Ocean of Love Page 3

  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.”

  He returned her gaze with an arched brow. His heated stare was too much, and she lowered her gaze down his body, stopping at the bulge in his pants. A quiver released between her shoulder blades. Wyatt’s manly equipment had her salivating. She swallowed, afraid any second she’d become a drooling fool. Her client had no idea her psyche verged on shattering by his mere proximity. In this state, her sense of smell and hearing were out-of-control.

  She muttered, “Some clients are rather select about their packages… I mean vehicles.”

  “Darling, that vehicle is the least of my worries. It’s now or never, sugar. The shore isn’t about to come to us, so I guess we’d better get a move on.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go down by the shore alone? To get a sense of the site. I can wait up here at the boardwalk.”

  “Miss Silverpointe, I’d bet the view around here changes rapidly depending upon a state of relaxation. Doesn’t it, sweetheart? Besides, you gave me your word. It’s you and me. Undivided. Shall I get a lasso to keep you near me?”

  She ignored his comments. To feed into his teasing would unhinge her further. “That goes hand in hand with any ocean-front property. I imagine you’ve learned to plan for all sorts of contingencies. After developing into what is it now, 24 or 25 beachfront residences, you, more than anyone, would know how volatile the ocean can become.”

  “I’ve got immense respect for Mother Nature. I also understand how to harness and stabilize wild forces and untamed energy. All it takes is a steady, firm hand. And patience. I’ve got both. The only thing I’m missing at the moment is a realtor.”

  “Duly noted,” she muttered softly to herself, unable to stall him any longer.

  He held out a large palm to her, wicked humor spilling out in his tone. “Well, either we can dance or sit on the sidelines? I want you with me now and in the future. You signed on for this deal. I expect your opinion on all issues. Twenty-four-seven. You promised, mi vida.”

  His deep voice, tinged by a seductive drawl, jolted her. She was dumbfounded again by his clear blue eyes, mirroring the cloudless sky above his head. He took hold of her hand, tugging her out of the car. “Let’s go, baby doll. The sea’s a-calling.”

  “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She grabbed her oversized purse and swung her feet onto the pavement. His intense gaze pierced to the quick. She felt a thump in her chest as her heart kicked up in response. Jesus, just standing near the man was utter insanity.

  He appeared more at home here on the beach than she with her pale complexion. Wyatt’s suntanned skin reminded her of honey-butter, making her wish he’d strip off his pull-over to prove her imagination wasn’t dreaming. When he smiled, she noted the edges of his eyes crinkled. His grin, coupled with an impossibly sexy body, stunted her train of thought.

  He squeezed her hand as if thoughts bubbles appeared above her head. For a second time, bursts of pleasure scattered on a relay race around her body. “I was wondering if you wanted to walk along the water’s edge?”

  She hesitated. “Sure. I wasn’t joking about bringing my camera.”

  “Ever take a dip like the natives?”

  If he only knew. “Not lately,” she whispered. She bit her lip, hard, and then harder. Her pulse decided to do a sprint, making speech an Olympic feat.

  Chapter Three

  “Are you feeling okay?” Wyatt asked, concern written across his face.

  She swallowed what seemed like a bucket of sand. All she could do was nod. Great. Just what she needed. A gorgeous, former-hardass of a client who also possessed a chivalrous, sympathetic side. Wyatt’s multifaceted personality unnerved her. Lucky for her, the shoe was not on the other foot. Should he decide to try his hand at sales, she’d buy him out. Lock, stock, and smoking good looks.

  She peered toward the beach, taking in the shimmering, blue-green water. A mesmerizing, high-pitched hymn unfolded. He wouldn’t be able to hear song tossed about by the waves. She listened, transfixed until the cold edge of fear, prickly as seaweed, wrapped around her.

  “The ocean…” she stammered. “It’s strange. I don’t come down here that much. Odd, considering the type of property we deal with.”

  She couldn’t just tell him. See, she was nervous, well downright scared to death that somehow she’d get wet and turn into a…a… She couldn’t even finish the thought.

  Wyatt stared at her, but he wasn’t gazing at her face. He studied her chest. His expression made her forget her fear.

  “Man, what a rarity. Are those real?”

  Frozen, she gaped at him. South Beach was vested with an aura of tell-all, as if nude sunbathing equaled a need to be forthright. Did men from where he hailed speak openly about body parts? She flinched not knowing what he was referring to until his fingers gingerly picked up the pendants she wore around her neck.

  “Those are beautiful. Are they real?”

  “Come again?” She choked back indignation.

  His fingers trailed over her skin before he tugged the chain around her neck. “Some museum pieces? May I?”

  An innocent mistake. Of course he wasn’t talking about her breasts.

  “This is antique gold,” he murmured, squinting down at her necklace.

  “A stack of stamped coins, one on top of another. A couple hundred years old, or so I’ve been told.”

  Darn, Wyatt had snuck within her physical comfort zone, past the point where she should have reared back. Marissa had no choice and waited, every one of her nerves stretched taut. She caught herself admiring his dark chest hair on display between the unbuttoned collar of his shirt and hastily looked away.

  He spoke as if he were talking to himself. “Appears as if the rubies are embedded from years of being underwater. This is something from a shipwreck rescue isn’t it?”

  The distinct urge to bury her face into his shoulder held her in a tug-o-war. He raised his face, connecting with her gaze, expectation of a response in the arch of his brow. There was no way to adequately describe her necklace. A gift from her mother and a treasure she’d had for years. Wyatt had a way of unlocking her vault of feelings. The memory had Marissa coming undone as she furiously blinked back tears. A tide of emotions lodged in her throat. She stepped back, far enough to make him release her necklace.

  “A family heirloom,” she said, facing away from him while the breeze lapped at her face. She wiped away pooling tears, pretending to fix strands of her hair floating in the wind.

  “Pirate’s booty at some point. Lovely for the setting. I didn’t know such pieces were available. Your family must have quite a connection.”

  His innocent comment struck her like a whack to her middle. The truth, he’d have no reason to know, and she had to get ahold of herself. She glanced back at him, absorbing the heat from his eyes. There was no denyin
g, each time he came close sparks flew deep inside her. This surge of uncontrollable excitement raced over her skin and in turn frightened the bejeebers out of her.

  “Nothing of the sort,” she murmured. Again, she was reduced to a dithering fool in his presence, caught up in the sound of his voice and the desire for one taste of his mouth.

  Wake up. Wyatt was her client, forbidden fruit, especially considering her need for complete secrecy. He was dangerous, something she must avoid, and yet when she returned his gaze, her trepidation did a tap dance off stage, leaving her avidly aroused.

  “Let’s look at the site in front of us. Shall we?” she asked, throwing up a diversion, time needed to recoup her common sense.

  “Beautiful. The best marketing tool. I picture my building right here.” He held up his hands, pushing his thumbs together. Wyatt’s palms spanned in front of his face, forming a viewing box.

  She hugged her portfolio and studied the beach. Slowly sipping air. Nothing too hard. After counting to four, she pivoted toward her client. Wyatt’s bicep came up in front of her face. She’d never seen arms with so many bulges, cuts, and sinews. More like the production of a sculptor’s imagination rather than tanned flesh and muscle.

  “Take a look.” His gaze lingered on her face. He exhaled a laugh and nudged her shoulder with his. “I have a good feeling about being here with you. The first step is always memorable.”

  He leaned closer to Marissa, filling her nostrils with the scent of smoke and leather and some hint of citrus. His scent infiltrated her to the core, tearing down her defenses, making her too aware of him. The reappearance of a zing of metallic fear took hold, winding away inside her along a current she was powerless to resist. She shuddered, gripping her portfolio. She needed to refocus. Architectural and engineering drawings would be needed.

  “Yes. This piece of property might do well. I’d like to see the final plans to be sure. I sent your office an update for these two properties this morning. We requested the architectural revisions, but so far your office hasn’t released the latest set. I’ve worked with the corporate boards on both properties. They graciously provided me with the heads-up. Rezoning passed last week. Permits were just approved. There’s another site with less foot traffic just about two miles north of here. Those two boards won’t hold off listing the properties by the end of the day. Only a signed contract will stop them. I’m working at getting the pricing lowered.”

  “Sinclair said you were the one. He wasn’t wrong. You’ve an amazing eye for detail. Same ocean, same setting, but the ability to stand out from the rest. This is exactly what I’ve been searching for. I’ll get you the updated plans.”

  “I’ll need to request an inspector for an immediate site review.”

  “We both know there will be more revisions, but nothing to upset zoning. We could review them over dinner if you’re interested?”

  “Dinner tonight. Sure.” Dinner, business, nothing unusual in his invitation—apart from his hard arm brushing against hers. Without thinking, she edged closer, as if she were iron and he a magnet.

  She didn’t miss his scalding gaze sweeping down her body. Or the way he inhaled, standing so close to her. So primal. And so out of her league. This man was stealth in his ability to go from a mere client to standing so close in front of her, the ocean breeze couldn’t find passage between their bodies. Maybe this was all just flirting, and she had been terribly mistaken about his intent. Didn’t he come to Apex with an attractive companion? Girlfriend or fiancée. Marissa hadn’t checked him out personally, and didn’t know his status, aside from what her body responded to standing next to him.

  Wyatt was the package deal from her personal purgatory.

  And she was a fool standing on Ocean Drive facing two forces that would be her undoing. Wyatt Herndon was an immanent danger. And saltwater, with an ability to unleash her, free her, unveil her.

  She desperately needed a slingshot that would break these bonds. It was one thing to be close to the source of danger. It was another to be shoulder-to-shoulder with one while gazing at the other. If Wyatt didn’t believe she was some foregone conclusion, he’d be wrong on many levels.

  Her eyes were no better than anyone else’s at Apex. Wyatt’s spoke of invitations, liaisons, and brokering a deal. The man teased with the finesse and surety of a major player. Maybe that’s why Sinclair had handed him off. There were plenty of married men who tried to play the field with her.

  But that was ridiculous. She wasn’t the only single broker at the office. Except the other young woman would eat Wyatt up and spit him out.

  Marie Bluntstone had worked at Apex for years. She chewed up good-looking men in a night. Clients, husbands, the competition, no one was safe around Marie.

  Put someone like Marie together with Wyatt and the sparks would fly. Too risky for business deals at this level. Easy to go up in smoke. For Sinclair, Apex, and Wyatt to garner a business deal, Marissa was a better fit. If you judged a book by Marissa’s Brooks Brother’s cover. Albeit, totally out of place on the beach.

  “Let’s go take a look. Up close.” Wyatt pulled her arm. His fingers were firm on her flesh, pressure points of pleasure. The depths of his eyes held her in place.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s why we’ve come.”

  She risked not only her commission but her life. If the water came in contact with her body, there wasn’t enough money in the world to help her. The truth would make a prisoner out of her, a freak of science, at best a tabloid headline. A haze of dizziness clouded over her. She pressed a couple of fingers to her temple, nibbling the corner of her mouth.

  Wyatt removed his shoes, one by one. Darn. even his feet were beautiful. Tanned, long, and strong. And she imagined the correlation between his feet and hands and the healthy bulge in his pants. The skin over her face flamed. Marissa took a gulp of ocean air. She toe-heeled her pumps off. She collected her shoes, tucked them and the portfolio into her bag.

  A brisk jaunt to the shore would be therapeutic. To face her fear and prove the ocean wasn’t on a personal vengeance against her during the day might arrest some anxiety.

  “C’mon little lady.” He grabbed her bag from her shoulder. “Do you mind?”

  “No. Of course not.” She high-tailed it up the board walk following on his heels.

  He shoved his shoes inside her bag and tugged at her hand. They treaded down the steps and jogged over the beach. Marissa’s feet streaked across the sand only hampered by her narrow skirt.

  “Race?” He dared.

  “You’re on.” She cinched up her skirt and didn’t struggle to keep up. She jogged each morning. But navigating this shifting ground, she dug in her toes, and the grains of sand under her feet were delicious, unlike pounding cement or the five miles she meticulously ran every morning come rain, sun, or wind.

  Running over the beach, Marissa let the smell of the sea, the heat of the sun along her skin, and the sand between her toes calm her nerves.

  They slowed to a walk, still hand in hand. “This property is worth every cent. I expect to negotiate an advantageous deal including a limitation on who is permitted access,” he said.

  “Zoning prohibits fencing for the last twenty yards in front of the shoreline. Security guards are the standard, along with enforced property lines.”

  She scanned the row of chaise lounges, adrenaline dripping into her blood stream. She gazed out to clusters of rolling waves, ribbons of white caps tumbled and tossed. She pushed up her sunglasses. Dolphins swam close to shore, occasionally breaking from the water in acrobatic leaps. A show of power and grace typically occurred during the February mating season.

  A burst from the ocean crashed right in front of them, two yards from the shore, sending sea spray inches from her body. Marissa would shriek louder than a wet cat if seawater touched her.

  “Man, did you see them,” he shouted. “I don’t think they abide much by property lines.”

  She slowed, unable to risk getting closer. “You
go. My hair will look like a knotted fishing net given the humidity.”

  He frowned, not letting go of her hand, and stopped. “Come with me. Just for a minute.”

  “Please don’t ask again. I simply can’t.” A few feet to go. She all but yanked her hand from his grasp.

  “Women.” He muttered something else over his shoulder, and whatever he said was lost on the wind.

  She hadn’t been back to the ocean since last month. She had mastered finding secluded places to park along the uninhabited beaches, giving her access. This condition demanded her return for renewal. Ever since puberty, if she didn’t heed this one rule, her body had a cycle that wasn’t pretty. The couple of times she’d put off her night swim, her body had weakened, painfully. Rarely had she experienced such a dismal state.

  In a few hours, she’d come back. Always had to come back.

  Each month. When the moon was full, she’d swim naked, unfettered beneath the waves. Tonight, somehow, she’d have to slip away from Wyatt under the cover of darkness. What would it be like to swim with him in the surf, twine her arms around him, pressing her body against his hard form?

  A spiraling vortex was alive inside her body, being so close to the ocean, and unable to take the plunge. Every month, she wondered if her strange condition would resolve itself. Two legs disappeared, or rather, united, connecting her pelvis and hips under iridescent skin. In the flick, if ocean water touched her skin, these legs transformed into a long tail. Long ago, she’d learned the boundaries of what she could and couldn’t do to keep from changing into a form that was nearly impossible to comprehend. Her parents had come here from a town bordering the Norwegian Sea. Her father and mother had been the same, and that was the extent of her knowledge about her heritage. Now, alone, and with no one to help her comprehend her condition, she kept her secret tightly locked away.

  An overpowering current surged inside her blood. The ocean waves called to her. She longed to strip off her clothes and return to the sea. A choice—with no coming back. Is that what she wanted? The image of her family overtook her—netted, captured, and killed.