“What?”
The look on his face told her his find was monumental and that he’d kept it a secret from everyone else. And then she knew what he was going to say before the words tumbled from his mouth. She felt the past pressing in on her, heavy and dark. A flood, a swamp, a mire of regret and pain.
“The Siren’s Call,” he said, confirming at once both her worst nightmare and her most heartfelt desire. “I know where she is.”
Giddy goosebumps glided up her arm. Could it be true? The Siren’s Call? After all these years?
Her body flushed. Her head swam. Her vision blurred. Then Annie’s knees just crumpled.
2
Duncan expected his news to come as a shock, but he hadn’t imagined his tough-minded Annie would faint. One second she was damning him to eternal hell with her gorgeous green eyes, and the next second her legs buckled and she was pitching forward facefirst. He grabbed her around the waist, stopping her inches short of cracking her head on the concrete floor. Corkscrew tendrils of her honey brown hair fell softly against his knee and her pearl navel ring pressed hard on the inside of his wrist.
He smiled. She might have gone to Harvard and she might be living in Manhattan far from home, but that small pearl nestled in the alcove of her rounded belly told him she was still a beach bunny at heart.
She smelled of coconut and summertime and the complexity of their past. Five years later and nothing had altered. Even unconscious, Annie Graves welded a mysterious influence over him. She’d held him in her sway since the moment he realized she morphed from a pigtailed, tomboyish teen who’d followed him around like a puppy, to a full-grown woman with adult needs. Still, he’d held back, knowing she was too young, knowing their relationship was too complicated.
He thought of the first time he’d seen her. Nate Graves, Annie’s father, had hired him to work in the dive shop, renting out diving equipment to tourists. When Nate learned Duncan was a runaway with no place to stay, he’d offered him the small garage apartment behind the family house that fronted the beach. Duncan had been in heaven. He’d never lived in a place that nice. He’d been four months on his own—after his alcoholic father had beaten him one time too many—living on the streets, rummaging through garbage cans for food, doing he what he must in order to survive.
Duncan had been sweeping out the storeroom that first afternoon, when Annie walked through the door, all tomboy in her cutoff blue jean shorts and red halter top. She was wearing pink rubber flip-flops with rhinestones, and her cute little toes were painted a fetching color of purple. She’d been working over a wad of bubble gum with her smooth glossy lips. He could smell the watermelony scent when she blew a bubble and it exploded in a soft pop as she stared at him wide-eyed.
She was only thirteen, but she already possessed the fully rounded curves of a grown woman. He’d been sixteen and filled with all the hormones and impulses indigenous to that age group. She’d looked at him like he was one of the Backstreet Boys, and he’d felt something deep in his chest just explode.
He’d wanted her, and in that wanting was his damnation. He knew he could never betray Nate Graves’s kindness by taking advantage of his young daughter’s crush on him. Duncan had fought his desires the only way he knew how. By teasing Annie and acting as if she was an annoying kid sister.
And by finding himself a girlfriend, fast.
Annie had no idea that the string of women who’d come in and out of Duncan’s life had been nothing more than a desperate effort to keep his mind and his hands off her. The older they grew, the harder it became to fight his feelings whenever he was around her, so he’d moved out of the garage apartment and into a houseboat when he was eighteen. He became such an accomplished diver, Nate let him take over giving diving lessons to the tourists while he and Annie’s mother went trekking around the world in search of the Siren’s Call.
And then Annie’s parents had been killed.
Their relationship could have shifted then. Become what Duncan had always dreamed of. But Annie was still underage and she was vulnerable and hurting. She needed friendship and understanding, not groping and hot breathing. Plus, he had nothing to offer her. He worked for Jock now, who’d taken over the dive shop, but he needed to prove to himself that he could provide for her before he dared to tell her how he felt.
Things went on like that for a few more years. Duncan perfecting his diving skills, dreaming of the day he could dive for and find the Siren’s Call himself. Showing Annie exactly how much he loved her. He dated plenty, yes, but never seriously. He never lied to other women. He was always honest. Told them that his heart would forever belong to someone else.
Until the eve of her twentieth birthday, when she’d kissed him and Duncan could no longer hold his passion at bay. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t proven himself worthy of her, but she’d pushed him to the limits of his endurance, and he’d made love to her prematurely.
And that fateful night had wrecked everything between them.
Now swinging the unconscious Annie into his arms, he carried her into the storeroom. The dive shop had changed since the last time he’d been there. Supplies had been inventoried, boxes stacked neatly and color coded. The floor had been swept, windows cleaned, files sorted. Annie was home again.
But not for good. Not unless he did something drastic. She’d hardened her heart against him and while he understood why, he also knew he was on the verge of losing her forever. He had only a small window of time to change her mind about him. That’s what he was doing back in St. Augustine.
Gently, he laid her on the scarred wooden table where, in the past, he and Jock and her grandfather’s cronies had played many a hand of Texas Hold ’Em. He gazed at her face, his eyes lingering on the scar at her chin. His breath caught in his lungs. She looked so fragile, so small and delicate. Next to her he felt like some great oversized beast, lumbering and clumsy.
Memory transported him back five years. Images of the night they’d finally made love after years of flirting, indelibly etched into his brain. Duncan could see his fingers stroking the curve of the small of her back. He could hear her purrs of pleasure. Could feel her body arching into his as they swayed together on the dance floor at a summer solstice beach party. His cock was throbbing and she had boldly ground her pelvis against him, letting him know she wanted him, too.
He should have put a stop to it then, but her mouth had been so pink and ripe. It made Duncan think of all the raunchy things she could do to him with those lips.
Somehow, he couldn’t recall exactly—his brain had been so frosted with lust—they made it back to the houseboat where he’d been living at the time. All he could recollect was his desperate, hungry need for her. How they’d ripped off each other’s clothes and ignited in each other’s arms.
And that’s when he’d discovered she was a virgin.
Emotion overcame him then. Ambivalence. Joy. He’d felt honored and overwhelmed by the gift she was offering him, but also frightened by it. This encounter meant something. To her, to him, to both of them.
Not wanting to do anything they both might regret later, he’d tried to call it off.
But Annie had been the one who’d taken the lead at that point. Pleading with him to make love to her and to put an end to her sexual torture. He lost his last shred of control. He’d been as gentle and thoughtful as he could, treasuring the gift she’d given him.
He’d coiled his body around hers, tracing his quivering hands over her skin, memorizing every precious detail of her—the freckles dotting her cheeks, the little valley between her nose and her lips, the faint dusky network of veins beneath her pale softness.
Her exuberance had surprised and delighted him. Incandescent, they lit up the bedroom. It had been and still was to this day, the most perfect sex Duncan had ever had.
Then he remembered that awful morning after, when he’d realized what a mistake he’d made. He knew he could never hope to hold on to her. She was much too smart for a guy like him. He w
as nothing more than a scruffy salvage diver with more bravado than brains. He had nothing to offer. He simply wasn’t man enough for her. Duncan had panicked and done the only thing he knew to do. He’d pretended their blissful night of pleasure had meant nothing more than great sex.
Many times over the years he’d regretted that decision. Not just because he’d lost Annie’s friendship and Jock’s, but because he’d hurt them both so deeply. He yearned to reach into the past, grab tight hold of his mistake, and erase what he’d done. To take it all back. To make a different choice. But if he could do that Annie wouldn’t have an MBA from Harvard. She wouldn’t be a Wall Street stockbroker.
Nor would she be almost engaged to Eric Hammond.
He growled, perturbed and jealous at the thought of another man touching her.
Three weeks ago, Jock had called him in Bermuda. Duncan had rarely spoken to the older man since he and Annie had broken up. He was surprised to hear from him until Jock related that Eric Hammond had phoned, seeking his permission to ask for Annie’s hand in marriage.
“You’re going to go to your grave regretting letting her slip through your fingers, Stewart,” Jock had warned. “Get home as soon as you can. I’ve stayed out of your affair because I hoped you two would eventually realize you were meant to be together and work this out on your own, but since you’re both stubborn as donkeys, I’ve got to put in my two cents worth before Annie ends up marrying that jackass lawyer. I bought you some time. I told Hammond I needed Annie to come down and help me get my business affairs in order. I convinced him to hold off until then.”
Coincidentally, Jock’s call had come on the very same day Duncan had discovered the Siren’s Call. When he told his old friend about his find, they came up with an elaborate plan. Question was, would the underhanded ploy they’d cooked up work? Or would it drive an even bigger wedge between Duncan and Annie when she discovered what he was up to?
Annie moaned softly.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, stunned by the tenderness sweeping through him.
Her eyelids flew open. She jerked to a sitting position. “What happened? Why are you staring at me like that?”
Duncan swallowed hard, struggling to hold on to some semblance of self-control. He couldn’t reveal too much too quickly or he’d chase her off. He’d hurt her once, and he knew she’d be nervous about letting him get close to her again. “You passed out.”
She raised a hand to her head, smoothing her riotous curls. “I did?” Her face paled as she remembered. “It’s true, then? You’ve really found the Siren’s Call?”
“I found a treasure map on the Lorelei leading to the Siren’s Call,” he lied, feeling like an utter shit, but knowing this was the only thing that could convince her to give him a second chance.
She sucked in her breath. He wanted so badly to take her in his arms and kiss her, but it was too soon. If he touched her now, she would resist.
“I can’t believe I fainted.” She pressed her palm against her forehead. “How silly was that?”
He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t silly at all. It was perfectly understandable to faint when you learned the artifact your parents had died trying to find not only existed, but was actually within reach. But he couldn’t say it. Her father had been Duncan’s boss, but he’d also been his mentor and even something of a father figure. He understood the depth of emotions running through Annie—nervousness, suspicion, anticipation, confusion—but he didn’t know how to address it.
Instead, he said, “You probably had your knees locked. You shouldn’t lock your knees.”
“You’re probably right,” she echoed. “Locking my knees was a bad idea.”
“I remember when you used to lock your keys in your car. Trying to be safe, but ending up shutting yourself out of your own vehicle? Remember how many times you called me and my trusty Slim Jim to the rescue?” He wondered who came to her rescue now. Was it Hammond? He hated thinking about it. “Do you still lock your keys in your car?”
“I live in Manhattan. I don’t own a car.”
It disturbed him to realize how little he knew about the life she led. It was an unpleasant sensation. Once upon a time he’d known every detail of her daily routine, but no more.
Their eyes met.
The look was hot. Electric. Full of expectation and regret and yearning and hunger. It was a look that sent his balls feverishly drawing up tight against his hardening shaft. He watched her eyes spark, the verdant green turning mossy as she struggled to control her own arousal. Duncan spied the flare of wide-eyed panic she tried to camouflage.
She canted her head and studied him, pulling her bottom lip up between her teeth in a gesture that never failed to drive him to distraction. He wanted those full, rich lips between his teeth. She swung her legs. Back and forth. The rhythm matching the desperate pounding in his dick.
Duncan fisted his hands to keep from touching her. “How much do you remember about your parents’ search for the Siren’s Call?”
She made a funny little noise, half sigh, half chuckle. “You were there. You know how they were.”
“Yeah, obsessed. But I came late on the scene. How did it all start? Or were you too young to recall?”
“I was probably six or seven at the time. My mother was studying myths and legends for some class she was taking. Mom was always taking classes.” A faint smile flitted across her face. “In fact, I ran across her textbook when I was straightening up the storeroom.”
Annie hopped off the table and went to the shelf beside the file cabinets stacked with books. She studied the titles, pulled out the one she was searching for, flipped it open, and tapped the illustration. “Here.”
Duncan gazed over her shoulder at the fabled Siren’s Call. It was a cylindrical piece of glass with the face of a beautiful woman etched into the surface and a fish tail curling up at the end of the figurine. The inset where the mermaid’s heart should be was a star-shaped magnetic lodestone. According to legend, the Siren’s Call had potent aphrodisiac qualities. Purportedly, whoever possessed the idol became sexually irresistible to the object of their affections.
“She was a sharp woman, your mother, and very brave,” Duncan said. “You’re a lot like her.”
“Oh no. Mom was way more adventuresome than I’ll ever be. I think that’s why she was so attracted to my father. They had a rare passion for life. You have it, Duncan. The kind of fearless courage it takes to make a living as a deep-sea salvage diver.”
“You have it too, Annie.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t, and furthermore, I don’t want it. Passion that intense is destructive.”
“Not always,” he disagreed, feeling as if her argument mired him in quicksand. If she didn’t believe in passion, how could he convince her the passion they shared was worth fighting for?
“Always,” she said. “I remember this one time, Mom was pushing me in a swing at the park and chattering about the Siren’s Call. She was so caught up in her own story that she didn’t even realize how high she was pushing me on the swing, or that I had gotten scared and was begging her to stop. A stranger had to come over and grab her by the shoulders to make her snap out of it. It’s that kind of obsession that drove my parents to keep diving wrecks in search of the Siren’s Call. It’s why they died. Because they couldn’t let go. It was like an addiction.”
“I know. That’s what was so inspiring about your parents. They never, ever gave up.”
“And because of their stubborn obsession they left me orphaned at sixteen.”
“You weren’t alone. You had Jock and you had me.”
“I had my grandfather. I never had you.”
Her words sliced deep. Did she really believe that? It hurt. Five years ago, he’d crossed a line he shouldn’t have crossed. She’d looked up to him and he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability. But hell, he’d been vulnerable, too. Years of fantasies, of desperate need, had worn down his resolve. He hadn’t been able to resis
t her kiss. He’d stumbled and fallen. But here he was, ready, willing and able to make amends, if only she would give him a chance.
“You taught me a lot, Duncan. You reiterated the painful lesson I should have learned from my folks, and I have to thank you for that.”
“I don’t understand. What lesson are you talking about?”
“Never let your heart rule your head.” The weary note in her voice tore at him.
“Take a look at this.” Duncan drew a plastic bag from the side pocket of his cargo shorts. He eased out the tanned animal hide etched with the treasure map. Carefully he unfolded it, passed the map to Annie, and held his breath.
She examined it, tracing her fingers over the etchings. “You found this in the wreck of the Lorelei?”
“It leads to where Captain Remy stashed the Siren’s Call in an underwater cave off Dead Man’s Island, a deserted atoll, just below the Keys.”
“I still can’t believe it’s real.” She raised her head and looked at him again. “The Siren’s Call. After all these years.”
Annie was one helluva a siren herself, even if she didn’t seem to know it. She possessed the face of a madonna, but the body of a red-hot vamp. To Duncan, she was far more potent than the purported aphrodisiac qualities of that overrated mermaid idol. His hands burned with the urge to grab her full rounded hips and squeeze them tight as he pushed himself into her. He yearned to hear her scream his name with reverential fierceness. He raked his gaze over her.
“What?” she asked.
“What do you mean ‘what’?”
“You’re staring at me funny.”
Twin pink flushes rose to color her creamy white cheeks gone too long without Florida sun. Her lips parted, giving him a peek at her straight pearly teeth. It took all he had inside him not to throw her across his shoulder and carry her off to his boat like some lust-crazed pirate.
Patience, he told himself. But patience was hard won, especially since he’d already waited five long years for this. Changing her mind about him was going to take time. He had to accept it. That’s why he was counting so hard on help from the Siren’s Call. Sexual magic was precisely what they both needed.
Real Men Do It Better Page 24
