Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VI

by Tori Carrington

  She made a soft sound and he watched as her lashes fluttered, then her eyes opened, revealing the most electric pair of green eyes he’d ever gazed into.

  In them, he saw first surprise, then sweet surrender… .

  And then she kissed him back.

  Kieran groaned in the back of his throat, his arousal so complete, his entire body throbbed along with his hard erection.

  He skimmed his fingertips down, grazing them over her nipple.

  The loud honking of a watercraft horn rent the air in two.

  No…

  He reluctantly pulled away, turning completely in order to see the coast-guard cutter in the distance.

  He got to his feet to wave that he—they—were okay as the cutter quickly closed the hundred-yard gap between their boats. He wished they’d quickly go away so he could further explore the almost…magical sensations he was experiencing.

  He turned to look at her…

  Only to find her gone.

  Kieran rushed to the side of the boat, shielding his eyes from the sunlight as he searched for some sign of her in the water. He saw nothing.

  Damn…

  It wasn’t possible he’d imagined her twice in as many hours…

  Was it?

  He turned back, taking in the residual dampness on the deck where she’d been lying next to him. The glint of something white drew his eye. He bent over to finger the object before picking it up.

  A pearl. One perfectly shaped, natural pearl nearly as large as a quarter, bigger than any he’d ever seen.

  He looked out at the sea again. He swore he saw something shifting just beneath the surface. He looked harder, only to watch as fish swam by in a swiftly, glistening school.

  He wasn’t imaging things.

  Damn it all to hell, please tell him he wasn’t imaging things.

  His life had been so devoid of emotion, of meaning, of focus for so long now, he’d forgotten what it felt like, what it meant to want something.

  And he wanted her….

  2

  “LET ME get this straight… You saw a mermaid.”

  Kieran frowned at his old friend and longtime business partner Mike Dunlop. “Yes. No.”

  He waved for the bartender at the San Clemente hotel, near the joint commercial fishing venture main offices of Morrison and Dunlop, Limited, to give him another double of bourbon. A day had passed since he’d awakened on the deck of the schooner next to the gorgeous, slumbering redhead. And he’d spent a great chunk of the time since then, trying to find out who she was, where she belonged or if anyone else had spotted her.

  When his houseman Samuel had called with the reminder of the drinks meeting with Mike, it had been too late to cancel, or else he would have.

  Hiring Samuel to look after things for him home side was one of the smartest decisions Kieran had ever made. He’d done it primarily so the house wouldn’t be left empty for long stretches, but Samuel did far more than collect the mail and newspapers. He’d come to be Kieran’s personal assistant, butler, manager and friend.

  “I already thought you were spending too much time on that damn boat,” Mike said. “Now I’m convinced you’re suffering sunstroke.”

  Funny, that’s what the coast-guard guys had said, too. Or, rather, that he might be suffering from exposure. They’d recommended he check into a nearby hospital for observation.

  “I didn’t just see her,” Kieran stressed, all too aware he was treading water much more dangerous than the stormy sea he’d been in the other day. “She was sleeping next to me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mike shook his head at the tender as he started to pour Kieran a second bourbon. “I think my friend here has had enough.”

  Kieran motioned for the tender to continue. “You were the only one who believed my story about finding Catwoman outside my bedroom window.”

  “We were ten. And I wanted to believe you. Moreover, I was hoping to see her outside mine.”

  Kieran swirled the amber liquid in his glass but didn’t take a sip. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he was suffering from exposure to the elements.

  The only problem with that? The pearl he carried around in his pocket, the one he was hesitant to show anyone. He wasn’t sure why. Didn’t it serve as physical proof that he’d seen her?

  Then why not share it?

  He found himself holding the item in question inside his pocket, feeling it warm beneath his touch, imagining the smoothness of her skin, the heat of her kiss.

  He forced himself to let go of the pearl.

  “And you say she rescued you? Are you sure she didn’t make you run aground?”

  “You’re thinking of a Siren.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Kieran and Mike went back a long ways. Back to England where Mike’s American family had moved into the flat next to Kieran’s. His father had been an attaché with the American Embassy and despite their differences, the two boys had formed a fast and hard bond. They’d become so close that when Mike’s family had moved back to the States when he was a teen, Kieran had gone with them, completing his junior year in high school with him in California, then college.

  It was only natural they’d go into business together, starting their joint commercial fishing venture that had been turning a healthy profit for years.

  Unfortunately, when things turned south personally for Kieran, his friend had been at a loss as what to do.

  Mostly because Kieran didn’t have a clue about what he wanted to do.

  Until now…

  “Well, got to tell you, pal, that’s some fish tale,” Mike said. “Gives new meaning to the saying, ‘I caught one this big.’” He stretched out his arms to indicate the length of the fish.

  Kieran smiled and shook his head.

  “So,” Mike said. “You ready to come back to work yet?”

  It had been three months since Kieran had stepped foot inside Morrison and Dunlop. Funny, when they’d started the venture ten years ago, he’d somehow thought he’d be spending time at sea. Instead, he’d seen more of the inside of his office that overlooked the waters he’d much rather be out on.

  So when he’d woken up nearly six months ago to find his faithless wife had left him for a business associate, divorce papers on the pillow next to him—papers in which she claimed half of everything for which he’d worked so hard and sacrificed so much—well, he’d thought it was long past time to make a few corrections.

  “I still think you should have fought her,” Mike said, as if reading his thoughts.

  Kieran downed the bourbon and stretched his neck. “We’re in California, remember?”

  “Yes, but you began the company before you even met her.”

  “True.”

  What was also true was that he’d wanted the divorce over as quickly as possible. So he’d had his own attorney draw up a couple of amendments and within a week, it was a done deal.

  And in the five days, which followed the final decree, the waiting period would be over and he’d be officially divorced.

  At his signal the bartender poured him another and he sipped it, denying himself the urge to down it.

  “I somehow never saw myself being divorced.”

  “I never saw you being married.”

  Kieran chuckled. “Yeah.”

  His friend had a point there. For the most part, he’d enjoyed being a bachelor, calling his own shots, dating when convenient. Then he’d met Clarissa six years ago and begun walking down the road he guessed every guy walked sooner or later. They’d dated, moved in together, then married.

  “At least you didn’t have kids.”

  If his friend had said that even a month ago, Kieran might have agreed. Now, well, now he couldn’t help wondering if children might have saved their marriage.

  The memory of the sexy redhead slinked into his mind…

  “You know, the company needs you,” Mike said, moving his own empty glass of beer toward the tender. “You’ve been away too long.”

 
; He took him in. “No…and yeah.”

  The company didn’t need him. At this point, it ran pretty much like a well-oiled machine, mechanisms in place that meant he didn’t have to be there like he once had. Hell, for the past couple of years, he’d been little more than an annoying supervisor, keeping on top of those already competently doing their jobs.

  He told Mike as much, but his friend disagreed.

  “Have you taken a look at the semiannual reports?” he asked.

  “No. Why? Should I have?”

  His friend stared at him.

  He chuckled. “Come on. Not that much could have changed in three months.”

  Mike drank from his replenished glass as Kieran’s cell phone rang.

  “Sorry. I thought I turned it off.” He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the display. His mother.

  Damn.

  “Hold on. I’ve got to take this.”

  He slid from the stool and walked toward the door of the upscale restaurant.

  “Hello, darling,” Liz Morrison said in her pitch-perfect British accent.

  “Hello, Mum. How are you?” Since he’d now lived as much in the States as he had in the U.K., his accent was more American, but it always seemed to favor his parents’ whenever he spoke or spent time with them. Which hadn’t been often lately.

  “I’m fine. Ready for our trip. The car is set to ring around in a few short hours. We’re looking forward to seeing you and Clarissa. It’s been much too long.”

  Kieran stopped walking, nearly causing the man behind him to plow into him.

  Oh, hell. He’d completely forgotten his parents were coming for a visit.

  He ran his free hand through his hair several times. It was too late to make excuses; they would be on a plane in a matter of hours.

  He briefly closed his eyes. Boy, were they ever going to be surprised to find out that not only were they not likely to have a grandchild anytime soon, but he was no longer with the one woman who might have given them one.

  He squinted as he thought about the redhead…

  “Not encouraging,” his mother said. “Your silence, that is.”

  “What? Oh, sorry, Mum. I was just a little distracted, that’s all.”

  “So you do look forward to seeing us then.”

  “Of course, I look forward to seeing you. In fact, I’m planning to pick you up at the airport.”

  “Good then.”

  They spoke for a couple of minutes more about itineraries and his father and then he wished her a safe trip and hung up, standing stone still holding his cell phone as if it were a grenade, afraid that if he released it, it would explode.

  What was he talking about? His life already resembled a war zone.

  And the redhead stood as the sole spot of color amongst the ashes.

  “Hey,” Mike said, coming outside to join him.

  Kieran stared at where he still held the phone and then put it in his pocket, feeling the pearl again as he did so.

  “I’m going to have to head out. You may no longer have a wife, but mine just texted me that dinner’s getting cold. That’s code for get home now.”

  Kieran chuckled and gave him a bro hug. “Good seeing you.”

  “Would be better to see more of you. Like at the office.”

  “Pass.”

  “Look at those reports.”

  “I will.”

  They parted company and Kieran walked to his car, making a mental list of all he had to do between now and his parents’ arrival.

  And wanting to do nothing but drive to Dana Point Marina and get on his boat to go in search of the woman he couldn’t seem to dislodge from his mind….

  3

  DAPHNE SMOOTHED HER hands down over her hips, tendrils of awareness rippling over her human skin. This quite possibly might be the last time she traded her tail for legs and slipped into a slinky, designer evening gown for one of her parents’ charitable events. Tonight’s gala was in honor of keeping the oceans clean.

  Or, rather, in honor of the seas she and her mother loved. While her human father could respect the waters from which they’d come, he could never understand the depth of their emotion.

  Daphne also suspected her mother had chosen her favorite charity, and this particular time before her daughter’s ultimate dedication as a mermaid, in Daphne’s honor.

  For the first time, she experienced what she could only guess was a pang of sadness.

  Up until now, joy and conviction had ruled her emotions.

  Was it perhaps because of the finality of her decision? The limitations her confirmation would put on her life from here on out? The natural distance she would place forever between her and her parents?

  Or could it be connected to the man to whom she had unintentionally revealed herself?

  Her fingers fluttered to her throat where the pearl she’d been given when she was sixteen usually lay. The same pearl she’d left behind on Kieran’s sailboat.

  She felt bare without it.

  Yet strangely…liberated.

  She told herself she’d left it behind accidentally. Because to consider otherwise…

  She caught her dreamy-eyed expression in the mirror.

  The pearl, which was given at a mermaid’s sixteenth birthday ceremony represented reaching adulthood and was to be kept in the recipient’s possession at all times. Until…

  Daphne swallowed hard.

  Until that mermaid chose her mate for life…

  “Your gown fits like a glove,” Cecelia Moore said from the doorway.

  Daphne smiled at her mother in the mirror. “All things being equal, I prefer my fins.”

  She picked up a bottle of body oil from the dressing table in her old bedroom and smoothed a generous amount over her arms. She’d already oiled her legs twice and probably would again before going down to the party that was already in full swing downstairs in her parents’ sweeping Newport Beach estate.

  The charity was one she’d helped establish and benefited efforts to keep the seas clean and free.

  After all, next week, the seas would be her home…

  She considered the long, white gown that bore pearly sequins in an artsy design, from the single wide shoulder strap down diagonally across her body. Her mother had outdone herself in choosing her wardrobe tonight. But, of course, she always did.

  Daphne sat down on an embroidered chair and swept aside the skirt, the sight of her long, lean legs increasingly seeming unfamiliar. She picked up the oil bottle.

  “Are you all right?”

  Cecelia came inside and stood behind the chair, resting a hand on the back while she searched Daphne’s face in the mirror.

  “Yes. Why?”

  Her mother smiled softly. “You seem…a little distracted.”

  She supposed that was one way to refer to her emotional state.

  She smoothed the oil along her skin. “Actually, I have a question for you.”

  “You know you can ask me anything.”

  Yes, her mother had always been generous that way. But in her desire to allow her only child to make her own decisions, there had been some topics that had been off-limits. Oh, not barred, just avoided.

  This one in particular.

  “Do you ever regret…well, you know.” She met the reflection of her mother’s green gaze. “Do you ever regret giving up the sea for Dad?”

  There had been only one other time that they’d discussed Cecelia being born to the sea. That she’d known only the sea…until she met Patrick Moore when they were teens during a chance surfing encounter.

  “No.”

  The word was said so adamantly Daphne was forced to look away for fear of what her own gaze might reveal.

  She felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  Was she?

  Ever since she was four and her parents had taken her on a beach vacation—one where her fins had first appeared during a prolonged swim in the water—she’d been drawn
to the sea; she’d felt more at home there than anywhere else. She looked around her richly appointed bedroom that had always seemed to belong to someone else. As a child, she’d had an imaginary friend who always seemed more comfortable there. Her name had been Portia and she had always loved the opulence and parties.

  It had helped Daphne participate with at least a modicum of acceptance, if not complete enjoyment.

  It was only when she was swimming in the depths of the blue sea that she felt sheer bliss and delight.

  “Who is he?”

  Startled, Daphne nearly dropped the bottle.

  She righted it, secured the cap then put it on the dressing table. “Who?”

  “The man you’re thinking about.”

  She laughed. “I’m not thinking about a man.”

  The word thinking seemed such an inadequate word. If she’d thought she was infatuated before kissing him, now…

  Well, now she seemed to be in a constant state of awareness, her breasts tender, her female parts longing for something she hadn’t known before.

  Her mother’s smile was knowing.

  Daphne looked down and away, feeling her cheeks flush.

  There was a brief knock at the door before her father opened it. “Decent?”

  “Yes,” they both answered.

  He grinned, taking them both in. “I’d say that’s arguable.”

  Daphne got up, smiling as she took his hands and kissed him warmly on both cheeks. If he held her a little too tightly, she pretended not to notice. Unlike her mother, he had never known the sea. And he was clearly puzzled and hurt by her decision to limit herself to it.

  She drew back and smiled into his face. He was so handsome. So charming.

  “You look lovely,” he said, squeezing her hands before releasing them.

  “Thanks.”

  Daphne stepped back and allowed him to embrace her mother. As always, she felt as though she were intruding somehow and had to glance away. There was so much intimacy there it was difficult to witness without feeling like she was seeing something she shouldn’t, although there was certainly nothing indecent about the exchange.

  Just blindingly and honestly beautiful.

  “Are we ready?” her father asked, tucking her mother’s arm into the crook of his, then offering his other arm to her.