A Seaside Christmas

by Susan Donovan

  So she didn’t dare turn around when she finally answered Nat. “Yes?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” She took one step before Nat spoke again.

  “If I interrupted your plans for tonight, I apologize.”

  “No plans. Would you like to listen to some music while I’m in the kitchen?”

  “Sure.”

  In a seamless series of motions, Annie grabbed her iPod and earbuds from the sitting room, tossed them to the bed—nearly hitting a half-awake Ezra in the skull—and scurried out of the room. She closed the kitchen door and called Rowan.

  The raspy sound of her friend’s greeting revealed that she’d been asleep.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” Annie said, rubbing her forehead as she paced the small kitchen. “I don’t even know what time it is.”

  “It’s . . . hold on . . . it’s twelve forty-five. Are you all right? Is Nathaniel all right?”

  “Fine. We’re fine. No, wait—he’s fine. Really, really fine. I’m a wreck.”

  “Uh-oh.” Annie heard Rowan sit up in bed and feel around for the lamp switch. “What’s going on, sweetie?”

  “I’ve never acted so stupid in my life!”

  “Stupid?”

  “Yeah! Goofy. Peculiar. I’m so nervous around Nat that I can’t think straight. It’s like I’ve lost my damn mind!”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

  “I’m not! Seriously, when have you ever known me to get all shaky and unsure of myself around a guy?”

  Rowan chuckled. “I’ve got two words for you—Fletcher Vickers.”

  Annie closed her eyes and sighed. “That was sixth grade. I hadn’t hit my stride yet.”

  “All right, well, Nathaniel is pretty damn cute. Maybe that’s all it is.”

  “Every man I’ve ever had in my bed has been pretty damn cute!”

  Rowan paused a moment before she spoke again. “You have a point. All right. Let me get dressed. I’ll be over there in a few minutes.”

  “No!”

  “But . . .” Rowan chuckled. “Let me get this straight, Annie. You called because you’re all jacked up over some dude in your bed, but you don’t want me to come over and help you out? Why? Do you need privacy because you’re planning on having sex with him?”

  Annie stopped pacing. “Of course not,” she hissed.

  “Then relax. Maybe it’s PMS.”

  Annie opened the refrigerator and took stock of what she had on hand. One egg. Some butter. About two tablespoons of milk. Wilted salad greens. She went over to the pantry and began moving cans and plastic storage containers around, getting more frustrated by the second. “It’s not PMS, but I’m telling you, something’s wrong with me.”

  “Maybe you’re in love. You know, some of that good, old-fashioned mermaid voodoo kind of luuuuv.” Rowan started to snicker. “Hey, I bet that’s it! The Bayberry Island Mermaid has finally slapped some major mojo on you! You took one look at the adorable Nathaniel Ravelle and your heart leaped for joy! You suddenly lost all—”

  “Good night, Rowan.”

  “Good night, Annabeth. You’ll be fine. Call me if you need to talk more. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Annie set baking ingredients on the counter, frowning at the limited possibilities. “Hey wait. I really am sorry I woke you up, Row.”

  “Oh, please, woman. How many times have I woken you up in the last year crying my guts out? Compared to me, you’re so sane you’re boring.”

  “Ha! Good night.” Annie stuck her phone in her pocket and headed back into the bedroom to inform Nat of his menu options. The instant she reached the doorway and saw him, she felt dizzy with delight. Nathaniel’s head was tipped back and resting on the pillows. His eyes were closed. He was listening to music on her iPod and his fingers stroked Ezra, now curled up on his stomach and purring so loudly the house vibrated. A heat slowly spread from her belly into her chest.

  The man was beautiful.

  She must have sighed out loud because Nat partially opened his eyes and gave her a sleepy grin. He pulled the headphones from his ears. “You have very eclectic music tastes, Miss Parker.”

  “Oh yeah? What did you settle on?”

  “Well, your Snoop Dogg catalog definitely called out to me, but in honor of Bayberry Island and its claim to fame, I picked Debussy’s La Mer.”

  Annie leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms under her breasts. “You’re funny. It’s an LA sort of funny.”

  He laughed. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like to hear the evening’s à la carte choices?”

  “Please.”

  “Tonight’s appetizer special is peanut butter on saltines. Entrées are either the canned baked beans, an omelet made with freezer-burned spinach and the only egg in the place, or, if you can hold out a little longer, I’ve got all the ingredients to bake you a small mermaid cake, which would be our catch of the day.”

  One of Nat’s eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “I’ll have the peanut butter appetizer and the mermaid entrée, please.”

  “Of course.”

  “And I’d like to help you.” Nat smiled shyly. “I’m not in anywhere near as much pain as I was and could probably move around a little.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Annie walked to the side of the bed and tucked the comforter around him. “The doctor said you shouldn’t move more than what is absolutely necessary.”

  “I feel uncomfortable having you wait on me.”

  Annie giggled. “I’m just baking a cake for an injured man. It’s no big deal.”

  As she returned to the kitchen, she reminded herself that it wouldn’t be a big deal except for one small detail—she’d never baked anyone a single-serving mermaid cake unless they were willing to shell out $7.95 in the form of cash, debit, or credit.

  Ev-er.

  4

  Nat swam up from the depths of sleep, opening his eyes to a familiar vision peering at him—long blond hair, blue eyes, angelic smile. It hadn’t been a dream.

  “Are you still hungry?”

  Suddenly, he became aware of a crushing weight on his chest. He tried to breathe but found it difficult. “What the—?” Nat looked down into the narrow, golden eyes of the corpulent cat named Ezra, and everything started to come back to him. “Oh man. Sorry, Annie. I must have dozed off.”

  “You did,” she said, her voice gentle. “I let you sleep while the cake cooled enough to frost, but I was about to wake you for your mental status check.”

  He laughed a little, pushing himself up. He noted the twinge of discomfort at the base of his spine, but the rest of him was much looser. The sleep and the pain reliever had probably helped relax his muscles. “And yes, I’m still hungry. I can’t wait to find out what goes into making an adults-only mermaid cake.”

  Annie placed a laptop computer on the floor next to her chair. She’d obviously been writing while he slept, which reminded him that he needed to make sure his secret was still safe. Very slowly, he stretched his arm along his side and under his left thigh, verifying that the paperback remained hidden from sight. It had been a close call earlier when Annie had fiddled with the comforter. She’d nearly caught him reading Ship of Surrender.

  “You good, Nat?”

  “Great, thanks.”

  She stood, looking down at him with the faintest frown between her brows. “If you say so. More tea with your cake?”

  “Please.”

  Nat kept his head still while shifting his eyes to watch her leave. Ever so slowly, he grasped the book with his fingers and began to slide it up along the flannel sheet. Just as the paperback was about to clear the edge of the comforter, Annie poked her head back in the room.

  “Any preference?”

  Nat froze. “Y
es. I mean, no. Whatever kind of tea you’ve got is fine.”

  “You sure you’re okay? Maybe I should call the doctor.”

  All this chatter had disturbed Ezra, who suddenly rose up, stretched, and decided it was a great time to begin kneading the comforter. Before Nat could do anything to prevent it, the big cat had pulled the covers down just enough to expose the corner of a hot-pink book cover.

  Busted.

  Annie placed a hand over her mouth to hide her smile, but it didn’t work. By now Nat knew that his benefactor’s smiles engaged her whole face, from her cheeks to her nose to her eyes to her forehead. And clearly, she found the situation hilarious. “That was the very first book I ever wrote. How far have you gotten?”

  “Uh . . .” Nat let his head fall back on the pillows. “Well, the captain and mermaid are just about to get busy.”

  Annie laughed. She marched over to the side of the bed and grabbed the paperback, letting it drop to his lap. “That doesn’t narrow things down much, since that plot twist occurs every twenty pages or so. If you’re good, maybe I’ll read some to you while you eat your cake.”

  With that, she leaned down, planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, and left the room, leaving a sweet-smelling breeze in her wake.

  “Damn.” Nat raised a hand to his face and touched the spot she’d just kissed. It tingled. It felt hot. His chest felt tight. He figured he was either having a stroke or was falling for Annie. He slapped himself for good measure.

  Something wasn’t right. He felt almost as if he were drunk, which of course he wasn’t. Even a concussion couldn’t account for the variety of odd sensations coursing through him at that moment. This was about Annie Parker. He was sure of it. She was somehow doing this to him. Yesterday, he was fine. Today, he was off balance, like a sailor having to walk on solid ground after months at sea. And what was the difference between yesterday and today? Annie Parker and her mermaid erotica and her charming old seaside cottage and fragrant flannel sheets and her pornographic cakes. Not since high school had Nat lost himself in a woman, and since that was also the only time he’d been blindsided by heartache, once had been enough.

  Nat stared toward the empty doorway, listening carefully for the return of the Bayberry Island temptress. Enough of this helpless invalid shit, he decided. He needed to regain his mental composure and physical strength. Because without those things, a man was vulnerable to being seduced by the first woman he encountered who happened to be extremely pretty, kind, smelled good, and lived in a quaint but funky house by the sea with a real Christmas tree in the main room and natural evergreen boughs hung along the fireplace mantels.

  Nat decided to test his body to gauge his physical condition. He gently raised and lowered his shoulders and rotated at the waist. He gingerly bent forward and reached for his toes. And then, when he was sure he was able, Nat pressed his hands down into the mattress and raised his body off the bed. Sure, it hurt a little, but a typical longboard wipeout at Venice Beach hurt a lot worse. He was fine.

  “Here you are,” she said, returning with a plate piled high with cake, a fork, and a mug of steaming tea.

  Nat lowered himself back to the mattress.

  “Are you sure you’re comfortable enough to sit up to eat? You can have some more Tylenol if you need it.”

  “I’m good for the moment. Thanks, Annie.”

  She placed the tea on the table and handed Nat the plate. He almost dropped it. There, staring up at him, was a serving of sex and chocolate—a voluptuous mermaid with her tail flipping and her breasts pouting and her only covering a set of strategically placed jujubes poking up from fudge frosting. He stared a long time. “Annie?”

  “Yes?”

  He looked up at her. “I don’t know whether to eat her or ask her out.”

  Annie laughed, and as hungry as Nat was and as tasty as the cake appeared, he could do nothing but gaze at his angel of mercy. As he blinked in wonder, a few things occurred to him. Her beauty was 100 percent natural. She didn’t need haute couture—she looked hot as hell in that old wool sweater and jeans. There wasn’t a streak of makeup on her. Her hair was flowing and shiny and thick, and though it was quite long, it was her own actual hair growing from her own actual scalp. No Botox had paralyzed her forehead. No collagen had been shoved into her lips. Her nose hadn’t been whittled down to toddler proportions. And her breasts—those full, round, bouncy breasts—those babies had come from the man upstairs and not a plastic surgeon with second-floor offices overlooking Rodeo Drive. It was almost a shock to Nat’s system.

  Annie grabbed the pink paperback from the bed. “Should I start reading just any-old-where?”

  “I was on page fourteen, to be real honest with you.” Nat slid his fork into a fluffy matrix of chocolate mermaid scales. “The first mate had just yelled to the captain that all was lost.” He was noticing that his confession seemed to please Annie just as he raised the fork to his mouth and the cake landed on his tongue.

  Oh God. It was really good. The flavor was rich and deep, the consistency was as fluffy as cotton candy, and it melted in his mouth almost as fast. Nat’s brain began to buzz with sensual delight as Annie’s sweet voice filled the room.

  “Could no one else see her? Oh, but how could that be? She was immediately there, portside, surrounded in a storm-tossed halo of light. The exotic creature’s long hair fanned out around her in the waves, and her eyes bored into the captain’s soul. Somehow, he knew she’d come to save him. Somehow, he knew his crew would not perish on that dark and treacherous night, and perhaps even his heart and soul would be saved from eternal emptiness.”

  “Oh, that’s damn good stuff,” Nat mumbled, his mouth full.

  “The cake or the story?”

  “Both. Keep going. But you can skip to a juicy part if you want.”

  Annie chuckled and thumbed through the pages. Nat figured she knew every word by heart and must get a lot of satisfaction from reading one of her own books. Just then, she groaned in frustration.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s one particular scene that I think you’ll like, but I can’t find it. I don’t remember where it is.”

  Nat thought that was odd. “Don’t you have the whole thing memorized?”

  She laughed loudly and looked up from the book. “I can’t even remember writing this, to tell you the truth. It was six years ago, and once I’ve published something in electronic format or send it off to be printed, I don’t read it again. I keep books handy in case I have a continuity question, but that’s it.”

  His fork stopped in midair. He smiled. “I understand.”

  “You do?” She looked surprised.

  “Yes. When I finish final edits on a film, I have to let it go. I can’t keep watching it over and over because it will just make me insane—I’ll always find a hundred things I wish I’d done just a little differently, just a little bit better.”

  “Exactly,” Annie said, tilting her head as if she were fascinated by what he said. “When you’re done, it doesn’t belong to you anymore. It belongs to the reader—or the viewer, in your case—and you have no business hanging around looking over their shoulder as they experience it.”

  Nat felt himself blink. He knew he was staring again. But this was so strange that he couldn’t help himself. His beliefs about his work had always been his own, and he’d rarely met others who felt the same way. But now Annie was echoing his philosophy exactly. The whole night’s events had been odd. It was almost as if a force had brought Annie and him together, the sound of the cosmic click so loud that everyone on earth had to have heard it.

  “Do you want me to keep reading?”

  Nat just smiled.

  “Hey! I found it!”

  “That’s excellent news.”

  As Annie’s sweet voice rang out once more, Nat raised his fork and placed another delicate morsel into h
is mouth, wondering if there was such a thing as too much pleasure, too much joy, and wondering if he might be ready to find out.

  “Captain Smythe ran his palms up the exquisite creature’s smooth and rounded hips, fascinated by how her scales had dissolved in the heat of the hearth. He was a man of science. He understood the sea, the stars, and the magnetic pull of God’s earth. But the idea that her mermaid features had simply disappeared was fantastical, almost too bizarre to be believed. Yet how could he deny the truth? She had saved him and all his men from certain death. It was by her hand and her light that their boat arrived safely on shore.

  “At that moment, however, Captain Smythe was aware he couldn’t be bothered with science. His eyes beheld a thing of impossible mystery and beauty, her female nature exposed and open to him, beautiful and glistening in the firelight.”

  When Nat dropped his fork to the plate, it made a terrible crashing sound. Annie stopped reading. Nat was breathing hard. “Sorry.” He swallowed, not sure if it marked the end of the cake or his life as he knew it. “Please go on.”

  “I can’t.” Her cheeks reddened.

  Nat put the empty plate on the side table. “Don’t be shy. It’s a beautiful story.”

  “No. It’s really not.” Annie shook her head and closed the book. “I use that word way too much.”

  Nat was puzzled. “What word?”

  “‘Glistening.’ Over and over in all my novels, the mermaids glisten their asses off. They glisten in the sand. Glisten in the bed. Glisten on the deck of the sailing vessel. I can’t believe I’ve been so careless about that! It’s just lazy writing.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself.” Nat smiled and touched the top of Annie’s hand. The brush of his fingers on her warm skin produced an electric flash that traveled to his core. He wanted her. He wanted her like he’d never wanted any woman, and it was a strange and crazy and completely illogical desire. It was almost as if he wasn’t in charge of his own life! “Maybe we can brainstorm,” he managed to say.