cleavage and traveled up her neck to her cheeks. Score!
“Come on, Calliope, this man doesn’t know anything.” The dark-haired one grabbed the redhead’s arm and tried to drag her away.
“But Alex, I’m enjoying the show.” The redhead smiled a wicked smile and eyed the front of his shorts.
Damn . He’d been so intent on making Miss Naughty Nightie squirm, he’d forgotten about his own arousing reaction to her delights.
She glanced down, color brightening even more in her cheeks. But her mouth curved at the ends. “I take it by show, you mean comedy?” A thin, dark brow winged upward. “I’ve had my laugh. Ha, ha . Now, come on, Calliope. We have to catch Sport.”
His ego flagging, Ed couldn’t help tossing a parting shot. “What, is this some kind of kinky game you’re playing?”
“And if it is, did you want to be invited?” the one called Calliope asked, her grin widening.
“Maybe.” He answered the redhead, his gaze fixed on Alex.
“Too bad.” Blue nightie actually tsk ed her tongue. “We’re more selective of our playthings.” With a dismissive sweep of her gaze from his head to his feet, she put him firmly in his place.
Then she was racing down the street, her firm buttocks even more interesting in the black lace bikini.
Ed turned to jog after her. He had to know who she was. More important, he wanted to get to know those lace panties more intimately. After two steps, he had to pause and adjust. Nope , he wasn’t jogging in the next five minutes. Not in his…uh…condition. Later . In a town as small as Bayou Miste, he’d easily find her.
Then he thought of his busybody neighbor. Hmm . Perhaps Mrs. Boyette would know who the dark-haired babe was.
…
Wow . Who was the hunk of macho male?
Alex fought to keep from looking back at the man who’d been eyeing her favorite sexy underwear. If she was going to be caught running around half-clothed in Bayou Miste, at least she had on her best. Somehow, she didn’t think the present situation was what her mother’d had in mind when she told her to “always wear good underwear…you never know.”
In her jogging shoes, Calliope was making better time at catching up with the naked man. Alex hobbled along as fast as she could, her bare feet taking a beating on the gravel.
If by some freaky quirk of fate and Voodoo hexes, Naked Man wasn’t a man at all but her dog transformed into a man, she had a huge problem on her hands.
God, this was worse than Craig Thibodeaux turning into a freakin’ frog.
How the hell was she going to keep Naked Man under wraps until she could get Lucie back to Bayou Miste to undo the spell? She couldn’t even catch the man…er…dog.
Poor Sport . He must be terrified.
Calliope disappeared around the next corner. Alex hoped she’d catch Sport before he did something to hurt himself. Before she neared the street they’d turned on, she could hear shouting and high-pitched barking.
With little regard to her bruised feet, she picked up the pace and rounded the corner in a gut-splitting sprint. Then she had to dig her sore heels into the pavement to keep from tripping over an eight-foot alligator stretched across the middle of the road.
Pandemonium would have been less crazy than what was going on.
At the business end of the alligator—the one with the jagged teeth and lethal jaws—stood Granny Saulnier’s toy poodle, FeFe, yapping her poofy head off with as much ferocity as a five-pound, pink powder puff could muster. At the other end of the alligator was Naked Man, woofing at the top of his human voice.
Alex recognized the alligator as Maurice Saulnier’s pet, T-Rex. He’d probably been coming to woo FeFe when Naked Man interrupted.
Calliope stood near where Alex had come to a halt, shouting, “Shoo, T-Rex! Shoo!” She flapped her hands trying to scare the alligator away from the dog and the man. As if!
“Calliope,” Alex called out over the commotion.
“Stop that alligator.” Calliope
Hilda Newman and Tim Tate