Her Frog Prince

by Shirley Jump

  Damn.

  "Shall we get to work?"

  "Work?" he parroted. His gaze was still on the length of pink-and-white terry cloth.

  "On your makeover. Not my body."

  "Oh, yeah. That."

  "Let's start here, since you've provided me with such great material already." She took a step forward and fingered his T-shirt. "Wearing a shirt that says Octopuses Make Great Bridge Partners won't endear you to anyone."

  He glanced down at the shirt, bought at a convention five years ago. "Why not?"

  "It's too cutesy."

  "You think I'm cute?"

  She let out a gust of air. "I didn't say that."

  "You think my shirts are cute?"

  Parris threw up her hands. "This is not going to work. We are not going to work. You frustrate me more than anyone I know."

  "Funny, I find myself saying the same thing about you. Often."

  "Then why are we doing this?"

  "Because I bought you fair and square."

  She muttered something under her breath that was neither ladylike nor complimentary of marine biologists with a penchant for tacky tees.

  He took a step forward, purposely invading her space. "And because you need me, too."

  Her gaze flew to his. "I do not."

  "You are one lost woman, Parris Hammond."

  She pointed at him, her green eyes ablaze with indignation. "I know exactly where I am. La Torchere Resort in Florida. I can point it out on a map and give an approximation of latitude and longitude, even if my hair color implies otherwise about my intelligence level."

  "Whoa, call off the verbal Rottweilers. I never said you were dumb."

  She ran a hand through her hair, displacing the wet strands. "Sorry. Most people assume—"

  "Most people are wrong."

  She colored but didn't say a word.

  "You are a smart woman. You know the word 'disembark'," he said, teasing.

  "Will you quit it with that?"

  "Never. I'll be teasing you about that until we're old and gray and sitting in our rockers on the front porch."

  Where had that sentence come from? That implied permanence. Marriage, for God's sake.

  Two weeks ago, that would have been the furthest thing from his mind. Brad Smith had always been a man who called his own shots. Made his own hours. Answered to no one but himself and his research logs. But now, looking at Parris, mouth agape, her eyes wide with shock at what he'd just said, he thought he'd just try the word on for size.

  Marriage.

  Didn't sound as much like a yoke and chains as he'd thought.

  Parris blinked at him, as if she had to process the words, too. "Now, with the shorts, I think you're pretty much okay, though you might want to think about something more fitted," she went on, as if he'd never said a word.

  "More fitted," he repeated, having no idea what the hell she meant.

  "As for shoes…"

  But she'd lost him. He heard words like "wingtip" and "loafers" and "flat front versus pleated" and his mind wandered. To the way her lips curved when she talked. To how she focused entirely on him. She could have clothed him in a tutu and moon boots and he wouldn't have cared, as long as she kept giving him the full force of her attention.

  "Is that okay, Brad?"

  "Huh? What?"

  "Men," she muttered. "Do you want to take the ferry to the mainland tomorrow and go shopping together?"

  "Shopping?" he squeaked. No other word in the English language struck fear in a man's heart like that one.

  "It'll be painless, I promise. I'll be there to help you."

  "In the dressing room, too?"

  She shook her head, a smile on her lips. "You are incorrigible. No wonder you get along so well with fish."

  Shopping with Parris sounded…not bad. Until he remembered one painful detail. "I, ah, don't exactly have a budget for clothes. I used up my research budget for something else I needed pretty badly." He didn't tell Parris it was her.

  "You are Bradford Smith, right? Of the Smiths?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well then, for once in your life, put that name to use."

  He shook his head. "No, out of the question."

  She grabbed his arm. "You want the research money, right?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "You're not going to get it by wearing a Squids Are Great shirt. This thing you're going to is black tie, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "And do you own a tux?"

  "No. And proud to say it." He grinned.

  She muttered another very unladylike word. "You're going to drive me to drink."

  "Martinis with me, on the beach, anytime."

  She sighed, as if she'd considered then rejected the idea. "Just this once, let your money help you with your goals. It's not a sin. You earned it."

  "I didn't."

  "You grew up in the family. You supported your mother with her dream. You were at the auction and you even bid on one of the items." She swept a hand over her frame. "You've earned a tux at least."

  He considered her for a minute. "Did you ever consider going into law?"

  "Me? No." She laughed.

  "You'd have made a hell of an attorney." Brad shook his head, knowing he'd been beaten by a good argument. "All right. I'll break in the family credit card at the men's clothing store on the mainland. I'm warning you, though, I'm doing this at my own peril. Soon as my mother gets word I'm buying dress clothes, she'll think I'm coming back into the family fold and send me a desk set and a secretary."

  Parris smiled. "If she does, keep the desk set."

  "But not the secretary?"

  "No, not her. Not unless she's old and ugly."

  "My, my, Parris Hammond. Are you saying you might be jealous?"

  She pressed a hand to her chest. "I'm not saying anything that might incriminate me."

  Chapter Ten

  Merry took in a deep breath. Maybe there was hope for these two after all. On her magic cell phone, she flipped through a review of yesterday's beach meeting between Brad and Parris. It seemed to have gone okay. And they had a shopping trip on the agenda today. If there was anything Merry knew Parris was good at, it was shopping.

  But wait, what was this? She saw the image of something that portended bad news, then the cell phone went dead. Merry shook it, cursed at it, but it refused to return to the living wireless world.

  "A pox on everything cellular," she muttered. Whatever she'd seen, it meant trouble was on the horizon for today's trip. Someone was going to ruin things for Parris and Brad.

  Merry looked at her To Do list. Could she slip away, sneak onto the ferry? Tag along and intervene if need be?

  There was no way this couple was going to undo all her hard work. Not after she'd spent an entire afternoon picking flowers all over the dang island with Parris. She'd needed an extra Epsom salts soak for her poor feet after that one.

  She tried the phone again. No luck. Some days she wondered if she'd be better off with a Ouija board and a Magic 8-Ball.

  "You're looking…neater this morning," Jerry said when he came in a little after seven.

  Brad looked down at the golf shirt and dark navy shorts. A Christmas gift from his mother he'd found unopened in the back of his closet late last night, after digging past all the T-shirts, worn, frayed-cuff shorts and battered sneakers. He shrugged. "It's nothing."

  "Bull." Jerry took a step closer. "Did you trim your beard, too?"

  "I tried to." Brad rubbed a hand over his chin. "It didn't go too well, considering I haven't touched the thing in ages. Maybe I should shave the whole thing off."

  "Let Bigfoot go?" Jerry gasped. "You've had that fur on your face ever since I met you in college."

  "I'm getting older."

  "All the more reason to cover your wrinkled face." Jerry gave him a jab.

  "Ha-ha." Brad peered at his wavery reflection in the stainless-steel countertop. "You think women prefer a clean-shaven man?"

  Je
rry grinned. "You mean a certain woman named Parris?"

  "How do you know about Parris?"

  "I met her on Tabitha's Curse, remember? I have eyes. And ears. Plus, your mother stopped by the lab yesterday afternoon, when you were out gathering more samples, to sing Parris's praises as a potential mate for you. Good gene pool, apparently." Jerry laughed.

  "My mother came by?"

  Jerry shrugged. "Think she was spying for the competition? Or maybe just interested in what you do?"

  "Knowing my mother, the former is more likely."

  Jerry refilled the coffeepot and set it to brew. "You know, you're not even a half-full guy. You're more like the damned glass might as well be empty."

  "Thanks, Jer. Always count on you to cheer me up." ,

  As usual, Jerry ignored him and went right on doing a thorough analysis of Brad. "Though I have to say you have seemed more…chipper lately. And not only about the squid sample you found."

  "The sunshine. It makes me happy." Brad gestured out the window.

  "Yeah, sure, Kathie Lee," Jerry said. "So when do you see her today?"

  Brad grinned. He never could get anything past Jerry, who'd become his best friend in the two years they'd worked together. "I meet her at the ferry in an hour. I wanted to get a little time in at the microscope first, then head over there."

  "Already set up." Jerry waved at the scope. Prepared slides were stacked and labeled beside it, with one already loaded onto the base. "I figured you'd be at it early."

  "The DNA tests completed yet on the first sample?" Brad didn't want to get his hopes up, not until he had scientific confirmation of a giant squid.

  "Nope. Another couple days." Jerry put up a hand to ward off Brad's next question. "Before the meeting with the committee, I promise."

  "I owe you one."

  "Actually, you owe me a million. But I'll work for details instead of peanuts. Since I'm not dating anyone, I gotta live vicariously through you. So tell me about Parris and you. And don't leave out the good stuff or I'll send your best squid down the river."

  "There's nothing to tell. We aren't dating. She's just helping me get my act together before I meet with the committee."

  Jerry let out a sigh. "Yeah, right. You like the woman—I can see it in your sort-of pressed collar." His assistant flipped at the edge of Brad's shirt. "You never try that hard for me or Gigi."

  Gigi let out a bark of agreement.

  "Commitment isn't a bad thing, Brad," Jerry continued.

  "Says you who isn't even committed to a pet."

  "Hey, I said it wasn't a bad thing for you." Jerry winked. "I'm a hopeless case."

  Brad shook his head. "I'm not good at it."

  "You are, too. One bad engagement doesn't make for a track record of broken hearts."

  "I've been with a woman like her before. Our worlds don't mesh. Sure, it's good whenever we're at the resort where everything's sort of…magic and away from the real world, but when she gets back to her regular life and I get back to mine, it'll all be over. These kind of things aren't made for anything permanent."

  "You mean you're not." Jerry shook his head and let out a sigh while he poured himself a new mug of Java. "You can make anything work if you want it to. Stop offering up excuses and take action."

  "When did you get to be Dr. Phil?"

  "When I switched from decaf to regular." Jerry hoisted his cup. "Seriously, you're happier when you're with her. I say that's enough of a reason to take a chance. Live a little. Outside of the damned laboratory."

  "The probability of it working out is—"

  Jerry cursed under his breath. "Brad, stop being a damned scientist for five minutes and be a regular guy. To hell with the statistics. Stop thinking with your brain." He took a gulp of coffee, then put the mug back on the counter. "All it does is get you in trouble anyway."

  Parris left Jackie and her father eating breakfast together. She could see the tension, built up over years of a staccato relationship, sitting between them at the table like an unwelcome guest. She hoped they were both still on the island when she returned. In her dreams, she pictured them all together someday, like one big happy family.

  Another one of those stupid fairy tales that only happened in books. Just like happy-ever-after marriages and men who kept their promises.

  Jackie had found her fairy tale, but Jackie was different. She hadn't grown up with the same life as Parris had, in a house filled with an endless stream of toys, her every wish indulged by an absentee father and a mother who thought things replaced love. All it had taught her was that happiness was transient. As soon as the wrapping paper was off, the feeling was gone, tucked into the trash with the spent ribbons and torn tape.

  In a few days, she'd be going back to Manhattan and Brad would be staying here with his squids and his octopus T-shirts. Connecting her heart to his was a foolish mistake. Eventually the wrapping would be gone and she'd be left wishing she could put it back the way it had been.

  She'd arrived at the ferry early, this time in sensible low-heeled sandals and a Nicole Miller dress. As the minutes ticked by, she began to reconsider. Spending a day with Brad would only intensify her attraction to him.

  Heck, intensify? It was already at a white-hot level.

  But then she saw him walking down the pier toward her. He strode with purpose, tall and strong, his tan dark against the light golf shirt.

  Something within her sprang to life. A different kind of want than she'd ever experienced before. Something deep and visceral, as if leaving him would mean leaving a part of herself behind on Torchere Key.

  Crazy thoughts. The sun was getting to her. Maybe she needed a higher SPF. Or maybe she needed more Brad.

  "Good morning," she said, her voice light, airy, unaffected. She hoped.

  "It is a good morning. Clear, not a hint of fog. That was an odd fog we had the other day, wasn't it?"

  "So thick it made me get on the wrong boat."

  "Was it the wrong boat?" Brad asked. "Seems everything worked out in the end. The Kingmans still made their donation and you got to see something amazing up close."

  "Are you talking about you? Or the whale?"

  "The whale, of course." He grinned. "I brought you something." He withdrew a slim piece of glass from a small white box.

  "What's this?"

  "A dinoflagellate on a slide."

  Parris laughed. "Most men bring flowers. Only you would bring a research sample."

  "You'll never forget me, though, will you?"

  Lord, no, she never would. She'd never be the same, either. Meeting Brad Smith had changed something within her, as if that fall into the water had been a baptism into a new life.

  A new Parris.

  She held the glass up to the light. She could make out the shape of the algae, including one of the "fins" he'd talked about the other night. Seeing it rocketed her mind back to that moment. To that kiss. To everything that had happened in the quiet grove by the tide pools. Parris cleared her throat. "So what do I do with it?"

  "Look at it under a microscope. Then you can really see one up close." His index finger hovered over the image under the glass. "You'll never be far away again."

  "But I don't own a microscope."

  "Hmm. Pity. Good thing you know someone who does."

  "The boat's getting underway. We should, ah, talk about the plan for today." Parris dropped her gaze to the papers in her hands.

  Brad noticed she held the clipboard between them like a weapon. He could see she was going to try like hell to keep this outing all business. Well, fine. As long as he got his makeover.

  Yeah, right. All he was here for was a suit. And jellyfish were merely pretty scyphozoas floating in the water with no ulterior motives or poison lurking in their tentacles.

  "I have a schedule all drawn up," she said, producing a set of sheets and handing them to him. "I thought we'd hit the biggest men's stores first and then have a quick bite to eat before heading over to the hair salon."r />
  Brad scanned the top paper. "Hair salon? Who said anything about cutting my hair?"

  "You could use a…trim," Parris said, her tone the kind she'd use on a nervous three-year-old about to enter the barber's for the first time.

  He knew, from his daily glance in the mirror, that he was more than a little challenged when it came to his hair. "What kind of cut are you thinking exactly?"

  Parris took a step closer to him. She lifted a hand and touched his scalp. A thousand nerve endings ignited with her touch. "A little off here, some more off the sides. If you trim it up, you'll show the definition of your face and let your eyes…" Her voice trailed off.

  His gaze had cemented with hers. "My eyes what?"

  A heartbeat passed between them. Two. People bustled to and fro on the ferry, but neither he nor Parris seemed to notice. Torchere Key was filled with newlyweds, after all, and they could have been just another couple. "Your eyes are gorgeous," she said finally. "Like the ocean, only deeper. You really don't even need a makeover. You're already smart and funny and interesting." She bit her lip, as if she'd said too much.

  Something within Brad softened. The hard edges on his heart wore away, the walls breaking down. Parris had done what no one else had ever done before.

  She hadn't merely commented on his eyes and touched his hair. She'd looked inside him. Past other people's expectations and accepted him. She had no interest in making him into something he wasn't.

  Clearly the woman he'd found flailing around in the ocean wasn't the same one standing beside him today, her eyes riveted with his. "If that's so, it's because you've stolen my heart, Miss Hammond," he said, his voice teasing, but his words no longer a joke.

  She dropped her attention back to that damnable clipboard. "When the ferry docks in a few minutes, we'll have to hurry when we get off because we have a lot—"

  "Did you hear what I said?" He tugged her chin upward. "I'm telling you I'm interested in you. For more than a makeover. For something that lasts a lot longer than a haircut and a new suit."

  "I…I don't know what to say to that."