Siren's Secret. Debbie Herbert

dressed and go. She searched the room with more eagerness than necessary.

      Sheriff Angier, in his neatly pressed brown uniform, headed toward them in long strides. His presence filled the room and she was acutely aware of every detail of his strong face...the prominent jaw, the sharp planes of his cheeks and broad forehead. He was as unlike his sibling as much as Jet and Lily were polar opposites. The only common feature of the brothers was the same light brown, slightly wavy hair. She knew Eddie’s age was twenty-eight and that Tillman was several years older than him. Where Eddie was shorter and more compact, and prone to softness in his stomach, Tillman was tall with a well-defined musculature. Unlike Eddie’s vague, unfocused blue eyes and dreamy expression, Tillman’s slate-gray eyes were sharp and penetrating—as if he could see down to the hidden depths she didn’t allow anyone to know about.

      Shelly took a deep breath and hurried after Eddie, who could be pretty darn quick when properly motivated. She reached him just in time. At the last step out of the pool, his hands were already at the top of his bathing trunks.

      “Wait,” she said. “Put on your robe.”

      No sooner had he fastened the robe than the trunks came off.

      Shelly bent to pick up the wet trunks at the same time as the sheriff. His large tanned arm brushed against her smaller, paler arm. Prickles of heat spread from the point of contact to all parts of her body.

      “I’ve got it,” he said in a deep husky voice that warmed her insides.

      They rose together and Shelly fought to control her rapid heartbeat. Here she stood dripping wet with him so polished and sharp in his uniform. She judged him to be in his early thirties, only a few years older than herself, and yet he exuded a natural authority and confidence that befitted his position.

      Shelly sighed inwardly. He had not caught her on her most flattering day. Her huge green eyes, what she considered her most striking feature, were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and her honey-colored hair was nothing but a sodden heap of tangles at the moment.

      “I’ll be right there,” he called to Eddie, who was already halfway to the locker room.

      “Your mom left Eddie’s tote bag of dry clothes over here.” Shelly went to the bleachers, acutely aware of the sheriff following behind. Damn, she should have wrapped a towel around her waist. Toned or not, wet flesh in the light of day made her feel vulnerable. The one-piece bathing suit she wore was modest, but it was still a bathing suit. And her hair was flat and clung to her back in wet chunks. She’d given up on makeup at work. Even the waterproof stuff didn’t hold up to hours in the pool.

      The edge of her bathing suit rode up the cheek of her left buttocks. Terrific. Shelly fought the urge to pull it down. If she was lucky and left it alone, maybe the sheriff wouldn’t notice.

      She picked up the bag and forced herself to remain professional as she faced Eddie’s brother and held it out.

      His eyes jerked up from her derriere. Oh, crap. She could tell by the darkening of those gray eyes and the ghost of a smile on his lips that he had definitely been checking out her ass. But perhaps that was progress, since he hadn’t paid her much attention before. “Hope your mom is feeling better,” she said with a self-conscious smile.

      His lips thinned and a flicker of annoyance lit his eyes before he slid back into his cool, confident persona. “You’re limping.” He pointed at Shelly’s foot. “An accident?”

      “A minor cut.” She shrugged. “Kitchen mishap.”

      He jerked his head toward the locker room. “I better see if Eddie needs any help.”

      Shelly stared at his back as he walked away, a tiny bit disappointed. The man was definitely not a conversationalist.

      The sheriff whirled around and caught her staring. His lips twitched at the corners.

      “I watched you working with Eddie. You’re doing a great job.”

      “I love working with your brother. He’s my favorite—I know I shouldn’t have any, but he is.”

      “How about you let me take you to dinner Friday in appreciation for all your hard work?”

      Shelly fought not to sound too excited. “Sure.” Please don’t invite your mother, she thought fervently. Don’t let this be a family thing. Nice enough woman, but she wanted the sheriff all to herself. It had been too long since she’d felt any interest in dating again.

      Lurlene Elmore and others from the senior water aerobics class, the Water Babes and Buoys, emerged from the ladies’ locker room.

      “Eddie’s stark naked in our locker room,” Lurlene called out in way of greeting.

      A tinge of red crept up the sheriff’s neck. So he wasn’t perfectly composed at all times, Shelly thought. What a relief.

      The sheriff tipped his hat to Mrs. Elmore. “Sorry. He doesn’t know the difference between the men’s and ladies’ rooms. I’m on my way.”

      “Don’t apologize.” Lurlene let loose a honking laugh. “For God’s sake, it’s not like any of us have reached our advanced ages without seeing a man’s talleywacker a time or two.”

      Shelly followed her ribald senior clients to the shallow end of the pool. “Talk to you later,” she said with a wave at Tillman.

      Lurlene pointed at Shelly’s legs. “I tried to find that lotion that makes your legs sparkly but I didn’t see it anywhere.”

      Not that again. Lurlene had been hounding her for what she used to make her legs glitter. Shelly glanced down discreetly. They weren’t that noticeable. The skin had a faint opalescence, like silver-and-pink mica particles freckling the legs. Lurlene would freak if she knew the glitter came from the faint residue of her tail fin when she shape-shifted.

      Shelly shrugged. “Just put some powdered pink and silver eye shadow in a jar of baby oil and shake it.”

      Lurlene nodded as she sank her massive frame into the pool. “Saw the sheriff checking you out.” She winked. “He’s a handsome devil.”

      It occurred to her these senior women had probably seen more action in the past two years than she had.

      Friday night couldn’t get here soon enough.

      * * *

      Melkie roamed the downtown shops, avoiding eye contact and blending easily with the crowd. Even in early September, the air was thick with humidity and his shirt felt sticky from perspiration. He smirked as he passed the quaint shops. The town was nothing but a fucking Mayberry R.F.D. perched precariously on the edge of a continental shelf. Hurricane Katrina had almost swept it entirely away.

      A fat woman in spandex bike shorts and an oversize fuchsia T-shirt exited the soda parlor and brushed against him. Her triple scoop of blueberry ice cream narrowly missed plopping on his chest.

      “Excuse me, darlin’,” she said with an apologetic grin.

      Melkie pulled away and shot her a furious look. He fought back the urge to growl. The woman’s smile faded and he registered confusion, embarrassment and fear in her fatty pig eyes.

      He lowered his head and kept going.

      She was like everyone else in this stupid, stinking backwater. They had no idea who he was, what he was capable of doing.

      Three blocks away, he entered the Bayou Seed and Feed to get a bag of Rebel’s favorite dog biscuits. Several old men in denim overalls stood around the counter, bullshitting. Melkie plopped the bag on the counter where an old fart with rheumy eyes winked at one of the customers. “How’s that ol’ mutt of yers gettin’ along?”

      Melkie threw down a ten-dollar bill on the scratched Formica, ignoring the jibe.

      The cashier handed back the change, which Melkie stuffed in his pocket. As he headed to the door, one of the men muttered, “Ugliest damn dog you’d ever want to lay eyes on.”