Crescent Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,4

a significant lack of breath and a near-painful increase in my heart rate. "Diana Malone."

There. I sounded cool, calm, in control, even though I wasn't.

"I need a swamp guide," I continued.

"No guide here."

"I was told there was."

"You were told wrong. Take an airboat tour down de way."

Cajun, I realized as I strained to understand the words past the sexy accent.

Sexy? What in hell was wrong with me? I couldn't even see his face. Guess I had a thing for accents.

I tried to recall what I knew about the culture. It wasn't much. The Cajuns, originally Acadians, had come to Louisiana from France by way of Canada. Most had settled west of New Orleans, become farmers and fishermen, but that didn't mean a few hadn't migrated closer to the Crescent City.

"Those folks will even let you hold a baby alligator," he murmured.

I shivered, remembering how close I'd come to an alligator holding me - and that hadn't looked like a baby.

"No," I managed. "I need - "

His chin bumped my head; I could have sworn he was smelling my hair. I tensed, trying to remember what I'd been taught to get out of this situation, but nothing came to mind.

He was taller, though not by much, and definitely stronger. With one arm he held me so tightly I couldn't move. I wondered what the other arm was doing until I felt his palm skim up my thigh.

"Hey!"

"Woman alone shouldn't come here," he whispered. "You might see't'ings you should not"

"Like what?"

Silence settled over us, broken only by the hum of the bugs skimming across the water. I could have sworn I heard a laugh. However, when he spoke, no humor colored his voice.

"Curious cats should be careful."

"Was that a threat?"

"An observation, cher."

Cher? I hadn't laid eyes on his face, and he was calling me dear? Talk about balls. Or maybe I shouldn't

Twisting, I tried to get free, or at least see him. He tightened the steel band he used for an arm, and I couldn't breathe. My breasts - not large, but not bad - jiggled against his wrist. Something stirred against my backside before he released me with a shove.

By the time I'd caught my balance and whirled around, he'd escaped into the cover of the trees, moving with a grace that reminded me of the ABCs I'd been thinking of when he arrived.

His white T-shirt stood out in the encroaching night like a flare. The sleeves had been hacked off in deference to the heat, or maybe to reveal tanned, honed arms. Khaki pants hung on slim hips; he wasn't wearing any shoes. Dark, shaggy hair sifted across his shoulders. I still couldn't see his face.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

He didn't answer, instead lighting a cigarette, cupping the match in such a way as to keep the glow from reaching anything but tobacco. A bronze bracelet, the same shade as his skin, encircled his wrist. I'd never cared for jewelry on men, but on him the adornment only seemed to emphasize his masculinity.

"Seen any wolves?" I asked.

He took a deep drag, as if he hadn't a care in the world, or an appointment in tins century. Nevertheless, I sensed a wary interest.

"Maybe a black coyote?" I pressed.

The very thought excited me. A black coyote just might get me that Ph.D.

"How about a big cat?" I continued when he did nothing but take another drag. "Cougar?"

He blew smoke through his nose. "No wolves this far south."

"Coyotes?"

"Got 'em now. Brought in to hunt nutria rats."

I'd read about those. Large rodents that resembled beavers but with a ratlike tail. I hoped the coyotes were winning.

"Cats?" I asked again. "What about bears?"

"Bobcat. A few bears. Don't see 'em much."

I was constantly amazed at how easy it was for creatures to hide in their native habitat.

"I've heard there've been disappearances. Tales of a wolf."

"There will always be tales."

"Where there's smoke there's fire," I pointed out.

His cigarette flared red on one end as he drew on the other. "You a cop?"

"Scientist."

Saying I was a cryptozoologist only confused people.

He grunted and tossed the butt to the ground. The resulting hiss revealed he'd hit water.

"Can you guide me?" I stepped forward. "Do you know Adam Ruelle?"

"No."

His voice was mesmerizing. I wanted to keep him talking - forever.

A mighty splash was followed by a thud on the dock. I spun around, remembering there were more wild animals in the swamp than furry ones, but there was nothing there.

Just as there was nothing when I turned back to the trees