It took her a moment to consider if he required all that information to bid on the properties. “I don’t know that I can get a factual answer as to what each seller is attempting to do, but we’ll see. I’ve acquired some information but want to double-check. Don’t worry; I’ve started working on getting the lowest price possible. So far, the second property has dropped a hundred thousand for a cash sale.”
He nodded, leaning closer to her. “Not all brokers grasp the bigger picture. The commission seems to work against the buyer regardless of what the broker says. I’m not questioning your ethics. It’s just a reality.” He reached his hand out and took hold of her arm, sliding his fingers down to her hand. She thought he might pull her to him; instead, he silently contemplated her hand before he released her fingers.
Marissa responded huskily, “I understand. You should be prepared that we might have to deal with a counteroffer.”
“I don’t think a counteroffer is the problem.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Obviously he was troubled by something. Did he question her ability to get the best deal? He walked around the front of his car, giving her the chance to admire him in motion.
She crossed her legs, trying to look the part of relaxed take-charge realtor. A farce. Her skin burned at the places where his fingers had touched her. Inside of her body, desire rippled again and again, as though a pebble had been tossed into her liquid center. This sensation sharpened her yearning for him, knowing he’d always be just beyond her reach.
He opened his car door, slipped inside smiling across at her. Just the curl of his lips sent a shiver up her spine. She absorbed his fluid movement, pressing her legs tighter together. How would his mouth feel against her naked skin?
“I unquestionably appreciate the work required in delivering these properties. I understand it hasn’t been a walk in the best of parks. I’ve got sky-high expectations. So far, you’ve come through, and I’ve no doubt you’re not one to disappoint in anything.” His balmy voice thawed her reservations.
“I hope you get what you want.” She whispered, melting under his gaze.
She vacillated between bliss and tension, blazing back and forth, and so unlike the glib ice veneer she’d polished and employed with other clients.
His phone rang. He clenched his jaw. “This is my staff. Give me one second.” He motioned for her to wait, and his arched brow crept into the foreground of her attention when she’d realized she must have been staring at him.
He smiled down at her, and his fingers picked up a strand of her hair. This time, she wanted him to keep ahold of her. Her nipples hardened while her breath shortened. Dazed, she almost missed him say goodbye to his office and hang up.
“The bank is ready to finalize the construction loans based on the communications they’ve received from the sellers. I was informed you offered to donate part of your commission, as well as time, to a pet project of the bank’s president. Why’d you do it?”
“I’ve only done my job. I volunteer my time when I’m not working. This was mere coincidence.”
“I don’t come across many people who aggressively seek to earn less, so her client saves a boatload of money. I’ll make certain you’ll be rewarded. I know plenty of developers needing property. Thank you for your time today. I’m delighted with the progress. If you reconsider, I’m only too happy to come and pick you up.”
“Nonsense. You’ll already be at the restaurant. I can’t accept. Until tonight, Wyatt.”
He raised his arm to the back of her seat. Slowly, his fingers toyed with the edge of her neck. She didn’t pull away, instead she held her breath while the insides of her legs tightened. The feeling was maddening and left her wondering what he’d do next.
“Marissa, I await your presence.”
“All right. I’ve much to get done.”
Heat billowed over her face. She’d essentially mumbled a goodbye trying to get away from the temptation he represented. She watched him drive off, her pulse thrashed, and her chest tightened. In a couple of days, he’d be gone forever.
She drove away from Ocean Drive empty-handed as to how she could manage to spend the evening with Wyatt and refrain from imploding. All she had to do was hang on. After dinner, she’d be grounded by a return to the ocean.
Instead of going back to Apex, she went home. Inside the doorway of her apartment, she kicked off her shoes and removed her jacket on the way to her laptop. In the quiet of her living room, she began uploading the photographs. After she’d prepared the first part of the report Wyatt had requested, she gave in to the ache to be free. Peeling away her rough wool skirt, she walked into her bedroom.
She called Sinclair. “I’m home and preparing the site review reports. Wyatt likes the second property, away from the hubbub.”
“I’m surprised. Floored actually. Based upon his past building sites, I was ready to lay easy money on the site closer to the beach nightlife. I wonder what changed his mind.”
She sucked in a breath. “I’ll need to get him the engineer’s recommendations and the City’s permits. He wants to make certain about the restoration to the shoreline. I’ve pulled their plans for him to review.”
“Well, you certainly work quickly. I’m not surprised. When do you think he’ll make an offer?”
“I’m thinking tonight.”
“Sweetie, you’re lighting fast. You arrange that and I’ll up your commission nicely. We’re all set on the financials thanks to your connections. Wyatt was emailed the entire proposal included closing. I’ll have a file prepared and emailed to him. Where are you meeting?”
“The Chateau restaurant. His hotel.”
“Some miscommunication. He’s not at the hotel. He’s staying next door. Victor’s old place.”
She’d not asked Wyatt, only assumed. This news wouldn’t change her plans for this evening. The only thing she wondered about was how they’d part after dinner? The worse possibility would be to exit the parking lot and then return later.
“Your designer friend? How does the place suit Wyatt? Is the place a charming, ocean-front condo? I never attended any of his parties.” She wondered just what type of place would suit Wyatt, since he obviously had unlimited choices in ocean-front apartments—and Victor was known for being an eclectic man.
“Oh sure, matchbox. Eight-bedrooms-and-twelve-baths small. I don’t know if Wyatt cares. He’s an unusual hombre. Always has been. He’s had more to tackle than most. He’s been alone for pretty much his whole adult life since his parents died. Tragic.”
Her chest convulsed. Wyatt had mentioned being alone, and she’d been too consumed by her own loss to ask him about his. Sinclair had her hook, line, and Wyatt. “He mentioned being alone.” She paused, waiting for her boss to tell her more.
“Well, then you know. He’s not as tough as he appears. I’ve known him for years. He’s a hard nut. Did he tell you about our college days?”
“He mentioned something about you guys gambling and drinking your way through college to some degree.”
She struggled to keep focused, instead of kicking herself. Great instincts. The man tries to tell her something significant, and she can’t stop talking about real estate. What must he think of her? Cold. Calculating. Ice. No wonder he dropped her back at her car. He probably feared frostbite.
Sinclair exhaled into the phone. “All true. Books, studying, exams—not my thing. I didn’t have a superb staff back then, and needed something to prop me up. But Wyatt, he wasn’t hardcore into drinking and gambling. No, not him. He had the ability to sit stone-faced in card games, reading the players as if they had thought bubbles above their heads.”
“Do you mean he stacked the deck in his favor?”
“Not a cheat, but someone who knew how to interpret human subtleties. I believe that’s why he’s earned a reputation as being cutthroat. The higher the odds, the more tenacious Wyatt tends to become. You had better watch yourself with him.”
“It’s not as if he’s invincible.” She laug
hed—more from being restless than amused. Sinclair kept silent forcing her to promptly ask, “Well, didn’t he ever lose?”
“Naturally, but not often. And not enough to make him cautious.”
“Eventually even a myth must own their truth.” Now, who was the hypocrite, she thought and rubbed her forehead. “I’m not playing any game he’s interested in, so I think I’m good.”
“You’re a woman, an exceptionally beautiful one. You’ve got a laser focus and no nonsense. Therefore, you’re a prime candidate if ever I saw one who would appeal to Wyatt. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve made an impression if he’s on the verge of bidding. Wyatt’s not one to do anything on the spur. I repeat, just be careful.”
A second warning. Wyatt was Sinclair’s friend. Her boss would know the man, and his proclivities. She couldn’t pry. Not with her boss about a client.
“I’ll let you know the second he’s ready to bid.”
“Will do. Uhh, Marissa?”
“Yes? Hello?”
“Thank you for taking care of this deal. I’m hearing good reports from everyone involved. Take this to closing and I think you’ll solidify your reputation in this town. You’ll own this city. I mean it.”
“I hope we all can get through it.” Just thinking about Wyatt and the evening ahead sent spasms shooting up her spine. Her skin radiated surges of intense heat.
She walked over the balcony and opened the doors, inviting the afternoon breeze to come and clear her head. Warm pulsations, rippling cramps both pleasurable and tinged with pain, blossomed within her pelvis. Excruciating and enticing. The pulsations didn’t stop but continued, growing stronger and hotter.
All around her, the world seemed to accentuate her craving for one man. His scent and mouth and hands called out to her. The few afternoon hours spent with Wyatt had her imagination steaming. She pressed her hand down between her legs. Oh God, what a rush. The muscles within her sex clenched and relaxed, wave after sensual wave, until she was hungry with a longing to submit. On her lips, Wyatt’s name spilled out.
Marissa crossed her bedroom, pulling down the straps on her bra. She unclasped the hooks, letting it fall off, and then pushed down her panties. Standing naked, she was entranced by the thought of Wyatt. Naked. Commanding.
Her sense of urgency grew, blinding her to everything except a building need to explode. She sat on the edge of her bed with her thighs spread wide apart. How would it feel to let Wyatt touch her? Explore her with his fingers. Or better yet, his tongue.
She shivered and her nipples puckered. She imagined his strong fingers stroking her. All of a sudden she became wet between her legs. Her breath quickened. Gliding a finger over her slick folds, she moaned, riding a wave of pleasure. Seated in front of her dressing mirror, she opened her legs wider, and gazed down between her legs. She stroked herself, imaging Wyatt’s finger slipping over her folds.
She ground her hips against her fingers, incited by her needy hunger. The pulsations grew stronger, making the nerves around her pussy ready to catapult her into oblivion, imagining arctic blue eyes and a smile that tormented her. Her heartbeat pounded within her chest. She rubbed her fingers up and down her flesh, fantasizing about Wyatt’s hand until the friction matched the tempo of her rocking hips. Arching back, she was consumed by a tightening within her abdomen. Exquisite bliss edged in desperation twisted, pulling her apart in opposite directions.
This hunger had never come on so strong, so demanding, so utterly intoxicating. She cried out, falling back on her bed. Currents unfurled, erupting within her womb. Instinct embodied a racing urge. Oh, what had she done? Her time had arrived; every cell was bathed in need. Her body was ready to be possessed by a powerful lover. Her skin itched, a sign of the onset of mermaid transformation.
Nearly invisible scales lined much of her skin, dainty as lace at her hips and at the tops of her thighs. The image flared again of Wyatt, his sensuous mouth frowning as though he were with her, watching her body change.
Tears sprinkled down her cheeks. The hope that he’d find her appealing diminished. Chance of that happening—zilch. Less than zilch.
Deep within her body, this hunger had grown and was near out of control. Mating cycle. Frustrated, she rolled her eyes after saying the words aloud. That’s what this cycle was … no different from other animals. She curled into a ball, closing her eyes, clenching her hands into fists.
Pounding waves of desire mixed with frustration traveled across her body. A bolt of anger stabbed her. She covered her face with her hands, unable to move. She cried out, more a wounded moan than words.
Marissa lay motionless, worn out. In the silence of her room, her erratic heartbeat gradually slowed. As her breath steadied, she rubbed her hand down her skin. She stopped and jerked upright. She stared at the mirror across from her bed. Frozen. Her vision slammed down her body.
“No, this isn’t possible.” Her breath cinched tight in her chest. She held up her arms gaping. The pattern under her skin was no longer vague, but vivid outlines of scales fanned her legs.
For years since puberty, every month at the onset of the full moon, her body incrementally evolved along a continuum until scaly patterns covered her lower body leading up to the moment when she returned to the sea.
Afterward, the scales disappeared, along with her mermaid tail. This was a cycle she had endured. She wasn’t a fool and for years had kept silent. In school, she had quickly learned no other girl underwent this transformation. She couldn’t go to the nurse or her foster mother. It had been a miracle that she’d been placed in a foster family with a beachfront home.
Her mother had died, leaving her with unanswered questions. Marissa didn’t know any other relatives. She had no one to ask advice. She believed her body changed due to the buildup of hormones. An unremitting cycle. One that had kept her single and painfully aware that she was far from normal.
The realm of the absurd expanded suddenly. She froze, unable to do more than stare at the dreamscape unfolding across her body.
Oh no, what had she done by giving into desire? She’d somehow opened a Pandora’s Box. Vivid patterns of turquoise, fuchsia, purple, and aqua glimmered, reflecting the light. The skin at her abdomen and hips flexed and rippled in opalescence. She gazed from her hips, down to her feet, stretching out one leg and then the other in shimmering swirling detail. She rose and turned in front of the mirror, gazing over her shoulder. The back of her body, from her hips to ankles, was an effervescent kaleidoscope of colors. She ran her hands over her skin, over the scales that were satin-smooth, sleeker than skin, and an advantage to gliding through water
She trailed her fingertips along her waist and unleashed another convulsion of pleasure. This episode of hungry cravings was not over by a long shot. Her desire had not been sated but was merely whetted, leaving in its wake a churning vortex. It was as though she were a sea cucumber and any moment she’d spew her insides out. A serrated yearning coursed along her body. The skin at her breasts, hips, and between her thighs tingled, hot and greedy.
She opened her fingers wide, nothing. She flexed her webbed toes. The skin wasn’t entirely attached, but enough to prevent wearing sandals. She’d have to wear slacks or a long skirt. She squeezed her temples. This was getting better by the moment.
Tonight was a business meeting. She wasn’t supposed to try and bring sexy back. This minor snafu would prove useful in keeping a modicum of integrity to her insane hunger. She must at least pretend to be off-limits to the man she wanted badly.
No sense in sending mixed messages to a man who capably understood non-verbal communications. She wanted to hide if she could, avoid him and herself. But that wasn’t an option, was it? Marissa marched to her closet and rifled through hangers covered in dry cleaning plastic. She nodded in appreciation for not making a Freudian slip by showing up in a short black dress.
“Just the ticket.” She lifted the wooden hanger with an outfit that would make what she wore today seem downright sexy.
Marissa removed the plastic wrap, revealing a pair of worsted wool slacks. A matching steel-gray jacket was long and tailored. A slimmer fit than she would have liked. She grabbed a silk, dove-gray blouse that tied at the neck.
After a two-hour stint at her computer, the printer whirred, spitting out the pages of her broker’s report. She decided against emailing it to Wyatt. Better that she sit and gauge his reaction to each section, especially the engineer’s report. He’d acted so weird about Jimmy’s recommendations. She didn’t want to give him the ammunition to call her friend and dispute whatever issue he had brewing.
From what she could tell, that was the only stumbling block of this whole deal. Up to that one point, Wyatt had been more than pliable. For a man who came off as demanding and precise, she’d not done much to convince him of the pros of each ocean-front property. To the contrary, he seemed besotted with the area. If it were up to her, he’d go with the scenic, private site. All she had to do was make certain he had all the information to move forward. And with this report, that’s what she fully intended to do—over an extremely conservative business dinner.
She stretched her arms above her head, rolling her hips forward so that her legs opened.
“Ah,” she moaned, running her hands down her legs. She swiveled her chin trying to undo the knots in her neck. Just stress. And this day isn’t even over.
Immediately, she thought of Wyatt. The way he’d pushed her up against the building. Her breath hitched. She imagined Wyatt’s mouth licking her skin and her breath caught at the top of her throat.
“Wyatt. Dammit.” She swore, frustrated, and closed her eyes. She longed to feel him spread her pulsing folds, commanding the fire in her veins to flash. Her breath hitched, thinking of Wyatt’s erection she’d pressed against earlier. If she didn’t gather her wits and self-control, she’d need more than a conservative suit and a broker’s report to keep from throwing herself at him.
After a very cold shower, she dressed and secured her long, wavy hair neatly in a bun. Her fingers trembled as she pinned a pearl brooch to her lapel. After all this work, all she really wanted was one thing. Except that one thing was on the next plane out to Brazil next week. Her chest tightened. This wasn’t the time to falter. She wasn’t about to cry uncle, proving Wyatt right.
Ocean of Love Page 7