Touching Paradise (15 page)

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Don’t let the gentle waves fool you. Nothing but rough water underneath,” Koenraad said. “There’s a strong current, so swimming is unadvised. Even for… strong swimmers.”

Monroe assumed “strong swimmers” meant “sharks.” She shivered. “You don’t have to worry about that with me. I don’t plan to ever go in the ocean again.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his rich voice sliding over her skin like silk. She remembered floating, his muscular arms around her. Yeah, she’d get back in the water for that. Hell, she’d get into lava.
 

He showed her the library—large but not huge… that’s what she kept telling herself—and the kitchen, which actually wasn’t enormous. She suspected there was a larger kitchen elsewhere. One with plenty of room for the professional chefs that such a mansion required.
 

How much was Koenraad worth, she wondered. Millions, obviously. Hundreds of millions… if he had multiple mansions and multiple boats. Billions? She didn’t care about money. Well, she did in that she needed it to survive, but a man’s wealth, or lack of, had never figured into the dating equation for her.
 

She wondered if his money made Koenraad a target for schemers. Probably. Was that why he’d moved out here? Extra security, he’d said. Security from what? He could turn into a shark. What did he have to be afraid of?

Then they went up a set of back stairs and down a curving hallway. They passed uncountable closed doors, two intersecting hallways, and finally an open bedroom door. Another set of stairs lay just beyond it. “If you go down those steps and walk straight, you’ll be back where we started.”

The bedroom contained an enormous bed, the linens pure white, and sliding doors that were partially open, giving access to a spacious balcony. Sheer white curtains fluttered in the ocean breeze.

The bed was partially made, and Monroe suspected it had been some time since a woman had been invited over. Maybe she was the first. There was something charming about the lack of pretension. As ridiculously huge and expensive as Koenraad’s waterfront mansion was, it didn’t feel like a status symbol.

“Can you swim in that water?” Monroe walked across the bedroom and onto the balcony. It curved over the stone terrace below.

The air was so fresh and warm, and it smelled
clean
. Suddenly, she didn’t want to go back home, and it wasn’t just because of Koenraad, either.
 

“It’s not easy,” Koenraad said. “During storms, I come ashore elsewhere, where it’s safer.” He had followed her outside, and when he put his arms around her, she leaned back against his solid body. The beautiful view had little to do with how she felt at the moment, in Koenraad’s arms. She closed her eyes to better savor the moment.

She felt secure with him. Safety wasn’t something she lacked in her daily life. Despite all the stereotypes about New York, she loved the city and felt perfectly comfortable being a single woman and living alone… so long as there weren’t any weddings on the horizon. However, being around Koenraad was something else entirely.
 

Koenraad made her feel like everything was right in the world.
 

Calm filled her. Her limbs had never felt so light or her soul so at ease.

“My phone is ringing,” Koenraad said softly, reluctantly. He released her. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

She turned to watch him cross the room with long strides.
 

Sighing, she moved forward and leaned on the balcony’s railing. To the right, coconut palm trees swayed in the breeze. Small, manicured bushes seemed to grow out of immaculate white stones. A large iguana moved across the path, its body graceful, and she tracked it until it disappeared into the bushes.
 

The house itself extended to the left, but she couldn’t see the end of it because more trees blocked the view.

She looked up and saw hairy, brown coconuts hanging from the trees. She wondered if they were edible or if this was some kind of decorative species with tasteless fruit. She’d bought a coconut once. The directions had said to bake it, but she’d still had a hard time getting it open even with a hammer and a screwdriver.
 

“Monroe?”

She jumped, her hand on her chest. Koenraad stood so close that she could smell his warm, masculine scent, and her pulse spiked. He had changed into knee-length board shorts and a white cotton shirt that stretched over his sculpted muscles. She suddenly wished for a downpour of rain to drench him. Or for him to just take off the shirt…

His eyes, serious, bored into hers. “I need to take care of something, should only be gone about two hours. I can drop you off in town, or I can get you car keys now.”

“I don’t mind staying here.”

He frowned, and she couldn’t tell if he disliked the idea or if he thought she was being polite. She finally settled on the latter.

“Really.” She touched his arm. He was rock solid under her fingers. It made her remember being underneath him, in bed, and she dropped her hand. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I already spent the morning shopping.”

“What about food? There’s not much here.”

“I had a big lunch.”

He still seemed hesitant. “I’ll be back soon. Stay out of the water.”

“I doubt I’ll get much farther than the bed. If that’s ok.”

This seemed to reassure him. “That’s quite fine.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, then turned to go.

He turned back, caught her around her waist. His eyes stared into hers, then he crushed his lips onto her mouth. It took her breath away, and she closed her eyes because the world was spinning. His tongue danced over her bottom lip. He nibbled her, then swept deeper into her mouth. She couldn’t keep up with him. She felt awkward, like it was her first kiss.

When he let her go, she was still reeling. He smiled, and her entire body felt like it had been set afire. “Until later,” he said.

Monroe stayed on the balcony for another five minutes, but she didn’t really see the ocean in front of her. She pressed her fingertips to her lips. They still tingled from his kiss.

Finally she undressed and tried to nap in the bed, which was, incidentally, the most comfortable she’d ever been in. But she was too overstimulated to sleep. All of this… it was new and exciting, and whenever she was about to drift off, she’d come fully awake with a start.

She swung her legs off the soft bed and slipped into a blue cotton dress that she knew would swirl around her calves when she walked.
 

Might as well check out the house, and then, maybe, the beach.

Chapter 14

An hour later, his sleek yacht plowed determinedly through the waves, but Koenraad felt pulled in the opposite direction.
 

He wanted nothing more than to blow everything off and spend the entire week with Monroe. He’d told her that they’d have plenty of space, but he didn’t want to be apart from her, and he knew the feeling was mutual. He wanted to do this right. Take her island hopping during the days. They could live on the yacht, making love while the ocean gently rocked them.

He liked her. A lot. She was comfortable in her own skin, and she seemed to be handling the shapeshifting thing well, but she hadn’t seen him shift.
 

Maybe it was better if she never did. If she was going home again in a week, what did it matter?

He rubbed his chin and smiled. If things went the way he hoped they did, there wouldn’t be any permanent goodbyes for a long time. After all the misery in his life, Monroe was a breath of fresh air. He liked her little sarcastic remarks, and her open heart, and the way she melted when he touched her.
 

She had an unselfconscious frankness that he liked. Her honesty about her ex, for example. She’d admitted what her ex had said, and she hadn’t tried to save face. She hadn’t let it diminish her, and most importantly, she wasn’t bitter. A little wounded, sure, but who wouldn’t be?

Maybe some men didn’t like that kind of honesty, but Koenraad appreciated it. Human women couldn’t successfully lie to him. Not unless they were sociopaths, and if he wanted that, well, there was always Victoria.

His afternoon and evening with Monroe had been the first time he’d truly relaxed since the day Brady went missing. He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until the stress left him.
 

He liked Monroe’s body, too. No, he
loved
it. Curvy and soft and strong, and stunningly beautiful. She had healthy sexual appetites, too, and he loved how she clung to him like a drowning woman.

Just thinking of her curves pressed against him made his cock stir, and he remembered how she’d felt, arching on his bed, her sexy body writhing as he devoured her. He couldn’t wait to get back and taste her again.

He hoped she’d still be in bed when he got back.
 

His cock was throbbing against the confines of his shorts, and he didn’t need to look down to know that there was one hell of a tent situation going on.
 

Enough sexy thoughts. He needed to focus.
 

Something was happening. It seemed his whole world had decided to go to pieces all at once. The dangerous
sick
… Wardell missing… Victoria back in the Caribbean.

Plus he had his own reasons for worrying about the water. Well, one reason. Brady. Koenraad believed his son was safe, but only as long as the
sick
didn’t spread again.

When Darius had called, Koenraad had wanted to throw the phone into the ocean. Funny how Darius could get other shifters to Tureygua and Curaçao when it was an emergency. Maybe, if Koenraad and Wardell hadn’t been shouldering so much work on their own, the situation never would have become urgent in the first place.

Darius wanted samples of the water, and he’d tasked Koenraad with gathering some from near where he lived, or, rather, where he used to live. Darius didn’t know that Koenraad had relocated, and Koenraad planned to keep it that way.

The process of collecting samples was being repeated on all the islands in the area, with special attention being paid to Curaçao and Tureygua, of course.

Koenraad had decided that testing the water was a good idea, and he’d made backup samples for himself. Darius could conduct the official investigation, but Koenraad was damned sure going to run his own analysis.
 

Getting help from a top-notch lab that didn’t answer to other shifters wouldn’t be easy. Especially on short notice. And Koenraad’s lab was still getting up to speed. Hell, his lab was focused on genetic diseases in shifters. The scientists he’d hired were biologists. He needed chemists.

His parents knew chemists, so Koenraad had phoned his father after leaving Monroe. He’d gone right to voicemail. His parents spent most of their time in shark form. They loved to migrate, loved to hunt in the deep oceans. It could be weeks before they even learned he’d been looking for them.
 

Reaching out to his parents hadn’t been easy. If they started making phone calls on his behalf, it wouldn’t be long before they learned what he’d been up to the last six months. And when they found out, they’d connect the dots quickly.
 

They were unlikely to be supportive of his decisions, and things could go downhill quickly. His wealth was his own, had been since his eighteenth birthday, but if motivated, his parents could make the research difficult.

He docked his boat and grabbed the large cardboard box containing a dozen quart jars. It had been over an hour since he’d left Monroe standing barefoot and lovely on his balcony. The thought of her in his bed was the only reason he didn’t scowl when he caught Victoria’s scent.
 

The office that Darius used to oversee his various businesses as well as island matters was a five-minute walk from the ocean. Koenraad covered the distance quickly.
 

The door to the square white building was ajar, and Koenraad pushed in. Nine shifters, all sharks, were crowded into the waiting area, deep in conversations on the same topics: Wardell and the
sick
. They were calling it “the contaminant.” Like it was sludge from one of Curaçao’s oil refineries. Like it hadn’t put shifters into comas.

Some of the sharks Koenraad hadn’t seen in months, but he didn’t have time to catch up. Darius sat atop his secretary’s desk. There was a large map spread next to him, and he was taking careful notes with a pencil.

“Drop them in the back,” Darius said, jerking his head. “I assume they’re labeled?”

Koenraad nodded and crossed the room. A few shifters acknowledged him. He grunted in response.
 

Just as Koenraad reached the entrance to the hallway, Darius frowned and stabbed at the box with his pencil. “Those samples are bigger than I need. If it’s no trouble, could you pour them into the plastic bottles?”

“I’m in a hurry,” Koenraad said, irked. “Dump what you don’t need.”

He went through the building until he reached the back room. To his relief, it was empty except for a shark who was finishing pouring off his samples. He nodded a greeting at Koenraad and left.

Koenraad didn’t know the shark’s name, but he’d encountered him a few years earlier in the ocean. He lived in the states, off of the Florida coast, and had come down ahead of a tropical storm along with several dozen other sharks who weren’t willing to move inland.

Victoria’s odor was faint. She’d probably been one of the first to drop off her samples. If he moved fast, he might be able to get out before she returned from wherever she was.

The small room was filled with boxes, most of them labeled
Falcon Tubes, 50ml.
Some were sealed and stacked neatly, but many more had been opened. He glanced inside one and saw the tubes were filled with water.
 

He used the side of his foot to do some gentle but fast rearranging until he had an empty bit of floor space large enough for his box. He carefully set it down and was about to leave when his gaze caught the samples marked
Zone 1-12, Curaçao
. Zone 3 included the beach where they’d found Wardell’s cowboy boot.