Chapter 60

Part 5: Stone and Sea

If one more asshole customer hit on her, Marina swore she was going to take off one of her stupid spike heeled pumps and stab him with it.
She could understand the tourists thinking that the showgirls or even the cocktail waitresses were easy marks - though any idiot who'd been in Atlantic City more than a day should know better on that score too. Those ladies worked too damn hard to have time to fool around with shoe salesmen from Des Moines. But Mari was working at the freaking hotel gift shop of the fabled Avalon Casino. What part of, "That sweatshirt is thirty-five dollars plus tax," did the morons think meant, "Come and get me Bubba?"
It was a damn good thing this job was only temporary. Another two weeks of this, then she'd have her degree, and she'd never have to worry about working for minimum wage again. She hoped. And no more off-the shoulder dresses with poufy skirts and lace-up corsets, either. She sighed and picked up another handful of books to fill the gaps on the shelves. Then she looked at the shiny bright cover of the Mary Stewart paperback and smiled. Mari loved books almost as much as she hated high heels.
"Excuse me, miss." The voice sent shivers down her spine, which was weird. It was deep and carried the faintest trace of an accent. "Does the shop carry any actual antiques?"
She turned from where she'd been stocking paperbacks toward the home décor area. Most of it was cheesy souvenirs, but since the casino had an Arthurian theme there were a few fake chalices and some half-decent dragon sculptures in the glass cases along the wall.
"Not this shop," she offered with the polite mix of apology and condescension she'd mastered working in retail. The tone was her first line of defense against the would-be Lotharios. Then she got a good look at the guy and wondered if maybe she needed to revisit her "no fucking the customers" policy. It took all of her willpower to close her mouth and avoid drooling on the books in her hand.
He was tall, towering several inches over the six-foot display stand he was leaning against. He was also built, with the toned, broad shouldered and narrow-waisted body of a football player or professional bodyguard. His pale blond hair was long, reaching to the middle of his shoulder blades and confined in a neat ponytail by a leather thong. A plain gray T-shirt molded to his chest like a second skin. When he flashed her a boyish grin, she practically melted into a puddle on the spot. "This shop?"
She shook her head. It was the only way she could tear her eyes from that intense slate-gray gaze. "Upstairs. There's a high-end home décor shop on the third level. They carry a few real antiques."
"Thank you." His odd, slate gray eyes flicked to her name tag. "Mari. Do you know if they're open in the evening?" He even pronounced her name right - MAHR-ee, not Mary.
She shook her head again. "Not this late. They close at nine."
He checked his watch, realized it was after ten and swore in French. Then he turned back to her with a smile that made her nipples stand up and beg and her pussy start to weep. What was it about this guy? She hadn't reacted to a man like this in years, especially not a human. Mari swallowed hard.
"Sorry." He rolled his eyes in a wryly apologetic manner. "Of course I realize that it isn't your fault. I was simply hoping to pick up - a gift - this evening if possible."
She forced herself to smile back. He was actually the most courteous customer she'd had all week, and that included the busload of nuns from Pittsburg. "No problem. Sorry I couldn't be of more help."
She watched his incredible ass as he left the shop and sighed with regret. He hadn't even attempted to make a pass at her. Just her luck, the one guy she might have said yes to wasn't interested.
Her restlessness didn't pass over the next two hours, it only increased. When her shift ended at midnight, Mari walked out the beach entrance instead of toward town and her apartment. She needed to feel the water around her tonight. It was the only thing she could think of to soothe the yearning that had come to life inside her core. She'd been feeling restless for days, but tonight, after seeing the gorgeous blond with the French accent, her whole system had gone into overdrive. She ducked under the boardwalk and did a quick check to make sure the area was empty of homeless people and necking teenagers. Once she was sure she was alone, she dropped her shoes to the sand and peeled off her uniform.
Remy watched from the shadows under the famous Atlantic City boardwalk as the woman from the gift shop walked onto the sand. Was she the one he'd been sent here to find? He'd had a call that afternoon telling him to be at the pier at midnight. He'd have much rather been sent to Atlantic City in the summer, but he knew better than to argue with Lady Helene. The precognitive elder of his gargoyle clan was nearly two hundred years old, and as far as Remy knew, she'd never missed a prediction yet. Well, except maybe for the one when he was born that said he was destined to be a hero.
The pretty brunette from the Avalon's gift shop dropped her jacket to the sand and kicked off her shoes. She had fascinated him from the moment he'd seen her in her cheesy serving wench costume and ridiculous high heels. He knew the outfit was a uniform, because other workers in the casino had on the same dress and shoes. When she began to peel it off, Remy froze in place, fascinated by the sight of her pale lush curves.
He couldn't exactly say why he'd been so drawn to her, though she looked damn good naked. She wasn't supermodel gorgeous and he'd spoken to her for all of two minutes. But here he was watching her walk stark naked into icy cold waters and his body was reacting as though she was giving him a lap dance. What was she doing, swimming in this weather, anyway? The water couldn't be much above the freezing point. He took a few steps forward beneath the pier, just in case she was attempting suicide and he'd need to pull her out.