Near Jacksonville, Florida, Fifteen Years Ago

Help!
Duncan MacDonald heard his brother’s telepathic shout and glanced over his shoulder. The little seal had fallen behind and was about to lose his struggle with the hurricane driven sea.
A monstrous wave slammed down on the youngster’s head and he disappeared for a moment.
Hold on, Alex. I’m coming.
Duncan swam back and offered his shoulder for his younger brother to lean on. Alex rested a flipper on Duncan and floated beside him, gasping for air.
Are we nearly there? I can’t go much farther.
A large wave lifted them to its crest and Duncan scanned the horizon. Yes, I can see land up ahead. They slid down into the trough and up again while Alex caught his breath and regained some strength.
You can make it, Duncan encouraged as the shoaling waves pulled them along. Minutes passed until Alex’s breathing quieted.
Okay, I’m ready, he telepathized and they began once more to stroke toward shore. A
half hour later, another gigantic wave deposited them on the wet sand, expelling their breath with an oof. For a few minutes, they lay unmoving, thankful for the feel of land beneath their bodies.
Duncan recovered first. He shook seawater from his sleek coat and looked around. I saw a light over that way. He pointed beyond the nearest dune.
Did it look friendly? Alex sounded frightened.
We’ll have to check it out. Although his heart was beating rapidly, Duncan tried to appear unconcerned. It wouldn’t do for his little brother to see that he, too, was afraid. Come on. Let’s shift before somebody shows up. He nudged Alex, who groaned and got up. The two gray seals waddled down to the water and threw themselves into the next breaking wave.
A few minutes later, their animal shapes replaced by human ones, they emerged from the water and trudged across the beach. Duncan pushed his long black hair from his eyes and grabbed the little blond boy’s hand. “Come on,” he said. They had to find shelter from the cold.
“Where are we going?” Alex asked anxiously. Some nine-year-olds would be crying. Not Alex. He was scared but trying not to let it show, Duncan thought. Since he himself was sixteen and nearly an adult in his human form, he had to be the leader. He pulled Alex up the slope of the dune. At the top, Duncan stopped and took stock of the landscape. He could do this. Things would work out.
“Let’s try that house with the light. Don’t worry, little brother. Everything’s going to be okay.” Stark naked, his confidence in himself growing with every step he took, Duncan started off to seek his future.

Later That Same Day:
The library was nearly empty because of the hurricane. But twelve-year-old Carli MacLeod hadn’t let the rain daunt her. Flooding from the torrential rains had closed her school, so she used the time the way she liked best, reading. She stood in front of her favorite section of
books, ones about faeries, goblins and mythical beings. “There’s a new one,” she murmured. She
took it down and flipped through the pages.
It was an anthology of Scottish myths and folklore. Excited by her find, she seated herself at the nearest table and began reading. One tale in particular caught her fancy, all about a shapeshifter called a Selkie. The picture showed a man drawn from tales told by Scottish fisherfolk. The caption said these creatures could also become seals and were called Selkies.
She stared at the drawing. The man was tall, with long dark hair. His handsome face and muscular body caught her interest. What a hunk! She’d love to meet him. But it wouldn’t happen, because Selkies were only Scottish myths.
As she read on, Carli learned these creatures had been gifted with telepathy in both their human and animal forms. Being able to communicate fully with each other was very necessary for seals and sometimes for their human counterparts.
“It must be fun to read minds,” she murmured aloud, thinking she’d love to know what that dark-haired boy in her math class saw when he stared at her every day. But would she like that same boy knowing her thoughts? No way!
She found her place and continued. Once every month, a Selkie had to renew himself if he were living in human form. Some kind of tremors alerted him that the time had come. Then he had to immerse himself in water and shape shift into his seal body. How cool!
There was more about Selkies’ biological incompatibility when mating with someone not of their species. If ignored, a chemical reaction occurred during the mating which destroyed their shape shifting ability and they reverted to their seal form forever. She didn’t fully understand that part, but it didn’t matter. It was nothing she’d ever have to deal with.
With a sigh, she closed the book and took it to the checkout desk. Soon, school would reopen and there would be no more time for fantasies. Outside, she opened her umbrella and tucked the book tightly against her side to protect it from the rain. Later tonight, she’d read all about the Selkie again. And fantasize about the man in the picture. And try to forget he wasn’t real.

The Present Time, near Jacksonville, Florida

Waves of heat rose from the pavement and a huge red sun set indolently in the west.
It presaged another scorcher tomorrow. Reluctantly, Carli MacLeod slid from the cool comfort of her air-conditioned car.
The burning asphalt beneath her sandals only added to her discomfort.
She didn’t want to spend half an hour with some elderly scientist who would lecture dryly on the pro’s and con’s of alligator hunting. It rated a close second to telling her editor she’d skipped this interview. What she really needed was to go home, set up her easel and lose herself in the joy of still-life painting. Unfortunately, she couldn’t indulge her hobby right now.
Alligators had never been among her favorite fauna, but some research was necessary if she planned to do a credible article. Squaring her shoulders, Carli walked through the open gate and over to the glass door of the Marine Biological Research Laboratories. It was a two-story concrete-block building located on property fronting the Atlantic Ocean. Listed below the company’s name was Dr. Duncan MacDonald, the man she’d come to interview. What would he be like? Intelligent, without a doubt. Maybe a little absent-minded.
She tried the knob and discovered the door was locked. With a sigh, Carli shoved damp hair from her perspiring forehead and peered through the glass. The small waiting room was empty. She stifled a twinge of annoyance. Since she had an appointment for six-thirty, the man had to be here somewhere. Maybe there was another entrance.
She walked to the end of the building where a set of concrete stairs went down and ended in deep shadow. Still seeing no one, she descended, then stopped, amazed. The lower level of the labs, not visible from the street, opened onto a sun-bathed concrete patio that surrounded a huge pool. Another smaller pool occupied the right side. Huge split-leaved philodendrons and palms made a green shield for what might lie beyond. Maybe the doctor was working somewhere out here with his marine creatures and had forgotten he’d agreed to let her pick his brains.
As if in answer, she heard a husky male voice with a slight Scottish burr say, “Don’t fight me, Esme.”
What on earth? She pulled up short and peered around curiously, but an umbrella table straight ahead blocked her view of the speaker.
“Come on, lass, you know it doesn’t hurt,” said the voice with a hint of amusement. “Hold still.”
Her rubber-soled sandals making no sound, Carli crossed the hot pavement of the patio and skirted the obstacle. A dark-haired man knelt on the concrete verge of the smaller pool. He appeared unaware of her presence. “There. It’s in. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
A naked back and wide muscular shoulders shielded the recipient of the man’s comments from Carli’s view. Her interest aroused, she sidled sideways to get a better look and collided with one of the white plastic chairs surrounding the umbrella table.
The man’s head turned toward her, and something long, leathery and brownish-green slid from his arms. It disappeared into the pool like the creature from the black lagoon.
“What was that?” Carli could scarcely believe he’d been cradling an alligator.
“A baby gator. I just inserted a computer chip under her skin. We need to keep track of her when she’s released.” As he rose, his masculine gaze raked her from head to foot, his movement lithe and graceful for so big a man.
“Oh.” Carli smiled up at him, feeling a little awkward. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t hurting her.”
Suddenly, she remembered why she was here. “I’m Carli Macleod and I have a six-thirty appointment with Dr. Duncan MacDonald. Is he around?” She glanced toward the building to see whether an older man might be overseeing this young assistant’s work. Maybe from the shade. Even though the sun was disappearing behind the feathery palms, intense heat still radiated from the concrete deck.
“As a matter of fact, he is. I’m Duncan.” His brown eyes gleamed with amusement--at her expense, no doubt. He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got six twenty-eight. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting, but capturing Esmerelda and implanting that chip took longer than I thought. I was going up to unlock the door in two minutes.”
“No problem,” she responded as casually as she could in the face of such striking male perfection.
So much for preconceived notions about her immunity to handsome men. When he’d first turned those enigmatic eyes her way, her heart had actually skipped a beat. At full height, he stood at least six feet four.
His long black hair, pulled back and tied with a leather thong, offset a face that was lean and potently attractive.
She wondered if he was aware of the effect he had on women, especially in those low-riding, denim cutoffs which left little to the imagination.
Shoving such thoughts aside, she struggled to recall why she was here. “Anyway, thanks for agreeing to see me,” she continued in a brisk tone, preparing to ask more about Esmerelda. But before she could frame a question, an interesting idea struck her.
The latest gimmick of Guys for Gals, the magazine which employed her, was studly cover art. This was a feature she herself had initiated, trying somewhat to offset her editor’s even more tacky ideas about the front cover. All the months were taken except December, a year from now. And here stood the ideal candidate, a young and handsome St. Nicholas, one any female over ten would love to find under her tree on Christmas morning. Carli could visualize him decked out in a red scrap of almost nothing and some black boots. A band of white fur around his neck would contrast beautifully with that dark tan. Dream on!
“Dr. MacDonald ...” she began.
“Duncan.” His white teeth flashed in a wicked smile, somehow enhancing the aura of danger which surrounded him. He practically reeked of male self-assurance.
She swallowed and began again. “I’m doing an article on Florida’s marine life. I need some info on alligators, and since I heard you’ve got one, I thought maybe you could fill me in.”
She paused. “But I just had another idea.” In her most persuasive voice she added, “I’ve got a business proposition for you.” She’d invite him to join her for dinner and approach the subject obliquely over cocktails.
“A proposition?” He arched a dark eyebrow and appeared to consider the idea. “It’s nearly seven.
How about we grab some seafood at the Dixie Fish House and discuss it?”
Carli nodded. That suited her purpose. “All right.”
“Give me twenty minutes to shower and change. I’ll meet you upstairs in the lobby.” He fished in his pocket and handed her the key. “It’s locked.”
“So I discovered,” she murmured, trying not to stare at his magnificent chest, lightly furred with crisp dark hair and only a short distance from her nose. A faint odor of sea and salt and sun came from his skin. And something else she couldn’t put a name to.
After Duncan disappeared through a door in the building, Carli mounted the stairs and unlocked the lobby door. The coolness felt great after the intense heat outside. She sank into a green plastic armchair under the A/C vent and wondered how receptive Duncan MacDonald would be to her suggestion. Just because he looked hunky didn’t mean he wanted to be a cover model. But if she could sign this man to a modeling contract,
maybe she would come closer to her goal of becoming managing editor. Without a doubt, sales would soar with sexy Duncan on the magazine’s cover. But Dan Petrovsky, the current editor, appeared in no hurry to relinquish his position. Or forget his own choice for the remaining empty cover.
Dan’s candidate for Mr. December was okay, but Carli far preferred this new discovery. Duncan had something about him. He exuded an air of mystery and raw male power, that was head and shoulders above the other cover models. To use a cliché, he was drop-dead gorgeous.
Not that she was more than marginally interested in him. She’d learned the painful way to select less than spectacular men for herself. They tended to be more reliable, less self-centered and far better company.
Her ex-fiancé, Tyler Francis, was the perfect example of a handsome guy who thought his face and muscles made up for his lack of values. She’d believed Tyler could fill the emptiness in her life after her parents were killed.
His solicitous interest in her when they’d first begun to date had seemed genuine. Too late she’d learned about Tyler’s weaknesses. She did not intend to repeat the mistake with its attendant pain.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she considered the two men, Tyler and Duncan. Both good looking, both cover material, but hopefully different in what really counted. She’d hate to think there was another man like Tyler. Experience suggested otherwise, but perhaps she ought not to make assumptions. After all, she’d already been wrong once about Duncan MacDonald. A wistful portion of her rather wished he’d be the exception to the rule.
* * * * *
Inside the locker room, Duncan stripped off his shorts and tossed them in a hamper. Before escorting that sensational redhead to dinner, he needed to remove the marine odors he’d acquired during the day. He doubted she’d appreciated them like a Selkie did.
He stepped under the spray and lathered his body while considering the sexy Ms. Macleod’s request.
Was it really business related? For some reason, he seemed to attract women and they weren’t shy about saying so. At first, he’d felt a faint revulsion, a longing for a mate of his own kind. Eventually, this distaste lessened to be replaced by a quickening interest, although not in just any female.
His human maleness demanded a woman a little out of the ordinary. On the surface, Carli Macleod seemed to fit that description. It probably had something to do with the tightening in his gut when he looked at her. And it was more than her wildly curling, coppery hair, although he found that especially appealing. He liked how she smiled with both her mouth and eyes. It lit up her whole face. Fancifully, he found himself wondering whether she’d ever doubled for a Siren in The Odyssey, singing heavenly songs and luring men to their doom on her rocks. She had all the right equipment and he definitely felt the fatal pull.
Attraction he could handle. As long as a woman didn’t come between him and his work, he enjoyed occasionally dating a human female. But nothing could interrupt the important tasks he’d set for himself. No long term involvement. Nor forgetting the danger of falling into bed with one. Since his success in his work meant life or death to the MacDonald seal clan in the Shetland Islands, he couldn’t afford to spend the rest of his days trapped in his other form.
He rinsed the soap from his body and turned off the water. Stepping from the shower, he reflected that maybe it was Fate that he and Alex had lost in the clan’s lottery all those years ago. After all, their parents and other siblings still lived there. His work with a new strain of fish, if successful, would help protect their lives and make sure the lack of food wouldn’t force other male youngsters to leave their homes and families.
He shook himself, sending moisture flying every which way, a carry-over from drying his skin on the rocky shores of the place he used to call home. After toweling off, he shaved, then donned clean jeans and a white polo shirt. As he combed his long hair and tied it back, he tried to forget his anxiety about whether TriStar Investments in Miami would agree to subsidize his current efforts. Surely he’d hear from them soon. If not, he was in big trouble with the bank.
Shoving his money worries aside, he rechecked his watch. Five minutes left. Time enough to search out his brother. He found Alex climbing out of the small, fresh water pool, a thrashing baby alligator in his arms.
“I see you caught her,” Duncan commented, as Alex shoved the little gator into a portable cage and shut the door.
“Yeah, and she’s mad at me, aren’t you, sweetie?”
Esmerelda’s answer sounded in Duncan’s mind. Loosely translated, it was the equivalent of I don’t want to go in my cage. Why can’t you leave me alone? He laughed. Esme was just like a kid who tried to keep playing when it was time for bed.
He answered her telepathically. Come on, Esme, behave. You know you can’t stay out here alone at night.
Esme sulked. “She’s pouting,” Alex said with a grin.
Duncan regarded the surly little reptile. “Why don’t you feed her? That’ll make her happy.”
“Speaking of happy.” Alex raised a blond eyebrow. “Who was that woman I saw you with a few minutes ago?”
Duncan grinned. “A lady with a proposition.”
“Another one of those. You attract them like a magnet.” Alex shook his head and reached for Esme’s cage. “Especially redheads.”
“This one seems a little different.” Duncan read his brother’s amusement in his mind. “I asked her to dinner,” he added succinctly, ignoring Alex’s redhead comment.
“Different. Yeah, right. Well, go have fun. I’ll put Esme to bed, then clean up inside and make me a sandwich.”
“What a martyr,” Duncan said with a chuckle, clapping Alex on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later.” After I’ve found out about this proposition.
Arriving in the upstairs lobby precisely on time, he noted Carli had selected a chair under the A/C duct, no doubt to find some relief from the smothering heat and humidity outside. His appreciative gaze took inventory. He also noticed how her light-blue skirt had hiked up when she crossed her legs, exposing a good deal of creamy thigh. Pretty face, glorious hair, lovely green eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes. And kissable pink lips. Even a Selkie found this human female enchanting.
Before he could speak, Carli looked up from the magazine she was reading and glanced at her watch.
“Twenty minutes, right to the second. Are you always that punctual?”
“I’m afraid so,” he admitted, his tone wry. He hated being late.
“Not a bad habit. More people should practice it.” Rising, she smoothed her skirt and picked up her purse while he took in her soft curves, slim legs and small feet encased in dainty white sandals. He raised his gaze to her face and sensed a cool reserve, slight but discernible. For the first time in years, he felt a twinge of regret that his code of ethics wouldn’t let him peek in her mind to find out why.
As the amount of time he remained in human form lengthened into years, he was more and more drawn to a human female’s shape, the sound of her voice and her scent. Carli not only looked good, her perfume was light and floral, pleasing to his nostrils. He inhaled again, giving his superb sense of smell a treat.
Strong perfume offended him.
“Shall we go?” He touched her waist as they walked toward the door, a proprietary gesture he’d picked up from studying human males. She moved away from his hand. Surprised by her reaction, he shrugged and turned to lock the door.
Outside in the sandy parking area, his red Chevy Trail Blazer sat parked in the shade of a clump of cabbage palms.
“Ah, an SUV,” she said, eyeing it. “Every male’s dream car.”
He smiled wryly, smarting from both her comment and her unexpected response to his touch.
“Sounds like you want to typecast me.”
As if sensing his indignation, Carli returned his smile. “I’m not sure you have a type.”
His resentment dissolved. He liked her light riposte, a terrific quality in a woman, and her low musical voice stroked his sensitive ears in an inexplicable way. The evening ahead looked interesting.
* * * * *
At the seafood restaurant, a waitress led them to a small wooden table in a quiet corner, perhaps assuming they wanted an intimate setting. The music was softer here and no neighbors crowded them. He pulled out her chair, then seated himself across the table where he could study her face in the light from the burning oil lamp.
By tacit consent, they studied their menus until their drinks arrived. Duncan reached for the first of his two happy hour margaritas. The fierce heat today had parched his throat. He reminded himself to go easy since his stomach was empty. No Selkie liked to make a fool of himself.
He took a second sip and put down his glass. “Now then, shall we talk about this proposition you mentioned?”
So far, Carli had said very little. She certainly didn’t babble and his interest in her grew because of it.
Most of the women he knew never shut up. Was she always this restful or just unsure how to broach her topic?
“Wouldn’t you like to eat first, Dr. MacDonald?” A little smile played around her extremely attractive lips. He gazed at the full bottom one.
“Duncan,” he reminded her, resisting an urge to place his large hand over her small one where it rested on the table. He’d better be careful. This woman could seriously threaten his usually detached attitude toward the opposite sex. An attitude that could never waver if he wanted to remain a man.
She raised those startling green eyes to his. “Duncan,” she repeated his name a fluid melody on her lips.
More shaken than he cared to admit, he hefted his drink and took another swallow. The heat must have messed with his mind. Inviting this particular female to dinner had not been a wise idea. Never before had he taken such delight in a woman’s vocal tones.
“You have a lovely voice,” he remarked.
Flirting had never been one of his skills. But to his delight, she turned a charming shade of pink, looked down at her drink as if surprised to see it, then raised her chin. “Look, Duncan, I’m afraid I may have inadvertently given you the wrong idea. I agreed to have dinner with you so that I, or rather we, could discuss my idea.”
“Really?” he asked, studying her face. Suddenly, it seemed important she’d come here for reasons other than business, whether she admitted it or not.
“Yes, really.” She didn’t elaborate and he again sensed a barrier that had no root in coyness. Okay, she didn’t want to confide in a stranger. He of all people could understand that.
“Then let’s get back to your proposition, Carli,” he suggested before the silence could lengthen from a restful pause into genuine unease. She appeared relieved, as though she’d feared he might insist on a more personal line of conversation. He folded his arms on the table and waited.
“When I made the appointment, I had information about alligators in mind. Then I saw you and...”
She hesitated and color tinted her cheeks again. “Well, I thought of several things,
but one concerned the cover of Guys for Gals.”
“That explains everything,” he said dryly. What had she thought when she saw him? With a slight frown, he took another swallow and studied her. Her high cheekbones molded her oval-shaped face into exquisite planes and shadows. He curbed an urge to reach out and touch the satiny skin of her cheek. It was ridiculous to let himself be so affected by this woman. He might have the inclination, but no time and definitely no money to indulge his whim, as well as those restrictions tied to his Selkie genetic heritage. Upon that stern
self-reminder, he settled back and waited for her to continue.
Carli was relieved when the waiter brought their salads. It gave her something to do with her hands.
“As I told you when I made the appointment, I work for a women’s magazine, Guys for Gals,” she began, picking up her fork.
“Never heard of it.”
She cut a piece of tomato in half. Unfortunately, the magazine had a long way to go before gaining name recognition from the average person. “I’m sure I mentioned it when I called. Some of our articles are aimed at women’s issues, but the piece I’m doing on marine life falls under interesting information about Florida where most of our readers live. And they also seem to enjoy pictures of and interviews with men.”
“And?” he prompted, sounding mildly curious.
“Well, we’re doing a series of...” How should she phrase this?
“A series of...?” His arched eyebrow emphasized the question.
“We’re choosing people to represent each month of the year...” His smoldering gaze didn’t make this easier. She sensed something stirring just below the surface of his composure. Something she couldn’t put a name to.
“People?” The slight frown between his dark brows hinted she’d better come to the point.
She took a deep breath. “Men,” she said baldly.
At that admission, his lips twitched. “Ah.”
“For the cover.” There, it was out.
“Beefcake.” To her surprise he laughed, a deep baritone rumble that raised shivery goose bumps on her skin.
“And we still need a Mr. December. For next year,” she added, hoping the distance in time would make it seem less threatening than a cover due out only two months from now.
“And you think I look like Santa Claus?” Amusement lingered in his voice as he speared a piece of his shrimp cocktail in a mildly predatory way.
“We could moderate that image,” she managed finally, hoping he’d still be laughing when he found out what being Mr. December really involved.
“Probably I should act insulted, but why don’t you fill me in before I growl a no way at you.” Devils danced in his dark brown eyes.
She swallowed. She couldn’t let this sexy biologist keep getting to her. Trying a new tack, she said, “Maybe we should discuss the pay first.”
“Not till you tell me what I’d have to do.” He reached across the small table for the salt and his fingers brushed hers as she picked up her glass. Her nerve endings leaped at the unexpectedly seductive contact. Darn him, had he done that on purpose? And had he felt it, too?
Clearing her throat, she searched desperately for a calmness she was far from feeling. “No, I think you need to know the going rate before we discuss what’s involved.” She tore off a small piece of roll and buttered it, gaining a moment to think. Better to talk money first. His expensive-looking laboratory building probably had a big mortgage. And beyond that were college loans, about which she had first-hand knowledge.
Before he could ask what he’d have to do again, she said, “We pay three thousand for a cover.” She hated appealing to people’s weaknesses, but sometimes it was necessary.
His amusement faded and he leaned forward, his fingers drumming softly on the table.
“That’s a serious piece of change, Carli.”
“I know.” Ah, the money did interest him.
“So, what would I have to do to earn it?”
She hesitated. Just tell him, the worst he can say is no. “Wear a speedo. A red one for
Christmas.” The picture of him in that garment rose in her mind like a genie oozing from a bottle.
“Naturally. What else? There is something else, I hope.”
“A pair of knee high black boots.”
“Okay.”
“And some white fur.”
“Fur? I’d have to wear fur?” To her astonishment, his eyes turned black, like threatening clouds before a storm. She could almost feel the temperature around them plunge.
“Just a little ruff, around your neck.”
“Around my neck...” His voice trailed off. And then he shuddered. Not a fake one either. She’d really disturbed him with that last item. Rather strange when he’d seemed so cool about baring a lot of skin. But it was the fur that seemed to grab his attention. Since he was a marine biologist, she supposed he was also an animal activist, yet it still seemed too strong a reaction.
Clearing her throat, she tried to placate him. “It wouldn’t be real fur.” She paused then added, “You do realize we have to select a costume in keeping with the season.”
His face composed itself as if he suddenly realized she’d been staring at him. He arched a dark eyebrow and his lips twitched. “Do I get a reindeer, too?”
“No reindeer. They’re a little hard to come by in Florida.”
“Pity. I thought Rudolf’s red nose might match the speedo.” Whatever had caused that flash of cold anger, he seemed to have shoved it aside and was back to teasing her.
“Does this mean you’ll take the job?”
He hesitated and she wondered if she should mention the money again. After all, three thousand dollars represented a tidy sum for a few hours work.
“Maybe,” he said at last. “What’s the time frame?”
His interest was aroused even if he wasn’t overjoyed. She sighed in relief. His acceptance might earn her a nice bonus when Dan saw what a breath-taking man she’d found. He might even forget his own candidate, a tight end for the Jacksonville Jaguars. As far as tight ends went ... Don’t go there!
Carli was sure Lisa Winslow, another writer on the magazine’s staff, would be impressed, too. Lisa had found a great Mr. November, but Duncan had something the other man lacked.
“I’ll have to check with our editor. We’ll need his signature on the contract. Could you come to our offices on Wednesday? Maybe five o’clock? I’ll call you when I’ve confirmed the time with Nick Tibbitts, our photographer.” All of a sudden, she was babbling.
He smiled. “I’ll consider it. I assume you have a contract I can look at?”
“Of course. I have one in my car. It’s short and straightforward. I can leave it with you.
“This is important to you, isn’t it?” His astute inquiry surprised her. A moment ago, he’d seemed completely focused on how her idea affected him.
“Yes.” She dropped her eyes, uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny. He seemed to have read her mind. Was there more to this man than pleasing features? Experience had taught her otherwise. Until today, she’d believed her experience with Tyler had immunized her against excessive male attractiveness. Again, Duncan MacDonald had proven her assumptions wrong.
As she raised her gaze to his face, Carli saw what appeared to be a waver in the outline of his form. An out-of-focus blurring. She blinked and took another look. His body seemed solid enough now. She must be imagining things, suffering from heat exhaustion maybe.
Dinner arrived and claimed their attention, but Carli’s composure was far from restored. Her heart sank as she stared at the man opposite her and watched him attack a large salmon steak. Once this cover project was over, she would get on with her normal assignments and Duncan would go back to his alligator and forget all about her. And she would forget him. With a regretful sigh, she studied her baked grouper.
All she wanted right now was the editorship of the magazine, not a love life, at least not
yet, not while she was still in a healing mode. Eventually, she planned to look around for a nice, plain man like her stepfather had been, one who would make her heart beat faster because of who he was on the inside, rather than the outside. One who wouldn’t be much of a challenge.
She shot another quick look at Duncan MacDonald. If only she weren’t so damned attracted to challenges.
* * * * *
At midnight, Duncan was still awake, tossing restlessly on his bed. What had possessed him to agree to such a dumb idea? That second margarita with no food in his stomach hadn’t been wise either, even if they were two for one.
But the drinks weren’t completely to blame. That little redhead had been far more intoxicating. When she’d finally stuck that contract right under his nose, he’d agree to read it there and then. Just to make her happy, of course.
He pounded his fist on the mattress and swore. In the end, he’d signed the damn thing because it seemed the best way to get rid of her before he gave in to his baser impulses. What he’d really wanted to do was kiss her breathless. But it hadn’t seemed like the smartest move. So instead, he’d done something even more stupid. He’d put his name on the contract. A momentary lapse in his usually superb Selkie judgment had landed him in this ludicrous situation. Hopefully, her editor wouldn’t approve of him.
A laughing stock. That’s what he’d be. He could just see Alex doubled over, whooping with laughter at Duncan’s expense. His brother had always told him to beware of redheads who wanted something, because Alex knew he was a pushover. He groaned and turned over.
Why was he so hot? What was the matter with the A/C? Rising, he consulted the thermostat. Great.
Alex had it set at eighty. The kid had been cold for fifteen years. He’d been so badly chilled the night they’d landed on the beach near Jacksonville that he’d never gotten over it. Duncan turned the thermostat back to seventy-five.
He lay down again and tucked his linked fingers beneath his head. He could always go jump in one of the pools and cool off. He’d been too busy to get in much swimming today. He’d waded around in the shallow fresh water pool with Esmerelda, protecting his fingers and toes from her baby nips. But he’d missed his usual hour long swim in the big salt-water pool with his newest acquisition, a dolphin named Susie.
That brought him back to thoughts of Carli. Over dinner, he’d answered all her questions about Esmerelda and her species: life style, breeding habits and such. He’d explained how the American alligator had come close to extinction earlier in the century because of humankind’s lust for its skin, and how it was now controlled by licensed hunting. Naturally, he didn’t condone the hunting no matter the reason and he’d made that clear, too.
Of course, she could have gotten all that from a book, so he’d expanded, giving her some very limited background on several of his personal projects, including the one closest to his heart, the preservation of seals.
He’d found himself trying to gauge how much she cared and how much she knew about her species’ behavior regarding the destruction of his species. Of course, he didn’t tell her it was his species. Once or twice, he’d gotten so vehement that she’d looked at him strangely. He ground his teeth. Although he had sensed some empathy, she probably thought him brain-challenged.
Well, she’d gotten everything she wanted: information for her article and his signature on the dotted line. Yet she hadn’t manipulated him. He’d signed that document of his own free will. So he’d have to go through with the modeling and wear that ridiculous costume she’d described.
Just thinking about it made him angry. Fur, for God’s sake! The animal in him revolted and he snarled, drawing back his lips and baring his teeth. After a moment, he calmed down,
reminding himself the fur wouldn’t have come from a living animal. But what it represented was very real. And to that, he had objections, none of which Carli would understand. Be fair, he told himself. How could she? He’d never told anyone what he was and he wouldn’t start now.
He pushed the whole disagreeable idea away and turned his thoughts once more to Carli. Trying for objectivity, he considered her assets--red gold curls, sea-green eyes framed by long sooty lashes, an extremely kissable mouth. And all the rest of her curvaceous body including those full breasts his hands itched to caress.
He wondered what turned her on. Would the outfit he’d be wearing on Wednesday qualify? If so, he’d stop objecting to it, even the fake fur. A big concession. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should go have that swim after all.
A slight quiver shook him. He’d been so busy lately, he’d almost forgotten the time was nearing when he and Alex would need to renew themselves in the pool. Immersion in water at the proper moment and the accompanying change was a nuisance, but it was necessary for maintaining their human appearance. Once tonight, he’d felt a warning tremor and knew his body had tried to shift.
What would it be like to be a real human male? The idea popped into his brain from nowhere. It had occurred to him before, but never seriously enough to consider. The unusual attraction he felt toward Carli was the catalyst and the scientist in him began to wonder if it were possible. Could he become a human male for real?
His major field of expertise was biology, but he’d also excelled at biochemistry. A combination of disciplines would be needed to pursue this idea. Whatever else, he’d need a lot of the latest information about DNA. Discoveries in the field of genetics occurred almost by the minute.
To date, the only method for a Selkie to become human would be to cut his hair. His parents had always impressed upon him the dangers of this. It would be like trying to remove human skin with a razor blade--agonizing. And if done incorrectly, it could even result in death. His hair, which never grew longer anyway, was a part of his seal coat which he needed to cover him when he shifted.
He could try a few experiments. Do a little research. Maybe there was another way to prevent shapeshifting. But if so, he’d have to alter his DNA, since reverting to a seal gave him the strength and energy to keep his human shape.
But would he want to be human forever?
He wasn’t sure. Reluctantly, he shoved the thought away.
It wouldn’t be right. Someday, he’d find a mate of his own kind, maybe after his work with the oil immune fish was finished. Until then, he’d content himself with an occasional light date with a human female. It was good for keeping up appearances if nothing else. No one, especially Ms. Carli Macleod, could ever learn what he and Alex really were, not if he expected to succeed at his work. And succeed he would. It was a matter of life or death for his people. Still, there was the restlessness he’d felt of late, like an itch that he wasn’t sure
where to scratch. What he needed was a female of his own species. But how?
Slowly, an idea began to form, one involving his cousin James, the one Selkie in Scotland with whom he’d kept in touch. James enjoyed his human male shape and spent most of his time in a house on the edge of Dunbarrie, the little fishing town nearest the seal clan’s islands far to the north of Scotland. Unlike Duncan, James occasionally visited those friends and relatives who spent most of their time in their natural form.
He’d ask James to find him a female Selkie, a suitable one whose intelligence and interest matched his. A mate of his own species would help drive Carli from his mind, take care of a male’s natural needs. So ... maybe he’d give James a call some day soon...see what he had to suggest ...see ... His thoughts fragmented and he drifted happily away on the cold gray sea of another time and place.