Sazerac Seduction: Chapter One
Remy Allemande stood by the side of his pirogue and tried to look busy. He'd been sweating his balls off for the past hour waiting for his prey to show.
The hot little wheat blonde ambled down the dock now. In a dress.
She'd been sweating too, and the light material clung to her body in ways the designer hadn't anticipated. It had been meant to look all business, not seductive, but the way it stuck to her skin made it impossible not to notice the dangerous curves underneath.
Yeah, that body could bring a man to his knees. But by the end of the night, she'd be the one on her knees, sucking on him like a lollipop.
The lady scanned the dock for the water taxi that should have been there. Sending a fake client off in the taxi for the remainder of the afternoon had dipped into his pockets, but Remy didn't have a choice. He needed this delightful morsel stranded without transportation. Needed her to need his services. And he could think of more than one way to service her.
The picture he'd seen of her earlier didn't do her justice. 'Course, the navy business suit in the photograph hid the curves that were much more prevalent in the flesh. Um, and what flesh. He licked his lips in anticipation.
She approached with caution. Trying to appear oblivious to her presence, Remy moved some things around in his boat and stripped off his T-shirt. Let her get a gander at his toned body. If he was going to shanghai her for the next few days, he might as well cream her up.
Remy never had trouble with the ladies. More offers than he knew what to do with, he took what he wanted when he wanted some and stayed under the radar the rest of the time.
"Excuse me? Is this the dock where I can get the water taxi out to the island?"
"That it is, chere. But ole' Johnny take the rest of the day off." He shrugged. "No customers all day. He go off to Crawdaddy's for some"--he paused and ran his eyes over her body, taking in every inch of her--"entertainment." He leered at her and let the implication sink in.
Crawdaddy's was the reason little miss-high-and-mighty paid this visit to the backwoods of Louisiana. Crawdaddy's served up the best gumbo and the best pussy any man could get his hands on. A mile or so out on the bayou, men enjoyed all the privacy they needed and didn't have to worry about local law enforcement. Mostly because the cops hung out there themselves.
But now this environmental lawyer had come to town to stir things up. She wanted to close the place down, have the legislature bar anything and anyone from the habitat. His job as opposing counsel and local male slut existed for the sole purpose of getting her out of the way for the preliminaries so that the original deed could be found. Or manufactured.
The pink on her face wasn't just from the sun. "Any way I can get over to Crawdaddy's?"
She did her best to hide her animosity, but it came through just the same. Remy hadn't engaged in a challenge for too long a time. He itched for one. "You don't seem the type, you. Or you goin' for the gumbo?"
Her face flamed, but again she tried her best to hide her anger. "I'm going for the crawfish etouffee. Why else would anyone travel through the bayou except for the best food in the county? I mean, what else would you find out there?"
Remy laughed out loud at her fishing expedition. No one ever mentioned the extension to the restaurant, but that's what most people went for. The sex. Any kind of sex imaginable, all day, all night, all year. For a price. Hell, some men saved up the entire year for the pleasure of one night at Crawdaddy's. Mingling thoughts of the bordello and the woman in front of him whet his carnal appetite. He wanted to slide inside her, fuck her senseless. But more importantly, he wanted to see her look at him with lust in her eyes rather than cool dismissal.
"I like the gumbo, me. Good for the belly." He slapped his stomach to draw attention to his six-pack. He picked up his stick to start moving the pirogue away from the dock.
"Can you give me a ride?"
Remy frowned as if it would be a huge inconvenience.
"I'll pay you. Double the price of the water taxi."
He rubbed his chin as if considering her offer, mulling over whether it would be worth his while. She wrung her hands in nervous anticipation and her light blue eyes pleaded. He let her sweat out his answer for a few more seconds, then nodded and held out his hand. "You're sure, you? It'll get late soon."
"Positive, thank you. Mr.?"
"No mister. Just call me Remy. You?"
"Cynthia." She took his hand and stepped into the small canoe-style boat. It tilted and she slammed right into him.
Her soft breasts grazed the naked skin of his chest and he wanted to lie her down and take her right there in the boat, comfort be damned. Oh, the thought of spending the night sucking on those lush globes increased the saliva in his mouth. "Set down easy." He released his hold on her and led her to the bench seat.
Using the stick to push off, Remy guided the boat into the bayou where only the best guides and locals dared to venture. A few more minutes and she'd no longer see where they came from and have no idea how to get back in this unforgiving landscape. He smiled at her to reassure her and led her out in the opposite direction of the island and Crawdaddy's. Tonight she'd eat whatever he caught, in addition to the big beef between his legs.
Cynthia LeBlanc gripped the wooden seat so tightly her fingers hurt. Although she was born and raised in Louisiana, her lifestyle restricted small bayou towns to books and television. She'd been on boats of various kinds before, but most were yachts and cruise ships. On the pirogue she felt out of her element, and anxiety coursed through her veins. But was that from the pirogue and her task at hand? Or did it have something to do with the hunk of man maneuvering the boat? It took all her resolve to veil the effect his body had on her.
His dark brown hair hung over his eyes as he took the pirogue through the marshes, hiding his expression. And those eyes. When they could be seen, their dark blue, like a twilight sky, echoed the pleasures of the night.
His body boasted of a man who did physical labor for a living. Every muscle bulged with definition, defining a predatory strength. Not the type of man she was accustomed to. Not the type of man she could ever have a relationship with. Not the type of man she would have anything in common with. But the type of man any woman would want to view naked. And imagine him in all his naked glory she did.
Her mouth, scorched from the sun and her fantasies, needed relief. She reached into her Coach purse, pulled out her lip gloss, and rubbed it across her mouth as if it were his wet tongue. In the midst of her daydream, she caught him staring.
Immediately, her practiced poker-face masked any emotion she'd allowed to slip through. He'd never know what her mind conjured, so she shouldn't feel guilty for the thoughts, but she did. Basically, she'd narrowed him down to meat.
The sun beat down in the thick heat of the bayou, plastering her clothes to her skin. She ached to remove them and cool her body, or feel heat of a different kind. He must be dying in those heavy jeans. Sweat glistened off Remy's chest and she wanted to run her hands over his skin to dry him. Let them linger on his smooth sun-kissed skin, hot and male. Arousing.
She reached underneath her hair and dried the sweat from her neck with the palm of her hand. Her body hummed with awareness, making her uncomfortable. "How on earth do you find your way around here? You sure you know where we are?"
"We're hell away from the rest of the world. And only very few people, real locals, can find their way around this bayou."
Cynthia shivered. She hailed from the city, as unfamiliar with the backwoods as a gator in New York City. "How much longer until we get there? The locals gave me the impression it wasn't that far."
The pirogue moved on through the thickness of the bayou and Remy glanced at her fleetingly without an answer.
Cyn pouted at his distance. Damn rude of him to completely ignore her. "Will it be much longer? Are we almost there?" she whined and berated herself for it. If she couldn't think of anything intelligent to say, she should keep her mouth shut. But it made the time go by, and hearing her own voice comforted.
Remy grunted a response that could have been "soon." He kept his gaze in front of him and didn't bother to look back at her.
It miffed her. She wanted his attention, wanted him to care that she wasn't happy with his clipped response. Then she took a good look at the man she remained alone with. What did she know about him? She could be out in the middle of nowhere with a psychopath, a killer. His rugged good looks only made it easier for him to lure her into the boat.
Boat. It seemed more like some sort of raft. One that could tip at any moment. She had to stop doing this. The fear wouldn't get the best of her. She wouldn't allow it to. This job required her diligence and no matter what the cost, she'd get it done.