Chapter Twelve
Shopping with Luc wasn’t quite as bad as Maryse had originally imagined and probably not near as sexual as Luc had hoped. But given her slightly rough condition and the fact that her job didn’t exactly involve tailored dresswear, Maryse saw absolutely no reason to shop for anything cute or nice at the moment. Even if she was back in the bayou sometime soon, alligators and nutria didn’t appreciate fashion.
So a trip to Wal-Mart was as much shopping as Luc was going to see.
Maryse walked right into the women’s athletic section and pulled shorts, sweats, and T-shirts off the racks and shoved them into the cart she’d conned Luc into pushing. That was it. No tube tops, no spandex, no sexy lingerie—no dressing rooms. Then it was off to find some sports bras.
Luc stared wistfully at the rows of lacy, multi-colored underwear and reached up to finger a pair in girly pink. Maryse hid a grin. He was barking up the wrong tree with her. Not only was underwear purely optional, but Luc LeJeune was the last person she wanted getting a view of anything she might wear in that area. There were some temptations you just avoided altogether.
Apparently deciding Maryse wasn’t going to contemplate anything even remotely sexy, Luc gave up and yanked out his cell phone. Maryse ignored him and continued looking over her selection of activewear. She had just narrowed her choice down to two different crossed-back sports bras when Luc snapped the phone shut and gave her a curious look.
“There was a message on the office phone from someone named Aaron. He said that the mice cruised through the trial and he was moving on but he’s going to need more of the sample before he can go any further after that. What does that mean? What is he testing?”
Maryse tried to appear completely normal, even though she wanted to jump and shout, head injury not withstanding. “It’s nothing,” she said, and waved a hand in dismissal. Nothing but a successful Trial 3, which you’ve never made it through before now. “Just some different stuff I’m trying out—you know, herbal remedies and such.”
Luc narrowed his eyes. “What kind of remedies?”
Maryse turned away from him and concentrated on the bras. “Nothing that would interest you. Although two weeks ago, I found a natural cure for gas.” She looked back at him with a broad smile.
Luc shook his head and shot her a disbelieving look, but thankfully he dropped the subject and took up position at the edge of the department where he could scan the magazines. A successful Trial 3. It was all she could do to keep from dancing in the aisles. She was close to the answer, she could just feel it. And for now, at least, that thrill totally overrode all the bad things going on.
Maryse picked a couple of sports bras from the rack and tossed them in the basket, then pushed her cart down the aisle, whistling as she went. She was just about to leave the section altogether when the pink, lacy underwear that Luc had been studying earlier caught her eye. She glanced down the aisle at Luc, who had a magazine open and was concentrating intently on whatever he was reading. Looking back at the underwear, she bit her lip, knowing that even looking at the underwear was trouble. Buying them was even worse. It was the equivalent of purchasing a ticket to the “Sleep With Luc” concert.
But then there was that whole death thing to consider, and that was the clincher.
If she died today, the last man she would have slept with was Hank. Hell, the only man she’d slept with was Hank, and on so many levels, that was just wrong. She glanced over at Luc once more. Before she could change her mind, she snatched the underwear off the rack, tugged them off the hanger, yanked off the tag, and stuffed them in her pocket. No way was she letting Luc see her buy those panties. That was just asking for it. At least this way, she was still in control. Unless of course, she was arrested for shoplifting before she could get through checkout and use the underwear tag to pay for her secret bounty.
She tried to act normal as she walked to the end of the aisle and called out to Luc. “I’m going to head over to checkout. Take your time. I’ll meet you at the end of the register.”
Luc nodded, and she could feel his gaze on her as she entered the only available checkout line, which was a mere six feet away from the magazine stand. She began placing her items on the belt, and when she finished, stepped close to the register, slipping the underwear tag to the clerk. “I liked these so much, I decided to wear them,” she said, her voice low.
The clerk stared at her for a moment, obviously trying to decide if she was a loon or a thief. Loon must have won out, because the clerk took the tag from her, scanned it, and tossed it in the bag with her bras. “That will be one hundred eight dollars and thirty-two cents.” She gave Maryse a shrewd look. “Unless you’re wearing anything else.”
Maryse shook her head and swiped her debit card, certain her face was beet red. She looked over at Luc, who plopped the magazine back on the shelf and turned toward the checkout lane. Catching her eye, he smiled and walked over to her.
“Ready?” he asked.
Maryse felt a slow burn in her center as she stared at the smiling Luc. Her hand moved involuntarily to her pocket and closed around the lacy underwear. “You have no idea,” she said.
“Then let’s do it.”
Oh God. Maryse felt her knees weaken. There was no way out, she was certain. If someone didn’t kill her first, she was going to sleep with Luc LeJeune.