Chapter 72

Mari thought about giving Remy a helpful pat on the back, but she couldn't reach him over the pizza box. There were disadvantages to being short. In just a second he stopped choking on his own and took a drink from his soda.
He shook his head. "You're really training to be a librarian?"
So she replied. "Yep. I love books. All kinds of books. I can't think of a better job than getting to spend all day surrounded by all that information."
"Whatever turns you on, my dear."
That made her laugh. "Oh I think you already figured that out." She washed down a bite of pizza and swirled the ice in her plastic cup. "So tell me about you. What brings you to not-so-sunny Atlantic City in April? I somehow don't see you as a slot machine junkie."
"No?" He snagged the last slice from the box and moved it to the floor. Then he reached across with his other hand to the dresser top and grabbed the second pizza. His arms were really long, giving him a little bit of an orangutan vibe, but he was so muscled and so supremely masculine that it didn't detract at all from his sex appeal. "What gives you that impression?"
"The fact that you were on the beach watching me at midnight instead of inside the nice warm casino."
He nodded and made a gesture for her to continue.
She helped herself to another slice of double-pepperoni and kept going. "I mean, doesn't it strike you as just the least bit odd that we're sitting here together, we've been skin to skin in just about every possible configuration - "
That made him chuckle and ogle her suggestively. "Not even close, little seal. Not even close."
She felt the heat of the flush that suffused her skin. "Well in a number of configurations, anyway," she amended. "We've seen each other naked, I pulled a bullet out of your shoulder, and you got to watch me throw up. We've actually watched one another shapeshift, for goodness sake. And yet I don't even know where you live or what you do for a living."
Remy nodded slowly. He'd known this talk was coming. He'd figured that out the minute she'd stubbornly refused to leave him the night before. After what she'd done for him, he at least owed her some answers, even if he had deliberately twisted so the bullet had hit him instead of her. He had no idea whether or not selkies could regenerate.
"I'm from Quebec," he told her. She was right. They knew each other's biggest secrets. There was no point in keeping little ones. "My clan is mostly based just outside Montreal. I've also spent a few years living in New York City, here and there. And as for what I do - I'm a comic book author and illustrator."
She just swallowed and grinned. "Really? Traditional four-color or manga?"
If he'd expected that to flummox her he'd have been doomed to disappointment. He paused and she grinned.
"I told you I'm studying to be a librarian. I did my thesis research on young adult fiction. I know my weekly mags and my graphic novels."
"Of course." Merde, could she get any more perfect? He kept expecting to wake up from the dream. "I've done both. Even wrote a weekly syndicated strip for a while." It was how he'd gotten his start, as a matter of fact. If he'd done his math right, that had been several years before she was born.
"And now?" she asked.
"And now, mostly graphic fiction. You ever hear of Remington Rock?"
"The Night-Seeker series? Of course!" Her keen gaze skewered him. "Remy - Remington. Rocher - Rock. Got it." Then her big brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. "Gee whiz, Mr. Rock. Can't a big, successful author afford a real hotel room?"
He grinned right back. It felt so good to actually be able to talk to a woman, to share. It was an unexpectedly liberating experience. He'd had very few relationships with other gargoyles and he'd never once told a human about his true nature. That meant any liaisons had been of necessity both brief and superficial.
"So..." she prodded. His little selkie was nothing if not persistent. "Why AC in springtime? And why on Earth are you in such a crappy motel room?"
He couldn't resist teasing a little. "What, you think writing comic books is lucrative?"
She snorted. "I have a general idea of your sales figures. If this is the best you can afford, you really need a new agent. And that's not counting the licensing money for T-shirts and action figures."
She fiddled with a stringy piece of cheese that trailed from the edge of her pizza. "Look, if you're hiding out from the mob, or from a psycho ex-girlfriend, just say so." Then she sighed and her shoulders slumped. "Or, you can just tell me to butt out and mind my own business."
"Non." He reached over and palmed one of her cheeks with his hand. "I'm not trying to hide anything from you, cherie. Not anymore. But I am not used to being so open. After so many years, keeping secrets becomes a bit of a habit, you understand."
She turned her head to graze a kiss on the palm of his hand. Then she rolled her eyes and gave him a playful wink. "I'm familiar with the concept, believe me."
"I would imagine you are. Very well then." It occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, when he'd found the cup and this business was all said and done, he might be able to come back to Atlantic City and pursue his acquaintance with the delectable little shifter. Just that he wanted to was more than a trifle frightening. He cleared his throat. "I'm actually in town on a mission."
"What kind of mission?"
He let out a short bark of laughter and ran his hand through his hair. "A treasure hunt, believe it or not. I was sent here to find a long-lost artifact."
"Yeah right." She smiled and shook her head. "Try again."
"No, seriously. My people are in trouble. And even though I'm probably the last guy they should turn to in a life-or-death situation, I'm the one who was sent. Unfortunately, no one gave me the least idea of what I was supposed to do once I got here."