Part 5 (1/2)
”To the layman?” she cried.
”What I meant was, it was very good. Look. How would you like to take a float trip while you're here? Chuck's been with me before-it's a lot of fun!”
”Oh... I don't know,” Marilyn said, searching for a good excuse other than telling him she couldn't swim, which would've been one more lie. She hadn't counted on Jackson Delacroix's charm to undermine her initial impressions of him-that he was an arrogant know-it-all. She was flattered that he'd read her writing but uncomfortable that he'd managed to pin on her the same label she'd pinned on him-that of a writer who wrote on something he hadn't done himself.
”So you're a beginner... I'm not! Trust me. I'm good enough to keep you safe.” He grinned and licked his lips as she turned to stare at him.
”Oh, I'll bet you are!” Oh, G.o.d, she was wet already just thinking about what those lips could do to her.
”At least next time you write about it you'll know what you're talking about, no?”
Then she set her jaw and chuckled. ”Oh, I firmly believe in knowing something about what you write.”
”So you'll go?”
”I'll think about it.” She turned to stare into the night toward the sounds of the water a few yards beyond them. Now is the perfect opportunity, girl. Do you want to just blurt it out or work up to it?
”The river's really beautiful at this time of night,” Jack told her. ”Would you like to see it?” He c.o.c.ked his head toward the inside of the cabin where Colette and Chuck were laughing uproariously. ”I don't think they'll miss us.”
”Oh...I don't know. What if...?”
”I won't let you fall in. C'mon, chere. It's really beautiful at night. You can hear the bullfrogs and the crickets nearby and the horses in the pasture just beyond the wooded area. I know this water and land like the back of my hand. I promise to keep you safe. What do you say?”
When she hesitated, he teased her. ”I'll think it's me and not the water that you're afraid of if you don't go. Hmm?”
”Sure!”
Marilyn was delighted at the opportunity to move, because if she stood still any longer, she felt as if her body would topple from the conflicting emotions rocketing through her. One minute she was melting beneath his warm, friendly gaze and s.e.xy smile, and the next she wanted to throttle him for his self-a.s.surance that seemed to border on the egomaniacal.
He took one of her hands and led her through a grove of a.s.sorted trees, down the steep, gra.s.sy slope scattered with flowering bushes that merged with a bed of rocks. Marilyn could hear the water lapping at the water's edge and rippling as it made its way from in front of them to a point beyond a bend in the river.
The reflection of the moon in the water, the whispering of the breeze through the trees, the fresh clean smell of the laurel and azalea growing upwind from them... all of it sheltered and comforted her. Marilyn couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so relaxed, so at peace. For the moment, she forgot why she was even there.
”On the other side of the river is one of three hiking trails,” Jack told her. ”This area was settled by the Cherokee when they came over on the Trail of Tears nearly two hundred years ago. Supposedly, the Indians blessed the area when they arrived. There's game aplenty-everything from rabbits and squirrels and wild geese to deer. Not to mention the fis.h.i.+ng. That's why so many people flock here throughout the year. We have fishermen who have been coming to this part of the river ever since we first opened the camp-they used to camp here before we even bought the place, so they're like permanent fixtures. And that ole river... one of the last free-flowing rivers in the United States.”
Marilyn shook herself as the deep resonance of his voice lulled her with folklore. ”Were your ancestors a part of the Trail of Tears?”
”Mmhmm. A few of them. My mother's people were mostly Cherokee. My dad's family moved here from the Louisiana bayou country. A few of them survived the guillotine in France and made their way over in the early 1800s and settled in Louisiana until around the early 1900s when they moved to Cherokee County.”
”So you're a real Cajun, huh?”
”Creole, actually. But we Delacroix will lay claim to anything around here that smacks of swashbucklers and romance.” He grinned. ”You wouldn't know it to meet mah grandmere. She's quite a stern character at times.”
”Tell me about her,” Marilyn encouraged him. ”She seems pretty sharp to me.”
Jack cleared a spot for her on a log and sat beside her, straddling it to face her.
”Mimi's mother, mah great-grandmere, was an archaeologist of sorts-she was one of about a dozen women who explored caves in Missouri and Arkansas territories during the 1800s. Even wrote her name on the cave walls with a paint brush, so every man who goes through the caverns has to see that a woman beat him there.”
”What about your grandmother's people?”
”Her dad was a Frenchman who owned a trading post in Louisiana. Guess between the two families, she got a taste of what it was like cooking everything from what we'd now call road kill to herbs and teas for medicinal purposes.”
”That's where you got your information for This Won't Hurt A Bit?”
”Right!” He laughed, a rich, rippling sound that was music to Marilyn's ears. ”You wouldn't believe the G.o.d-awful poultices and teas she'd make for us when we were kids. Some of those teas tasted so bad we could hardly swallow them, but others, well, those are the ones I put in the book.”
”And the books about Creole cooking?”
”Those came from Mimi as well. Mimi married a full-blooded Cherokee, and while she didn't like Indian cooking as much as she did the French, she gave me plenty of material from both sides of the family.”
”Your second book, Bayou Flavors, was one of my favorites.”
”I'm glad you've read it. Thanks.”
”It was delightful!” she said sincerely. ”I think people buy your books as much for your insightful humor and family histories as they do your recipes. You're like the Justin Wilson of the southwest.”
Her last words reminded her of why she was there and of the fiance she'd so recently discarded. She s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably on the log as a frog croaked nearby.
”You're s.h.i.+vering.” He put an arm around her shoulders. ”No need to worry about critters jumpin' on you. They share their s.p.a.ce with us without much fuss. Might be a snake or maybe an owl come by now and then to scare us off, but most of them are pretty tame.”
”I like the way you say maybe...like mebbe.” She smiled as she said it. ”Even if you are trying to scare me.”
She heard him snort as she scooted closer to him, and Marilyn dug her elbow into his ribs.
”You are! You're trying to scare me!”
”Not at all!” He laughed, tightening his arm slightly about her shoulders as his voice grew more serious. ”I just want to keep you safe from all those spiders and bugs...and...” He lowered his face to hers and kissed her softly, his lips sucking in her bottom lip, eliciting a groan from Marilyn.
When he paused long enough for his eyes to meet hers, Marilyn's heart lurched at the pa.s.sion she saw-and felt. All rational thought escaped her as Jack easily pulled her onto his lap and kissed her more thoroughly.
”I really need... to talk to you!” Marilyn whispered between kisses, her toes curling with desire as he answered.
”Mmm-mmm, chere,” he said in a low, growling voice, ”if you talk as good as you kiss, we might be here all night!”
He leaned in for another kiss, but this time, instead of settling for soft, dreamy kisses, he captured her lips in a solid seduction of the senses. His tongue teased hers before lifting to lick his own lips and then sliding seductively back inside to coax hers in a union that nearly made her fall off his lap.
”The natives say that when you make love on the river, nothin' else delivers,” he said softly when a small sigh escaped her lips.
”They say that, do they?”
”They surely do!” He leaned forward once more, dropping his hands to cup her bottom and lifting her further onto his lap, his erection probing her just where her thighs met.
He held back a moment then looked down and slid his fingers against her clothing. ”Chere! Baby, you're so wet-all the way through your panties and your shorts!” He growled. ”I gotta get me some of this, girl!”
Mortified, she pushed him away, but he kissed her again solidly, pulling her upward with one hand cupping her b.u.t.t, his free hand slipping down the front of her shorts until his fingers speared her v.a.g.i.n.a. All the while he lapped at the inside her mouth and moaned his pleasure at finding her p.u.s.s.y so slick and ready.
”Baby, you are so beautiful and hot! Lemme make you feel really good!”
Marilyn groaned in ecstasy, hating that she was deceiving him. ”No,” she murmured. ”Not... ”