Ocean's Touch

by Denise Townsend

“Nothing really. Which surprised me. When he first saw me he said we needed to talk, but then we only discussed random stuff. About our lives, about traveling, about the art scene.”

  “Was it enjoyable?”

  “Yes,” Meredith admitted. “Very much so. But before we went to lunch we ran into the Dorchesters—they’re an elderly couple here in Seal Harbor—and he made some quip about wooing me. Maybe it was just for their benefit, but after that comment and obviously after what happened at his house, I thought we did have quite a bit to discuss. But then we get to lunch, and nothing came up about what was said, or done.”

  “Do you think Alex was serious about what he said to the Dorchesters?” Dylan asked. While he hadn’t been there and couldn’t be certain, Dylan would be willing to bet his sealskin Alex had meant every word.

  “I’ve got no idea,” Meredith said. “He’s a mystery to me.”

  Dylan gritted his jaw as Meredith’s anxiety skyrocketed.

  “You’re upset, lass,” Dylan said gently. “Did he say something? Do something you didn’t like?”

  Meredith shook her head. “No, we had a really wonderful lunch. I love spending time with him. We seem to have so much in common…”

  Meredith’s words trailed off as, again, her emotions kicked like a mule.

  “But?” Dylan prompted patiently.

  “What if he is interested, and I do the same thing I did with Teddy?” Meredith asked, her voice small as her anxiety went through the roof.

  “What do you mean, lass?” Dylan asked.

  “What if he takes over my life, like I let Teddy do before?”

  “Ah. I see. Do you think Alex’d want that?”

  Meredith paused. “I know he’s different from Teddy. But Alex is still a strong person and a strong personality. He obviously has…” Meredith tried to quantify what she’d seen at Alex’s exhibition. “Tastes and predilections,” she settled on eventually.

  “And you’re afraid they’ll become your tastes and predilections?”

  Meredith nodded. “It’s not that I hate his lifestyle, or whatever. I barely know Alex, in so many ways. But I’m afraid that if we become a couple—or, to be frank, if I get involved with anyone—I’ll lose myself again. Like I did before.”

  Dylan sighed, snuggling into Meredith’s side.

  “You’re no longer twenty-one, lass,” he reminded her. “And the twenty-one-year-old you were was untested, still forming. Since then you’ve been through fire.”

  Meredith frowned. She didn’t take compliments well.

  “Listen,” Dylan said, looking down into her troubled, dark eyes. “I think you should try it on with Alex. See what happens. You may not even like each other,” he said, pretty sure he was lying about that last one. “And if I come back after a spell and discover you’ve dyed your hair red and grown a goatee, I’ll kick your arse.”

  Meredith giggled, her anxiety dissipating. “I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?” she asked.

  “Not an idiot. But you’re definitely overthinking things. Maybe Alex picks his nose at the dinner table, and you’ll never get past that first date,” Dylan joked, happy to see Meredith’s eyes sparkling again.

  “Um, well, we’ll know about his table manners sooner rather than later,” Meredith said, blushing again. “We’re to go to his house for dinner. Tomorrow night.”

  “We?” Dylan asked.

  “Yes. He asked about you. I said you were a friend, visiting. He invited both of us.”

  “Hmm,” Dylan said, wondering what Ladislaw had planned. He also knew that Meredith would need distracting, or she’d move her anxiety over to tomorrow’s dinner. “Well, that leaves us the rest of the evening. I vote we have a swim now. How about fresh lobster for dinner?”

  “That sounds delicious,” Meredith said, since Dylan had already proved himself to be quite the chef. But she had needs other than hunger.

  “As long as somewhere along the line we get to have sex. At least twice,” she added. Dylan laughed, already pulling her cardigan and turtleneck over her head.

  “Deal. But I’ve one other request, in payment for my services,” he said, grinning as she tried to look offended and failed. She stripped off her boots, skirt, and tights before answering.

  “And what would that be?” she asked, cocking one sexy hip as she reached behind her to unclasp her very unsexy bra. Dylan stared hungrily at her breasts as they were revealed by the falling fabric.

  “We burn your wardrobe,” Dylan replied, then picked Meredith up and carried her off to his ocean before she could argue with him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex felt honored that Meredith had worn something so different for him, and not just once, but twice.

  He’d grinned broadly when he’d opened his door to find her standing there in the shortest skirt he’d ever seen her wear. Granted, it was modestly cut at right over the knee, but still. She was also wearing silk stockings instead of her usual thick tights, and high heels instead of boots. It took him a bit to tear his eyes away from her gorgeous long legs, and as he mixed Dylan and Meredith a martini each, he couldn’t for the life of him remember what she was wearing on top.

  Maybe nothing? he thought wistfully as he poured their drinks and headed back to his guests.

  What he didn’t know was that Meredith hadn’t had any choice but to wear something new for Alex—Dylan had been completely serious about getting rid of her “uniform” of tights, long skirts, turtlenecks, and cardigans. Meredith hadn’t actually let him burn them, although he’d tried. Instead she had finally, grumblingly, allowed her selkie lover to gather all of her old clothes in garbage bags, to be donated to charity. No fool, Dylan had insisted they drop the bags by Goodwill that afternoon, on their way to buy Meredith new clothes.

  Also no pushover, Dylan had made her get rid of everything. Meredith had to wear one of her yoga outfits—the only clothing he let her keep was her new dress, new lingerie, and workout gear—to go shopping. Knowing she felt self-conscious in her gym clothes, they’d started at Wendy’s, who was thrilled to see them again so soon. Then they’d gone to a mall an hour away to fill out the rest of Meredith’s wardrobe.

  Now, instead of clothing that made her look like she might belong to a patriarchal religious cult, Meredith had fresh, modern suits with sleek cuts; an assortment of casual clothing that was still well tailored; and, at Dylan’s insistence, a wide range of lingerie and night things, the like of which Meredith had never owned.

  But she had to admit she felt wonderful. The soft silk of her blouse rustled against her skin as she reached out for the gin martini Alex offered her. Granted, she nearly spilled her drink when he replied to her thanks with a cheeky wink, but she managed to salvage it, blushing fiercely instead.

  Once Alex had taken his own seat across from Dylan and Meredith, he raised his glass in a toast. They were seated in a small, comfortable corner of Alex’s vast living room that housed two love seats set up around a narrow coffee table. An enormous painting of a woman and a black swan by Tara McPherson loomed on the wall above Alex’s head.

  “To new friends and to old friendships redefined,” Alex said, and his guests clinked their glasses with his.

  When they sat back, Alex smiled at the couple across from him.

  “It’s nice to meet you properly, Dylan,” Alex said.

  “And yourself,” Dylan said, smiling and exuding as much friendliness as he could. He didn’t want Alex to see him as competition.

  “I’ve been trying to place that accent, but it’s confusing. Not quite Scottish, not quite Irish…”

  “I’m from those parts, but farther north. I’ve mostly lived on the sea,” Dylan said vaguely.

  “Ah. And how do you know Meredith?”

  “Oh, we just met. I like her beach,” Dylan said, causing Meredith to blush an even deeper shade of red.

  “I’m sure you do,” Alex said, smiling. “And how long are you staying?” Meredith couldn’t help but wonder why he was so car
efully grilling Dylan about questions she’d already answered at their lunch the day before.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave soon,” Dylan said, smiling at Meredith as he did so. “I’ve got other commitments. But I’d like to come back, if I could, to visit again.”

  “It’s a shame you have to go so soon,” Alex lied, but not with malice. He did genuinely like the dark-haired man seated across from him, and he didn’t feel at all as if he was in competition with Dylan. For some reason, Alex knew that Dylan was serious when he said he had other commitments.

  Yet Alex couldn’t help but want Meredith to himself, a feeling that surprised him. He was normally not particularly possessive about his lovers, a fact that tended to drive them crazy. They wanted him to want them, and they couldn’t understand his belief that desire and possession were two separate things.

  The threesome continued to make small talk until Sarah, Alex’s cook and the daughter of Mrs. Casaubon’s “girl”, called them in to dinner. Meredith had no doubt that her former mother-in-law would hear all about her visit to Alex’s, something that filled Meredith with equal measures of dread and anticipation.

  They sat at a small, round table that had been set up on the other side of the living room. It was more intimate than a dining room, and Meredith couldn’t help but notice the presence of a long bench set up beneath one of the windows. It was very similar to the one on which Alex had caught her with Dylan, and she felt a tightness in her chest at the sight of it. In fact, the whole room was littered with clusters of furniture, set up so that a party could gather into small groups, but a lot of the furniture was chaise lounges, benches, ottomans, or those large, padded-fabric coffee tables that could easily double as beds.

  They seated themselves around the table, Alex helping Meredith with her chair before taking his own. Soon enough, their first course arrived—a beautiful spread of raw or barely steamed seafood, with different dipping sauces. All three of them tucked in with gusto, and for the next half hour, all conversations except those having to do with the deliciousness of the food ceased.

  During dinner, however, Meredith couldn’t stop watching the two men eat. She loved the catlike quality they both exhibited. There was something delightfully finicky about the way Alex ate that was just like Dylan. Both men ate European style, with both fork and knife. And, like Dylan, Alex made sure that each forkful of food had the perfect balance of seafood and sauce. Their focus, meanwhile, was almost wholly on the food, but not in a way that spoke of gluttony. Rather, it spoke of an intensity of pleasure, of an ability to enjoy physical satisfaction in a way that was unapologetic.

  Poor Teddy always choked down his food like it was sawdust, Meredith remembered, sadly. She’d only now to come to realize how stunted her husband had been, despite his greatness of mind. He’d never been allowed to feel pleasure. I doubt he knew how.

  In contrast, the men in front of her knew how to eat—with unabashed and greedy pleasure, yet with grace.

  Dylan eats like he makes love, Meredith realized. Her selkie was just as greedy and carnal with her body, and just as thorough and capable.

  Her eyes moved to watch Alex smile in pleasure as he chewed. Does Alex make love like Dylan, then? Meredith wondered, feeling a hot flood of lust in her belly. She felt her cheeks redden as she lowered her gaze to her plate, continuing to eat in silence although her body still thrummed.

  When the main course—a beautiful confit of duck served with creamed spinach and roasted root vegetables—had been delivered and consumed with as much pleasure as the first, Alex turned to Meredith. His gaze on her was like a warm, soft touch. She shivered, another warm rush of desire coursing through her cunt.

  “I hope you don’t think I was too forward, questioning you as I did the other day.”

  Meredith smiled at him, trying to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want Alex to know how much she craved him.

  “Not at all. It was good actually,” she said.

  “What did you talk about?” Dylan asked, careful to send out nonaggressive waves so Alex knew Dylan was curious, not jealous.

  “Alex asked me about the PhD. work I was doing before I met Teddy. And about my plans. I told him about the row I had with Teddy’s mother at the meeting.”

  “Ah,” Dylan said. “That was probably helpful.”

  “It was, yes.” Meredith affirmed. “It kick-started my thinking about what I want to do with myself now that I’ll have more time. And I really need to think all of that through. I need to have a plan in place; otherwise, Teddy’s mother will steamroll me back into the same position I was in before.”

  Meredith bit off her sentence as Sarah and her helper came back into the room with another loaded tray. This one held dessert, and Sarah’s helper cleared dinner plates as Sarah laid out a scrumptious assortment of petit fours, along with chocolate-dipped and plain-sliced fruits.

  Finally, Sarah laid out dessert plates, and then turned to her employer.

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Green,” Alex said. “Everything was delicious. You can have the rest of the night off, along with the rest of the staff.”

  Meredith felt her heart beat faster, wondering if this was a normal occurrence, or if Alex had something special planned for the evening.

  “Are you sure, Mr. Ladislaw?” Sarah asked, giving Meredith a long side-eye. Mrs. Casaubon was definitely going to hear about this little soiree.

  “Absolutely. The rest of the dishes can be done in the morning. I’d like the house to myself, please.”

  “Well, if that’s what you want, we’ll leave you alone. Trish!” Sarah said, hustling her helper out before her and closing the large doors to the living room as she did so. Meredith couldn’t help but notice the long, hard look Sarah gave her. Meredith sighed.

  You better make this evening worth the trouble, she told Alex silently. And what, exactly, do I mean by that? The thought was troubling. Did she want a repeat of the tower room? Maybe more?

  “Please, help yourselves,” Alex said, as he gestured toward the dessert. “And may I offer you a nip of whisky, as a digestif?”

  Both Meredith and Dylan said yes, and Alex poured them all a dram of Balvenie as they tucked into the desserts.

  “I’m glad you said what you did about having a plan, Meredith,” Alex said as he placed her whisky in front of her. “And I’ve been thinking about what we talked about at lunch.”

  Meredith sipped her drink, watching Alex curiously as he placed Dylan’s dram down on the table. Alex seated himself before continuing.

  Now I’ll know what he wants from me, she hoped. Meredith wasn’t sure what she wanted that something to be, and she was rather shocked at some of the more extreme fantasies her imagination paraded in front of her. But she knew she wanted a little clarity, after a week of so many things that had once been black and white going all shades of gray.

  “We always talk about the fact that there are no real galleries around here. There are tourist traps, and some local artists are doing some decent things. But there’s no real art.”

  Meredith nodded, unsure where Alex was headed with this line of conversation. Also, she did think what the locals were doing was art, but she knew what Alex meant. It wasn’t art that challenged, or broadened perspectives, or pushed boundaries. It was safe art, decorative art.

  “I’ve been thinking for a while of opening up a gallery, here, that’s an offshoot of a gallery I own in New York. It’ll contain the same artists, but we’ll hand-select from those pieces, in order to place what’s best for each location in that location. So what’s more likely to sell in New York will stay in New York; what’s more likely to sell here will travel.”

  Meredith frowned. “You’ll have to be very select. I know we always complain about the galleries here, but they’re like that for a reason. It’s what a lot of locals and tourists like.”

  Alex nodded his agreement. “It will be a challenge, but I don’t think we’re the only people either living here or coming thr
ough here that like something different. Plus, it could become something of a destination. Really serious collectors would come out here to vacation and visit the gallery. And if they don’t want to make the hike, there’s always the internet.”

  “It could work,” Meredith agreed. “But you’d need…”

  Before she’d finished, Alex interrupted her. “I’ll need someone who knows art and knows this region. I’ll need you.”

  There was silence, as Meredith got stuck on the fact Alex had just said, I need you, and not at all in the context in which she wanted to hear it. When she finally spoke, her voice was carefully neutral.

  “Alex, I don’t know what to say. I hardly think I’m qualified…”

  “Nonsense,” Alex said. “Everyone knows what you did for Teddy. You had no idea how to run his estate, but you learned. And that experience gives you everything you need to know, virtually, to run a gallery. I know you’re good with money. I know you’re good at organizing. I know you’re flexible, and that you know the region.”

  As Alex talked, Meredith felt a strange sensation. It took her a minute to realize that she wanted to strangle Alex with her bare hands.

  Of all the ways I imagined this evening progressing, she thought, it wasn’t into a business deal.

  She’d let herself believe, for just a second, that Alex might actually want her. Now she knew how stupid she’d been.

  He wants me for my brains, just like Teddy.

  Dylan, meanwhile, could feel the tension ratcheting up in Meredith, and he knew her well enough at this point to know what she was thinking. He also knew how wrong she was—the feelings coming off Alex were the same they’d always been toward Meredith. Alex wanted her—he was just going about it the way he thought would be least frightening to Teddy’s widow.

  Meredith, however, wasn’t just “Teddy’s widow” anymore.

  “I need,” Alex finished, thinking he was sealing Meredith’s interest up tight with his carefully rehearsed final line, “someone practical, Meredith. Someone like you.”

  Instead of standing up and bowing and gladly accepting her position, as Alex had expected, Meredith looked at him coldly