with his brain; that was apparent.

  “Did you come lookin' for me?” Uncle Joe stepped in between Lisa and Craig.

  “Yeah. We've got to talk.”

  “What's eatin' you, son? Besides that mangy beagle?” Joe snickered. When he saw the look on Craig's face, he coughed and straightened. “No, really, whatcha need?”

  “Can we get out of here?”

  “What, and miss the two-bit beer from two to four AM.?”

  Craig frowned.

  “Okay, okay. The one day a week they offer beer at a tenth of the cost and you have to go and be a frog about it.” Uncle Joe burst out laughing at his own joke, slapping his knee and bending double with the force of his guffaws.

  At the moment, Craig saw no humor in his uncle's words. “I'll meet you back at the bait shop when you're finished cracking jokes.”

  “Did you walk?”

  “Yeah.”

  Uncle Joe swayed and lurched toward the door. “I'll drive you home.”

  “No, I'll drive.” Craig snatched the keys and stalked toward the door.

  “Spoilsport. Won't even let a man have a little fun. Can't enjoy a good buzz without someone ruinin' it for me.”

  “My heart bleeds for you.” Craig's voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “No heart. None whatsoever. Drag me off in the middle of the night to talk to me and won't let me drive. It's not as if the Raccoon Saloon has two-bit beer every night.”

  “Only every Saturday night.”

  “The highlight of my week.” His uncle belched.

  “Come on, Uncle Joe.”

  Before they'd gone a mile, Uncle Joe lay fast asleep against the passenger-seat door, snoring loud enough to rival the cicadas.

  Craig parked the truck in his uncle's driveway. When he got out and opened the passenger-seat door, the inebriated man almost fell out. With an arm hooked under an elbow, Craig helped his uncle into the house and to the kitchen table.

  Uncle Joe slumped onto the speckled Formica tabletop and continued where he'd left off in the truck, snoring loud enough to shake the eaves.

  “Uncle Joe?” Panic rose in Craig's chest. He needed Uncle Joe to wake up long enough to listen. “Uncle Joe!”

  Joe lifted his head.

  “Listen to me,” Craig shouted loud enough to rattle the windows.

  “Whadda you want?” Joe said, his voice slurred, his eyes barely open.

  “You have to watch out for the scientist lady. I think she might be in danger.”

  He blinked. “From what?”

  “Well, Lisa, for one. I don't like the way she looked at me in the bar. She's trouble.” Lisa's evil smirk worried him. “Elaine's also investigating toxins in the swamp. There may be someone dumping stuff in there. If they find out she's snooping around, they might come after her.”

  “Whadda you want me to do?”

  “Just keep an eye on her. Don't let her go out on that swamp alone.”

  “Okay.” Joe's head slumped back to the table, hitting it with a thump.

  Craig clenched his teeth and counted to ten. Then he hefted his uncle out of the chair and dragged him into the little bedroom, dumping him on the bed. When he slipped the shoes off the older man, Craig shook his head. The bait shop wouldn't open early this Sunday.

  “Never mind. I'll keep an eye on her myself.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ************************************************************************************************

  Elaine slept like the dead until the sun crept into her window and warmed her face. With her eyes still closed, she savored the feel of clean sheets, country air and a late-night kiss from a sexy Cajun. The mattress in the rental house was soft and comfortable. A bed made for lying in later than usual, preferably with the one you love.

  Her eyes popped open. What was she thinking? As if love and Craig were at all compatible. They'd mix like oil and water.

  Completely awake, Elaine sat up and swung her legs out of the bed. No time for fantasies, she had work to do. The fact that her mind had superimposed Craig's naked body in the sheets beside her had nothing to do with her rapid ascent from the bed.

  Needing a little
caffeine to help her maintain focus,

  Elaine trudged barefoot into the kitchen wearing a short nightie and not much else. Two scoops of coffee in the filter, water in the top and she was on her way to a luscious cup of go-juice.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  Through the glass of the kitchen door, Elaine could see the screen door wobble.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  Elaine crossed to the door and peered out. Dawg stared up at her, drooping brown eyes imploring her to let him in. She cracked the door and peeked through the screen. “What do you want?”

  Woof! The dog tapped the screen door again with his toenails.

  “You want to come inside?” Elaine opened the door wide enough for the dog to slip past. When she would have let the screen slam shut, the dog twisted around and stuck his nose in it.

  “So what's it to be, in or out?”

  The dog stood still, his nose holding the door ajar. Then a mottled green bullfrog hopped over the threshold and into the kitchen.

  Elaine's gaze darted from the dog to the frog and back again. “Is this bullfrog a friend of yours?”

  As if in answer to her question, Dawg wagged his tail all the way up to his nose and swiped his tongue over the fro& knocking the amphibian over on his side.

  “Yeah, and with friends like you, who needs enemies? I get it.” She knelt close to the frog and scooped him up in her hand, bringing him to eye level. “Can't say I've ever known a dog to have his own pet bullfrog, but I'm told anything can happen in the bayou.” She shrugged. “Do you have a name?”

  Woof! Dawg, nudged her hand, licked her cheek and wagged his tail so hard his body whipped from side to side.

  “His name is Woof?”

  Dawg nudged her hand again.

  “Oh, you don't like me holding your friend, do you?” Elaine carefully placed the frog on the floor and patted Dawg.

  The big dog lapped at her cheek and sat, pounding the floor with his tail.

  “You're easy to please.” Elaine shoved the dog out of her face and laughed, feeling light and carefree. Is that what a couple days away from the university could do for you? Was that what Brian was talking about? Had she gotten too carried away in her work and forgotten how to smell the stump water?

  Elaine rose and stared down at the pair. A dog and a bullfrog. “You two can stay as long as you don't leave me any yucky presents.”

  Woof! Dawg gave his standard reply, licked her knee and flopped on the nearest rug as if all that wagging and woofing had worn him out. But the frog still stood where she'd set him on the floor. He seemed to stare up at Elaine's legs.

  She could swear she saw a hint of intelligence in his little black eyes. Elaine frowned and shook herself. Bayou Miste was really getting to her. “If you're staying, you have to have a name other than Woof.” She tapped a bare toe and tilted her chin. “Freddy?” She stared down at the frog. What was she expecting? A reaction?

  The frog's head swayed from side to side.

  Was that a “no”? She stared closer at the frog, never having known an amphibian to answer questions. Had she hit on some type of intra-species communication? Nah. “How about Bully?”

  Again, the frog swayed side to side.

  Elaine crossed her arms over her chest. This type of frog must have a natural swaying motion. “I can't believe I'm talking to a frog.” She shook a finger at the creature. “See what you're doing to me? I'm calling you Todd, like it or not.”

  The bullfrog didn't sway this time. Instead, its front legs jerked in a shrugging motion.

  “Good Now, I need to take a shower and get to work. Make yourself at home.”

  Craig tilted his little green head backward to take in all of a giant Elaine sashaying from the room. Her short filmy pink nightgown did nothing to hide long, silky legs - legs smoother than whipped cream and probably as tasty. The cheeks of her buttocks peeked from beneath the hem of her gown, encased in black silk panties - a naughty contrast to the innocence of her top.

  When she'd squatted next to him, all he could think of was licking her knees. Damned if Dawg didn't get the pleasure!

  Dawg had stood by him at sunrise when Craig transformed back into the frog. He decided it was a good idea to have the dog close as protection against snakes and other creatures. Dawg proved even more useful when he'd helped Craig gain access to the scientist's house.

  He'd hoped to get in and remain hidden so as not to be confused with one of Elaine's specimens. But Dawg came to the rescue again, by claiming Craig as his own. He wasn't so sure he liked being the dog's pet, but worse things could happen.

  Note to self. Tonight, give Dawg a steak.

  Elaine disappeared through the bedroom door and soon the rush of water could be heard from the bathroom.

  Craig hopped around the room, hoping to get an idea of what Elaine was like by the things she'd brought with her. But all personal items were high on a couch or table. He couldn't see a thing.

  He glanced toward the open bedroom door. Should he? Craig hopped by and shot a quick look inside. The light from the bathroom door shined like a beacon guiding a ship in the fog.

  Maybe a quick tour of her bedroom while Elaine showered wouldn't hurt. Craig hopped into the room and began his search for some insight into this woman who talked to dogs and frogs. When he hopped around the side of the bed, he landed square in the middle of her pink nightgown.

  He froze, wrapped in the tantalizing scent of a flower garden. The same aroma the voodoo queen had sprayed in his face. What kind of coincidence was that? The silky nightgown felt good to his sensitive frog skin. For a few brief moments, he languished in the folds, imagining Elaine still inside the short shift.

  Water splashed in the bathroom, enticing Craig. More than anything, he wanted to sneak a peek. But what kind of man would he be if he did that?

  Craig stared down at his green skin. He could argue that he wasn't a man at all. And as a frog, what harm would come of his seeing the scientist in the shower? She'd never know he wasn't a frog unless he told her, and he had no intention of doing that. But his conscience warred with his desire and won.

  The water shut off and Craig heard the plastic against metal sound of the shower curtain rings sliding across the curtain rod.

  He could imagine Elaine reaching for her towel, stepping from the tub onto the mat and wrapping the terry cloth around her body. His frog body tightened.

  Quick, so as not to arouse her suspicions, Craig hopped out of her nightgown and made for the door.

  “Hey, little guy,” Elaine's soft voice called out behind him.

  Craig stopped, frozen to the spot. Caught sniffing around a woman's bedroom.

  “Did you get lost or something?” She stepped up beside him and crouched down.

  Craig ventured a sideways glance and saw soft, creamy white feet with pink toenail polish. Her skin smelled of fragrant soap and radiated heat from her shower. Craig's cool amphibian body leaned closer to her warmth. Then he looked up.

  Tight calves crooked at the knee to smooth, naked thighs. A fluffy white towel wrapped precariously around her hips and breasts did little to dispel Craig's rising frustration. He opened his mouth to yell.

  “Gribbit!” Now that was about as satisfying as getting a splinter in one's webbed foot. He squatted next to a woman whose body could start a riot and all he could do was croak.

  “It's okay, I'm not going to dissect you. You're welcome to stay here and visit with me. I'm just going to get dressed.”

  Elaine stood, her hands rising to the edge of her towel, opening...

  Conscience overruled and Craig turned away, but not before he saw the rounded swell of her breasts. Unable to watch more, he beat a hasty retreat through the bedroom door. How much more exciting this scene would have been, were he a man. Then again, she wouldn't have let him past her bedroom door.

  Guilt weighed heavily on his mind. He felt like a peeping Tom. Elaine deserved better. At least she was fighting for a worthy, unself
ish cause - the environment. Craig was just fighting to save his own skin, and not of the green variety!

  Was spying on her fair? No. Then why the hell was he lurking in the scientist's home?

  Because he still needed to find someone to fall in love with him to break the spell and, as much as he was reluctant to admit it, Elaine was a prime candidate. Damn the situation! And damn that voodoo priestess!

  Dawg rose from the rug and trotted over to Craig.

  Woof!

  I know, I know. I got myself into this situation. If I had taken the women I dated more seriously, I wouldn't be where I am today.

  Woof!

  Dawg trotted past Craig to the door.

  Knock, knock, knock!

  Woof!

  “Now who could that be?” Elaine walked out of the bedroom, tugging a pale blue, snug-fitting shirt over a lacy white bra and down to her khaki shorts. Her hair was combed straight back from her forehead, and hung in loose, wet ringlets down past her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her brows dipped low over her moss-green eyes. Then she slipped her owl glasses over her nose and reached for the doorknob.

  “Well, now, what have we got here? Good morning, beautiful.” The oily, cocky words oozed out of the one person in the parish Craig had always wanted to smash in the nose, Randall Pratt.

  Elaine's back stiffened and she tipped her head down, looking through her glasses like a stem schoolmarm. “Excuse me, should I know you?”

  Randall pushed past her into the small living room.

  “Absolutely, you should know me. I'm the most eligible bachelor in the parish, Randall Pratt. And you are?”

  Elaine raised one eyebrow, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not impressed.”

  Chalk one up for the scientist. Craig liked her more and more every minute. She wasn't quite as naive as Craig had originally thought. And she could spot a snake when he slithered through her door.

  “Tsk, tsk.” Randall walked around the small room, fingering books on the coffee table. “We don't want to start out on the wrong foot now, do we? I came to see if I could help you with anything. Unloading your car, moving furniture in the bedroom. You name it, I'm your man.”