Whirlpool (2 page)

Jamie knelt to touch a pile of books, and Chelsea admired him as well. He wasn’t as big as Braden but just as firm, just as intriguing. Shoulder-length blond hair, made slightly messy when her fingers had run through it. Blue-gray eyes, fair skin. The feel of his body under the expensive clothing he wore—there had been nothing wrong with his reaction to their bit of mutual groping. She sighed. Too bad it probably had been chemically induced on his part.

Her sex throbbed for a second as she thought about being pressed between both men. A wave of jealousy hit as she remembered her new best friend, Alexia, was currently off sexing it up with her two lovers.

Some people had all the luck.

The sound of the front door shutting woke her from the distraction of imagining what Alexia and her husbands were currently doing. She took a deep breath and stepped back into the living room to face the music.

“What the hell was that about?” Braden stormed up to her, all but shaking his finger in her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m frustrated, and I lost control.” She kept her head down, her eyes away from his. She bit her lip to resist moaning as the scent of his skin hit her. Her reaction to him was getting tougher to resist, and she didn’t want to be shot down again. It had hurt too much the last time.

“Well, you need to work on better control, especially for when you leave Jaffrey’s Cove. I’m certainly not going to blame Jamie for reacting to you, and I think I managed to cover it up, but what if that situation arises when you’re away at college? You cause that kind of reaction and someone is going to start asking questions. You could expose yourself as a merfolk.”

Chelsea stared at Braden’s feet, his legs set in a wide stance. Since the chance of her getting to do anything other than stay in Jaffrey’s Cove had dropped to zero, there was little probability of her causing trouble.

“Right, college.”

She turned to go hide, take a cold shower—anything to get away from the man she wanted with a hunger close to pain. If she didn’t know better she’d think she was addicted to him, which was ridiculous. They might have an animal side to their natures, but their shifted form went for casual, not commitment.

Braden stopped her with a gentle tug on her shoulder. “When do you leave for your first semester?”

She froze. He obviously wasn’t aware she’d had to cancel her registration. She took her time to pivot, trying to come up with a suitable answer to throw him off the truth. Something he might believe.

“I…didn’t get in. I scored too low on my SATs.” The lie stuck in her throat. He stepped back, a frown creasing his face with clear disappointment, and a touch of annoyance. Great, he really wanted her to go away.

“Dammit, Chelsea, I thought that’s why you’d waited years to apply—so you’d figure out what program was right for you. I know people offered to help you study.”

She stared at the wall and ignored the knot forming in her belly from lying to him. Playing dumb might hurt her ego, but it stopped the questions.

If only she understood why Braden wasn’t willing to get involved with her. She’d tried to convince herself it was time to move on. Time to let a little pressure off the powder keg of her sexual frustrations by dating someone else. Only that option had been cut off from her too as Braden’s silent disapproval scared away all the eligible men.

Damn controlling bastard. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her either.

Suddenly she was angry. Unspeakably upset, and while it wasn’t completely Braden’s fault, he was there and part of the cause of her troubles. She crooked her head back to stare up at him.

“So, the researcher. He’s cute.” She left her facial expression wide and vacant, as innocent as a newborn lamb. Driving Braden crazy seemed a suitable revenge. “I think he likes me.”

Braden slapped a hand to his shaved head and groaned loudly as he paced before her.

“Chelsea, you’re going to be the death of me. Of course he likes you,
everyone
likes you. Especially when you turn up the hormones until all the males within striking distance have hard-ons. Damn it, how am I supposed to keep you out of trouble? You’ve been deliberately taunting the humans in the community at every turn since the matriarch left on her honeymoon.” He stalked closer. “You’re asking for trouble you don’t want.”

How dare he act like her actions were by design? Chelsea glared at him. “I haven’t asked for trouble. It’s my damn merfolk hormones and I’m not ‘turning them up’, I’m frustrated. Period. It’s not a matter of using more control. I’m twenty-three and I haven’t had a sexual partner for over a year, ever since you started scaring away the merfolk who could satisfy me.”

“This is my fault?” His skin darkened, flushed with anger, or dare she hope for another reason?

There was only one way to know for sure—she screwed up her meager courage and moved closer, like a butterfly caging a bull.

“You don’t want me to have sex with the humans, but you don’t want me to get involved with any of the other men from the pod. Whose fault could it be? You know you could satisfy me yourself like I asked you before. I want you, Braden, I have for a long time.”

She trailed her finger down his shirt buttons, circling the last one that sat just shy of the top of his jeans. His abdomen muscles quivered under her touch. She lifted her gaze to meet his, gasping as she saw the longing and desire reflected there.

“Chelsea…baby, don’t do this,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and halting her slow exploration of his belt buckle.

“Do what? Make us both happy? Come on, admit it. You want me, don’t you?” She held her breath. Would he actually confess this time?

He clasped their hands together, swearing softly under his breath. A long sigh followed. “You damn well know I want you, but baby—”

A shiver raced up her skin and the need to touch him made her bolder than she’d allowed herself to be for over a year. She nestled in close.

“I’m not a baby. You know it. I know it. Please, I need you.” His hands fell apart and she wrapped herself around him, drawing a deep breath of the scent of his body, spicy and all male. It settled her jangling nerves even as it excited her more. “Hmm, I need you now, Braden.”

Braden closed the door firmly on her continuing protests, taking the stairs two at a time as he escaped to his truck. Maybe it was the coward’s way out, but staying around Little Miss Temptation any longer was impossible. Even a saint would have difficulty resisting Chelsea when she got into one of these moods.

He was no saint.

Traffic was light as he drove slowly into town, leaving the shore-side heritage home behind. The new matriarch and her lovers, now her husbands, wouldn’t be back for almost a month. In the meantime Braden was stuck babysitting the most difficult member of the Jaffrey Cove merfolk. He also had to keep an eye on the rest of the water shifters during what was fast becoming the strangest tourist season on record. While the number of visitors was slightly higher than normal, the minor criminal offenses he’d been called out on had more than doubled. He would have sworn there was a full moon every night of the week from the crazy things people were coming up with. Home invasions, Peeping Toms, rotting fish stuffed in mailboxes… He was ready for a holiday himself.

Now to discover Chelsea wouldn’t be leaving Jaffrey’s Cove was the last straw.

The police radio rang, shrilling loudly in the truck and he sighed. No rest for the wicked—even though he was trying really hard to avoid that title. He snatched the receiver off the console and switched on the talk button.

“Marley,” he snapped, turning back onto Main Street. He slowed to avoid a group of tourists gawking at the picturesque row of shops lining the boardwalk.

“Hey, Sheriff. There’s a bit of a ruckus down at the Beachshore Inn. You want to check it out?”

“Ten-four.” Hell, not again. He grabbed his hat and jacket and put them on as he drove. Damn woman had him so he didn’t know if he was coming or going. Fighting the urge to accept the delights Chelsea could provide had been the right thing to do, but now that she was staying in town…
fuck
.

To top it off, the two of them were roommates. It wasn’t her fault—he knew Chelsea had moved into Alexia’s spare room temporarily to housesit before heading off to college. When he’d been asked to step in while the matriarch was gone he hadn’t expected Alexia to insist he stay at the house as well as deal with emergencies among the merfolk community.

Knowing Chelsea was downstairs from him night after night was sheer hell.

Braden sighed. Even though he was suffering, he had to admire Alexia. His new leader had done well. From zero information to running the show in less than a week—Braden had been impressed. Alexia was gutsy, beautiful and very thoroughly taken by two of his younger cousins. Funny thing that—the men were not the strongest or toughest of the merfolk, but the three of them were a perfect fit when it came to supporting each other. Alexia now led the secretive group of shifters hidden away amidst the regular souls who lived in Jaffrey’s Cove.

Braden slowed as he approached the end of the road and the turnoff to the hotel.
Holy shit.
Dispatch had been right. Braden eyed the long lineup of bodies headed into the hotel/motel, the tangle of cars blocking the parking lot. He double-parked in front of the coffee shop and jogged the rest of the way to the entrance.

A deafening bedlam of voices assaulted him as he entered the office. Rapidly spoken Japanese and German bounced off the walls, accompanied by much hand waving. Max Linton, the hotel owner, and all the staff bustled behind the counter, plastic keys and credit cards flying through the air.

“Max…Max, hey, you got a problem? Need a hand?” Braden shouted.

Max cast a quick glance his direction, then dropped his gaze back to the keyboard and the mess of papers piled by his elbow.

“Hey, Braden. No problem. Well, yes, a problem—someone double booked us for two large tours, but I think I’ve almost got it solved. I finally got the guys who hired out the fishing charters squared away, but I have no idea what to do with him.” He swung his finger to the corner.

Braden turned to see Jamie Powell standing next to the wall, quietly examining an aged photograph of Jaffrey’s Cove harbor circa 1900.

“Troubles with his booking too?”

Max motioned Braden forward then leaned over the counter to speak quietly.

“He booked a suite, and I just don’t have it to give. I mean, one guy in that much space? I charged the tour company full price per person and popped six people in that room. Now I’m feeling guilty. It says on his application he’s doing work for Alexia. Think we can convince her to put him up for a while?”

Braden groaned. He sympathized with Max, he really did. Summer was the most lucrative time of year. Shop owners who didn’t take advantage of every opportunity to make enough to last through the lean winter faced the possibility of not opening the following spring. It was in everyone’s interest to keep the tourists as happy as possible.

He glanced over his shoulder at the archaeologist. Unfortunately, putting Jamie up at Alexia’s house was out of the question, not with Chelsea staying there. No way on earth would he allow another man…

Shit
. The truth hit him like a two-by-four. He was as controlling as Chelsea had accused him. A heavy brick formed in his belly, disgusted at himself for not seeing it earlier. First he’d help Max, then he’d figure out how to apologize for unintentionally being an ass to her.

He turned back to the innkeeper and nodded slowly. “There are a couple of options we can explore. I’ll take care of him.”

“Thanks, Braden. Thank a ton.” Max gave a quick dismissive wave, and Braden caught his attention before he buried himself in the chaos again.

“Is that the only reason I got sent over here? To help you deal with one homeless waif?”

Max swore. “I nearly forgot. There’s a couple of cars outside that zigged when they should have zagged. The owners are waiting in their rooms. We managed to calm them down and we did call a tow truck but…”

“No worries. You deal with your stuff, I’ll take care of it.”

Braden shook his head at the insanity of the place, even as it made something inside him very happy. Not the confusion, but the constant life and newness that living in a tourist destination brought. He loved the whole town and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

He stepped over and touched Jamie on the shoulder.

Jamie straightened from where he’d been staring at the fine print handwritten at the bottom of the black-and-white image. He smiled at Braden and the attractiveness Chelsea mentioned sprung to mind. The man was damn good-looking.

“Oh, hello again. Fascinating pictures. Do you know if they are originals from the family who owns the hotel? Who should I talk to if I want to find out more about the individuals in each photograph? Have you ever seen—?”

Braden held up a hand. “Whoa, Jamie, first things first. Seems you’re a little out of luck. There is no room at the inn.”

His forehead wrinkled in a frown. “But I had a booking… Oh, never mind. I’ll try the next hotel.”

Braden shook his head. “There is no other. This is it.”

Jamie stared at him. “Well, hell. That’s going to make this a little more difficult. Okay, plan B. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you in the morning.” He stooped and picked up his backpack from beside his feet, turning as if to leave.

Plan B? “
Where are you going?”

He shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a campground around here somewhere. It won’t be the first time I’ve roughed it.”

Braden did a quick mental inventory of the information he’d read on the sheet at the house. His cousin Anthony had done a very thorough investigation into the man. Jamie’s excellent reputation had been clearly spelled out.

“How long is the job at the Coltens’ expected to take?” Braden asked.

Jamie’s eyes glazed over a little as he stared into the distance. “Have to sort and catalog, research the more isolated finds—not counting if there are any museum pieces to match. Then there’s—”