Ocean of Love (10 page)

“
The Chateau restaurant.
His hotel.”

“
Some miscommunication.
He’s not at the hotel. He’s staying next door. Victor’s old
place.”

She’d not asked Wyatt, only assumed. This
news wouldn’t change her plans for this evening. The only thing she
wondered about was how they’d part after dinner? The worse
possibility would be to exit the parking lot and then return
later.

“
Your designer friend? How
does the place suit Wyatt? Is the place a charming, ocean-front
condo? I never attended any of his parties.” She wondered just what
type of place would suit Wyatt, since he obviously had unlimited
choices in ocean-front apartments—and Victor was known for being an
eclectic man.

“
Oh sure, matchbox.
Eight-bedrooms-and-twelve-baths
small
. I don’t know if Wyatt cares.
He’s an unusual
hombre
. Always has been. He’s had more to tackle than most. He’s
been alone for pretty much his whole adult life since his parents
died. Tragic.”

Her chest convulsed. Wyatt had mentioned
being alone, and she’d been too consumed by her own loss to ask him
about his. Sinclair had her hook, line, and Wyatt. “He mentioned
being alone.” She paused, waiting for her boss to tell her
more.

“
Well, then you know. He’s
not as tough as he appears. I’ve known him for years. He’s a hard
nut. Did he tell you about our college days?”

“
He mentioned something
about you guys gambling and drinking your way through college to
some degree.”

She struggled to keep focused, instead of
kicking herself. Great instincts. The man tries to tell her
something significant, and she can’t stop talking about real
estate. What must he think of her? Cold. Calculating. Ice. No
wonder he dropped her back at her car. He probably feared
frostbite.

Sinclair exhaled into the phone. “All true.
Books, studying, exams—not my thing. I didn’t have a superb staff
back then, and needed something to prop me up. But Wyatt, he wasn’t
hardcore into drinking and gambling. No, not him. He had the
ability to sit stone-faced in card games, reading the players as if
they had thought bubbles above their heads.”

“
Do you mean he stacked the
deck in his favor?”

“
Not a cheat, but someone
who knew how to interpret human subtleties. I believe that’s why
he’s earned a reputation as being cutthroat. The higher the odds,
the more tenacious Wyatt tends to become. You had better watch
yourself with him.”

“
It’s not as if he’s
invincible.” She laughed—more from being restless than amused.
Sinclair kept silent forcing her to promptly ask, “Well, didn’t he
ever lose?”

“
Naturally, but not often.
And not enough to make him cautious.”

“
Eventually even a myth
must own their truth.” Now, who was the hypocrite, she thought and
rubbed her forehead. “I’m not playing any game he’s interested in,
so I think I’m good.”

“
You’re a woman, an
exceptionally beautiful one. You’ve got a laser focus and no
nonsense. Therefore, you’re a prime candidate if ever I saw one who
would appeal to Wyatt. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve made an
impression if he’s on the verge of bidding. Wyatt’s not one to do
anything on the spur. I repeat, just be careful.”

A second
warning
. Wyatt was Sinclair’s friend. Her
boss would know the man, and his proclivities. She couldn’t pry.
Not with her boss about a client.

“
I’ll let you know the
second he’s ready to bid.”

“
Will do. Uhh,
Marissa?”

“
Yes? Hello?”

“
Thank you for taking care
of this deal. I’m hearing good reports from everyone involved. Take
this to closing and I think you’ll solidify your reputation in this
town. You’ll own this city. I mean it.”

“
I hope we all can get
through it.” Just thinking about Wyatt and the evening ahead sent
spasms shooting up her spine. Her skin radiated surges of intense
heat.

She walked over the balcony and opened the
doors, inviting the afternoon breeze to come and clear her head.
Warm pulsations, rippling cramps both pleasurable and tinged with
pain, blossomed within her pelvis. Excruciating and enticing. The
pulsations didn’t stop but continued, growing stronger and
hotter.

All around her, the world
seemed to accentuate her craving for one man. His scent and mouth
and hands called out to her. The few afternoon hours spent with
Wyatt had her imagination steaming. She pressed her hand down
between her legs.
Oh God, what a
rush
. The muscles within her sex clenched
and relaxed, wave after sensual wave, until she was hungry with a
longing to submit. On her lips, Wyatt’s name spilled
out.

Marissa crossed her bedroom, pulling down
the straps on her bra. She unclasped the hooks, letting it fall
off, and then pushed down her panties. Standing naked, she was
entranced by the thought of Wyatt. Naked. Commanding.

Her sense of urgency grew, blinding her to
everything except a building need to explode. She sat on the edge
of her bed with her thighs spread wide apart. How would it feel to
let Wyatt touch her? Explore her with his fingers. Or better yet,
his tongue.

She shivered and her nipples puckered. She
imagined his strong fingers stroking her. All of a sudden she
became wet between her legs. Her breath quickened. Gliding a finger
over her slick folds, she moaned, riding a wave of pleasure. Seated
in front of her dressing mirror, she opened her legs wider, and
gazed down between her legs. She stroked herself, imaging Wyatt’s
finger slipping over her folds.

She ground her hips against her fingers,
incited by her needy hunger. The pulsations grew stronger, making
the nerves around her pussy ready to catapult her into oblivion,
imagining arctic blue eyes and a smile that tormented her. Her
heartbeat pounded within her chest. She rubbed her fingers up and
down her flesh, fantasizing about Wyatt’s hand until the friction
matched the tempo of her rocking hips. Arching back, she was
consumed by a tightening within her abdomen. Exquisite bliss edged
in desperation twisted, pulling her apart in opposite
directions.

This hunger had never come on so strong, so
demanding, so utterly intoxicating. She cried out, falling back on
her bed. Currents unfurled, erupting within her womb. Instinct
embodied a racing urge. Oh, what had she done? Her time had
arrived; every cell was bathed in need. Her body was ready to be
possessed by a powerful lover. Her skin itched, a sign of the onset
of mermaid transformation.

Nearly invisible scales lined much of her
skin, dainty as lace at her hips and at the tops of her thighs. The
image flared again of Wyatt, his sensuous mouth frowning as though
he were with her, watching her body change.

Tears sprinkled down her
cheeks. The hope that he’d find her appealing diminished.
Chance of that happening—zilch. Less than
zilch.

Deep within her body, this
hunger had grown and was near out of control
. Mating cycle
. Frustrated, she
rolled her eyes after saying the words aloud. That’s what this
cycle was … no different from other animals. She curled into a
ball, closing her eyes, clenching her hands into fists.

Pounding waves of desire mixed with
frustration traveled across her body. A bolt of anger stabbed her.
She covered her face with her hands, unable to move. She cried out,
more a wounded moan than words.

Marissa lay motionless, worn out. In the
silence of her room, her erratic heartbeat gradually slowed. As her
breath steadied, she rubbed her hand down her skin. She stopped and
jerked upright. She stared at the mirror across from her bed.
Frozen. Her vision slammed down her body.

“
No, this isn’t possible.”
Her breath cinched tight in her chest. She held up her arms gaping.
The pattern under her skin was no longer vague, but vivid outlines
of scales fanned her legs.

For years since puberty, every month at the
onset of the full moon, her body incrementally evolved along a
continuum until scaly patterns covered her lower body leading up to
the moment when she returned to the sea.

Afterward, the scales disappeared, along
with her mermaid tail. This was a cycle she had endured. She wasn’t
a fool and for years had kept silent. In school, she had quickly
learned no other girl underwent this transformation. She couldn’t
go to the nurse or her foster mother. It had been a miracle that
she’d been placed in a foster family with a beachfront home.

Her mother had died, leaving her with
unanswered questions. Marissa didn’t know any other relatives. She
had no one to ask advice. She believed her body changed due to the
buildup of hormones. An unremitting cycle. One that had kept her
single and painfully aware that she was far from normal.

The realm of the absurd expanded suddenly.
She froze, unable to do more than stare at the dreamscape unfolding
across her body.

Oh no, what had she done by giving into
desire? She’d somehow opened a Pandora’s Box. Vivid patterns of
turquoise, fuchsia, purple, and aqua glimmered, reflecting the
light. The skin at her abdomen and hips flexed and rippled in
opalescence. She gazed from her hips, down to her feet, stretching
out one leg and then the other in shimmering swirling detail. She
rose and turned in front of the mirror, gazing over her shoulder.
The back of her body, from her hips to ankles, was an effervescent
kaleidoscope of colors. She ran her hands over her skin, over the
scales that were satin-smooth, sleeker than skin, and an advantage
to gliding through water

She trailed her fingertips along her waist
and unleashed another convulsion of pleasure. This episode of
hungry cravings was not over by a long shot. Her desire had not
been sated but was merely whetted, leaving in its wake a churning
vortex. It was as though she were a sea cucumber and any moment
she’d spew her insides out. A serrated yearning coursed along her
body. The skin at her breasts, hips, and between her thighs
tingled, hot and greedy.

She opened her fingers
wide, nothing. She flexed her webbed toes. The skin wasn’t entirely
attached, but enough to prevent wearing sandals. She’d have to wear
slacks or a long skirt. She squeezed her temples.
This was getting better by the moment.

Tonight was a business
meeting. She wasn’t supposed to try and
bring sexy back
.
This minor
snafu
would prove useful in keeping a modicum of integrity to her
insane hunger. She must at least pretend to be off-limits to the
man she wanted badly.

No sense in sending mixed messages to a man
who capably understood non-verbal communications. She wanted to
hide if she could, avoid him and herself. But that wasn’t an
option, was it? Marissa marched to her closet and rifled through
hangers covered in dry cleaning plastic. She nodded in appreciation
for not making a Freudian slip by showing up in a short black
dress.

“
Just the ticket.” She
lifted the wooden hanger with an outfit that would make what she
wore today seem downright sexy.

Marissa removed the plastic wrap, revealing
a pair of worsted wool slacks. A matching steel-gray jacket was
long and tailored. A slimmer fit than she would have liked. She
grabbed a silk, dove-gray blouse that tied at the neck.

After a two-hour stint at her computer, the
printer whirred, spitting out the pages of her broker’s report. She
decided against emailing it to Wyatt. Better that she sit and gauge
his reaction to each section, especially the engineer’s report.
He’d acted so weird about Jimmy’s recommendations. She didn’t want
to give him the ammunition to call her friend and dispute whatever
issue he had brewing.

From what she could tell, that was the only
stumbling block of this whole deal. Up to that one point, Wyatt had
been more than pliable. For a man who came off as demanding and
precise, she’d not done much to convince him of the pros of each
ocean-front property. To the contrary, he seemed besotted with the
area. If it were up to her, he’d go with the scenic, private site.
All she had to do was make certain he had all the information to
move forward. And with this report, that’s what she fully intended
to do—over an extremely conservative business dinner.

She stretched her arms above her head,
rolling her hips forward so that her legs opened.

“
Ah,” she moaned, running
her hands down her legs. She swiveled her chin trying to undo the
knots in her neck.
Just stress. And this
day isn’t even over.

Immediately, she thought of Wyatt. The way
he’d pushed her up against the building. Her breath hitched. She
imagined Wyatt’s mouth licking her skin and her breath caught at
the top of her throat.

“
Wyatt. Dammit.” She swore,
frustrated, and closed her eyes. She longed to feel him spread her
pulsing folds, commanding the fire in her veins to flash. Her
breath hitched, thinking of Wyatt’s erection she’d pressed against
earlier. If she didn’t gather her wits and self-control, she’d need
more than a conservative suit and a broker’s report to keep from
throwing herself at him.

After a very cold shower, she dressed and
secured her long, wavy hair neatly in a bun. Her fingers trembled
as she pinned a pearl brooch to her lapel. After all this work, all
she really wanted was one thing. Except that one thing was on the
next plane out to Brazil next week. Her chest tightened. This
wasn’t the time to falter. She wasn’t about to cry uncle, proving
Wyatt right.