She blushed becomingly and tried to hide it by lowering her head. But he saw, and was pleased.
“JBX is about more than sex. Have you experienced any emotional reaction?”
“Does a frog have warts? Yes, yes, yes. And that’s the worst part of this whole jelly-bean mess. I hate it, Sylv. I really do.”
She tilted her head in confusion. “Explain.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was falling in love with you,” he confessed unwisely, “which is ridiculous, of course.”
“Of course,” she said, but couldn’t hold back a wince at his hurtful sentiment.
“Not that I really know what love-love is.”
“You’ve never been in love before?” She didn’t even try to hide the surprise in her voice.
“Never. In like, yeah. In lust, lots of times. But not really love of the man-woman kind. How about you?”
She astounded him by answering, without protest. “No. I thought I was a few times, but it couldn’t have been love if I got over it so fast.”
“Not even with your husband?”
“Nope.”
“Not even Charles?”
“Most definitely not Charles.” Then: “Stop looking so smug.”
He couldn’t help himself. There was an inexplicable satisfaction in knowing Sylvie had never loved another man, as if she’d been waiting for him. Aaarrgh! He chose to blame that brain blip on the love potion. Love was dangerous territory he had no intention of entering. Best to steer clear of that land mine. He hadn’t teased Sylvie in a second or so, so he opted for that love sinker. “Hell, Sylv, I can’t be having the woman who dreams about me lovin’ another man.”
“I told you, I was not dr—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “When do we get to the good part with this interview?”
“The good part?”
“Physical stimulus to test sensory results.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Interpretation: making out.”
“You are impossible.”
“Yeah,” he agreed amiably. “So I guess that means never.”
“That would be correct.”
“I’d even let you take notes.”
“Dream on, buster.”
“I intend to,” he said, closing his eyes, suddenly bone-weary and in need of a little nap. Yawning, he decided, “We’ll have to finish the interview later, babe.”
“Okay.”
He cracked one eye open to watch her walk toward the house, notebook in hand, heart-shaped ass swaying to and fro in his nylon shorts. “I hope my dreams are as interesting as yours were,” he called out to her.
Sylvie’s bare feet faltered in the dirt, but she didn’t turn around.
He drifted off to sleep then, and as the breeze swung him gently, in the hammock, Luc did dream. And the star of his dreams was slow-dancing, nude.
It was Luc who had taken the love potion, but Sylvie was the one who felt as if she were under the influence.
Earlier, Luc had likened the effects of JBX to a wave… not a steady, overpowering arousal, but something that ebbed and flowed. It was different with Sylvie, who didn’t even have a love potion to blame. In her case, there was a steady buildup of sexual tension in her body that threatened to explode eventually into the Big Kahuna of all waves of excitement.
She’d better be prepared to surf or swim when it finally hit; otherwise, Luc was going to mow her down. And not with his surfboard, either.
“Sylv, you’re not paying attention,” Luc chided her. He was sitting next to her at the kitchen table chopping meats and veggies for a potluck jambalaya, while Sylvie was peeling some of the crawfish to throw in his pot.
“I am so paying attention,” she lied. “You were telling me another of your crazy Cajun legends… this time about crawfish.” That was what Sylvie said, but what she was thinking was, Boy, does he smell good! I wonder if I smell as good to him. After all, we both used the same pine-scented soap in the shower/
And he looked good, too, even wearing a plain old/white T-shirt and jeans, with no shoes or socks. She probably looked like Orphan Annie’s big sister in her sink-laundered but wrinkled slacks and silk blouse, also without shoes, and wearing no makeup.