“I was such a jerk when I was young,” he said. Lena remained still, sensing that he preferred to talk while she was hidden away in his arms. “I threw you away when you were the only real friend I ever had.”
She turned her cheek to his chest.
“I am so sorry, Lena.”
“I’ve already forgiven you, Duncan. A long time ago.”
She heard his heart beat like he was sprinting. She waited patiently.
“I have no intention of staying on Bayberry. I can’t see myself leaving the Navy. It’s not in my plan.”
She pressed hard against him and backed away a step, the wind picking up around them. “I never asked you to.”
“Lena,” Duncan’s face was twisted with confusion. “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. I’m drawn to you like I’ve never been drawn to a woman in my life, but I think I’m making a horrible mistake. I don’t want a relationship right now.”
She nodded soberly. “What do you want?”
“You.” He raised a hand and brushed his fingertips down the side of her face. “I want you. I want to spend time with you. I want to make love to you and laugh with you for as long as we’re here together—but I know in the end it won’t be fair to you.”
She smiled. “How about you let me decide what’s fair? I’m a grown woman.”
He dropped his hand from her face. “I realize that.”
“I am perfectly capable of deciding how much I’m willing to give to a man. I’ve been taking care of myself for a very long time.”
Duncan blinked in surprise, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply . . . I’m only trying to protect you.”
Lena laughed, though she felt her fists ball up at her sides. “Protect me? From what? From you?” She looked away, thinking, It’s a little late for that.
She saw Ondine sitting in the sand right at their feet, as if she were eavesdropping. Lena picked her up. “You know, it’s getting pretty windy. I want to go back to the house.”
The air seemed to escape from Duncan’s body. His brow became deeply creased, and he lowered his head.
“We can continue this conversation inside if you’d like.”
But Duncan didn’t move. Instead, he said, “What was that painting about?” Duncan’s question came out of nowhere, and his voice sounded hollow. He raised his head to look her square in the eye. “You know the one I’m talking about—the one you were working on when I barged in on you. Please give me a truthful answer.”
What? Lena felt herself go still inside. She would rather he’d seen the charcoal nude than that painting! But of course he’d seen it—he didn’t miss anything.
“I only ask because it was so unlike your other work. It was real dark stuff.”
She shook her head and looked out over the dune. “That was never supposed to be seen by anyone, Duncan. I never planned to exhibit it or sell it—it was just for me. Sometimes I paint to work through negative emotion. It’s like keeping a diary, I guess.”
Duncan slid his hand along her upper arm. The feel of his touch was warm and comforting, but at that moment she wasn’t interested in being comforted.
“Is the painting about me? The ambush?”
Lena gasped. She stared at him in the dim moonlight, amazed he’d been able to make the connection. “Why do you think that, Duncan?”
“Easy.” He shrugged. “There were eight bloody bodies in the water and there were eight men in my insertion team. The ocean setting looked bombed out. And the image contained such violence and . . . grief.” Duncan nodded, as if he were just now putting the pieces together for himself. “You may have painted it, Lena, but I lived it, and I know it can’t be a coincidence.”
Her body went rigid.
“And while we’re at it, you knew I was on your beach five nights in a row, waiting for you to come out of the surf, didn’t you?” Duncan pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I bet you observed me from your studio.”
Lena’s mouth fell open. Duncan was using everything in his arsenal to blame her for his own anger. To find an excuse for it.
“You walked around me that night I fell asleep, didn’t you? You came to make sure I was all right.” He pointed down the beach. “Those were your footprints in the sand, weren’t they?”
Lena nodded slowly. “My goodness, you do have a lot on your mind, Duncan. But you haven’t shared with me the only thing that matters.”
“And what’s that?”
“Why you are so angry.” She adjusted Ondine in her arms. “Are you angry because I care for you as much as I do? Are you pissed off that it caused me pain to hear you were nearly killed? What is it that got under your skin at your mother’s tonight?”
A shadow fell over his face, and Lena glanced up to see the moon completely disappear behind a dark cloud. Duncan had no reply, and though Lena waited for a long moment, she saw nothing but a statue standing in front of her. He may have spoken several languages, but he wasn’t anywhere near fluent in the language of the heart.
“All right,” she whispered. “I’m going in.” Lena headed for the beach steps, figuring that if Duncan wanted to follow, that would be wonderful. And if he didn’t, she would find a way to make peace with it.
She got halfway up the stairs and heard him call out to her.
“Lena!”
With Ondine in her arms, she turned, the wind whipping her hair into her face.
“This is insane.” He raised his arms in a gesture of frustration. Even in the low light she could see the torment in his face. “We hadn’t said a word to each other since we were kids and then—boom!—we’re all up in each other’s lives in a matter of days. And now I’m crazy about you. What the hell is going on?”
Lena did not smile, but her heart lifted. Duncan had asked her, and she would answer him. “Come inside.” She held out her hand. “I’ll tell you what I know.”
* * *
The last thing he wanted to do when he got inside Lena’s house was talk. That girl’s strength had turned him on so much that he was on the verge of making an idiot of himself. Seeing her hold her position on the sand like that, the wind whipping her hair, telling him she didn’t need his protection and could take care of herself—that was the most god-awful sexy thing he’d ever seen in his life. No woman had ever stood up to him like that. It had been the last straw—it had cracked open his heart.
“Lena.” A stunningly beautiful wild woman stood in the kitchen before him. She was barefoot and breathing hard. Her hair was windblown and her dark eyes seared into him. He wanted her with a fierceness that made no sense, that burned so hot it liquefied all his plans, all his strategies, and all his reasoning.
He said nothing more. Instead he walked in to her, kept her upright, and pressed her against the wall. He devoured her with his mouth and hands, gripping at her dress, sliding his hands up the insides of her hot thighs. This woman was a seductress. A magician. She had power over him that wasn’t natural. And at that moment, Duncan knew he would do whatever she wanted him to do, for however long she wanted him to do it.
Her fingers were in his hair. She pulled him down to her. Lena tore at his shirt, her small fingers insistent and greedy. Just like her mouth. Like her thighs.
Duncan grabbed her under her ass and lifted her from the floor, her legs falling open in a sign of surrender. And that’s when the most remarkable thought entered his brain: this was mutual surrender. He’d never felt anything like it. He was yielding to her as much as she yielded to him, and the power in it was astounding.
He carried Lena through the cavernous downstairs and up the staircase, relieved to see Ondine scurry up the steps ahead of them. Once on the second floor, Ondine peeled off for the studio, and Duncan headed to the bedroom.
Lena was whimpering as she kissed him, hands on his neck, her small but luscious body crushed against his. As they reached the bed, Duncan realized they were both out of control and in complete agreement
about it.
He tossed her on the bed and pressed her down into the mattress, hands inside her dress now, caressing her breasts and hard nipples, feeling her hands up inside his shirt, burning his already hot skin.
“This is crazy,” she mumbled, kissing his throat and chest.
“Fuckin’ nuts,” Duncan said, peeling the dress away from her body. He rose above her, supporting his weight on his hands. Duncan let his gaze travel from her beautiful face to her firm breasts, down her tight belly, to the succulent place she had opened for him between her legs.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.
Just then tears slipped from Lena’s eyes and rolled across her temples to the sheets. Duncan was astounded by the intensity of Lena’s reaction.
“Are you all right, baby?”
She nodded.
“I need to be inside you,” he whispered.
She reached up and touched his mouth with her delicate fingers. He opened his lips, kissing them, licking them, biting them. “Yes,” she whispered. “I have to have you, too.”
He slid into her. She was tight and slick and so warm he worried he would explode before he took her where she needed to go. They locked eyes and hands and moved together in need and passion, twisted, turned, sought out each other in an endless changing sea of sex. His mind drifted, his body and heart flowed into hers. And suddenly, it was like nothing he’d ever known. She was his. She had always been his, and he could not enter her deep enough. This beautiful woman closed her eyes and cried his name.
“Duncan!”
He wanted this for her. He wanted her to know a place without limits, where she could fall apart beneath him and know he was there to catch her. He wanted this beautiful woman to break free, fly so high that her only tether was her love for him and his love for her.
They climaxed together, and the instant was so beautiful it danced on the edge of pain. He called out her name as he emptied his soul into hers.
“Lena,” he cried. “Lena! My God, I love you so much.”
* * *
The ceiling fan whirred, and the cool ocean air slipped in through a bedroom screen. The in-and-out breathing of the ocean soothed them. Lena snuggled up against Duncan’s chest, one leg thrown over his body. Her fingers fiddled with his chest hair.
Duncan stared at the fan—’round and ’round and ’round . . . He’d just told Lena he loved her. It was a miracle. He’d just told a woman he loved her, and he’d meant it. It was a new and terrifying sensation.
Ondine decided the coast was clear and hopped up on Lena’s bed. The dog found a comfortable position and turned her head away, as if their nakedness were too much for her to take.
“Holy moly,” Lena said.
“Baby Jesus on the B train.”
She giggled. “Would you like some water?”
Duncan shook his head, pulling her tighter. “Don’t move, Lena. Stay here a little longer.” He kissed her silky hair and breathed her in, detecting a perfect mix of salt water, woman, and sex. His mind wandered off to his buddy Jax, the only married guy in their platoon. When Jax would talk about his wife, his whole face would change. The hard edges would soften and his lips would curl up in the most useless, inexcusable, pussy-whipped smile that ever appeared on a Navy SEAL’s face. Duncan would rib him mercilessly about it.
But right then Duncan was certain that if he had a mirror, he would look an awful lot like his late friend Jax.
“Duncan?”
“Hmmm?”
’Round and ’round and ’round . . .
“You asked me something important when we were on the beach. I have an answer for you.”
“Okay, baby.” He smiled.
’Round and ’round and ’round . . .
“You said something about how we hadn’t spoken since we were kids but now here we were . . . how did you say it?”
“All up in each other.” Duncan laughed.
“Kind of prophetic, wouldn’t you say?”
“Prophetic and fantastic.” He reached around and played with the ends of her hair.
“Well, there’s something you should know.”
And with that, his Zen-like, post-sex stupor was blown the fuck up. He’d just heard a hint of fear in Lena’s voice, and now she was sitting up in bed and pulling the covers around her.
Duncan stayed where he was, trying to focus on the view. She was so damn beautiful. Soft and sensual and uninhibited . . .
“I have loved you my whole life, Duncan Flynn.”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean . . .” She pushed the hair from her face. Her expression was far too serious for pillow talk. “I had a vision. It was on the day you did the pencil drawing, the day you kissed me.”
Duncan nodded, hoping to God this was not headed in the woo-woo direction he suspected. “A vision?”
“Remember when you said the kiss felt ‘unearthly’?”
It was time for Duncan to sit up, too. He shoved himself against the headboard, rubbed his face in his hands, and tried to appear nonjudgmental. Yes, he had in fact said that, and now he deeply regretted it. “I remember.”
“Well, I believe it really was. I think it was some sort of . . . I don’t know how to explain it exactly . . . a powerful sign for us to see together. I know this is going to sound really strange . . .”
It already does. Duncan touched her hand and smiled, while inside he felt like he was going to be sick.
“As soon as you kissed me, I knew you were my destiny. I have loved you ever since that moment, and I’ve waited for you to come to me. Through all these years I’ve never given up.”
Duncan couldn’t swallow. He stared at that annoying ceiling fan, and after a frozen second or two, he said, “Excuse me. Be right back.”
He escaped into Lena’s bathroom and shut the door. Duncan looked at himself in the mirror and almost started laughing—what an idiot he’d been! He couldn’t imagine a worse turn of events. An otherworldly destiny? Oh, holy shit, he was trapped in one of his mother’s mermaid meetings!
The mermaid.
God, how he hated that bitch.
Duncan slipped back into the room and grabbed his clothes. He put his boxer briefs and pants on first, then his shirt. Next he slipped on his shoes. All the while Lena sat there, with her legs tucked under her and the covers wrapped around her, looking like a lost puppy. The actual lost puppy was in her lap.
“Lena.” He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her. Her lips felt cool. “Look, I have to ask you something.”
She nodded, her eyes wide with regret.
“Sweetie, do you believe in the mermaid?”
She cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. “Are you asking me if I believe there are unseen forces at work in our lives? Are you asking me if I believe there’s room for magic in this world? Then the answer is ‘yes, absolutely.’”
“No.” He shook his head incredulously. “My question was quite simple: do you . . . believe . . . in the mermaid?”
Her eyes flashed in defiance. “Do I believe mermaids live in the sea? Or do I believe in the mermaid legend of Bayberry Island?”
Duncan laughed. “Seriously? Is there a difference?”
“That’s not for me to say.”
“Ooo-kay. Let me rephrase that.” He briefly squeezed his eyes shut to regain his focus. “Lena, do you think the mermaid statue in Fountain Square brought you and me together? Did she determine our ‘destiny’?”
Lena’s face fell in sadness. “You asked why our connection has been so intense, so fast. I answered you to the best of my ability. And now you’re ridiculing me for being honest.”
Duncan shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry. This is way out of my comfort zone. It pushes all my buttons, and I can’t even sit here and have a conversation like this—it’s just too crazy.”
He headed toward the bedroom door.
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I
’m a mermaid?”
Duncan’s head spun around. Lena stared at him with wild eyes.
“Sure, Lena. Are you a mermaid?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
That was it for him—he’d had enough. Duncan could see the conversation veering off into whether the moon was an alien hovercraft and the mating habits of Bigfoot.
“I’m sorry, Lena. You have no idea how sorry I am. But I can’t do this.”
It was a long-assed walk back to the Safe Haven on a cool and windy night, but Duncan had survived far worse—at least in terms of weather. The way his heart felt, however, was something new—it was ripped to fucking shreds. One minute he was desperately in love, and the next minute he was discussing the finer points of mermaidery.
He should never have come home.
Duncan walked past the Safe Haven and into town. He wasn’t ready to bump into Ash or Rowan and have them ask about Lena. What the hell would he say? “She’s a swell girl—and she believes in mermaids! Just like the girl who married dear old Dad!”
He ended up near Fountain Square, and because it was late and a little too windy for optimum comfort, there were no tourists to be seen. Duncan sat on the bench and clasped his hands between his knees.
No wonder he’d left Bayberry and never looked back. This place was created by, and for, crazy people. Looking back, he saw that Lena had done a bang-up job masking her true feelings in those media interviews. No doubt sales would suffer if the world knew she was cuckoo bananas.
Shit. He was crying. He was a thirty-four-year-old Navy SEAL scheduled to receive a Purple Heart, yet he was sitting on a bench, in the dark, at the mermaid fountain, crying because his heart was broken.
The worst part was that he had no frame of reference for going forward. Duncan really loved Lena. He loved her. But he could never build something with her because she lived in a world of unicorns and rainbows and mermaids, for shit’s sake! In the end it didn’t matter how wonderful she was or how much he loved her. It wasn’t enough.