They rounded a bend in the bayou, and a small, neat house came into view. It was set on a tiny hillock in an alcove that had been cleared of trees. Its weathered-cypress siding shimmered pale silver in the fading light. It was a house in the old Louisiana country style, an Acadian house built on masonry piers to keep it above the damp ground. Steps led onto a deep gallery that was punctuated by shuttered windows and a screen door. An exterior staircase led up from the gallery to the overhanging attic that formed the ceiling of the gallery-a classic characteristic of Cajun architecture. Slim wooden columns supporting the overhang gave the little house a gracious air.
Serena was delightfully surprised to see something so neat and civilized in the middle of such a wilderness, but nothing could have surprised her more than to hear Lucky tell her it was his.
He scowled at the look of utter shock she directed up at him through the mosquito netting. «Whatsa matter, chere? You were expecting some old white-trash shack with a yard full of pigs and chickens rootin' through the garbage?»
«Stop putting words in my mouth,» she grumbled, unwilling to admit her unflattering thoughts, no matter how obvious they might have been.
A corner of Lucky s mouth curled upward, and his heavy-lidded eyes focused on her lips with the intensity of lasers. «Is there something else you want me to put there?»
Serena s heart thudded traitorously at the involuntary images that flitted through her mind. It was all she could do to keep her gaze from straying to the part of his anatomy that was at her eye level.
«You've really cornered the market on arrogance, haven't you?» she said, as disgusted with herself as she was with him.
«Me?» he said innocently, tapping a fist to his chest. «Non. I just know what a woman really wants, that's all.»
«I'm sure you don't have the vaguest idea what a woman really wants,» Serena said as she untangled herself from the baire and tossed it aside. She offered Lucky her hand as if she were a queen, and allowed him to hand her up onto the dock, giving him a smug smile as her feet settled on the solid wood. «But if you want to go practice your theory on yourself, don't let me stop you.»
Lucky watched her walk away, perversely amused by her sass. She was limping slightly, but that didn't detract from the alluring sway of the backside that filled her snug white pants. He might not have known what Miss Sheridan really wanted, but he damn well knew what his body wanted.
It was going to be a long couple of days.
He pulled the pirogue up out of the water and left it with its cargo of suitcases and crawfish to join Serena on the gallery. He didn't like having her there. This place revealed things about him. Having her there allowed her to get too close when his defenses were demanding he keep her an emotional mile away. He might have wanted her physically, but that was as far as it went. He had learned the hard way not to let anyone inside the walls he had painstakingly built around himself. He would have been safer if she could have gone on believing he lived like an animal in some ancient rusted-out house trailer.
«It's very nice,» she said politely as he trudged up the steps onto the gallery.
«It's just a house,» he growled, jerking the screen door open. «Go in and sit down. I'm gonna take the sliver out of that foot of yours before gangrene sets in.»
Serena bared her teeth at him in a parody of a smile. «Such a gracious host,» she said, sauntering in ahead of him.
The interior of the house was as much of a surprise to her as the exterior had been. It consisted of two large rooms, both visible from the entrance-a kitchen and dining area, and a bedroom and living area. The place was immaculate. There was no pile of old hunting boots, no stacks of old porno magazines, no mountains of laundry, no litter of food-encrusted pots and pans. From what Serena could see on her initial reconnaissance, there wasn't as much as a dust bunny on the floor.
Lucky struck a match and lit a pair of kerosene lamps on the dining table, flooding the room with buttery-soft light, then left the room without a word. Serena pulled out a chair and sat down, still marveling. His decorating style was austere, as spare and plain as an Amish home, a style that made the house itself seem like a work of art. The walls had a wainscoting of varnished cypress paneling beneath soft white plaster. The furnishings appeared to be meticulously restored antiques-a wide-plank cypress dining table, a large French armoire that stood against the wall, oak and hickory chairs with rawhide seats. In the kitchen area mysterious bunches of plants had been hung by their stems from a wide beam to dry. Ropes of garlic and peppers adorned the window above the sink in lieu of a curtain.
Lucky appeared to approve of refrigeration and running water, but not electric lights. Another contradiction. It made Serena vaguely uncomfortable to think there was so much more to him than she had been prepared to believe. It would have been easy to dislike a man who lived in a hovel and poached for a living. This house and its contents put him in a whole other light-one he didn't particularly like to have her see him in, if the look on his face was any indication.
He emerged with first aid supplies cradled in one brawny arm from what she assumed was a bathroom. These he set on the table, then he pulled up a chair facing hers and jerked her foot up onto his lap, nearly pulling her off her seat. He tossed her shoe aside and gave her bare foot a ferocious look, lifting it to eye level and turning it to capture the best light. Serena clutched the arm of her chair with one hand and the edge of the table with the other, straining against tipping over backward. She winced as Lucky prodded at the sliver.
«Stubborn as that grandpapa of yours, walkin' around half the day with this in your foot,» he grumbled, playing the tweezers. «Espesces de tete dure.»
«What does that mean? Ouch!»
«You're a hardheaded thing.»
«Ouch!» She tried to jerk her foot back.
«Be still!»
«You sadist!»
«Quit squirming!»
«Ou-ou-ouch!»
«Got it.»
She felt an instant of blessed relief as soon as the splinter was out of her foot, but it was short-lived. Serena hissed through her teeth at the first sting of the alcohol, blinking furiously at the tears that automatically rose in her eyes.
«Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired,» she said harshly.
Lucky raised his eyes and stared at her over her toes. The corners of his mouth turned up. «Yeah, but my manner in bed won't leave anything to be desired. I can promise you that, chere.»
Serena met his hypnotic gaze, her heart beating a wild pulse in her throat as his long fingers gently traced the bones of her foot and ankle. All thoughts of pain vanished from her head. Desire coursed through her veins in a sudden hot stream that both excited and frightened her. She didn't react this way to men. She certainly shouldn't have been reacting this way to this man. What had become of her common sense? What had become of her control?
With an effort she found her voice, but it was soft and smoky and she barely recognized it when she spoke. «That's no promise, that's a threat.»
Lucky eased her foot down and rose slowly. His fingers curled around the arms of Serena's chair and he tilted it back on its hind legs, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned down close.
«Is it?» he said in a silken whisper, his mouth inches from hers. «Are you afraid of me, chere?»
«No,» she said, the tremor in her voice making a mockery of her answer. She stared up at him, eyes wide, her breath escaping in a thin stream from between her parted lips.