Bay of Sighs (The Guardians Trilogy 2)

The sea was too far for a morning swim, she thought, but this. Well, it was right here. Trees flanked the yard, making a kind of green wall. In any case, she didn’t understand the human fuss about bodies. They were as natural as hair and eyes, as fingers and toes, and no one made a fuss about hiding them.

Besides, she longed for the water, and saw no reason to go back to her room and find the suit to swim in. Instead, she pulled off the dress, tossed it onto a chair. And dived in.

The water embraced her, gentle as a mother, sweet as a lover. She skimmed along the bottom, her sea-green eyes open and lit with pleasure. Delighted, she swam the length of the pool, back again, then, pushing off the bottom, let her legs spear up into the air and sun.

And slice down into the water again as a tail.

Sawyer, a cup of coffee in his hand, stopped dead on the skirt of the pool.

He’d come out to see who was up, who’d put the coffee on. He’d known it was Annika the instant her legs had come up and out of the water—long, dusky gold, and perfect.

Then color had swirled around those legs, winking, flashing like precious gems, gems that went to shimmering liquid before they’d become the mermaid’s tail.

It took his breath. Knowing her for a mermaid and seeing her transform were two different things. And it simply took his breath. Even before he caught it again, she flew up, long black hair streaming, arms outstretched, tail sparkling, her face bright and beautiful.

She arched in midair—and Jesus, she wore nothing but the tail—then slid backward into the water again.

His body reacted, and it didn’t matter he reminded himself he was a man, and what man wouldn’t go hard watching a gorgeous, naked mermaid. He tried to think of her as a sister, got nowhere. Did better listing her firmly as a teammate.

Most of all he had to stop her from swishing that amazing tail around. They had neighbors here.

She came up again, laughing, flipped back to float. He ordered himself not to look at her breasts—too late—but managed to shift his gaze to her face. She had her eyes closed, a quiet smile on her face as she floated, with the only movement the gentle flick of her tail fin.

“Annika.”

Her eyes opened; she smiled over at him. “Sawyer, good morning. Do you want to swim with me?”

Oh, yeah. Oh boy, yeah.

Couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t.

“Ah, not right now. And you can’t, ah, you know, be right out here with the tail. Without the legs. And naked. Somebody could spot you.”

“There are the trees, and it’s so early.”

“Windows over the trees—if somebody happened to look out just the right way at the right time.”

“Oh.” With a little sigh, she lowered the tail into the water. And now he saw her legs lightly kicking. “I didn’t mean to, but it felt so good I forgot.”

“It’s okay, just don’t . . . No, don’t get out.”

He actually felt panic as she glided toward the shallow end, stood. That body—willowy and perfect and . . . wet. Water sparkled on her skin, diamonds on gold dust.

She was killing him.

“I—I’m going to get you a towel. Don’t get out without any . . . Just wait.”

He hurried back inside. Coffee wasn’t going to do much for a throat that had gone bone dry at the way her hair slicked over those really, really pretty breasts.

He tried counting backward by threes from a thousand, and still had to take a minute, adjust himself—only human—when he grabbed a pool towel from the utility room off the kitchen.

When he came out again, she’d stayed obediently as she was.

“You need to . . .” He wound a finger in the air. “Around. Then the dress.”

He didn’t see anything but the dress, which meant she wouldn’t be wearing anything under the dress. And it wasn’t smart to think about that either.

He stared at the lemon trees as he held the towel over the pool.