To Kiss A Frog Page 7

  Startled at the tempting image his words evoked,

  Elaine shoved against his chest and stepped a few inches away, willing her heart to calm its erratic beat. “I can manage, thank you very much.” Laced with irritation, her voice sounded ungrateful, even to her own ears. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so snappy. Thank you for helping me up. I'm not usually so clumsy.”

  “Must be that bucket you're so darn set on carrying.” He raised a teasing eyebrow. “Or maybe it's just my charming presence.”

  Oh, it's you all right. She bit her lip to keep from speaking the words aloud. Instead, she gathered her bucket and satchel and scanned the dock for her flashlight.

  The bright yellow torch had rolled to within an inch of falling off the dock. Her stomach sank to her knees at the thought of retrieving it. She couldn't ask Craig to get it and she couldn't leave the blasted thing. With a deep breath and fingers crossed, she inched toward the edge.

  Before she came within two feet of the object, Craig leaned down and scooped it up. “Come on, we need to get going.”

  He pressed the flashlight into her hand and grabbed her elbow, hurrying her toward the boat. She felt as if she were caught in a river, headed toward the falls with no way to make it to shore. Her heart hammered in her chest and her hands grew slick. She wasn't ready for this. She couldn't do it.

  As they neared the end of the pier, Elaine glanced around for the boat. Her expectations ran along the lines of a deck boat or maybe a pontoon boat. An ocean cruiser, if she thought it would work. What she found was a dinky metal skiff with an even dinkier engine mounted on the back.

  Elaine's world tilted and turned all hazy around the edges. “Breathe,” she muttered to herself.

  “Did you say something?”

  “No, not at all.” She'd hoped for light and airy; instead she sounded completely flaky, like a woman ready to jump off the deep end of sanity. Which, frankly, was exactly how she felt. She closed her eyes and drew in a long slow breath, filling her lungs with air. I can handle this. She smiled and opened her eyes.

  Larger-than-life Craig no longer loomed safely in front of her. He stood about a yard farther and lower in the tiny rocking boat with his hand outstretched.

  Elaine swayed. Why did he have to be so far down, and surrounded by all that water? She refused to let fear stop her.

  “Take my hand.” Craig sensed the scientist's feat Although she hadn't said a word, he felt it in the way her hand shook when she placed it in his. Was she afraid of him? Twice now, she'd landed in his arms and the experience had been... well... not unpleasant.

  His groin tightened.

  Okay, she'd sparked something carnal in him. He almost laughed out loud. Wouldn't she be appalled, if she knew?

  He tamped down his lusty thoughts and tugged her gently to the edge of the pier. “Now all you have to do is step down. I'll do the rest.”

  Playing tour guide to a lab-rat scientist wasn't solving his problem, but what else did he have to do? Perhaps the solitude of the swamps would give him time to mull over his predicament.

  With her hand still in his, she stood staring down at the water. Her hair fell in soft curls around her face, softening her features, making her appear vulnerable. The glasses perched on the edge of her nose couldn't begin to hide her eyes. In the bait shop, he'd noted they were the color of Spanish moss.

  When Elaine fell in the shop as well as on the dock, every one of his protective instincts shot to the forefront. And when he'd lifted her to her feet and into his arms, his body reacted immediately, every blood cell instantly alert. Thank goodness she'd pushed him away. Otherwise he'd have surrendered to the overwhelming urge to run his fingers through her hair and kiss her surprised pink lips.

  Of course, kissing was the idea as far as Madame LeBieu was concerned. If he went along with her wishes, he'd have to woo someone into falling in love with him. Why not the clumsy but pretty scientist?

  Craig stared up at her and shook his head. He'd come to Bayou Miste to secure another client for the firm, not to make a woman fall in love with him. When all was said and done, he'd return to New Orleans to represent spoiled and crooked clients in court. And sure as hell return single.

  Damn that voodoo witch!

  Elaine stood frozen to the boards on the pier.

  The look of absolute terror in her eyes forced Craig out of his own morose thoughts. “What's wrong?” He searched the boat, the dock, and the water. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

  “Do ... do you have a life vest?” she whispered.

  “Yes, of course.” Craig dropped her hand and reached under a seat for the regulation orange vest. He pressed it into her fingers, and leaned forward to grab her bucket and stow it in the boat.

  When he looked back, she stood exactly as she had when he'd handed her the vest, staring at the water, her eyes wide and worried.

  “What?” he asked irritably. Then he noticed that her hands holding the vest trembled. She was petrified.

  “I don't think I can do this.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “You don't have to. You could go home. I have other things to do.”

  His tone must have cut through her fear, because she shook her head and stiffened her back. Her lips drew into a tight line. “No. I have to do this.”

  “It's your choice. But if we're going, you have to get in the boat.”

  She stared down at the life vest and back to him.

  “For Pete's sake.” He climbed out of the boat. “Give me that.” Grabbing the vest, he hooked it over her head and fled the strap beneath her chin. The subtle scent of flowers wafted in the air. Craig didn't know what he'd expected. Formaldehyde or rubbing alcohol, maybe. But not the hauntingly familiar scent of flowers. He withdrew his hands and noted her skin was as smooth and delicate as silk.

  When Craig realized he was holding his breath, he forced air into his lungs. At that point he should have backed away. Yet his hands moved forward to lift her hair clear of the vest. The strands cascaded through his fingers to lie wild and soft against the orange fabric. He wanted to gather it up again and bury his face in the shiny tresses.

  “Does this strap do something?” she said, her breath warm against his ear.

  A river of awareness coursed through his veins and into his groin. He had to get a grip before he did something both he and Elaine would regret. She wasn't his type. Craig preferred the tough as nails, what's-in-it-for-me women. They could hold their own against his cynical views and lifestyle. Elaine, however, was... he grasped for the right word to describe his impressions of her. Soft? Vulnerable? Passionate?

  The last word that sprang to mind struck him. Why would he think of her as passionate? Was it her full lips and wide eyes or was he only projecting his own carnal thoughts on her?

  He gathered his diminishing faculties and set her away from him. Then he looked down at the strap in her hands. “That hooks around your waist.” As he reached for the strap, blood sang in his ears. Before he could take it from her, he stopped. His sense of honor still warred with lust. If he touched her again, lust might win. He pointed at the strap and said, “It hooks around your waist and buckles there.”

  Craig performed an about-face and practically leapt into the boat, causing it to rock violently. He fought to stay on his feet, thankful for the distraction.

  When he turned back toward Elaine, her face was white.

  “Will it do that when I get in?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “That rocking thing.” She swayed her hand back and forth, and her face paled even more.

  Around boats all his life, Craig hadn't considered she might be afraid of the skiff. And all this time, he'd thought she might be afraid of him. He smiled up at her. “No, I'll hold it steady. You just hold my hand and step in slowly.”

  Reaching up, he grasped her hand and tugged gently.

  At first she didn't budge. Then, one foot at a time, she inched toward the boat. When both her feet were at t
he edge of the dock, she looked down into his eyes.

  As if he were her anchor, she kept her gaze fixed on his and stepped down into the little skiff.

  The boat rocked gently and she threw her arms around his neck in a stranglehold.

  Craig would have cursed, if he could breathe. He braced his legs wide, absorbing the sway of the boat until it stopped. With one arm around her waist, he reached his other hand behind his neck to loosen her grip. “It's okay. You're not going to fall. I've got you.” His words soothed as he lowered her onto the hard metal seat.

  Her arm around his neck only brought them closer when he bent over. His nose buried in her soft curls and he inhaled. Definitely flowers. He liked that it reminded him of springtime and wild roses in bloom.

  Once seated, she released her grip on him, transferring it to her seat, her knuckles turning white. “I'm sorry.” Her smile trembled and her green-eyed gaze darted around the boat.

  “Why? Because you almost choked me to death?” He shook his head and grinned wryly, his heart going out to the frightened young woman. “Don't worry. I'm used to having women throw themselves at me.”

  Her eyes narrowed and a frown pushed her brows downward. “I was not throwing myself at you.” Her voice sounded indignant and more like the self-assured scientist he'd met last night.

  Craig breathed a sigh of relief. He could remain objective around the scientist. Just don't let the frightened mouse reappear or he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.

  He turned in his seat, reaching behind him to pull the cord on the little outboard engine. After the second pull, it sprang to life, chugging and coughing smoke until it settled into a steady rhythm.

  With the tiller in hand, he turned to face Elaine.

  “Ready?”

  Her eyes widened and her hands clenched the cool metal on either side of her seat. She gulped, then nodded.

  Craig eased the boat backward until it cleared the pier. He swung the bow around and headed into the murky swamp. All the while, he watched the expressions fly across Elaine's face in the little bit of light shining from the boat lamps perched on long, narrow rods at the front and back of the little boat. Occasionally, moonlight filtered through the dense trees overhanging the waterway.

  “I'm sorry about all the fuss... getting in the boat and all,” she stammered. “It's just that I don't know how to swim and I've always had an aversion to deep water.” She glanced over the side of the boat, shuddered and then jerked her gaze back to his.

  Craig tugged at the collar of his shirt with a lopsided grin. “That would explain the stranglehold. I'll try real hard not to tip us over”

  She stiffened. “Is it easy?”

  “Is what easy?”

  “To tip the boat. Is it easy to tip the boat over?”

  “Not if you're careful. Just don't lean too far to one side.”

  “Don't worry; I won't,” she said, her expression serious. “Don't you have bigger boats?”

  “Yeah.” A smile tugged at the side of Craig's mouth. She probably wouldn't feel more comfortable unless the boat was a luxury cruise liner. He noted her fingers hadn't loosened their grip on the bench seat and his smile softened. She really was scared. “If you want to catch frogs, you have to do so in the shallow water. The bigger boats are for deeper water. They'd get bogged down where we're going.”

  Elaine fell silent, her gaze still locked on him.

  Craig steered the skiff through the twisting channels, carefully avoiding overhanging trees. The little bit of a breeze their speed stirred kept the mosquitoes at bay. He made wide, sweeping turns so as not to tilt the boat and upset the scientist.

  At first, her stare made him uncomfortable. He couldn't stare back or he'd risk running into a tree or small island, but he did glance at her from time to time. She wasn't bad to look at. Not at all like the flashy or suited women he spent his days with in the Big Easy. Her appeal was subtle. A quiet beauty you had to take a closer look to find.

  “Are we going to where Bernie found the dead fish and alligator?” Her eyes lost their guarded expression, appearing more eager than frightened.

  “Yes, ma'am.” Craig nodded. “Why are you interested in dead fish?”

  She hesitated and stared down at her feet, chewing her bottom lip.

  Craig's years as a defense lawyer alerted him to her body language. And hers told him she was holding back. Interesting.

  Finally, she looked up. Green eyes peered through wide, round glasses. “Can I trust you?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

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

  Craig hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Can you trust me?”

  “That's my question.” Could she trust him? Besides being gorgeous in clothes and in the flesh, what else did she know about him?

  “Yes, of course you can trust me.”

  She stared hard into his eyes and then heaved a deep sigh. “I'm not good at cloak and dagger stuff.”

  Craig responded with a nod.

  “I received a sample of swamp water from an anonymous source. It was labeled Bayou Miste.”

  “And?” he prompted her.

  “When I ran tests on the sample, I noted high levels of uranium, thorium and radium.”

  “How much?”

  “Enough to threaten the ecosystem in this area, if it's not cleaned up immediately.”

  “Damn.” Craig sat back and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Exactly. If the water samples and animal life I collect show the same toxin levels, the people and creatures in this area have a big problem.”

  At least Craig's reaction appeared to be genuine concern. Elaine had taken a gamble letting him in on what little information she already had in her possession.

  “That's why you're studying frogs and fish.” Craig stared over her shoulder, his gaze appeared to take in more than the six to ten feet in front of the boat. “This swamp is my uncle's livelihood. He's been here since before I was born.”

  “What about you? Have you lived here all your life?”

  “No.” He slowed the engine and nodded at her head. “Duck.”

  “Huh?”

  “Duck.” Craig reached across and pushed her head down. Something brushed against the back of her neck, snagged at her hair, and then let go. It skimmed across her cheek with a mildly abrasive texture. Visions of snakes and spiders leapt into her mind. A scream bubbled up in her throat, but she clamped her tongue between her teeth and rode it out.

  Craig let go of her head and sat back in his seat, leaning to one side. A low-hanging branch weighted by heavy Spanish moss whipped past.

  Elaine sent a silent prayer of thanks to the teeth god for holding her tongue. Craig already thought she was a klutz and a wimpy nut case. No use adding fuel to the fire with an earsplitting scream.

  “You can sit up now; this area is fairly open.”

  She leaned back and stared at the man seated across from her. Studying him beat staring at the inky swamp water, and curiosity about the man helped distract her from her fears. “So, how long have you lived here?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  On the spot, Elaine grasped. “Maybe I want to reassure myself you know where you're going.”

  A black eyebrow climbed upward. “Don't you think it's a little late to be worried about that?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose.”

  His gaze connected with hers and held for a few moments before he looked ahead of the boat again. “I've been around these swamps for the better part of twenty years. My uncle had me guiding swamp tours and fishing trips when I was sixteen.”

  “Aren't you afraid of alligators or snakes?” A chill slipped down her spine.

  “Nope, but I do have a healthy respect for them.”

  He smiled and she felt warm all over, as if she could conquer any alligator or snake as long as Craig smiled at her like that again.

  “Why did you come to the
swamps?” Craig asked. His attention focused on navigating, he didn't look at her.

  “I told you, the water sample, toxins.”

  “I know all that.” His gaze remained on the route ahead. “What I want to know is why you didn't send someone who isn't afraid of water to collect more samples?”

  She stared out into the darkness. Perhaps because he wasn't looking at her, she felt more inclined to be open. “I guess I was tired of hiding behind my microscope. I wanted to challenge myself and my fears.” And she had her ex-fiancé to thank for opening her eyes to what she refused to see.

  Craig nodded and glanced at her, a half-smile lifting one side of his mouth. "Quite an adventurer. Didn't you do any fieldwork in grad school requiring you to get near water to gather samples?

  “Yes, but not anywhere near expanses of water as large as this. I stuck to small ponds around farm fields.” She grinned sheepishly. “I guess I sound pretty wimpy.”

  "No. I'd say you're pretty brave for facing your fears.

  That you're even in a boat surrounded by water is a testament to your sense of adventure and bravery."

  Elaine rolled her eyes. “Now you're pulling my leg.”

  Craig winked. He turned to the motor and flicked a switch. The engine shut off but the skiff continued to slide through the water of the little lagoon illuminated in the boat lights. Silence descended for a brief moment before the cicadas picked up the beat and roared to life around them. Although the water remained inky black, she could discern the shapes of cypress and willow trees towering above them. Spanish moss draped from their branches, touching the water like feathery fingers stirring soup.

  Without the noise of the engine, the swamp version of silence deafened her. What did she have to say to the nephew of a marina owner? Besides being exceedingly handsome, sexy and surprisingly intelligent, with blue eyes she could fall into, what did Craig have that other men didn't? And, more importantly, what could she possibly have in common with him other than a curiously sizzling attraction?

  She'd felt his gaze on her and the beat of his heart when he'd held her close on the dock. Granted, she'd tried not to think about it, but she'd wanted to stroke his chest, to press her body closer to his.