Bayou Heat (4 page)

He’d already let the evening’s events get way too out of hand.

When he was certain he wouldn’t get light-headed, he rolled his spine up straight,
lifting his head last. His vision was blurry and his body felt as if it had been used
for … well, exactly what it had been. Target practice with a barstool.

He made his way slowly back to the bathroom. Christ Almighty, had all that blood come
from him? Damn head wounds bled like a stuck pig. He spied his once white T-shirt
wadded up in the corner behind the claw-foot tub, where it had apparently landed.
That explained the blood smears on the wall. He dimly recalled yanking it off, along
with his jeans, and climbing into the tub with the intent of cleaning up.

Hell, at least he’d tried to make himself presentable. Dr. McClure should be impressed.

Dr. McClure. Teague stood in front of the partially silvered mirror and stopped fighting
the urge to think about her in more detail. He told himself it helped divert the pain
of examining the gash on his temple, but it wasn’t flashes of her strong, lean, naked
body that invaded his mind. She was put together nice enough, but Teague had seen
his share of naked women.

It was her bravado and frank honesty that had captured his attention.
Vigueur
, his
grand-mère
would call it. Strength, force.

Marshall hadn’t really said much about her and Teague hadn’t wanted to know. He’d
been so surprised that his half-brother had asked him for help that he hadn’t taken
time to question him too deeply. When he’d thought of it at all—beyond the pain-in-the-ass
aspect of it—he’d pictured some dried-up, earth-hugging, bookworm type whose passions
ran to spouting Latin plant names. He thought of the woman lying semicomatose in the
next room.

Oh, Erin was passionate all right. Teague smiled, reopening the cut on his lip, not
caring. An imposition and pain in the ass for sure, but she also intrigued him. Too
much.

And he was going to do absolutely nothing about it.

Eyeing the tub behind him, Teague carefully moved over and twisted the cracked ivory
handles. If he was going to sleep in it, he’d use some cool water for a mattress.
He wet a towel and made a half-hearted attempt
at cleaning the walls, stopping when he realized he was just making it worse.

He needed rest, needed to be alert and on the ball. He’d clean up the mess in the
morning.

A long, low groan escaped his lips as he cautiously lowered himself into the tepid
water.

Something tugged at his hip. He reached back and pulled it off, examining the plastic
bandages as he leaned his head back against the rim and slipped lower into the water.

“What in the hell?” He frowned as he made out the small cartoon characters wielding
swords and shields. His gaze drifted to the open bathroom door and the sheet-draped
mound huddled in the small bed.
Who are you, Erin McClure?

He let his eyes slide shut. One hand dangled over the back of the tub, the gun lying
within easy reach on a footstool, hidden from view.

He curled the fingers of his other hand around the crumpled bandages and drifted off
to sleep.

“We simply have to stop meeting like this.”

Teague didn’t bother to open his eyes. He wasn’t sure why. He just knew he shouldn’t
start the day being charmed by her.

“Sounded like a herd of buffalo routing around in there,
ange
,” he said lazily. “You always such a considerate hostess?”

“To be a hostess, there has to be an invited guest.” She stalked into the room without
so much as a glance in his direction—he knew, he peeked—and closed the French doors
he vaguely remembered opening after he’d drained the tub at some point during the
night. Place had been a damn refrigerator.

“I have to be downtown in an hour,” she went on, all business. “I’m hot. I want a
shower.” A stifled sigh.

Probably looking at the blood smears, he thought. They’d look a lot worse in daylight.
Another reason to keep his eyes shut.

“
I need
a shower.”

“Sounds like you need a strong cup of chicory,
chèr
. Are you always like this in the morning?” Startling images of a variety of things
he could do to put a smile on her face made him shift a bit. He was even more certain
he shouldn’t start off fantasizing about taking her to bed for the rest of the day.

“Clean up your mess and be out of here in five minutes.”

Teague cracked open one eye. “Or else?” He didn’t bother picking up the gun again.

She planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve been trained in jungle warfare our military
has never even dreamed of. Use your imagination.” With that, she stalked back into
the other room.

Helpless against it, Teague smiled.

Erin was smoothing the wrinkles from a pair of poorly packed khaki pants when she
felt him behind her. Clear across the room in the doorway, but she could feel him
nonetheless. It was like the damn man had a palpable aura of heat hovering around
him. Probably due to all the pheromones women sent shooting his way, she thought irritably.

She’d spent a good part of what little rest she’d gotten the night before tossing
and turning. But then a naked, bloody Cajun sleeping in one’s bathtub didn’t exactly
make for sweet dreams.

Liar
.

She quickly pulled a soft print blouse from her duffel bag and shook it out with an
audible snap.

“All yours,
ange
.”

That’s just what I’m afraid of
, she thought darkly.

She straightened and turned to him. She froze for a heartbeat as she looked at him
for the first time that morning. Bright sun was already streaming through the doors
at his back, reflecting off his smooth skin, casting his muscles in stark relief.
Freshly showered, with his black hair combed back from his stunning face, he made
her breath catch in her throat. Even black and blue, the man had an almost overwhelming
presence. The white towel tucked firmly around his waist accentuated just how dark
he was. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes.

“Thought you were in a hurry,
chèr
.”

That mouth
 …

She jerked her gaze up to his eyes. “I am.”

He moved from the doorway. She swallowed hard. Gone was the weaving, beaten man of
the night before. He took only a couple of steps, but the natural grace and control
he had over his large frame was crystal clear. She didn’t miss the fact that the gun
was nowhere in sight. Just as she didn’t miss the fact that this morning, he didn’t
need it.

He stopped several feet away, water drops still glistening on the small patch of black
hair swirling between his pectorals.

“Then stop staring at me as if you have all the time in the world and you’re just
looking for someone to waste a couple of hours of it with.” He took another step.
“I have things to do today, too,
chèr
. But that’s the sort of invitation no man in his right mind would turn down.”

Erin lifted her gaze from his chest to his eyes, suddenly
finding the ironic humor in the situation. “Well, I guess I’ve been mingling with
lunatics then.”

His smile showed his surprise. “I guess you have.”

Realizing her plan was backfiring badly, she cleared her throat and turned back to
her clothes, not caring if he read cowardly retreat into her actions.

She was the type of woman who attracted the pocket protector set. When she attracted
anyone at all. She wasn’t even sure if Teague Comeaux owned a shirt, much less one
with a pocket.

“Yeah, well, whatever the case may be, I don’t have time to waste. I’ll have Marshall
contact you when I’m ready to make contact with the
bokor
.”

He moved so fast she didn’t hear him. His hand closed around her arm, bringing her
sharply around to face him.

“
Bokor, mon chèr?
” His voice was flat, deadly cold, his eyes glittering black … and empty.

The total lack of emotion made Erin shiver.

“For a supposed expert, you haven’t done your research too well,
ange
.”

She yanked her arm. He released it, raising his hand palm out before dropping it to
his side, as if touching her hadn’t been his choice.

She flexed her arm once, resisting the urge to rub it. He hadn’t held her tightly,
but the sensation of his fingers pressed into her skin wasn’t fading. Not that she’d
wanted to be touched by him either.

She looked him in the eye. “My research is thorough and my sources impeccable. Are
you telling me
you don’t have a connection with the
bokor?
Because if you don’t, you’re wasting my time.”

“A
bokor
serves with the left hand. Uses the black magic,” he clarified. “Belisaire follows
the
Rada
, the positive. She understands the
Petro
, the dark side, but only as a means to combat it. You don’t want to mess with that,
chèr
. No one does.”

“Don’t condescend to me. I have researched voodoo and it’s various counterparts in
Haiti, Africa, the islands. I’m well aware of the dangers involved in my project.”

Teague closed the space between them with one step, but didn’t touch her. He didn’t
have to.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into,
chèr
. You go into the swamps alone, here … you may not come out.”

Erin’s skin burned at the heat rolling off him. The heat in his voice, the heat in
his eyes, the heat of his near naked body so close to hers.

“I know what I have to do,” she said, hating that her voice was barely more than a
whisper.

Teague leaned closer. She felt his breath fan across her cheeks, brush over her lips.
“So do I,
ange
. So do I.” It was the unexpected note of resignation in his voice that kept her from
moving away as he dropped his head, angling his mouth toward hers.

Dear God, he was going to kiss her. Erin’s thighs tightened together without her consent.
He lifted his hand and cupped her face, lifting her mouth to his.

His palm was a hot brand on her cheek and she jerked away, taking several steps back.
What the hell was she doing?

Her entire body was screaming in sudden frustration. “I—I have to get a shower. I
have to go.”

That Teague looked almost as disconcerted as she felt did little to calm her. She’d
expected some cocky, arrogant retort, mocking her obvious inexperience. She realized
she was going to have to stop expecting him to do the expected. She also realized
she was going to have to get the hell out of here while the getting was good.

Snatching up her clothes, she stepped around him, very aware he didn’t so much as
move an inch. She turned at the bathroom door, facing him. “Can you or can you not
introduce me to the local voodoo priest, your
houngan?
”

“Priestess.”

“The
mambo
, then. Can you?”

“I can.”

Not entirely satisfied with his easy answer, she asked, “Will you take me to her?”

“Yes.”

Erin released a breath. “When?”

Teague visibly relaxed, that crooked smile once again curving his wide lips. “You
don’t exactly make an appointment with Belisaire. I’ll find you when the time is right.”

Erin opened her mouth to argue that she needed something more definite, but shut it
again. Marshall had been vague about many things, but he had made it clear that Teague
wasn’t just her best connection, he was her only one.

“Fine. You can reach me here or on camp—”

“I know how to find you.”

Erin shivered at the promise in his words. She simply nodded, then shut herself in
the bathroom, locking the door behind her. As if that would stop him.

If Teague Comeaux wanted something, she doubted anything would stop him.

She peeled off her clothes, gasping softly as the fabric rubbed against her erect
nipples. The image of a man like Teague, all dark and dangerous, wanting her, taking
her …

Her thighs tightened against the renewed ache between her legs.

She was a scientist. A woman who saw life as something to be examined, understood,
related to fact. Her body was a complex, fascinating machine, one she knew inside
and out and was completely comfortable with.

On a scientific level.

She glanced up into the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes bright. She suddenly
felt out of control. A stranger to her body’s responses.

The idea of being wanted like that was a seductive thrill she’d never felt. That she
liked it was even more frightening. Was it so bad to want to be wanted like that?
To want to be taken by a man like him? Just once?

Erin’s fingers curled, digging into her palms, fighting against the sudden need to
do something, anything, to ease her body’s torment.

And if she did, would once be enough?

Teague slammed the phone down. “Damn, damn, damn.” Skeeter had taken off for parts
unknown when
Teague blew their meeting. He’d spent a day and half trying to track his partner down.
No luck. Ten months of hard work possibly down the drain.

There was a light tap on the half-open door to the small cluttered office he kept
at the back of the Eight Ball, the pool hall and bar he owned as a cover.

“What?” he barked.

A blond head poked in the door. “Hey, you busy?” Marshall stepped into the room.

“What brings you down to the swamps?” Teague asked, honestly surprised. His brother
had visited Teague here precisely once in the year he’d been back. Then it had been
to ask him for the one and only favor Marsh had ever requested. Teague didn’t doubt
a certain ethnobotanist was his reason for this visit as well.

“Well, I’m not here for a game of eight ball.”

The one thing that Teague appreciated about his half brother was that, unlike most
of their family, Marshall didn’t play games. You always knew where you stood with
him.

“Good thing. Those boys out there would take half your trust fund before you downed
your first beer.”