by Vivian Arend
“This is my fault?” His skin darkened, flushed with anger, or dare she hope for another reason?
There was only one way to know for sure—she screwed up her meager courage and moved closer, like a butterfly caging a bull.
“You don’t want me to have sex with the humans, but you don’t want me to get involved with any of the other men from the pod. Whose fault could it be? You know you could satisfy me yourself like I asked you before. I want you, Braden, I have for a long time.”
She trailed her finger down his shirt buttons, circling the last one that sat just shy of the top of his jeans. His abdomen muscles quivered under her touch. She lifted her gaze to meet his, gasping as she saw the longing and desire reflected there.
“Chelsea…baby, don’t do this,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and halting her slow exploration of his belt buckle.
“Do what? Make us both happy? Come on, admit it. You want me, don’t you?” She held her breath. Would he actually confess this time?
He clasped their hands together, swearing softly under his breath. A long sigh followed. “You damn well know I want you, but baby—”
A shiver raced up her skin and the need to touch him made her bolder than she’d allowed herself to be for over a year. She nestled in close.
“I’m not a baby. You know it. I know it. Please, I need you.” His hands fell apart and she wrapped herself around him, drawing a deep breath of the scent of his body, spicy and all male. It settled her jangling nerves even as it excited her more. “Hmm, I need you now, Braden.”
Chapter Two
Braden closed the door firmly on her continuing protests, taking the stairs two at a time as he escaped to his truck. Maybe it was the coward’s way out, but staying around Little Miss Temptation any longer was impossible. Even a saint would have difficulty resisting Chelsea when she got into one of these moods.
He was no saint.
Traffic was light as he drove slowly into town, leaving the shore-side heritage home behind. The new matriarch and her lovers, now her husbands, wouldn’t be back for almost a month. In the meantime Braden was stuck babysitting the most difficult member of the Jaffrey Cove merfolk. He also had to keep an eye on the rest of the water shifters during what was fast becoming the strangest tourist season on record. While the number of visitors was slightly higher than normal, the minor criminal offenses he’d been called out on had more than doubled. He would have sworn there was a full moon every night of the week from the crazy things people were coming up with. Home invasions, Peeping Toms, rotting fish stuffed in mailboxes… He was ready for a holiday himself.
Now to discover Chelsea wouldn’t be leaving Jaffrey’s Cove was the last straw.
The police radio rang, shrilling loudly in the truck and he sighed. No rest for the wicked—even though he was trying really hard to avoid that title. He snatched the receiver off the console and switched on the talk button.
“Marley,” he snapped, turning back onto Main Street. He slowed to avoid a group of tourists gawking at the picturesque row of shops lining the boardwalk.
“Hey, Sheriff. There’s a bit of a ruckus down at the Beachshore Inn. You want to check it out?”
“Ten-four.” Hell, not again. He grabbed his hat and jacket and put them on as he drove. Damn woman had him so he didn’t know if he was coming or going. Fighting the urge to accept the delights Chelsea could provide had been the right thing to do, but now that she was staying in town…fuck.
To top it off, the two of them were roommates. It wasn’t her fault—he knew Chelsea had moved into Alexia’s spare room temporarily to housesit before heading off to college. When he’d been asked to step in while the matriarch was gone he hadn’t expected Alexia to insist he stay at the house as well as deal with emergencies among the merfolk community.
Knowing Chelsea was downstairs from him night after night was sheer hell.
Braden sighed. Even though he was suffering, he had to admire Alexia. His new leader had done well. From zero information to running the show in less than a week—Braden had been impressed. Alexia was gutsy, beautiful and very thoroughly taken by two of his younger cousins. Funny thing that—the men were not the strongest or toughest of the merfolk, but the three of them were a perfect fit when it came to supporting each other. Alexia now led the secretive group of shifters hidden away amidst the regular souls who lived in Jaffrey’s Cove.
Braden slowed as he approached the end of the road and the turnoff to the hotel. Holy shit. Dispatch had been right. Braden eyed the long lineup of bodies headed into the hotel/motel, the tangle of cars blocking the parking lot. He double-parked in front of the coffee shop and jogged the rest of the way to the entrance.
A deafening bedlam of voices assaulted him as he entered the office. Rapidly spoken Japanese and German bounced off the walls, accompanied by much hand waving. Max Linton, the hotel owner, and all the staff bustled behind the counter, plastic keys and credit cards flying through the air.
“Max…Max, hey, you got a problem? Need a hand?” Braden shouted.
Max cast a quick glance his direction, then dropped his gaze back to the keyboard and the mess of papers piled by his elbow.
“Hey, Braden. No problem. Well, yes, a problem—someone double booked us for two large tours, but I think I’ve almost got it solved. I finally got the guys who hired out the fishing charters squared away, but I have no idea what to do with him.” He swung his finger to the corner.
Braden turned to see Jamie Powell standing next to the wall, quietly examining an aged photograph of Jaffrey’s Cove harbor circa 1900.
“Troubles with his booking too?”
Max motioned Braden forward then leaned over the counter to speak quietly.
“He booked a suite, and I just don’t have it to give. I mean, one guy in that much space? I charged the tour company full price per person and popped six people in that room. Now I’m feeling guilty. It says on his application he’s doing work for Alexia. Think we can convince her to put him up for a while?”
Braden groaned. He sympathized with Max, he really did. Summer was the most lucrative time of year. Shop owners who didn’t take advantage of every opportunity to make enough to last through the lean winter faced the possibility of not opening the following spring. It was in everyone’s interest to keep the tourists as happy as possible.
He glanced over his shoulder at the archaeologist. Unfortunately, putting Jamie up at Alexia’s house was out of the question, not with Chelsea staying there. No way on earth would he allow another man…
Shit. The truth hit him like a two-by-four. He was as controlling as Chelsea had accused him. A heavy brick formed in his belly, disgusted at himself for not seeing it earlier. First he’d help Max, then he’d figure out how to apologize for unintentionally being an ass to her.
He turned back to the innkeeper and nodded slowly. “There are a couple of options we can explore. I’ll take care of him.”
“Thanks, Braden. Thank a ton.” Max gave a quick dismissive wave, and Braden caught his attention before he buried himself in the chaos again.
“Is that the only reason I got sent over here? To help you deal with one homeless waif?”
Max swore. “I nearly forgot. There’s a couple of cars outside that zigged when they should have zagged. The owners are waiting in their rooms. We managed to calm them down and we did call a tow truck but…”
“No worries. You deal with your stuff, I’ll take care of it.”
Braden shook his head at the insanity of the place, even as it made something inside him very happy. Not the confusion, but the constant life and newness that living in a tourist destination brought. He loved the whole town and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
He stepped over and touched Jamie on the shoulder.
Jamie straightened from where he’d been staring at the fine print handwritten at the bottom of the black-and-white image. He smiled at Braden and the attractiveness Chelsea mentioned sprung to mind. The man was dam
n good-looking.
“Oh, hello again. Fascinating pictures. Do you know if they are originals from the family who owns the hotel? Who should I talk to if I want to find out more about the individuals in each photograph? Have you ever seen—?”
Braden held up a hand. “Whoa, Jamie, first things first. Seems you’re a little out of luck. There is no room at the inn.”
His forehead wrinkled in a frown. “But I had a booking… Oh, never mind. I’ll try the next hotel.”
Braden shook his head. “There is no other. This is it.”
Jamie stared at him. “Well, hell. That’s going to make this a little more difficult. Okay, plan B. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you in the morning.” He stooped and picked up his backpack from beside his feet, turning as if to leave.
Plan B? “Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a campground around here somewhere. It won’t be the first time I’ve roughed it.”
Braden did a quick mental inventory of the information he’d read on the sheet at the house. His cousin Anthony had done a very thorough investigation into the man. Jamie’s excellent reputation had been clearly spelled out.
“How long is the job at the Coltens’ expected to take?” Braden asked.
Jamie’s eyes glazed over a little as he stared into the distance. “Have to sort and catalog, research the more isolated finds—not counting if there are any museum pieces to match. Then there’s—”
Braden hid his smile. Shit, the man could babble. “Just an estimate.”
“At least a month to start, but the rest of the sorting could take six months to a year.”
Braden swore lightly. “You’re planning on staying in Jaffrey’s Cove for up to a year? Buddy, you’ll need something more than the campground, or even the hotel. Tell you what. I’ve got an apartment you can rent. It’s being renovated, but should be done within a month. Until it’s ready you can stay at my place since I’m at the house with Chelsea.”
Jamie flushed at the mention of her name. Yeah, the man had it bad. “I don’t know what to say, except thank you. I certainly didn’t expect this kind of help. Not after my deplorable behavior at the house. I really do apologize—”
“Your things still in your car?” Braden interrupted again. The reminder of Jamie and Chelsea wrapped together made something inside him ache.
Jamie nodded. “I wanted to check in first. I’m parked down the street.”
“I need to deal with a fender bender, then I’ll take you to my place to get you settled.”
They walked outdoors together. Jamie brushed against him as they pushed through the crowd still assembled before the reception desk. An itch of an idea rose at the back of his brain. Chelsea was right; she needed a little male attention. Braden couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing her with any of the local merfolk, but maybe he could handle it if it was a human with her. One he’d handpicked and approved. Jamie was an attractive guy, and he was already interested in Chelsea. Besides, she was pretty damn gorgeous.
So why didn’t you take her up on her offer? Especially now that she’s staying in town? Braden dealt with the cars in the lot, only concentrating with half his mind. The other half continued to worry about his problem—blonde, stacked and way too beautiful for her own good.
No, it wasn’t her. He’d had this argument with himself a million times over the years. Merfolk were a sensual race. They had a lot of their dolphin form in their human bodies—sex was fun and they had no problem with the sharing of that pleasure in a far more relaxed manner than humans normally did. Except for him…with Chelsea. He just couldn’t bend his head around casual with her. It pissed him off no end, frustrated her and even had him wondering if there was something wrong with him at the root of his nature.
He sated his urges with other members of their community, leaving them extremely happy and himself vaguely satisfied. There was always something missing, and he’d suspected for a long time that something was Chelsea.
It wasn’t right to get involved with her. She’d talked about college for so long that he’d gone out of his way to ensure she didn’t get distracted from her goal by anyone local, including himself. Making sure nothing stopped her from stepping out into the world. Just because he loved Jaffrey’s Cove, he still understood there was a lot more to see and do away from their tiny village.
Now that she was staying, the thought of being with her obsessed him. He still couldn’t risk getting involved with her until he figured out what his own issue was. Imagining her with any of the local merfolk—jealousy raised its head damn quick. But Jamie? Could he handle seeing Chelsea with him? Heck, the guy was only a human. It might be a possible solution.
Thirty minutes later the collision was dealt with and Braden hopped in his truck and waved for Jamie to follow him. The man held up a hand and ran back into the hotel. He returned with a set of keys dangling from his fingers. Great, an absent-minded professor. Braden chuckled and led the way through the sleepy tourist town of Jaffrey’s Cove to his home above one of the harbor-side shops. A light breeze blew around them as he unlocked the door. Jamie’s aftershave carried on the air and Braden fought back the urge to lean over and take a closer sniff. Chelsea was right—something about the man really was very attractive. Braden opened the door and ushered Jamie in.
“I really do appreciate this.” Jamie placed his bags down carefully and headed toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Braden smiled. The ocean view was the first thing everyone admired. He grabbed the spare set of house keys from the side table. When he turned back he was surprised to see Jamie had ignored the view and instead knelt to examine the collection of shells piled on one coffee table.
“Fascinating. Where did you find a Conus gloriamaris in such good shape? And is that a reverse-coiled Lightning Whelk? Mr. Marley, this is an amazing collection.”
“Braden, please. We don’t go for very formal around here.”
Jamie peeled his gaze off the shells and glanced around the room. “Very comfortable. I like your style.”
“Thank you.” It seems we have the same taste in many things, including women. “Let me grab a few things from the bedroom, then you can get settled.” Braden paced off, wondering if he was a touch insane to be planning to allow a virtual stranger to get involved with the woman he wanted more than his next breath.
He dug into his chest of drawers, tossing clothes into a gym bag haphazardly. There was no logic in it, but for the moment, logic be damned. He just needed a few days’ reprieve. Surely granting Jamie permission to pay a little attention to Chelsea wouldn’t hurt anyone in the long run.
Would it?
Chelsea watched with fascination as Jamie dove into another section of the chaos. The day he’d begun work she’d been surprised to have Braden ask her to act as assistant to Jamie.
“You want me to help catalog the collection?” The real unspoken question was totally different. You want me around a human male all day long, alone?
Braden wrinkled his nose. “If he’s going to get the first stages done before Alexia and the guys return, he’ll need help. Since you’re not leaving for school anymore, I assume you need work and this should be right up your alley. After your years at the museum, I thought you’d enjoy seeing how a trained archaeologist works.”
“Of course, but…”
She checked Braden’s expression. He seemed serious. After he’d walked out on her, leaving her frustrated beyond belief again, she’d decided she needed to try a completely different tactic. Inspiration had not hit yet, but there had to be a way around whatever his reason was for keeping them apart. It was time to put the excuses aside.
Now, three days later, she and Jamie had fallen into a comfortable working relationship. He was fun to talk to, with his mischievous turn of phrase, and worked like a packhorse without stopping for hours at a time. He also refused to take apart any of the piles without her jotting down copious amounts of notes.
“Even
though chances are the items have no relationship to each other, I’d hate to lose any clues to the identity of an object by moving it too quickly. Since the owner of the collection is dead, and his widow can’t tell us much about the items, we need to create as much of a record of history as possible. If we do find anything valuable, we’ll need to establish evidence of provenance—essentially documenting the items were honestly acquired for this private collection.”
So Chelsea sat with a notebook, writing down his comments as he picked through items one at a time. What was in the pile, what it sat on, where in the room. He took the notebook from her every now and then and scribbled down a few technical phrases, Latin terms, or dashed off a sketch on the page.
“You’re an amazing artist,” she commented as he handed back the book.
He blinked in surprise. “You think so? I’m just an amateur, really.”
She turned the book around and pointed to the open page. “You drew that in less than two minutes and you don’t think you’re talented?” The sketch of the ornate jewelry box was perfectly proportioned, the details easily identifiable.
He gave a wry grin. “I should be taking digital photographs but…I lost my camera.”
A small snort escaped her. “I believe that. Did you find your cell phone? You couldn’t find that yesterday.” Jamie shook his head and she smiled. He knew at a glance what era most of the items in the room were from, but he hadn’t made it to the house once yet without forgetting or losing something.
“A lot of people use their computers for note-taking as well, but there’s something I appreciate about using pen and paper. Or in this case, you using pen and paper. I hope you don’t mind.”
Chelsea laughed. “It’s not like you’re making me slave out under the hot summer sun, Jamie. This is fascinating. Really.”