The Red-Hot Cajun (21 page)

“Now you’re being silly.”

“No, I’m not. Tit for tat, baby.”

“I’m being serious, Rene. I’ve been doing a lot of reading, and I believe I could do a good job in portraying the massive problems affecting the bayou. But we need a hook.”

“Well, your hook is going to be planted someplace else, other than my private parts.”
I
cringe just
making that joke.

“What do you think J.B. and Maddie and the Bayou Unite folks would think of my idea?”

“You are not going to mention this to them. That is an order.”
I
am not going to have those two
flakes attached to me like barnacles, begging me to do it.

She laughed, as if him giving her an order was laughable. Which it was, of course. “Tante Lulu told me that you’re looking for a new job.”

“I am. When did you talk to my aunt?”

“Today. She called me to see if I could buy her some panties at Saks Fifth Avenue.”

“Oh my God! At least it wasn’t Victoria’s Secret.”

“She told me that you looked really hot in a business suit.”

“I always look hot, darlin’.”
Don’t I?

“Modesty is not one of your strong points. There was one more thing she happened to mention.”

Uh-oh!
“If she said that I got drunk Sunday night, it was a lie.”
Buzzed, yes. Drunk , no.

“She said that you were missing me.”

He heard the shakiness in her voice, and he paused to get his voice calm. “That is the truth,
chère.”

After several moments of silence, he asked, “How about you? Have you been missing me?”

“I’ve been really busy with meetings and everything and... oh, hell! I’m missing you like crazy.”

He smiled. “Come home to the bayou.”

Instead of answering him directly, she asked, “Where are you living now? At your place in Baton Rouge, or in Remy’s houseboat?”

“In Baton Rouge most of the time. And I hate it, being away from the bayou. I’m gonna sell it.” He gave her an address but was afraid to ask if she was writing it down.

“Where would you live then?”

Wherever you are, sweetheart. Oh, shit! I hope I didn’t say that out loud.

“You couldn’t work from your cabin, could you?”

“Probably not... maybe... I don’t know yet. Depends on the kind of field work I do eventually.”

“We’ll talk about the documentary when I see you,” she said.

“We’re gonna do a lot more than talk.”

“Is that a fact.”

Practically a fact.
“I told you what will happen next time we meet.”

“Two years is a long time, Rene. Are you sure you can handle that?” He heard the tease in her voice.

He just chuckled. Answer enough.

“My plane gets in tomorrow night,” she said.

“Do you want me to meet you at the airport?”

“No. I’ll see you when I see you.”

He wanted to say something special to her then, but he couldn’t think what. It was too early to say those three words women loved to draw out of men, and the right time might never come. But he should be able to say something.

“I care about you, Val.”
How pitiful is that? The King of Smooth is more like the King of
Unsmooth.

“I care, too, Rene. I don’t know why. I just do.”

That was good enough for now.

CHAPTER TWELVE

There is virility . . . and then there is VIRILITY

Valerie’s taxi didn’t arrive at Rene’s town house till eleven o’clock, due to several plane delays and extreme security precautions in the airports.

She wore a swirly gauze skirt down to her calves in varying shades of green—everything from pale celery to dark jade. A formfitting, short-sleeved mint-green shirt hugged her breasts and abdomen and was tucked into her waistband. She’d had her hair done at her favorite Fifth Avenue salon to achieve its mussed look. A manicure and pedicure had produced the bright red lacquer that she now sported. She’d shaved her legs... twice. And she’d had a bikini wax, even though she hadn’t worn a bikini in more than ten years.

She was ready.

And so was Rene, if how he stood in the open doorway waiting for her was any indication. He wore a white Toby Keith concert shirt that read Who’s Your Daddy? and black jogging pants. Barefooted, he came down the steps slowly, paid the cab driver, and took her luggage in each of his hands. He motioned with his head for her to precede him up the steps.

But she dug in her heels. “Aren’t you even going to say hi, or give me a kiss hello?”

“Hell, no,” he said, looking directly at her for the first time. She saw the smoldering heat in his eyes, and it almost scared her. Almost. “If I kiss you now, we’ll end up having sex on my front steps, and I’ll explode way too soon. I have a history of that, as you know.”

God, he’s still fixating over what happened nineteen years ago. How sweet!
Satisfied that he was happy to see her, even without the words and actions, she walked up the steps in front of him, making sure she swished her hips from side to side.

“You are going to pay for that,” she thought she heard him mutter. Then he asked, presumably staring at her swishing behind, “Are you wearing a thong?”

She smiled to herself and peered at him over her shoulder, then winked. “No.”

It took him several moments to register that she meant that she wore nothing. His jaw dropped open and he said, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

What happened next was so quick, her brain spun. She stepped into the hallway and was about to comment on his collection of expressionist watercolors when the door slammed behind her, Rene dropped her luggage to the floor, and she was pinned up against the wall with her skirt up to her waist. Rene was running his hands over her backside... her panty-clad backside. “You fibbed,” he said, nipping at her mouth with his teeth.

“Did you honestly think I would go through airport security with no underwear? They would probably have insisted on a cavity search.”

“I could do that,” he offered. But then he dropped down to his knees in front of her. Pressing his face against her belly, he held her with arms around her thighs. The silence in the hallway was deafening.

“Rene:? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything is right, finally, and it took my breath away.”

“Oh, Rene,” she said softly, and sank down to her knees, too. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him gently. “Let’s just take this slow. We don’t have anything to prove here.”

“Hah! You might not, but I do.”

“Forget about
that.
Now, do you want to give me a tour of your home?”

“No. I’d much rather do a body tour... or two... or twelve.”

He kissed her then. Hungry, hungry kisses that went on forever. His mouth was wet and hot on her, his tongue driving, his hands everywhere at once. Somehow they found themselves on the floor, with him lying on top of her.

“Oh, shit, we’re going to have sex on the hallway floor, aren’t we?”

“I hope so.” She shrugged out of her panties the best she could with him on top of her. Reaching a hand inside the stretch waistband of his pants, she took the hard length of him in her hand.

“Jeeeeeeeesh!” he shouted, shoving her hand aside. “Don’t do that. Not yet. Holy-holy-holy-holy-hell!

What are you doing to me? Let me get up. We’ll go to my bedroom.”

“No! Now! I want you now,” she said, arching her hips up against his rampant erection. “I want you freakin’
now.”

“What? Okay. No. I need to go get a condom.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on the pill.”

“Two years of celibacy and you’re on the pill. Why?”

“Uh, Rene, can we discuss this later?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Panting for breath, he pushed his pants down, while she drew her skirt up, and within seconds he was poised at her entrance. Then, oh my God, he thrust himself into her, all the way to forever.

Her inner muscles clasped and unclasped around him in an instantaneous orgasm that about blew her lid off and melted her red nail lacquer.

When she had a chance to catch her breath, she looked at Rene. Eyes closed, he was braced on his forearms. His neck arched back, the cords standing out with tension. And he was still hard inside her, God bless him. Why was he holding back? Oh. That old premature ejaculation fixation of his. “Move, dammit.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her, dazed. “I want to fuck you so bad I can taste it.”

“Then do it.”

“It’s too soon.”

“No. It’s way too late, baby. Come on. Please. Come on.”

He smiled then and slowly, ever so slowly eased out of her almost all the way, then just as slowly back again. The friction was sweet torture.

“Wider,” he said in a voice husky with arousal. Pushing her knees up and out, he demonstrated what he meant.

And she felt him ease in another unbelievable inch or more. And his pubic bone touched her in just the right spot. And red stars danced in front of her open eyes.

“You feel... so good... in me,” she gasped out.

“I feel so good being in you,” he said, also gasping.

Then began the long, long strokes, in and out, over and over till Valerie thought she would go mad. She moaned continuously. She wrapped her legs around his hips. She grasped his buttocks and kneaded them.

For a guy who worried about popping off too quick, Rene was taking an awfully long time to climax.

In fact, he stopped. Deeply imbedded in her, he reached down and separated her more so the most sensitive part of her was more exposed. Then he said, “Look at us, darlin’.”

Her dark hair was mixed with his dark hair there. It was impossible to tell where she ended or he began, or vice versa.

“Sweet, huh?” His voice was husky and low.

“Sweet,” she agreed.

Then he began the hard, fast strokes she’d been yearning for. Everything was happening so fast now.

Sensations hit her in every part of her body. Where they were joined. Inside. Her breasts. All of her skin.

And the noise. The slick, wet sounds of sex. The moans, from both of them.

He arched his back, bared his teeth and groaned, “Yessss!”

She would have yelled “Yessss!” too, except she was concentrating on not having her eyes roll back in her head. But she went with him on that wave of ecstasy, hard ripples of released tension emanating from their joining to all parts of both their bodies.

Laughing, Rene raised himself up on his elbows and brushed several stray curls off her forehead. So much for her hundred-dollar hairdo! “Cryin’ catfish, Val. I haven’t made love with my pants around my ankles since I was a teenager.”

“And I’ve never made love inside the front door on the floor. But we were good, weren’t we?”

Rene looked at Val, who looked so incredibly hot with her sex-mussed hair and her flushed face that his heart constricted. He wanted to say so many things to her. Instead, all he said was, “Damn good.”

He eased himself out of her in painful pleasure, then stood, pulled up his sweat pants and jockeys all at once. For a second, he just stared at her, taking in the picture of her with her lower body exposed up to her waist. Moisture glistened on the tight curls between her legs, and didn’t that make him feel all studly and full of himself? He’d come through just fine, double entendre intended.

But, whoa, suddenly he was turned on again. They had the whole night before them... hell, they might even have a lifetime. He had to pace himself.

Reaching down, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He just hugged her for a moment, and murmured “thank you” into her ear.

She leaned her head back and said, “Hey, thank you.”

Icould love her.

Where that thought came from, he had no idea, but son-of-a-gun that was dangerous territory this early in the game... even late in the game. Still, the voice in his head repeated,
I
could love her.
It was probably that pesty St. Jude planting insidious ideas in his brain. That had to be it.

“It’s not every day a girl gets to end her two-year drought in such spectacular fashion. Let’s hope my next lengthy period of self-denial has a guy like you at the end of it.”

The prospect of her going celibate again bothered him a lot. Even more bothersome was the prospect of her with another man. It was not going to happen, he decided then and there, neither of those things. But he wasn’t going to think about the implications of his resolution.

He gave her a tour of the house, which didn’t take all that long. There were only two bedrooms, one of which he used as an office. It was a basic man’s place with minimal furniture, though what he had was good handcrafted stuff. On the hardwood floors were Cajun woven carpets in bright colors. Of course, he did have the odd accessory—though not so odd for his family—of an assortment of St. Jude statues in every room. There was even a St. Jude refrigerator magnet. And there was an accordion on top of the fridge.