They entered a rectangular room lined with long tables where around twenty-five people were eating dinner. “Food’s included for everyone so there’s no need to pay. But let me show you the kitchen first,” Jackson said. “You can meet our Cajun cook.” Through a set of double swinging doors was a kitchen similar to a full-service restaurant but on a smaller scale. Three people busily prepared food. One of the men, presumably Jean, stopped working and crossed the room to shake hands with Jackson. “Salut, mon ami!” Jean called out. “Ça va?” “Très bien.” The two men shook hands. The conversation continued in French. Jackson nodded from time to time, looking toward Carla, before switching back to English.
“Jean asked me to welcome you to his kitchen.”
“Merci,” she replied.
“If you have any special requests feel free to let him know. You can do so through me, as Jean doesn’t speak any English. For which,” Jackson gestured toward the chef, “he apologies.”
Jean nodded, probably guessing what Jackson said. Carla smiled back, then took a stab at her response. “Chef Jean…ah, c’est ma…plaisir…manger tous que tu…” She paused, suddenly not remembering the verb for “to cook.” She was trying to say it would be her pleasure to eat whatever he cooked. Her French was only at the beginner’s level, although she hoped to get better before her transfer. She bit her lower lip. The word had vanished from her mind. Shoot, what was it? She saw Jackson and Jean waiting, patiently, wondering if she was going to continue. Then, suddenly, she had it. “Que tu te fais sauter.”
Dead silence filled the air. Chef Jean’s face grew pink as he strangled over a cough before he excused himself and turned away. Carla’s gaze whipped to Jackson, whose lips were screwed tightly shut, but didn’t entirely contain a wicked grin. She groaned.
“What did I say?”
Jackson took her arm and led her toward the dining area. “Your message came across.”
“What message?” She stopped walking and turned toward him. “Jackson, please. Tell me what I said.”
“Well, here’s the thing. You were fine at first. But you ended up telling him it’s your pleasure to eat everything when he got laid.”
“I…what?” Her face flamed red. “How can that be? I thought sauter is the verb for to cook. You know, like, ‘I sauté mushrooms.’ ”
They reached the buffet table and Jackson handed her a plate. “That’s a good guess,” he said. “But cuire is what you were after. It means ‘to cook.’ Se faire sauter is slang for ‘to get laid.’”
Where was a gigantic hole when a girl needed one? She shook her head, spooning rice onto her plate. “I can’t ever eat here again.”
“Of course you can.” Jackson grinned. “In fact, I’m sure Jean’s cooking will get even better whenever he sees you. He’ll be inspired.”
As they walked along the food bar, taking what they wanted, she looked at Jackson. “I take it French is your native language?”
“One of them,” he clarified. “I was raised bilingually, French and English.”
That would explain the sexy ass accent. French. She nearly sighed aloud. What could be more perfect? As they made their way to the dining area, she noticed how everyone nodded hello to Jackson. She was greeted just as warmly even though she didn’t know a soul. Obviously association with the boss had its perks.
They found seats close to a group of four researchers, and Jackson made introductions. “This is Quinn O’Hara, our top researcher. He’s been with me for over ten years.”
“And have every gray hair on my head to prove it.” Quinn chuckled. He stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Carla.”
“You as well.”
“Quinn will show you the ropes tomorrow.” Jackson turned to Quinn. “Start her out in the data room.”
“Will do.”
He pointed out the other three people: a man in his thirties named Phil Spencer who was a herpetologist; a biology student on sabbatical from the University of Mumbai named Bhajan Singh; and a girl named Lisa Martin who looked to be in her late twenties and who’d recently obtained her Ph.D. in zoology. She had an open, friendly smile and gave Carla a warm welcome.
“It’ll be nice to have another girl around here,” Lisa said.
Carla lifted a surprised eyebrow. “Am I the only other one?”
“There are two other female researchers besides Lisa,” Quinn said.
She thought back to the woman in the wheelchair.
“What about Amy?”
“Amy isn’t one of the researchers. She’s a nurse,” Jackson explained. His calm voice hesitated, as if weighing whether to say more. After a breath, he added, “She’s also my sister.”
Carla waited for him to elaborate, but he stayed silent. She knew this couldn’t be the entire story and wondered whether there was something else about Amy he chose not to reveal. If so, he wouldn’t be sharing anytime soon. She had the distinct impression he preferred keeping personal matters to himself.
“Okay. Good to know.” She let it go and turned to Quinn, asking him questions about his work and life. As the researcher spoke, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Jackson relaxed once the questions about Amy had passed.
By the time she and Jackson finished eating and went back outside, darkness had fallen and stars filled the sky. They fell into step together, headed back toward his house. Sweetly scented night-blooming jasmine perfumed the air, and nocturnal creatures of the bayou like cicadas, bullfrogs, and screech owls infused the darkness with a symphony of sound.
“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Manhattan anymore,” she joked, enchanted by her surroundings. “I’d guess the noises there are more honking horns than bullfrogs.”
“Definitely. Cars, cabs, garbage trucks, music, people. New York is a city of sound.”
Jackson whistled low in the dark. “I don’t know how anyone lives there.”
“It’s the energy. There’s no other place like it.” “Sounds like it works for you.”
“Yeah, definitely.” She looked around, her gaze catching the feathery fronds of Spanish moss swaying gently in the light evening breeze. “This area is great, too. The nature is beautiful for sure, but I couldn’t imagine living here the way you do.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got no one for company but a handful of work colleagues and lots of snakes.” She couldn’t repress a shudder. “You even live in a place called The Snake Pit.”
Jackson shrugged relaxed shoulders and chuckled. “One of our biochemistry doctoral students dubbed it that years ago. When he was appointed to the head board position at the Karolinska Institute in Sweden, we made that plaque in his honor.” He glanced over at her. “I didn’t realize you’d noticed it.”
“Oh, I noticed it all right. Almost turned around and ran when I spotted the sign.”
“But you didn’t.”
His quiet words were coated with something that almost sounded like admiration. Could it be? A surge of pride had her straightening her spine as she walked.
“So in addition to the aptly named living quarters, what other benefits could I get here that I couldn’t in the Big Apple?”
“Huge amounts of space,” he said emphatically. “Air and land you’ll find nowhere else. I couldn’t imagine living in a congested city, far from nature, and stuck in a closet-sized apartment surrounded by people every square inch around me.”
“It can be tough sometimes,” she conceded. “But what about the convenience of having everything you need right at your fingertips?”
“Everything I need is right here.”
Was it? Really? They turned down the path leading to “The Pit.” She took another opportunity to look around but the inky darkness made it difficult, like trying to spot a lump of coal on a tar road.
“But there’s nothing here. Aside from work buildings, I mean. And the, uh, snakes.”
“Like I said, everything I need.”
“What about services?”
He glanced over at her, brow furrowed with curiosity. “Services?”
“You know, like an ATM. Or the gym. Grocery store, dry cleaners, doctor’s office? You’ve got none of that anywhere around here.”
The crunch of their shoes on the path mingled with the shrill whir of cicadas. As Carla turned to look at Jackson, he shook his head.
“We don’t need that stuff down here. No one wears clothes that have to be dry cleaned. If we want exercise we go for a run. There’s tons of space for that. And Jean takes care of the food. He’s got delivery set up with a grocery store that drives out once a month with a big load.”
“Doctors?”
“Pretty much everyone here has medical training. We get by fine.”
Simple. Uncomplicated. She liked that. Life in Louisiana bayou country seemed to be the polar opposite of Manhattan insanity. It was comforting. But, she quickly reminded herself, probably also really boring.
“I guess I’m not going to have to rely on my Girl Scout survival training out here after all.”
Jackson’s unexpected quiet laughter rumbled through the night. Such a soft, sexy sound. Carla thought about how nice it would be to hear more of it when she kicked a small rock and stumbled on the path.
“Ow!” She stopped walking and rubbed her foot, wincing. “Night vision goggles would come in handy around here.”
“Is it too dark?”
“Well, given the fact that the only light out here comes from the buildings, I’d say yeah, it’s pretty dark.”
“Huh.” He looked around. “Guess I never thought about it.”
“You don’t find it…I don’t know…lonely like this? With no lights and so few people around?”
“No,” he responded. “Not at all. I guess…” For a moment she didn’t think he was going to finish. But then he said, quietly, “I guess the solitude suits me.” His admission seemed to catch him by surprise as he fell quiet after that.
Carla itched to probe, to find out more about him. To learn how he can be so isolated and so content. If that, in fact, was true. She frowned in the darkness. From the little she’d observed so far, Jackson seemed to keep distance between himself and others, even among those who seemed to know him best.
Except for Amy, that is.
“Well,” she said as the walk ended at the porch stairs outside Jackson’s house, “at least we both have what we want.”
He paused, frowning, as if considering what she’d just said. From the light of his porch she could see his eyes glitter, and he gave her a look of intense depth, as if trying to catch a glimpse of her soul. He took a breath, about to say something, but then apparently changed his mind and let the moment pass.
They stood together that way as a quietness, like mist, filled the air between them. She sensed Jackson’s presence even more strongly now then she had when she came to in his arms. Maybe his moment of honesty had caused it. A peek of the real man behind the gruff façade.
Whatever the reason, her heartbeat quickened as unexpected desire grabbed hold. She could feel it surrounding her, sultry as the night. Jackson continued to study her, but then she noticed his gaze slip downward, lingering on her lips. His breath hitched as his eyes slid lower still, burning her breasts with his heated look. Her nipples hardened, readying for touch. The pull she felt nearly caused her to take a step toward Jackson. Her weight shifted to her left leg as her right foot began to lift when the unexpected sound of his voice shattered the silence.
“This is where I say goodnight,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The comment so surprised her that for a moment she was speechless. Obviously he hadn’t felt the same urging toward her as she had to him. She couldn’t deny the letdown. His unexpected “good-night” left her sputtering for something to say and without thinking she blurted out, “Aren’t you coming to bed?”