Page 10 of The Scent of Salt & Sand

Harmony shook her head, her stormy eyes brightening as she chuckled. “You need to meet a man, and this man may actually want to talk with you. Be grateful.” Her brow furrowed. “And stop crouching in the corner.”

“What are you talking about?” She crawled over to Harmony, positioning herself behind her before she stood. “He’s not actually coming over here, is he?” She peeked out from behind Harmony’s mass of thick curls and scanned the pedestrians.

“Of course he’s coming over here. You’re beautiful and desirable—everything a Siren should be. Now, relax and smile. I’ll do the rest.”

“No, I can’t—” Melody began, but the bell above the door interrupted her.

Smiling, Dean stepped into the store.

Chapter Five

Dean loved his condo. He’d hardly believed his luck the year before when the building that had been a crumbling fire hazard beside the Buena Vista bar was bought by his Nana’s old college roommate and renovated into slick lofts—and he’d been invited to move in, with rent control, as long as he promised to be seen in his SFPD uniform. A lot. Dean jumped at the chance to live opposite Fisherman’s Wharf, waking up every day to what he considered to be the best view in San Francisco.

“Gotta remember to call Nana and see if she wants to go out to dinner this week,” Dean mumbled to himself as he trotted down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Good afternoon, Officer Kent. Or I suppose I should say good morning.” The man closed his mailbox and leaned against the row of gold postboxes before continuing, “Are you ever going to get off that wretched night shift and join the living?”

Dean chuckled at his neighbor. “Hi there, Stephan. You know I like the night shift—it keeps life interesting. Hey, nice shirt.”

Stephan shifted his handful of mail and tossed back his sparkly gold lamé headscarf as if it were a mane of hair. He batted big, brown eyes at Dean, lashes fluttering flirtatiously. “Boyfriend, are you one hundred percent positive you’re not just a tiny bit gay? You always notice my T-shirts, which is not usually a hetero guy thing.”

“It might not be a hetero guy thing, but paying attention to details is definitely a cop thing. Plus, I’m a Superman fan.” Dean pointed to Stephan’s shirt, which read CLARK KENT WAS VEGAN in big, bold letters.

“Well, if you decide to give dick a try, promise I’ll be the first to know about it.”

“I promise.” Dean squinted out the glass front door of the condo complex and then gasped in mock horror. “What is that yellow ball of fire in the sky? The sun? In the summer? In San Francisco?”

“Yaaasss, honey. And in the late afternoon, too. Not even a hint of fog today and it might be almost sixty-five degrees out there. Lucky you if it’s your day off,” Stephan said.

“It is! Damn, I’ve never been so glad I couldn’t sleep.”

“Trouble sleeping? I could help you with that.” Stephan’s grin was that of a cat licking cream.

“I’ll take it if the help is a redhead named Mel.”

“A ginge? Really? No wonder you couldn’t sleep. She’s probably already started to suck out your soul.”

Dean laughed. “Just because she has red hair doesn’t mean she’s soulless.”

“Oh, you sweet, deluded boy. I’ll light a candle for you.” Stephan squeezed Dean’s shoulder in mock sympathy before flitting featherlike up the stairs.

Still chuckling, Dean stepped out onto the stoop of the brick building, faced the sun, and stretched mightily. Shit, he was stiff! The impromptu swim he’d taken that morning had made his muscles ache.

But he didn’t for one moment regret that he’d jumped into that crazy-cold water, because he’d met her. Mel. Her green eyes and alabaster skin haunted his sleep, and her curves filled the brief, intense dreams he’d had, finally waking him, hot and hard, and definitely unfulfilled.

He needed to find her.

Okay, so, he was a cop. It couldn’t be that tough. She was one of the crazy swimming people. From watching them for years, one thing he was sure of was that they were all addicted. Once they’d started swimming the cove, they couldn’t stay away. Maybe she was back now. This time when he saw her, he damn sure wasn’t going to let her get away until he found out her whole name. But first, he needed food.

A giant yawn caught him off guard and he stretched again. The sun felt so good! Almost as if it were the gaze of a beautiful woman—warming him, touching him, wanting him…

Dean rubbed his growling stomach as he looked from the gray waters of the cove up the street toward Lori’s Diner. A copper flash drew his eye and he froze in shock.

It was her. Mel. She was standing in front of a storefront just a few buildings down. Or, she had been for a heartbeat. The moment their eyes met, she’d whirled away, but Dean was already moving when she disappeared into the store. He jogged down Beach Street, weaving through tourists as he hurried to the shop. He paused for only a second to take in the name of the business—Siren Tours—before opening the door. A bell rang merrily, announcing his arrival.

“Good afternoon! Welcome to Siren Tours.”

A tall, pretty blonde waved at him. He meant to wave back—meant to be polite and proper, but as soon as she spoke she stepped aside, revealing the girl who had been standing behind her on the far side of the counter. Dean’s world narrowed to her pine-green eyes and her full lips.