Ocean of Love (3 page)

“
No. Not even in college.
I’ve always planned my time wisely, but you’re my client. I doubt
this deal will come to an all-nighter this evening. Of course, I’m
game for bringing in this sale to help you. So, yes. I’ll do
whatever it takes.”
Minus working late
tonight.

If this meeting came to an all-nighter,
she’d think of something to tell him. She’d cross that bridge
later.

“
Miss Silverpointe,
consider yourself on my exclusive team.” He spoke her name in the
most decadent way and stuck out his hand, displaying a
well-developed forearm and muscular bicep.

She swallowed, staring at his strong palm.
He might sound playful, yet if she messed up, he’d have her by the
throat. She expected a cold encounter akin to grasping steel. She
was unprepared for the sizzling shock of touching his hand. A warm,
electrical skittering crossed from his palm into hers. He squeezed
her hand, sending shivers racing across her body.

She let go of his hand. “I’m pleased to work
with you.”

He pushed back into his chair, appearing
more relaxed, and smiled warmly at her for the first time since
they’d met. His expression made it difficult for her to
breathe.

“
Together we can take in
the property sites? I’ll play developing-condo-tourist, and you can
elucidate me as the professional realtor. No harm there. So often I
travel without seeing anything new. In truth, so much travel in
securing property sites has me somewhat on edge. Forgive me if I’m
uptight. I blame jet lag and poor hotel food. My staff can tell
you, I’m just a loud bark without the bite.”

The way he spoke and the lopsided quirk of
his decadent lips made her forget to focus on anything aside from
his face.

“
Business trips can be
rather dry and long,” she agreed. “Let’s go see the properties.”
She stood and retrieved her bag off the credenza.

He lifted off the chair and came up next to
her. “I hear Miami has a Latin flair. A rather spicy side. Will you
show me the way?”

She turned toward him, hugging her bag.
“Come with me, Mr. Herndon.”

His breath heated her neck, heated her whole
body, and she yearned for him to do more than tease.

Chapter Two

Marissa’s hubcaps screeched against the
sidewalk curb. She rolled her eyes, wrenching the gear shift into
park. She surveyed the street along Ocean Drive. Near to lunchtime,
and South Beach appeared free from the usual, weekend crowd. Her
stomach growled, not from hunger but another round of live-wire
nerves courtesy of her newest client. She pushed a pair of aviator
sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, checking the rearview
mirror.

“
Where in the world is he?”
She groaned, craning her neck and searching for her client’s black
Hummer.

Just relax.
She tucked a few curling tendrils back into the
bun pinned above her collar. Her glance shifted from the street
toward the boardwalk and beyond to the stretch of glittering sand.
Turquoise waves lapped at the shore.

The same rhythm repeated inside her chest.
The noon tide meant swifter waves, stronger currents. Beads of
perspiration framed her face all the way down her neck, spilling
between her breasts. She shivered, even though the temperature
soared inside of her car, and sweated what felt like tiny
ice-chips.

Marissa didn’t budge,
sitting with the windows rolled up and the engine turned off. She
gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles hurt. This was South
Beach for goodness sakes, not a jungle along the Nile. Only a
couple of hours away from the
Full Snow
Moon
. The name many tribal groups called
February’s lunar cycle.

To her it was the
Full Hunger Moon
—the one
night during the year when her blood raced through her veins. Her
usual deep-freeze libido ramped into overdrive and she was filled
with an undulating ache to find a mate. As of the last hour, her
existence became nothing short of horny-hazed, while the space
between her legs pulsed.

Her plans for the night included babysitting
her client. She’d been insane to agree to an all-nighter. She
snorted. Her client wasn’t the type who required a sitter. Jesus
Priest, the man was a go-getter, more the type who’d entertain a
woman or two. Her mind stopped at the thought of her client
entertaining several women at once.

“
Mmmm,” she sucked her
bottom lip remembering the delectable way he smelled up
close.

He was a knock-out for a
hard-hitting property developer. Regardless of his fiery gazes and
quick comebacks, underneath his charm a predator waited for the
first slip-up. Then,
Ka-Pow
. She didn’t need another
problem today.

Still no sign of
him.
She tapped her fingers on the
steering wheel, mentally checking off her to-do list. Her thoughts
drifted to his muscular body and satanic good looks. A spasm of
pleasure moved down from her chest to the space between her legs.
She squirmed on her seat, unable to stop the pulsation moving all
the way down to her feet.

She was well aware her client-fantasy had
little chance of materializing. Marissa grimaced, holding back a
groan of frustration. Who in the heck would take her on if he knew
the truth? Any man with his head screwed on right would pass on her
dilemma. Her thoughts kept returning to one man who seemed capable
of commanding any situation. She pressed the top of her thighs,
enjoying the idea of him naked between her legs.

Jesus, if she shifted there’d be nowhere for
him to go. Would he straddle her? What did a man do with a mermaid
during sex? She frowned, imagining the look on his face. His
arrogant expression would surely fracture in seeing her true nature
come to life.

Her lack of experience with
sex made her more than fearful about giving in to her urges. She
was ignorant to the possibility that she might spontaneously shift
during
the act.
She glanced down at her legs, wondering what Wyatt Herndon
would utter with his smart-aleck mouth if he knew how her lower
appendages transformed into a tail.

She lived alone, had no family—no one to
ask. This wasn’t exactly something she could post online and wait
for a response on a social media outlet. She avoided dating and
especially romance, leaving her a single, floundering mess. She
swam round and round inside a sexual conundrum. Not an easy problem
to solve, regardless of living just east of Miami—the city of sin,
decadence, and Cuban coffee. So far, this cosmopolitan oasis didn’t
have a dating solution for this single siren.

Marissa hadn’t sulked, but dove into the
world of real estate and left sex on the shelf. Until today, it had
never actually bothered her. Until Wyatt had shown up in her
life.

She put aside all thoughts of sex with the
jarring reminder: at this exact moment, she was in charge of
closing this sale. All she had to do was show Mr. Herndon these two
pieces of perfect, ocean-front property. She may not schmooze
clients, but she had developed connections by working after-hours
in other ways besides drinking and dining. These two sites weren’t
officially even up for sale. Yet. She had her bases covered in that
department. Ruefully, she inhaled . If only her client were so easy
to manage.

Her esteemed client was still missing in
action. How hard had it been for the man to follow her from point A
to point B? Another sure sign that finding and keeping a man
required more than promises. Handcuffs came to mind. Her chest
tightened. Wyatt seemed the type of man who’d more than likely
relish such toys. She exhaled and promptly banished the thought of
him and a whip.

Think business. Properties.
Codes. Anything.
Her client’s property
development timing was utter genius.

She gazed back toward the shore. Her
decision to bring him down here was less than genius. Contemplating
the ocean, she was torn between an urge to heed her natural
inclination—to stay away from the seashore during the day—and the
desire to advance her career.

All she had to do was lock up this real
estate sale. The solution equated to securing her future. She’d
never be frightened into a corner, almost caged by her own nature.
Simple really, if she could ignore her growing attraction to
Wyatt.

She exhaled an uneven breath. Wyatt
terrified her. During the middle of the day, the ocean terrified
her more. So far, Wyatt had not covered her body to the point of
exhaustion. A point in his favor. The thought sent a blaze of heat
skating over her skin.

The surf rose and crashed, over and over.
She remembered being tossed up on shore as a small child. Oh no,
the overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia appeared out of
nowhere.

Silly, that’s just
silly
. She countered her fear. No one
would remember that day long ago. She bit the edge of her lip,
staring at the horizon.

“
Please, please,
please
.” She prayed. No amount of silent
coaxing or reminders settled her sense of dread at that moment. The
memory of being an exhausted child clinging to the seaweed and sand
along the shoreline until someone had found her appeared as vivid
as the day it had happened. Without warning, her fear brewed and
bubbled to the surface, prickling her into a bout of nerves. Or
worse, a prisoner of an anxiety attack. Whether true or imaginary,
she tasted salt on her tongue whenever the memory infiltrated her
thoughts.

She licked her lips, and then closed her
eyes, counting from one to ten. The memory loomed, and she felt as
though she were surrounded by a crowd of tourists. Imaginary
voices, similar to the ones who had gathered along the shore when
she lay scared and trembling, filled the space. Cries of disbelief
filled her imagination, demanding to know why a naked girl had
washed up on shore. Frightened and desperate, Marissa shivered just
as she’d done alone on the shore years ago. Rapid, shallow breaths
rose and fell inside her chest; a virtual storm within her body and
mind. Nearly ungrounded, she verged on hyperventilating and fought
for control. Banging her head against her fists dissipated the
vision.

Breathe.
She repeated her mantra for the hundredth time.
She willed the images to disband. She envisioned her office in an
attempt to ground herself. She focused on the items on her desk,
the feel of her swivel chair moving from side-to-side.

A rhythmic knock erupted from somewhere near
her trunk. Marissa jumped and glanced over her shoulder. A pair of
khaki trousers flooded the driver’s side window. Her car door
opened, followed by the rush of beach-scented air. She would have
bolted from the car had her path been clear.

“
Damn, I thought you
ditched me, darling.” Wyatt’s twang and masculine scent washed over
her.

Words shot out of her mouth as though
infused by a double-shot of espresso. “I presumed you had to take a
call. I programmed the address into your GPS and sat tight, knowing
you’d be here sooner or later. As you can see, there’s more than
ample parking in the off-street garages. A plethora of restaurants
and shops cater to residents and tourists. The foot traffic isn’t
overrunning the place, which is good, considering your objective.”
She cleared her throat, hoping her voice leveled out. “The site is
utterly stunning, wouldn’t you agree Mr. Herndon… Wyatt?”

His steely gaze seemed to contemplate what
she’d uttered. How in the heck had she become head realtor of this
deal? She stared at her emergency sack, folded and tucked by the
side of her seat. She doubted shoving the brown paper bag against
her face would fill her newest client with much confidence in her
abilities. She put the thought away and sucked in a deep, slow
breath.

The man’s shadow fell over her as he bent
down. She peered up into his face and her breath caught in her
throat. Something in his manner exacerbated her hunger for hot,
mind-blowing sex.

“
Are you going to give me a
tour from the front seat of your car?” He chuckled. “I promise not
to bite.” He smiled secretively, and then whispered almost beyond
earshot. “
Too hard
.”

She stared at him opened-mouthed. “Excuse
me?”

“
Nothing. Just wondering if
you’re planning on exiting your vehicle in the near
future?”

“
I’m just getting my camera
and phone. You should be enjoying the view.”

“
Trust me, from this
vantage point, I am. The sights are more than alluring.” What was
he talking about? His gaze hadn’t left her face or body.

Her fingers trembled, knowing he waited to
trek over the sugary sand toward the water’s edge. Hazardous for
her given the lunar timing. She was coming undone alright. Her
spine snapped to attention as a pulling sensation stretched across
her skin in all directions. She scratched her neck, fighting the
urge to rub her back against the seat.

The skin under her waistband burned from
unseen etchings. If she pushed down her skirt, she’d find faint
ridges of topical scales appearing over her skin. Same sequence
every month, minus one tempting man-candy. She imagined tasting
Wyatt’s lickable body.

Marissa pulled at the cuffs of her shirt and
stammered. In the rearview mirror, she studied his vehicle parked
behind her. “Are you sure about your car? I-I think your car is
sticking out. It’s rather large.”