by Anna Lowe
“That was great,” Tessa said as they ducked under the shade of the meeting house. “I could surf all day.”
“Me, too,” Jody sighed. “But I have to go to the photo shoot. Are you ready to go?” she asked Cruz.
“Ready,” he said, standing quickly.
Rea-dy, his tiger growled, licking his lips.
Cruz scolded him. Stupid beast. You know you can’t have her.
He’d been trying to compartmentalize his feelings for Jody into clear halves. Not always succeeding, but trying. His tiger side could covet Jody all he wanted, but his human side was smarter than that.
A rumble of protest built in his chest.
“Hmm?” Jody asked, looking around.
He covered up with a cough and a last sip of his coffee. “Nothing. I’m ready.” He ducked under the lowest edge of the thatched roof and cast a glance at the sky. “I’m not sure the weather will cooperate with the photo shoot, though.”
Jody’s mouth twisted in a wry grin. “Fingers crossed.”
“See you later,” Tessa called.
Cruz watched Jody from the corner of his eye as they walked to the garage. Her bracelets jangled as she walked, and the breeze played with her hair. She must have rinsed in the outdoor shower, because her scent was more wild rose than salty, and that drove his tiger wild.
“Which car today?” she quipped, waving at the low, arched bays of the garage.
Cruz hesitated. The Land Rover had tinted windows so no one could spot the passengers. The Ferrari was usually Boone’s ride. Cruz preferred the Lamborghini for raw speed.
“Lady’s choice,” he said.
“Lady’s choice?” She faked a bored sigh. “Well, I suppose the Lamborghini will do.”
He grinned in spite of himself and motioned her in. A minute later, they were humming down the road with the coast blurring past on the makai side and cane fields on the other. They got stuck behind a slow-moving rental car, though, and he couldn’t help muttering under his breath.
“You don’t like people much, do you?” Jody asked.
Visions of his loved ones, lying lifelessly with wide, shocked eyes flashed through his head. Or so he’d taken to picturing the scene of the crime. Having been stationed in a war zone when it happened, he hadn’t been able to see for himself.
So, of course, he hated people. They’d murdered his entire family in cold blood.
His hackles rose, but when he took a deep breath, Jody’s soft scent calmed his pulse. Without thinking, he brushed a hand against hers, and that helped, too.
He shrugged, struggling to make sense of the conflicting emotions welling up inside. “People are irrational.”
“Says the guy who lives in a tree house.” She laughed.
His lips moved, but his brain just wouldn’t supply an answer, so he gave up. Maybe he needed to stop thinking everything through so much. And okay, maybe humans weren’t the only irrational beings on earth. But he liked his tree house, damn it.
Jody does, too, his tiger said in a satisfied undertone.
“Are you okay?” she asked a moment later, all gentle and concerned. “Whatever’s got you so worked up—”
You, he wanted to say. You have me all worked up.
“—you’re better off putting it behind you.” She made a tossing motion over her shoulder.
As if it was as easy as that.
Maybe it is, his tiger whispered. Maybe you should give it a try.
“You need to lighten up a little. Laugh more.”
He made a face, but she just grinned and launched into a joke. “So, you know how to get a surfer to school on time?”
Cruz looked over. It was kind of cute, the way the corners of her mouth twitched, ready to laugh at her own joke.
“Tell her the waves are no good.” She grinned at the punch line and went right into the next joke. “What’s the difference between a surfer and a large pizza?”
Cruz tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
“A large pizza can feed a family of five.” She giggled. “Oh. Oh. I have a good one.”
“Finally,” he murmured, trying not to smile.
“Why is surfing like sex?”
He looked at her expectantly. That, he had to hear.
“When it’s good, it’s really, really good. And when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.”
She joked all the way down the Honopi’ilani Highway and through the high-end resorts of Makena. Her eyes shone like a little girl’s, and Cruz couldn’t help smiling either.
But the joy faded out of both of them the closer they got to the turnoff to the secluded beach where Richard and the photographer would be.
Make that, Richard, the photographer, and several other people Cruz wished he never had to meet.
“Finally, you made it,” Richard snipped, flicking his cigarette butt into the sand of the pristine beach.
A rumble sounded in the distance — a storm cloud moving in.
“Finally?” Jody muttered under her breath.
A woman hustled over with a happy wave of her hands. “Just wait till you see the outfit I’ve picked out for you!”
Jody looked like she really could wait, but she trooped dutifully over to the trailer parked at the side of the road. Well, she started to before turning back to Cruz. Her eyes were mournful, and her shoulders drooped like they were parting forever. Cruz’s gut churned. They hadn’t spent much time apart in the past seventy-two hours, and even when they had, they had both been at Koa Point. Time had a way of stretching there, while distance felt compressed, so even when she’d been out surfing, she hadn’t felt far away. But now…
Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
“So where’s that jewel?” the photographer, Guy, asked.
Richard grumbled. “We couldn’t get it, after all. That son of a bitch said he’d have it for us, but he didn’t come through.”
Cruz was so focused on Jody, he barely registered the words. When he did, he was strangely relieved. Obviously, Silas had been wrong about another Spirit Stone being called to by the three they already had at Koa Point. And a good thing, too. Spirit Stones brought trouble, and Jody had enough of that as it was.
“You coming?” the wardrobe lady called.
“Coming,” Jody said, turning away slowly.
Cruz watched her for a long minute before pinning Richard, the photographer, and the other men present with a Don’t even think about it glare.
She’s mine, his tiger added, lashing its tail.
Five pairs of eyes hit the ground in submission, and Cruz grunted in satisfaction.
“Get moving,” Richard barked at the others. “We need to get this shoot finished before the rain sets in.”
Cruz set off to secure the area, hoping the storm would sweep in as fast as possible and cut the photo shoot short. He sniffed the air, inspected every path, and eyed the hills that boxed in the bay. Richard had an assistant stationed at the head of the dirt road to turn casual visitors away — something Cruz was sure Richard didn’t have a permit for, though it suited him. The fewer people who wandered through the area, the better.
He kicked at the dirt and sniffed the air for the tenth time. No sign of interlopers, but then again, neither had there been that night at the resort. Then he set off to comb through the area a second time. He said he’d guard Jody, and he meant it.
He was just coming back from his third pass when the trailer door slammed open and a woman called out in glee.
“We’re ready.”
It was the wardrobe lady — or maybe the hair lady — Cruz wasn’t sure. He didn’t care either, not when he saw Jody step out.
“Gorgeous, honey,” Guy, the photographer, called. “Let’s get started.”
Cruz’s mouth hung open. The woman in front of him was gorgeous — undeniably, amazingly, mouthwateringly gorgeous. But she wasn’t Jody. Not the Jody he knew.
Her hair had been twisted and teased, sort of like she would look when she came ba
ck from surfing, but nothing like that at all, because it had all been arranged to look that way. Her lips were a shade too red, her eyelashes a tick too dark. And her bikini — two little purple triangles and a high-cut thong — well, that was about four sizes too small. Jody never would have picked it out herself. He knew; he’d seen the loose-fitting, comfortable clothes she brought over from the condo.
“Gorgeous. Jeanette, get a little more shadow on her. We want those tits to stand out,” the photographer said, snapping his gum.
Jody winced.
Cruz growled. Was the man serious?
Apparently, he was, and Cruz was powerless to stop the transformation of the spunky woman who so fascinated him into little more than a hunk of flesh. Guy led her over to the water’s edge and turned her by the shoulder — actually turned her like a potted plant — dispensing orders the whole time.
“George, move the light over there. And put some of that seaweed around that rock. Jeanette, what can we do about her ears?”
Cruz narrowed his eyes. What was wrong with Jody’s ears?
The makeup lady scurried over and sprayed something then attacked them with a little brush.
“All set. On your knees, baby,” the photographer said.
“Was that thunder?” The makeup lady squinted into the sky.
No, it was him, barely swallowing a growl. What right did that asshole have to tell Jody to drop to her knees? It was all so coarse. So overtly sexual. So, so…wrong.
Jody didn’t like it one bit either. Her eyes blazed.
“Um, boss?” George, the assistant, ventured. “How about we start with the boulder shots? The light is perfect for that.”
Cruz decided George was okay. Richard and the photographer, he could kill.
Guy stuck out his hands like a frame. “Not a bad idea. Hop up on that rock, honey.”
George offered Jody a hand up, but she ignored it, hopping up to the four-foot boulder in one easy bound. Cruz would bet she could scale a cliff if she had to.
“Okay, good. Turn a little,” Guy said, still chewing his gum. “A little more… Right leg back… More. Perfect.”
Then Richard cut in. “Wait — what’s with the bracelets? Jeanette?” His voice dropped to a threat.
“Not my idea,” Jeanette rushed to her own defense.
Jody made a face. “I always wear them. I told you last time.”
Cruz’s eyes froze on the bracelets as a memory flitted through his mind — Jody, fingering the bracelets as she talked about her mom.
These were my mom’s. I never take them off.
“They’ll ruin this shot. Lose them,” Richard barked. “George, get us a light reading, damn it.”
For a moment, Jody looked defiant, but she managed to hold on to whatever words she was about to launch off the tip of her tongue. Then she pulled her teeth over her lower lip and slowly pulled the bracelets off.
“I’ll take them.” Jeanette reached up.
Jody looked down, and he could practically read her thoughts. But they were my mom’s. Then she looked past Jeanette and right at Cruz. “Will you hold them for me?”
He stepped forward without thinking, and when he reached out, their fingers brushed, sending a tingle all the way up his arm.
Damn it, it was just a couple of bracelets. Why did he feel like she’d just entrusted him with a royal heirloom?
He slipped them into one of the deep pockets of his cargo pants, snapped the button over the top, and patted them to let her know they were safe.
Jody smiled, and for a moment, his whole world lit up. But then Richard opened his big mouth and ruined everything again.
“All right, already. We don’t have time to lose.”
A roll of thunder sounded over the mountains, underscoring his point. The light was spectacular, with a perfect blue sky to seaward and the leading edge of ominous clouds to the east.
“Chin up. Eyes to me. Shift your weight to the back leg.” Guy motioned with one hand. “Don’t slouch, baby.”
Don’t call me baby, Jody’s eyes blazed.
“Right hand on the hip. Give me negative space.”
Cruz formed and reformed a fist. He’d love to give the man some negative space — whatever that was.
“Trace your hands over your hair and twirl the end,” the photographer went on. “Perfect. Everything but that expression. Don’t give me ax murderer. Give me sex. Hunger. Desire.”
Jody’s jawline went even stiffer. She looked more like an ice queen than a sex kitten, but who could blame her?
“Come on, already,” Richard called over the photographer’s shoulder. “You’re acting the story, remember?”
Jody rolled her eyes, and Cruz wondered what the story was supposed to be. A woman swallowing her pride to work for a sexist, asshole boss?
“Okay, let’s back it up a little. Hop down and walk out into the water to about knee-deep.”
Jody did as she was told, and for a second, Cruz thought she might bolt and swim out to sea.
“Perfect. Now turn around and walk toward me.”
Jody walked while the photographer backed up, shadowed by George who held an oversized white umbrella that had something to do with the light.
“Come on. I need to feel you come up this beach,” Guy said. “We need to see how much you want this in your eyes.”
All Cruz saw in Jody’s eyes was grim resignation.
“Do it again. And remember the story. You’re a mermaid, washed up on the beach.”
Cruz covered his face with one hand and shook his head. He could come up with a better story than that.
“Swing your hips more. Give me attitude.”
Cruz hid a grin. She was giving him attitude, all right.
“Back up. Do it again. But dunk this time. I need mermaid vibes,” the photographer insisted, popping his gum.
Jody dunked, keeping her head back when she stood. Salt water washed over her body in a thousand little rivers and waterfalls.
Cruz’s mouth opened a crack, and time slowed down then suddenly rushed ahead. The dunk had washed away a little of the model and brought more of the real Jody to the surface. Her hair was slightly less than perfect, her makeup more subdued. And wow, she really was beautiful.
“Gorgeous, sweetheart. Now walk toward me.” The photographer motioned. “Slower this time. Remember the story. Something drew you here, though you’re not sure what.”
That part wasn’t so outlandish, Cruz had to admit. Shifter lore was full of stories of heroes or heroines following instincts to fulfill their destiny. There were even stories of mermaids, though like many shifter species, those had gone extinct.
“You’ve been having the same dream over and over,” Guy narrated as the camera clicked away. “But when you wake up, you can barely remember what it was. Only that it took place on this beach.”
Cruz grimaced. He had lots of recurring dreams, and he remembered every one in detail. The nightmares about his family, and more recently, hot dreams of him and Jody, wrapped around each other in his bed…
…beside his bed…
…in the shallows of the rock pool…
Jody’s eyes drifted to his and warmed, making him wonder if she, too, wished for a different ending to their encounter by the rock pool that first morning on Koa Point.
“That’s the look we want!” Richard cheered. “That exact look. Are you getting this, Guy?”
“Bet your ass, I am. Now one more time. Give me heat, baby. Heat.”
Jody splashed back into the water, dunked, then turned and strode up the beach with a little more sass in her step.
Cruz stood perfectly still. Now he was the one feeling the heat.
“There we go. Work it. Work it. Be the mermaid. Look for your destiny.”
Jody’s eyes drifted over the beach as the camera shutter clicked madly away.
Cruz watched her. Humans used the word destiny so lightly. Did they even know what power it possessed?
“Okay, let�
��s do it again.”
Jody repeated the coming-out-of-the-water shot a dozen more times, warming up to the camera on each pass. The stiffness faded from her limbs, and her expression grew ever more wistful, like she really had bought into the story. Cruz had to admit he was getting sucked into it, too. Between the repetition and the singsong quality of the photographer’s voice, the scene took shape before his eyes — with one addition. He was the guy that mermaid was drawn to. He was her destiny.
“One more time. You’re the mermaid, and you’re following an invisible force that brought you here.”
Jody sauntered slowly up the beach as droplets of water accented her perfect curves.
“You’re hungry. Give me hungry, baby. Give me desire.”
Jody faltered for a moment, and her eyes wandered listlessly over the beach. But then her gaze landed on Cruz, and the heat in her expression shot up a hundred degrees.
“That’s it! Perfect,” the photographer called, crouching between Jody and Cruz. “Now you know what’s drawn you here.”
In a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, Jody licked her lips.
“Yes! Yes! That’s what we want,” Guy said. “That need. That desire.”
That desire was about to make Cruz’s army pants much too tight, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away. Jody’s chest rose and fell with every breath, and her nipples pebbled under the fabric of the bikini.
“You’re hot. You’re hungry…” the man droned on.
Cruz stared at Jody, imagining everyone else right out of existence. Imagining Jody coming to him just as wet and hungry, but back at his place where they would have some privacy. Like she’d come straight from her silent fantasies in the rock pool and over to him in the bed.
She dipped her chin the slightest bit, and his tiger growled inside, forming a picture in his mind. Jody would be assertive but submissive enough to let him take the lead. He’d lay her out on the mattress, pin her arms over her head, and give her all the loving a hot-blooded woman ever desired.
The photographer clapped once and lowered his camera. “I could not ask for a better take. Let’s move on to the next shot while this light lasts.”
Jody jolted the way a person did when yanked out of a dream. Cruz did, too. The air tingled, and he couldn’t tell whether the electricity stemmed from the impending storm or the sheer chemistry between them.