Children of the Sea 02 - Sea Fever

handsome.”
     
    Some other man, then.
     
    He narrowed his eyes. “Who?”
     
    “I don’t want to talk about it.”
     
    “Then you shouldn’t have brought him up. Who was he?”
     
    “Like you really want to know.” Her head came up, almost connecting with his jaw. “It’s not me you care about; it’s who else had what you want. Well, fuck you.”
     
    “You ruled that out. So talk to me.”
     
    Her snort of laughter took them both by surprise. “It was Nick’s father, all right? I worked in his kitchen.”
     
    “In Boston.”
     
    Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
     
    “Nick told me. That first day, on the beach.”
     
    Her hand went to the chain around her neck, to the totem of her murdered Christ. Dylan had noticed the gesture before. Did she call on Him for help? Or was the gesture merely nervous habit?
     
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    “Nick talked to you about his father?” she asked.
     
    He was still looking at her chest, the gold chain, all that smooth skin above the scooped neckline of her tank top. “He said you left him.”
     
    “Yeah. After Alain made it really clear he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby.”
     
    Babies, well . . . Babies were a serious commitment. No wonder the guy was scared off. Dylan raised his gaze from the slight slope of her breasts to her mouth, sensitive and a little sad.
     
    “There are worse things than growing up without a father,” he offered.
     
    “I wouldn’t know.”
     
    Dylan raised his brows.
     
    “Mine took off when I was three years old,” Regina explained.
     
    “But you had your mother.”
     
    “When she wasn’t working. I wanted different for Nick.”
     
    The shadows in her eyes disturbed him. “It wasn’t your choice,”
    Dylan said.
     
    “Not then. It is now.”
     
    He didn’t follow. He was still hard, his brain still blurred with lust.
     
    Regina sighed. “I can’t give Nick a mother who’s around all the time. The least I can do is spare him some guy who won’t stick.”
     
    Dylan frowned. “You knew all along I would not stay. It did not stop you on the beach.”
     
    Her pointed chin came up. “I was drunk. Anyway, that was before I knew you. Before Nick knew you. I can’t risk him getting attached.”
     
    “I’m not asking to move in with you.” Frustration sharpened his voice. “Nothing has to change. I just want sex.”
     
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    “Sex changes things.” Her eyes met his. Warm, brown, honest eyes.
    “Maybe I can’t risk me getting attached either.”
     
    His heart tightened like a fist. He was selkie. It was not in his nature to form attachments. And yet . . .
     
    “You underestimate yourself,” he said.
     
    “What the hell does that mean?”
     
    “Perhaps you are more like me than you acknowledge.”
     
    Or perhaps she had more power over him than he dared admit, even to himself.
     
    “I have a kid. You don’t.” Regina hopped down from the counter, brushing him aside. “You try being responsible for somebody besides yourself sometime, and we’ll talk.”
     
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Six
     
    “I CAN’T EAT IN THE KITCHEN.” JERICHO TOOK a step back from the kitchen door, clutching his take-out bag. The aroma of potatoes and onions followed him into the alley, mingling with the smell of grease from the fryer, a whiff of rotting lobster from the Dumpster. Regina’s gorge rose.
     
    “It would be different,” he said, “if I wasn’t taking charity.”
     
    Regina scowled. It pissed her off that she couldn’t do more for him.
    Didn’t want to do more. “It’s not charity. It’s a sandwich.”
     
    Jericho’s thin lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. He’d made an effort to wash, she noticed, even to shave. She could see the line on his neck where his beard ended and the dirt began. Despite that dubious demarcation, she had to admit he looked more approachable without the stubble. Not as scary.
     
    “I could help out maybe,” he offered, not quite meeting her eyes. “In return for the food.”
     
    Oh, no. She wasn’t looking to take on another responsibility.
    Although, maybe . . .
     
    Her relief when Dylan showed up yesterday had been a revelation and a warning. She couldn’t count on his help with every delivery. She couldn’t count on Dylan, period.
     
    What had he said yesterday? “Nothing has to change. I just want sex.” Predictable guy response.
     
    Not reliable. But predictable.
     
    “Sorry,” she said. “We’re not hiring.”
     
    “I’m not