Marriage & the Mermaid (Hapless Heroes) (4 page)

One minute she was half–drowned and the next…

“I found my clitoris,” she said.

Baz jerked his head away and tried to think over the thundering of his heart. “Was it lost?” he asked, then winced.
Good opening, Wilson.
But at least he’d said something. And despite the fact that he was giving the beige walls a very close inspection, his imagination was replaying her pleased smile and the matted honey hair sprawled across her white pillow. Not to mention that athletic body, those huge eyes, and her hand…

Was it possible for a penis to swell so much that the skin burst? Baz had never been this hard in his life, and he wasn’t even touching her! Oh God, that thought pushed him dangerously close to the edge.

“I had no idea that would feel so good,” she said, and from the corner of his eye he saw her push herself up against the pillows. “But I feel dizzy now.”

You and me both!
“Maybe you have sunstroke,” Baz said to the wall, telling himself to step away from the bed, but not managing to comply. “I could look that up on the Internet. How to treat it. I’m sure it’s just a mild case,” he added, because he still wasn’t taking her anywhere outside the guest bedroom. Which was seriously crazy.
Injured girl,
he reminded himself. But he could smell her distinctive salty fragrance and that only made the throbbing worse.

The antidote. I need the antidote for the drug. Fast!

“Where am I?” she asked.

“At my father’s house,” he said, because that sounded less like he was a lone sex fiend and more like she was in a nice safe family home. “You said you didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

“No. I must avoid the authorities,” she replied, and even her voice was sexy, husky and with an odd accent. Was she a European tourist? An illegal immigrant? He risked a glance at her and saw that her enormous eyes were slightly tilted and she had high cheekbones. Cheekbones he could easily imagine licking on his way to her neck.

“Are you available for sex?”

Baz blinked in shock and snapped his head back to stare at the wall. For a terrible second he though he’d said that, then he stopped breathing.

She had.

“Pardon?” he croaked.

“I have genitals and I like the pleasure they give me. I want more.”

Baz felt pressure building up then, like a jet engine revving for take off.
Jump on her, you idiot. Say ‘Yes please’.
But instead he blurted, ”The police rang,” and jerked a step away, back towards the door. “They’re coming here to interview us both at four. That’s in two hours. You should clean up. Get dressed.”

“The police? They’re authorities.” He could hear the tension in her voice. Then, “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

Baz waved his hand in a pulling–up motion. “The sheet. Could you cover yourself?”

Movement from the bed, then, “I am covered.”

Baz took a slow breath, then turned to find she’d pulled the sheet up to her waist. Even in the shadows he could see her pert little breasts exposed. He knew they would be dusted in sand and would therefore taste salty and delicious. In fact, so strong was this conviction that Baz actually wavered forward with his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Somehow he managed to keep his feet in the same place. “Higher,” he croaked, and waved a hand frantically in her direction.

She frowned and pulled the sheet up to her chin.

Baz turned to her and nodded his thanks, not trusting his voice until after he’d swallowed several times, then he said, “You breathed something on me at the beach.”

“An attractant,” she replied.

What?
Baz shook his head. Was it some souped–up version of Spanish Fly? “Well it worked,” he snapped, trembling again. “How long until it wears off?”

They looked at each other, then she said, “I am here to get pregnant. Will you assist me in that?”

She looked entirely guileless, as if she’d just asked him for directions to the train station, but cold reality was washing though Baz’s entrails like an icy enema. “No,” he said, and then shook his head to add power to the refusal. “Is this some sort of Green Card thing?” Jesus, did she jump off a cruise liner or something? Was that why she’d been in the water?

She frowned. “But I have used my attractant on you. I only had one dose.”

“Then you wasted it,” he said, wondering if this was
Scam Wilsons Week
and he hadn’t been told.

“Are you sure?” she said, and stripped the sheet back to expose herself.

Baz had been hard the whole time he’d been talking to her, but the sight of all that bared flesh jolted him into a pounce–ready state where even his fingernails seemed to be throbbing. He couldn’t stop himself leaning forward. “No,” he said, staring at her breasts, unable to work out whether he meant
No I don’t want you or No I’m not sure.
The 1% brain function was fading.

She opened her legs.

Baz was at tipping over point: wanting to rip his own clothes off and dive on her from a height, but also wanting to go back in time to before he’d met her so he could not be the person she’d breathed that drug onto. He was so far beyond confusion he wondered if he should have left a breadcrumb trail, because at this point it seemed highly unlikely he’d ever find his way back to who he had been when he’d woken up this morning. Still, some relentless
good
part of him was forcing him to try.

“The police are coming,” he breathed, which reminded him that Matt had been helicoptered out to Bundaberg with the mutilated remains of his beloved brother. This was not a good time to be lusting over a complete stranger, even if he had been drugged. It was inappropriate and selfish and … the most exhilarating sensation he’d ever experienced in his life.

Fuck.

Commonsense felt a sparrow flying into a cyclone, but he had to try. “They want to ask questions about what happened in the water.” Then he gestured at the sheet again. “Up. Please.”

She sighed and dragged the sheet back up over herself. “I am here for such a short time,” she said. “If you will not provide me with a baby, can you recommend someone who will? Someone safe,” she said and then shuddered as though remembering something unpleasant.

She was sounding more like an illegal immigrant all the time, but Baz wasn’t about to ask her outright because why would she tell him the truth? “So where are you going when you leave?” he asked, focusing on the pillow beside her head because when he looked at her face he kept getting distracted by her mouth which was wide and luscious and —

“Home,” she replied.

Baz could see her breasts rising and falling underneath the sheet and it was incredibly distracting. “Where is home?” he asked.

She said nothing and Baz looked back at her face. She was frowning. “I cannot say,” she replied, and “Why you are asking so many questions. My sisters who have come before me have encountered no such problem. Are you same–sex oriented?”

“No!” Baz said far too loudly. “I’m straight, but that doesn’t mean I have sex with random girls… who…”

She was pulling the sheet down again and Baz suddenly realised he couldn’t cope with this. If he didn’t get away from her — soon — he’d be eating his words. Among other things.

He needed a reason to walk away. Something simple. “I’ll get you water to drink while you have a shower.” He managed to take another step back, closer to the door. “There should be a bathrobe in the cupboard,” he said, and pointed at the nineteenth century silky–oak monolith in the corner, then decided he’d better not leave that to chance. Unfortunately, when he walked over to the cupboard it was bare. “I’ll get you clothes,” he said, imagining he’d have something she could borrow, and trying not to think about the clothes he’d worn caressing her naked body. It was so intimate, so …

“I feel uncomfortable,” she said, the husky accent more pronounced now, convincing him she was definitely foreign. Then, “Perhaps I need to urinate.” She sat up and the sheet fell away.

“Sure. I’ll …” He pointed towards the door but she wasn’t moving off the bed, although she had managed to wriggle to the edge of it.

“I can’t …”

“Oh. Wear this,” he said and pulled his T–shirt off over his head. He held it out as he edged closer to her, averting his face.

She took it out of his hand but otherwise didn’t move.

“Can you get up?” he asked. Maybe she was dizzy or sick.

Then why the hell had she been masturbating?

“I’m not sure I can walk,” she replied.

“Right.”

“And I want to use the toilet.”

Baz knew modesty had to be set aside when other needs were paramount, and it wasn’t as though he’d get all hot and horny over her while she was taking a pee.

Would he?

He turned back to find her frowning at the T–shirt in her hands. “Here, I’ll help you with that,” he said, using his best teacher’s voice. Then he stepped warily closer, took it off her and gingerly pulled the neck of it down over her head, being careful to avoid scraping over the dried blood on her scalp.
Not so difficult, Baz.
He waited, and when she made no move to take over, he steered her arms into the holes and pulled it down over her body. But not before he’d seen her very nice breasts rise and fall.

That isn’t helping, Wilson.

He swallowed. Hard.

“Put your arm over my shoulder,” he instructed, trying to sound business–like when his voice was trembling. “I’ll help you up.” It was a bad suggestion considering the state of Baz’s shorts, but the alternative was to let her pee in the bed. He didn’t think either of them would appreciate that.

She did as she was told and Baz was careful to put his hand under her armpit in such a way that his fingers weren’t going to touch her breast. Up–close, she was completely irresistible – the wide eyes, the tousled hair, the delicious salty smell of her skin. His body physically ached to be pressed against hers and the throbbing was so loud Baz could hear it inside his ears, but her predicament kept him on track.

He maintained a careful distance between them as he pulled her upright, then she wobbled momentarily before following his lead to put one leg in front of the other. It was an odd stilted gait, as though she wasn’t sure how much pressure her feet could take. But by the time they were into the bathroom he could feel her taking more of her own weight, and when she asked to be set down on the side of the marble bath, he was fairly confident she’d be able to manage herself from there. Which was good. He didn’t particularly want to watch her pee. Although, truth be told, he imagined that would be sexy too. She just had to frown at him with those sea–blue eyes and…

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, and started to back out.

“I have pretty feet.” She was gazing at her toes which seemed to be painted with a blue–green shiny nail polish, like her fingers. The color matched her eyes.

“They’re beautiful,” he replied before he could stop himself, but she merely nodded in agreement. Clearly not the type to be embarrassed by compliments. “I’ll be right outside,” he said, backing into the hallway, arms wrapped around his bare chest, as though trying to hold his heart in. “Call me if you need me.” He shut the door, then forced himself to walk away, into the sitting room where he paced around the lounge, took a beer out of the bar fridge then remembered the police were coming and put it back in.

The bathroom door remained tantalizingly shut.

Who
was
she?

A name would have been a good start. And he hadn’t introduced himself either. Damn, where were his manners?

Well, left on the bedroom floor with his tongue most likely. It wasn’t every day you walked in on a naked girl masturbating. He should cut himself some slack. It was a marvel that he wasn’t a blithering idiot by now.

At last he heard the toilet flush, and gave her a moment longer before he went back to the doorway and called out, “Need a hand?”

“Yes,” she replied and he opened the door.

She was back on the side of the bath next to the toilet, and the tap in the basin was running. He turned it off.

“I washed my hands,” she said, “But wasn’t sure if I should have washed my genitals as well. I am producing a lot of bodily fluids, not all to do with elimination.”

Baz blinked at her for a moment before he found his voice, which came out hoarse, “You can have a shower if you like.” He pointed at the glass sided cubicle and registered, unnecessarily, that it was big enough for two.

“I’m not sure how long I can stand up,” she replied.

“A bath then.” He nodded. “I’ll run it for you if you like.”

“I think pleasure produces bodily fluids,” she replied. “Far more than are necessary for the purposes of lubrication.”

Lubrication…

Baz felt his shorts get that little bit tighter. “Do you like it hot, or just warm?”

The words hung in the air between them and Baz wanted to blurt out,
The bath. I’m talking about the bath!
Only, that would tell her his mind was on something else, which wasn’t a good idea. She was an illegal immigrant who was after a baby so she could have Australian residency. Like her sisters. Baz had to keep remembering that, but it was such a challenge when those endless legs were spread out in front of him.

“The same temperature as the ocean would be good,” she replied.

“Cool it is,” Baz said, pleased that the nursie routine had dampened his libido enough to retain some self–control. Although he knew he should get out of the bathroom before that tee shirt came back off or he’d be in serious trouble.

He leant over and turned on the taps, adjusting them to the right temperature before putting in the plug. She sat quietly as the bath filled and the lack of conversation was suddenly oppressive. Baz turned to get her a towel and some soap. When he turned back she was struggling with the T–shirt. It was half off her head but she had one arm stuck. He put down the towel and the soap and said, “Need any help?” Then he waited, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. He really needed to get out of this room.

“I … yes,” she replied, and stilled while he gently untangled her, the process hampered by Baz’s shaking hands. But when her head turned he saw the brown patch of dried blood on the back of her scalp. That helped calm him down.