Chapter Twenty-Two
Claire felt his arms tense, felt him shift away ever so slightly, and realized with horror she was clinging. Hard. She abruptly let go and turned away to find something to wipe her face. She was probably all blotchy with red eyes and nose, and while she wasn’t usually concerned with how she looked, she didn’t want him to see her like that. She found a clean T-shirt and pressed her hot face into it.
She expected him to leave. Why wouldn’t he? He’d come in at her invitation, expecting to get laid, and instead she’d sobbed all over him.
But she didn’t hear the tent flap open. He didn’t move.
She risked a peek in his direction. He still stood right where she’d left him, his hair and shoulders wet from the rain, the front of his shirt wet from her tears. He looked a little lost, like he had no idea what to say or do next, so she took pity on him and gave him an out.
She pushed back her shoulders and bent over for her suitcase. “I need to finish packing.”
“Hey.” He caught her hand, and drew her toward him again. With his thumbs, he swept away the wet streaks still on her face. “Why the tears, ma belle?”
The unexpectedly compassionate gesture broke down the fragile wall she’d spent the last few minutes building around her emotions. More tears leaked out and she grasped his wrists. “I feel like I’m abandoning them.”
“You’re not. There are so many good doctors here. They’ll all get the best care available to them.” He gave a crooked half smile. “Believe me, cher. I know from experience.”
She liked that she didn’t have to specify who she was talking about. He knew her concern wasn’t for the doctors, her friends, but the patients. This was why she did better in a lab. With patients, she got too involved. Every time. “I guess it’s egotistical of me to think I can do something the other doctors can’t.”
“But you can. You did. You saved me. Nobody else could have done that, which is why you need to stay safe.”
“Yes, I know.” She stared over at the cooler containing what was left of Akeso. “I know I can’t ethically use Akeso here again. For you, I had Marcus’s permission. Even if I could get a patient’s family to approve treatment, I couldn’t know if they understood what they were agreeing to. These are uneducated people who still believe in witches and magic. And then who would I choose? I only have one dose left. How could I play God like that?” She shook her head hard to ward off another rush of tears. “Logically, I know all of the reasons, but…” She patted her chest over her heart and the tears started flowing again despite her efforts. Her voice caught in her throat. “My heart’s breaking.”
He hugged her again, and again, she clung, clutching big handfuls of his shirt at his back. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t had anything solid in her life for months, and right now, Jean-Luc felt very solid.
They stood together like that for a long time, until the tension eased out of her shoulders, and the ache around her heart lessened.
Finally, she felt his lips move against her hair, curving into one of his mischievous smiles. “For the record, I believe in witches and magic.”
A laugh bubbled up and surprised her. She backed away and lightly smacked his chest. “You do not.”
“Of course I do. I’m Cajun.” He pulled on the cord around his neck and a small leather pouch popped out from under his T-shirt. “You can’t grow up in New Orleans and not believe in magic.”
She touched the pouch. The leather was faded and worn soft. “What is it?”
“Gris-gris.”
“Voodoo? Like black magic.”
“Non, not black. It’s for good luck and protection against those who wish you harm.” At her arched eyebrow, he took the cord from around his neck and placed it over her head. “You keep it. You need it more than I do right now.”
She studied the talisman for a moment. “You can’t honestly believe this little bag”—she held the cord up, letting the pouch dangle between her fingers—“will protect me?”
“It won’t magically stop a bullet, but it has a way of steering its wearer away from harm.”
She scoffed and dropped the cord. The gris-gris felt heavy around her neck. “Worked great for you, didn’t it?”
“I didn’t have it until Marcus returned it a few hours ago. But, yeah, it was still working for me. You found me in that camp. You found Marcus, the only person who could give you permission to treat me, in Lagos.”
“Both of those instances were pure luck.”
He grinned and lifted her chin with the hook of his finger. “And what is luck but a little bit of everyday magic?”
Something fluttered in her chest as she stared up into his eyes, a light and bubbly sensation she couldn’t place. Some of it was certainly amusement. With him being such an intelligent man, she hadn’t expected this kind of fancifulness from him.
On second thought, maybe she should have. She’d seen on more than one occasion that he was a storyteller at heart, bringing to life the colorful world of New Orleans for a room full of dying people and sharing childhood misadventures for the amusement of others. Unlike so many of the brilliant people she knew, and unlike her, he didn’t try to live solely in his head. He lived with both his head and his heart, in a world of both logic and magic, and she admired him for it. She could learn a lot from him, but if she wasn’t careful, she could also get swept up in his world of whimsy. He could make her start believing in ridiculous things like knights in shining armor slaying the world’s dragons and happily ever afters.
Staring into his eyes, she already half believed. “You are a fascinatingly complicated man, Jean-Luc Cavalier.”
His lips quirked. “I’ve been accused of being a lot of things, cher, and most of them true. But that one’s a first. Marcus’ll tell you I’m about as complicated as a paperweight.”
“If Marcus really knew you, he wouldn’t think so. I bet you’ve never let him see the real you.”
He touched her cheek, traced his fingers along her cheekbone, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No, I haven’t.”
She breathed out softly and leaned into his palm. “Why let me?”
He opened his mouth as if to reply, but closed it again without speaking. Then after a beat, he said, “Because, for me, you’re a kind of magic, too.”
She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but she surged up to her toes and pressed her mouth to his smiling lips. He made a gasping sound that was pure masculine want, and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth. His arms wrapped around her and dragged her in close until she felt his heart pounding out of sync with hers.
And, yes, she realized those dueling rhythms were just another sign this was a mistake. They were so completely out of sync—him with his stories and languages, and her with her facts and science. But it didn’t matter to her in that moment. She tossed aside logic and listened to what their mismatched heartbeats were telling her. They may be out of sync, but they wanted the same thing.
He wanted her.
And she, for once, wanted to experience a little bit of the magic he was so sure existed.
She reached between their bodies and found him hard, straining the front of his cargo pants. She remembered the way his hand slid up and down his thick shaft, and how much she’d wanted to touch him, put her mouth on him. She unzipped his pants. He wore no underwear underneath and, thrilled, she closed her hand around him.
He groaned against her mouth. “What are you gonna do with that, cher? Wrap your lips around it and put it in your mouth? Or are you just going to hold it, pet it, until I come in your hand?”
“I want you to fuck me with it.” She didn’t know where the boldness came from. She’d never been so daring or sexually adventurous with any of her few previous lovers, but the flame in his eyes as he watched her stroke him brought out her inner vixen.
She was in charge here. She was powerful.
For the first time in months, she had control over what happened next and she reveled in it.