Lucky's Lady Read Free Page B

syndrome. But they weren't in Charleston. They were in South Louisiana, at the edge of the Atchafalaya Swamp, some of the wildest, most remote swampland in the United States. And Lucky Doucet wasn't some button-down executive or construction worker she could bring to heel with a cool look. He was a breed unto himself and only marginally more civilized than the bayou country around them.
    Abruptly, the heel of one of her pumps caught between planks in the dock and gave way, nearly pitching Serena headfirst off the pier and into the oily water. She swore aloud as she stumbled awkwardly, hampered by the narrow skirt around her knees, just managing to catch her balance before it was too late.
    Lucky stopped and turned toward her with a look of mock affront. “Why, Miz Serena, such language! What will the ladies at the Junior League think?”
    She narrowed her eyes and snarled at him as she hopped on her ruined shoe and pulled the other one off. The instant she put her foot down, she ran a sliver into it, but she refused to cry out or even acknowledge the pain. She limped up to Lucky, struggling to maintain some semblance of dignity.
    “I'm not prepared to leave just now, Mr. Doucet,” she said primly. “I was thinking more along the lines of tomorrow morning.”
    He shrugged without the least show of concern. A brilliant white grin split his features. “Well, that's too bad, sugar, 'cause if you're leavin' with me, you're leavin' now.”

CHAPTER
                        
    2
    IT WAS A NO-WIN SITUATION. IF SHE STOOD HER ground, she lost her ride. If she gave in, it was another blow to her pride and another peg up for Mr. Macho's overinflated ego. Serena took a slow, deep breath of air that was as dense as steam and tasted metallic and bitter. Maintaining as much of her dignity as she could, she lifted her slim nose and gave Lucky a long, cool look.
    One corner of his lush mouth curled like the end of a cat's tail. “What'sa matter,
chère?
You'd rather give orders than take them? Well, I'm not your hired boy. You want a ride, then you climb in the boat. You wanna boss somebody around, you can take a hike.”
    Serena was certain she could actually feel her temper start to boil the blood in her veins. She clenched her jaw and fought a valiant battle to keep the lid on when all she wanted to do was tell Lucky Doucet to take a long walk off a short pier. Despite her name, her apparent serenity was little more than a shield, a defense mechanism, protective camouflage. All her life she'd had to struggle with strong doses of Sheridan temper and stubbornness. Now she wrestled one into submission with the other. The man was doing his best to make her angry, so she stubbornly refused to lose her temper.
    “You are a remarkably obnoxious man, Mr. Doucet,” she observed in the calmest of voices, as if she were commenting on nothing more interesting than the weather.
    “I always try to excel.”
    “How admirable.”
    “So are you comin'?” He set his box down on the dock and sat beside it, dangling his long legs off the pier.
    “I'll need to stop by Chanson du Terre for a few things. You wouldn't have any objection to that, would you?”
    He gave her a flat look.
    Serena motioned impatiently to the suit she was wearing. “You don't really expect me to travel out into the swamp dressed this way, do you?”
    He scowled and grumbled as he lowered himself into his boat. “
Non
. Come on, then. I been here too long already. Just look at the trouble I got myself into, havin' to haul you around.”
    Serena moved to the edge of the dock and looked down. It was then that the full folly of what she was about to do hit her. Lucky's boat was no more than twelve feet in length, slender as a pea pod, and it looked about as stable as a floating leaf. Sitting in it would put her no more than an arm's length from the black water of the bayou.
    Fear rose up in her throat and wedged there like a tennis ball. What was the