Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch

business. “How about two of the lobster rolls and the, uh . . . a double of salad.”
     
    “Coming up.”
     
    “Almost done,” Nick announced.
     
    Caleb glanced at the booth. “Good for you.”
     
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    “When I finish, can I see your gun?”
     
    “Dominick Barone—”
     
    “It’s okay, Reggie. I can’t show you my gun,” Caleb explained to Nick. “A police officer can’t draw his weapon in public unless he’s prepared to use it. But you can look at my handcuffs.”
     
    Nick’s eyes widened. “Can I? Cool.”
     
    Caleb demonstrated and then watched, amused, as the kid cuffed himself to a table leg.
     
    “Cool,” Regina echoed. She set the take-out bag on the table. “How about drinks?”
     
    “Drinks,” Caleb repeated cautiously.
     
    Her mouth quirked. “To go with your dinner.”
     
    He wasn’t a drinking man. No matter how much trouble he had sleeping, no matter how much he had to forget, he would not repeat his father’s mistakes. But this time the gesture outweighed the principle.
     
    “You got a wine would go with that?” he asked.
     
    “A midpriced pinot grigio?”
     
    “That would be good. Thanks.”
     
    Regina bagged the wine, adding two clear plastic cups to the top.
     
    Caleb noticed Nick struggling to fit the key into the slot on the cuffs and grinned. “Let me give you a hand there,” he said, unlocking them.
     
    Nick rubbed his thin wrists. “Can I take them with me to school tomorrow?”
     
    “Better let me hold on to them. I might need them.”
     
    “Hot date tonight?” Regina teased.
     
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    He cleared his throat. “Too soon to tell.”
     
    “Uh-huh. You be careful, Chief. You’ve been gone long enough to be interesting. Nick’s not the only one on the island anxious to check out your equipment.”
     
    He actually felt himself flush. He dug for his wallet. “Yeah, well, whatever you heard, Edith hasn’t actually chased me around the desk yet.”
     
    Regina laughed and rang up his order. He thanked her, paid, and left.
     
    The late afternoon sun set the boats in the harbor ablaze, red, yellow, and white.
     
    Had he fooled her? Or was he just kidding himself?
     
    Picnic blanket . Cooler . Corkscrew . Condom .
     
    Like an eager Boy Scout, Caleb was prepared for anything. His gaze swept the empty beach, the quiet, sparkling sea. The only thing missing was the girl.
     
    I walk on the beach in the evening , she had said.
     
    Maybe he was early. The sun wouldn’t set for another hour.
     
    Maybe she wasn’t coming. Her purred invitation last night could have been a joke at his expense.
     
    Maybe he should go home.
     
    I want to touch you .
     
    He glanced left, where the beach climbed toward Fisherman’s Wharf, and right, where it broke into a tumble of rocks and mud. A little exercise wouldn’t hurt him.
     
    He hefted the cooler and turned right.
     
    On the other side of the point, the rocks got bigger and the going got tougher. Trees crowded the shore, forcing him along the water. The
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    cooler knocked against his legs, pushing him off balance. His steps were uneven. His left knee ached.
     
    Of all the lamebrained, dumb-ass ideas . . .
     
    And then he saw her—Margred—her legs long and bare under a fluttering sarong-style skirt, her round breasts pressing against the tiny blue triangles of a bikini top, her wild, streaked mane lifting in the wind like some goddess rising from the sea. She stunned his heart. She stopped his breath. And the sight of her transformed him from a suspicious island cop to a sweaty teenager gaping at his first Sports Illustrated swimsuit model.
     
    He waited for enough blood to return to his brain to form words.
    “You’re here.”
     
    Her full lips curved. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
     
    “You must be freezing.” That outfit she had on— full breasts , firm thighs , pale , pale skin , God —was more suited to a cruise deck in the Bahamas than the coast of Maine. Shrugging out of his jacket, Caleb draped it around her shoulders, trying not to grab. “Here.”
     
    “That’s not necessary,” she said. “I don’t get cold.”
     
    He looked down at her cleavage and the pale swell of her belly and the rush went to his head and he felt dizzy. He stepped away from her before he forgot he was a mature officer of the law and fell on her like a horny twenty-year-old soldier after a nine-month deployment.
     
    “We could move into the trees,” he said. “It would cut the wind