his lap. She pushed her wild hair back off her forehead and slipped her glasses on. “How should we kiss the frogs?”
Craig frowned. From confusion over her words or from the sense of loss her movement created, he didn’t analyze. “What did you say?”
Despite the dim lighting, he could see the rise of color in her cheeks. “I mean, how do we catch the frogs?”
Jolted back to reality, he shifted his weight to slide over to his seat. He dug a fish net from beneath the bench, handed it to her, and glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock? With great effort, he stifled a groan. Six more hours to dawn, and he’d moved nowhere closer to resolving his problem.
With a glance across at Elaine holding the net, he realized he’d only added to his problems by agreeing to take the good scientist out for a late-night fishing trip.
No, she wasn’t the right woman to break the spell. Unlike Lisa LeBieu, this one had a heart, one he’d surely break when he left this Voodoo-ridden swamp.
She glanced around from the safety of the middle of the boat. “Can we get a little closer?”
Craig did a double-take until he realized she wanted closer to the dead fish. He lifted a paddle from the floor and dipped it in the water, propelling the boat forward.
She twisted around in her seat, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her neck.
The vision twanged his growing awareness of her. He knew how soft the skin was, and thanked the stars it smelled of bug spray. He dipped the paddle again. The force of his stroke inadvertently turned them away from the fish and toward the shore. Moving to the other side of the skiff, he straightened the boat’s direction with two compensating strokes. When they reached the fish, he dug the paddle in and slowed the boat to a stop.
“You have the net, scoop it up.”
She leaned forward ever so slightly, her neck craning to see the fish, now bumping against the side of the boat. She scooted closer, the skiff dipping down on that side. Peering over, she leveled the net and scooped the fish out of the water, holding it high. A triumphant smile graced her lips. “I did it!”
Her exuberance brought a smile to Craig’s face. “Very good. You caught a dead fish. Now, let’s move on to the live frogs.”
The excited smile turned downward and her nose wrinkled. She slid the fish into the bucket and closed the lid. “I’ve worked with a lot of stinky chemicals and samples, but this fish reeks.”
“Happens when fish die.”
Her lips twisted. “Where will we find the frogs?”
“Closer to the shore.”
She turned to look ahead, her expression eager.
His perverse sense of humor made him want to frighten her just a little. “That’s also where we’ll find the snakes and other swamp creatures, so keep your eyes open.”
His words had the desired effect. A tremor started at the top of her shoulders and shook her all the way down her spine. But she kept her back to him. Her spine stiffened and she focused her attention on the shore.
For someone afraid of the swamp, she had spunk. Even when he tried to scare her, she remained on course. She had purpose, a selfless purpose, unlike the people he worked with in New Orleans. There, they would chew her up and spit her out for fun.
His eyes narrowed and he studied her closer. Or would they? Somehow, he bet she’d hold her own if she believed in her cause.
“There! I saw one hop into the water.” She turned, her face wreathed in an excited smile. “Did you see it, Craig? Can you get closer?”
Her use of his name caused his heart to skip a beat. Had the Voodoo queen done more to him than turn him into a frog by day? Why was he mooning after this cute but geeky stranger? She wasn’t anything near his type. Maybe another trip to the witch was in order. Surely, his years as a skilled negotiator counted for something?
The skiff bumped against the shore, jolting him out of his musings.
She yelped and held tight to her seat. When the boat stilled, she
Craig frowned. From confusion over her words or from the sense of loss her movement created, he didn’t analyze. “What did you say?”
Despite the dim lighting, he could see the rise of color in her cheeks. “I mean, how do we catch the frogs?”
Jolted back to reality, he shifted his weight to slide over to his seat. He dug a fish net from beneath the bench, handed it to her, and glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock? With great effort, he stifled a groan. Six more hours to dawn, and he’d moved nowhere closer to resolving his problem.
With a glance across at Elaine holding the net, he realized he’d only added to his problems by agreeing to take the good scientist out for a late-night fishing trip.
No, she wasn’t the right woman to break the spell. Unlike Lisa LeBieu, this one had a heart, one he’d surely break when he left this Voodoo-ridden swamp.
She glanced around from the safety of the middle of the boat. “Can we get a little closer?”
Craig did a double-take until he realized she wanted closer to the dead fish. He lifted a paddle from the floor and dipped it in the water, propelling the boat forward.
She twisted around in her seat, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her neck.
The vision twanged his growing awareness of her. He knew how soft the skin was, and thanked the stars it smelled of bug spray. He dipped the paddle again. The force of his stroke inadvertently turned them away from the fish and toward the shore. Moving to the other side of the skiff, he straightened the boat’s direction with two compensating strokes. When they reached the fish, he dug the paddle in and slowed the boat to a stop.
“You have the net, scoop it up.”
She leaned forward ever so slightly, her neck craning to see the fish, now bumping against the side of the boat. She scooted closer, the skiff dipping down on that side. Peering over, she leveled the net and scooped the fish out of the water, holding it high. A triumphant smile graced her lips. “I did it!”
Her exuberance brought a smile to Craig’s face. “Very good. You caught a dead fish. Now, let’s move on to the live frogs.”
The excited smile turned downward and her nose wrinkled. She slid the fish into the bucket and closed the lid. “I’ve worked with a lot of stinky chemicals and samples, but this fish reeks.”
“Happens when fish die.”
Her lips twisted. “Where will we find the frogs?”
“Closer to the shore.”
She turned to look ahead, her expression eager.
His perverse sense of humor made him want to frighten her just a little. “That’s also where we’ll find the snakes and other swamp creatures, so keep your eyes open.”
His words had the desired effect. A tremor started at the top of her shoulders and shook her all the way down her spine. But she kept her back to him. Her spine stiffened and she focused her attention on the shore.
For someone afraid of the swamp, she had spunk. Even when he tried to scare her, she remained on course. She had purpose, a selfless purpose, unlike the people he worked with in New Orleans. There, they would chew her up and spit her out for fun.
His eyes narrowed and he studied her closer. Or would they? Somehow, he bet she’d hold her own if she believed in her cause.
“There! I saw one hop into the water.” She turned, her face wreathed in an excited smile. “Did you see it, Craig? Can you get closer?”
Her use of his name caused his heart to skip a beat. Had the Voodoo queen done more to him than turn him into a frog by day? Why was he mooning after this cute but geeky stranger? She wasn’t anything near his type. Maybe another trip to the witch was in order. Surely, his years as a skilled negotiator counted for something?
The skiff bumped against the shore, jolting him out of his musings.
She yelped and held tight to her seat. When the boat stilled, she
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