To Seduce A Siren (5 page)

Chapter
Four

Charisse
hummed the theme song to the Muppet Show under her breath, dabbing a large
dollop of bright blue paint onto the canvas in front of her.  The afternoon
sea breeze plastered the voluminous chocolate brown muumuu she wore to her body
and tugged playfully at the brim of her oversized floppy sun hat. 

After
a final few brush strokes she moved back a few feet to critique the final
product.  It was done.  Already?  The last seven weeks had been
incredibly productive ones… work wise.  It seems all it took to get her to
focus was to meet a gorgeous annoying man resistant to her charms combined with
a slight crisis of conscience. 

Since
Hadleigh’s party, she’d mentally run through her meeting with Nate over and
over again.  With hindsight she’d finally come to realise that the cringe
factor involved had not been Nate insulting her humming or his failing to
succumb to her Siren charms.  No, the shocking fact about the whole
incident had been how all too easily she’d slipped into mega-bitch Siren mode,
and tried so desperately hard to seduce the man. 

Seriously,
what if he hadn’t been immune?  She might have melted his brains, all
because in a petulant snit she’d felt the need to bully him with her Siren
powers to prove some obscure point that she was a desirable woman.  It was
that first day on the rock all over again.  I am Siren, hear me
roar. 

Even
now, as she absently cleaned her brushes, she blushed with embarrassment and
shame.  Oh Charisse, stop thinking about the man and dwelling on the past,
what’s done is done.  Except for the occasional family party it wasn’t
like she would be bumping into Nate again.  And so what if she did, she’d
already proven at Drum and Nell’s wedding meld party that she could be in the
man’s vicinity and avoid him like the plague. 

It
kind of helped that every time the man came within a fifteen foot radius
Bettina bitch-rock gave a hard yank on their shared bond.  Psycho rock had
been acting way more possessive than normal since her little encounter with
Nate.  Night and day there was a constant pull on the bond now. 

Nights,
she determinedly ignored the bitch, managing the ache with meditation and
sleeping pills.  Most days she’d given in of her own accord, paddling out
to spend some quality time with her paints… not, she assured herself, to
placate Bettina.  

She
thanked the Goddess daily for her ability to paint.  She couldn’t imagine
having to spend hours on this bitch-rock every day, with nothing to do but
twiddle her thumbs and listen to the subversive suggestive incomprehensible
whisperings of Bettina.  It would have been like being stuck in a Star
Wars movie marathon for life… ‘come to the dark side Charisse’ twenty-four/seven. 

Soon
after her initial introduction to Bettina she realised it was no accident that
the women in her family had chosen the careers they did.  Her mother was a
writer, Aunt Maddie a poet, Aunt Cecilia had built a weather station on her
rock located in the Philippines Sea where she studied typhoons.   And
Aunt Fiona, who many in the family believed to have drawn the short straw with
a rock located in Antarctica, had become a world renowned naturalist with her
study on penguin colonies.

Daily,
Charisse wondered if their rocks were as bitchy, manic and downright demanding
as Bettina?   A question she could never ask out loud.
 
And because of the rules of being a Siren, a
question her female relatives could never answer.  But somehow Charisse
thought so.  This symbiotic relationship between the Sirens and the rocks
according to myth and legend had been going on for centuries.  Though of
course the Sirens got all the bad press, no one ever thought to blame the
rocks.

It
was a frustrating way to live, she knew what the rocks got out of the
arrangement; she had yet to work out how the Sirens benefitted.
 
The scales felt firmly an irretrievably weighted in
the direction of the rock, the never-ending maddening hunger that was
Bettina.  The bitch-rock craved cruisers, tankers, destroyers.
 
Hell, Bettina wanted her to lure in a whole
naval fleet.  Not on Charisse’s watch, no way, no how.  For almost
fifteen years now she’d been feeding Bettina on the meanest of rations. 

Bettina
might bitch and yank on the bond but it was Charisse who aimed her Siren’s
call, deliberately attracting only speeding macho fools in flashy speedboats or
on ridiculously loud jet skis.  Men, who hooned around the ocean, thinking
nothing about how their actions affected local wildlife or anyone else forced
to share the waterways with them. 

Charisse
liked to call it the asshole diet or sometimes the dickhead cleanse. 

These
egotistical thrill seekers, hyped up on speed and their own macho
self-importance were perfect fodder for Bettina.  Even so, when they did
finally manage to stumble onto the rock, Charisse barely gave Bettina a minute
or two to siphon off the excess of their emotions before she escorted them back
to their boat or jet-ski; dazed, lovesick and confused.  It was actually
kind of rewarding to watch them motor away well under the speed limit. 

Sure
they’d be tired and a little lethargic for a few days, but they’d soon recover,
the memory of the gorgeous woman they’d encountered on a rock in the middle of
the ocean a hazy half-dream. 

Stretching
her arms out wide to get the kinks out of her muscles Charisse turned towards
the coastline.  Now that she was finished work for the day she could
indulge in a little sneak peek at the handyman fixing up Great-Great-Uncle
Maurice Bennett’s gothic cliff-top mansion. 

Maurice
had gone to the Goddess a few years ago now and Charisse had been wondering if
his son, Great-Uncle Gard, was finally having Kaleidoscope Folly renovated with
an eye to selling it.  It would certainly explain all the trucks over the
recent few days coming and going.  If so… well Charisse had become rather
partial to the eccentric monstrosity after almost fifteen years of looking at
it on a daily basis.  Perhaps she should give Auntie Kath, Gard’s wife, a
call… hmmm, but in the meantime, where was the golden Adonis?  He’d been
there the last five days in a row, she hoped today wasn’t his day off or he was
working inside.  She needed a little eye candy pick me up.

Oh
there, up on the roof again, well not quite on the roof, more like hanging off
the roof by what looked like a harness and ropes, dismantling the rusty
guttering on the upper most, third tier of the house.  She allowed her
eyes to drink in his form.  He had to be tall, even from this distance she
could figure that out, and thanks to his propensity to work without a t-shirt
she knew he was golden tanned and ripped. 

Today,
like every other day, he’d tied a bandana around the lower half of his face,
smart, you never knew what types of building materials were used in old
houses.  His hair shone golden blonde under the harsh rays of the
afternoon sun.  Hmmm, if she weren’t afraid of ruining the fantasy by
actually speaking to the man, she’d hunt him down and test her theory that the
up close visage was just as fantastic as the faraway. 

Seriously,
who could this guy be?  Perhaps he was one of the artisans from Reverie
Valley, the artistic community, one town over inland.  He had to be, no
one from outside the Sanctuary would surely be allowed to work on one of the
family homes. 

Charisse
winced as Bettina gave an extra hard yank on the bond.  Hmmm, she supposed
she should be going… maybe in a few minutes.  To placate the demanding
diva she absently begun to hum the Star Wars theme, okay perhaps placate wasn’t
the right term, but it was a fact Bettina bitched less when she was making some
use of her Siren powers, even if it was tuneless off key humming. 

Mmmm…
back to the hottie.  Who it seems had company she noted, as a cloud of
dust rose from the circular driveway at the side of the house.  Despite
the dust, the bright red paintwork of the car gleamed, reminding her of Darcy’s
car. 

A
flicker of movement to the right had her refocusing on the handyman, who was
using his legs to push off from the roofline, dropping like a stone three
storeys to the unkempt garden.  Squinting she watched as he began to run,
sending the harness and ropes flying to the ground as his booted feet ate up
the ground with impressive speed. 

Where
he thought he was running to, she wasn’t sure.  There was dense forest
land to the right of the house but that was five or so miles away.  If
that really was Darcy on his tail, then he didn’t have a hope in hell of
escaping the wrath of the Council Special liaison when she was in bounty hunter
mode.  Except hottie handyman wasn’t headed for the forest, he was headed
for the cliffs.  Oh Goddess, he wasn’t seriously going to clamber down to
the private beach was he?  He’d be trapped for sure.  Except he
bolted past the pathway to the beach and kept running along the edge of the
cliff towards Corkscrew Point, where the winds swirled and surged so
unpredictably.

Goddess,
he couldn’t seriously be considering… she’d only begun to contemplate the
horror when he launched himself out into the air.   Charisse squeezed
her eyes shut, she couldn’t watch.  Of course that meant five seconds
later, when she opened her eyes to search the choppy waters cresting against
the rocks under Corkscrew point, she had no idea where he’d landed. 
Stupid woman, she berated herself, running to the far edge of Bettina, trying
desperately to pinpoint his location.  If he was hurt perhaps she could
call for help or paddle out and get him.  

Up
on top of the cliff Darcy was just now coming around the side of the house, no
doubt she’d seen her quarry’s leap, as she raised a fist in the air and made
several rude gestures before her shoulders slumped and she returned the way she
came.  Seriously?  Darcy wasn’t even going to check the man was still
alive? 

Feeling
useless and agitated Charisse paced the edge of the rock.  What should she
do?  Call the coastguard?  Those guys would all too eagerly take her
call, but in all likelihood her presence nearby would mean they’d be way too
distracted to do their actual jobs.  Damn her Siren soul.

As
Charisse paced, Bettina squeezed, yanked and dug vicious invisible nails into
their bond, reminding her of a fractious toddler having a temper tantrum
fit.  Stupid diva bitch, everything always had to be about the rock she
supposed.  Absently she started to sing under her breath, anything to calm
the demanding cow whilst she dealt with the problem at hand.  Where was
the body?  The least she could do was note the direction it was floating,
call the authorities and give the poor man’s family some closure. 

Overhead
the seagulls squawked as the breeze began to pick up, churning the waters,
making it even more difficult for her to see her quarry.

Oh
Goddess.  Oh Goddess.  What should she do?  She was on her
umpteenth futile pacing of the rock’s edge when a large, warm, wet hand clasped
her ankle in a grip just shy of bone crushing.  Her shocked scream was so
loud it scared away the seagulls.

“Cyd?” 
Nate pulled himself out of the water, like Adonis rising from the ocean
depths.  His hair slicked back from his chiselled face, water running in
rivulets down over his lean muscular chest and rock hard six pack, his bare
flesh glistening with gold glimmers under the sun’s heated rays.  His
trousers were plastered to his legs like a second skin, whilst his feet were
encased in sturdy work boots.  How he’d managed to swim with those
weighing him down she’d never know.  Absently Nate rubbed his ear and winced. 
“Quite a set of lungs you have on you there Cyd.”

“Nate?” 
Charisse’s hand was plastered over her racing heart.  “Oh my good Goddess,
you scared me.  First with that lunatic jump and then grabbing my foot,
you… you...”  She leaned over and punched him as hard as she could on the
arm, shaking out her sore hand even as he grinned at her and then
laughed.  Wow, that was some smile.  Made a nice change from all the
frowns and scowls she’d been on the receiving end of at their first meeting.
But it wasn’t enough for her to forget the stupidity of his actions. 
“What were you thinking, diving off Corkscrew point like that?  You could
have died!”

“Nice
to know someone around here cares.”  Nate shook out his hair, sending
droplets of water flying. 

Thanks
to Bettina’s scratching and clawing at the bond Charisse was able to keep her
attention focused on his face, rather than follow the progress of several
droplets as they carved a path down that magnificent golden rock hard
chest.  Umm, er, don’t go there Charisse, eyes up remember.  She
shifted on the spot, as a bolt of what felt like heated electricity charged
down the bond, causing her to suck in her breath at the pain that coursed
through her.

“You
okay?”  The frown she’d come to know and… well not love, was back on
Nate’s face as he stared down at her.

“Fine…
I’m fine.”  She had no idea why Bettina was panicking, in fact, here was a
prime - over-sized even - specimen of the male race and Bettina was making no
attempt whatsoever to feed off of him.  Could this day get any weirder?

Nate
was eyeing her up and down, noting the sensible worn sneakers on her feet, the
voluminous long sleeved muumuu that covered her from head to toe, the white
smear of zinc sunscreen across her nose, the oversized sunglasses on her face
and the all but obscuring everything large sunhat jammed onto her head. 
“Interesting outfit.”  He finally commented.