twisted into a wry smile. “I’d better, if this is going to work.”
“So, when you said you need to check for bugs, I assume you mean the mechanical ones?” Eric shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped back.
“Yeah.” Ben set the sprayer on the carpet, pulled his bug detector device from his pocket, extended then antenna, switched it to vibrate, and turned it on. Then he walked slowly around the room, searching for all possible locations a wiretap or bug could be hidden. “The downside to my cover is that you’ll have to pay to get your home and office sprayed.”
“Not to worry. We’ll manage.” Eric walked to the window. “I’m glad you’re the one on this case, after all that’s happened in the past couple weeks. This game is starting to get dirty. I want to know who’s been tailing me and who hired the dirtbag.”
“We can guess at the who-hired-him part.” Ben moved a chair beneath the ceiling fan in the center of the room and climbed up to examine the fixture. “Your opposing candidate has to be the one who did the hiring. But your decision to come to Bayou Miste was good. We should have no problems spotting a stranger. Hopefully, we’ll have this business wrapped up in a day or two.”
Ben’s wishful thinking was overriding his patience and good sense. All he could think of was that he wanted out of Bayou Miste as quickly as possible.
Last night at the Raccoon Saloon had been a shock to his system. The sight of Lucie LeBieu waiting tables in her Hooters-style short-shorts and that ridiculously minuscule t-shirt had raised his heart rate to runner’s speed. For the first five minutes, he’d thought she was her twin sister, Lisa, until someone shouted her name. Damn, she’d gotten even more beautiful over the past seven years. And every time he recalled those shorts and her incredibly long legs, his blood flowed south in a New Orleans minute, entering places it had no business going. Especially where Lucie LeBieu was concerned. If she didn’t want anything to do with him seven years ago, she surely didn’t want him now.
But those silky smooth thighs, tinged mocha by her Cajun-Creole heritage, called to him, even now. The chair he stood on wobbled, jerking him back to Eric’s office at Littington Enterprises. He shouldn’t be thinking about Lucie when he had a job to do. Concentrate on the task at hand and you’ll wipe her clean from your mind .
“Enough about the case.” Eric hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and rocked back on his heels. “How about that waitress last night at the Raccoon Saloon?”
The chair rocked violently. Ben waited until he had it back in control before he answered. “What waitress?” So much for wiping Lucie from his mind .
“Don’t play dumb with me. You were there, too.” Eric stared hard at him. “As I recollect, you couldn’t keep your eyes off her.”
Schooling his expression into his best poker face, he hopped down off the chair, ignoring Eric’s words. He continued his search for hidden devices, scanning around the rim of the large oak desk dominating the room. If his stomach was a little knotted, he didn’t need to share that information with Eric. He and Lucie LeBieu were no longer an item.
“Her name’s Lucie LeBieu, isn’t it?” Eric didn’t wait for an answer. “Beautiful, just beautiful. She’s one hot latte. I can’t get over her.”
You and me both, buddy . Hell. Did he say that out loud? Ben looked at Eric. When Eric didn’t respond, he breathed a silent sigh.
“Wasn’t she the kid who used to tag along behind us in school?” Eric shook his head, staring out the window. “She’s grown into quite a woman. And those legs.” Eric whistled. “Wow.”
Ben’s stomach did a flip-flop. Oh yeah, the legs. At times, deep into the night, he could still feel them wrapped around his waist. He circled the desk and dropped onto his back to scan underneath. Out of Eric’s view, he adjusted his coverall, appalled