As the Chair Turns, Collection: As the Chair Turns

By Eliza March

Books 1-4 in the series all in one collection. Hi! I'm Delia. Short for Adelaide, which, in my opinion, is too old-fashioned sounding for a young business manager in charge of the poshest salon in Boca. I'm of mixed heritage, exactly what sort, I don't know but at least one side of my family has a musical/theatrical background. At a hundred plus years, my Great Aunt Edna is still performing in a local cabaret and doesn't look a day over fifty. We all suspect routine nips and tucks, but you'd never know. Her personal trainer and plastic surgeon are magicians. Not euphemistically…really magicians. I know because I've recently been dragged into Boca's dirty local secret. Sam, Edna's handsome husband is still doing character parts in independent films in Miami. His last role was a gun runner for Werewolves—not much of a box office success, but the subject hit a little too close to home for my comfort. Uncle Sam may not know it, but Boca is a city full of paranormal creatures just fitting in. Shifters, werewolves, witches, vampires. The list goes on. You name it...I never know what I'll bump into on a quiet afternoon or a dark night. Recently I applied for the very desirable management position at Luna de la Mar Salon and Spa. As it turns out, the fix was in. Just one glitch. They never expected a human to apply. I am not supposed to know about the inner operations of the town where most of the inhabitants aren't human. I've come to realize being human is sometimes an advantage. I keep things operating daily...until the full moon. Then insanity rules. Our employees go batsh$t crazy while I rearrange schedules like a juggler with a dozen balls in the air, and my personal life is turning into a catastrophe. I'm infatuated with two men, and I use that term loosely because at least one is a Werewolf.
The other is a Coast Guard Commander who looks like the god Thor, but I'm playing second fiddle to his career. Uncle Sam, his not mine, is impossible to compete with. My heart throb, Aelric, saved my life then ditched me before our first date. Frankie,' who's not technically my boss is totally hot for me. He claims I'm making too big a deal out of my principles, but I have scruples about mixing business with pleasure. And believe me, hubba hubba, Frankie is definitely that. Pleasure could be his middle name. Truly, our biggest obstacle to a happily ever after are his monthly pack requirements. Frankie is the alpha of the local Weres, and though I'm not usually selfish, I refuse to stand in line with a bunch of female werewolves vying for his attention.
I lead sing with a local beach band. Two things I love: the beach and music. There's one obstacle standing in my way for now. Due to recently being attacked by an unknown creature…I must get through the next few months without biting or killing anyone, because... Well it's a long story…

Hair of the WERE -- A SIREN'S Tail -- Mayem, Magic, and Mistletoe -- and A Witch's CURSE are part of the ongoing Luna de la Mar  Salon and Spa series in AS THE CHAIR TURNS. This collection is only part of the series..

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eliza March
• Release date: Nov 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393340928

Eliza March

Eliza March worked as assistant librarian during college and lived for time in the reading room. Later, when she became a gossip columnist in the Hamptons, she had plenty of fodder for her stories. Now, the award-winning author known for writing contemporary, paranormal, and fantasy romance with sensual content, also writes everything from soul searing, gut-wrenching love stories to downright ridiculously, humorous romance. Eliza enjoys writing multi-genre stories for her fans who love variety. https://ElizaMarch.com https://elmarchbreathlessbooks.wordpress.com https://elizamarch.wordpress.com/e-l-marchauthor/ http://elizamarch.blogspot.com

Book preview

Introduction

Hello. It's nice to meet you. I'm Delia. Short for Adelaide, which, in my opinion, is too old-fashioned sounding for a young business manager in charge of the poshest salon in Boca. I'm of mixed heritage, exactly what sort I don't know. French partially, I suspect to confound my Cuban relatives.

At least one side of my family has a musical/theatrical background. At a hundred plus years, my Great Aunt Edna is still performing in a local cabaret and doesn't look a day over fifty. We all suspect routine nips and tucks, but you'd never know. Her personal trainer and plastic surgeon are magicians. Not euphemistically...really magicians. I know, because I've recently been dragged into Boca's dirty local secret.

Sam, Edna's handsome husband is still doing character parts in independent films in Miami. His last role was a gun runner for Werewolves—not much of a box office success, but the subject hit a little too close to home for my comfort. Uncle Sam may not know it, but Boca is a city full of paranormal creatures just fitting in. Shifters, werewolves, witches, vampires. The list goes on. You name it...I never know what I'll bump into on a quiet afternoon or a dark night.

Recently I applied for the very desirable management position at Luna de la Mar Salon and Spa. As it turns out, the fix was in. Just one glitch. They never expected a human to apply. I am not supposed to know about the inner operations of the town where most of the inhabitants aren't human. But I've come to realize being a human is sometimes an advantage.

I keep things going daily without too many problems...until the full moon. Then insanity rules. Our employees go bat-shit crazy. At that point, I rearrange schedules like a juggler with a dozen balls in the air.

And...my personal life is a catastrophe. I'm infatuated with two men, and I use that term loosely because at least one is paranormal. The other is a Coast Guard Commander who looks like the god Thor, but I'm playing second fiddle to his career. Uncle Sam, his not mine, is impossible to compete with. My heart throb saved my life then ditched me before our first date. Then there's Frankie, not technically my boss but Madame de Wolfe's grandson, who is totally hot for me. He claims I'm making too big a deal out of my principles, but I have scruples about mixing business with pleasure. And believe me, hubba hubba, Frankie is definitely that. Pleasure could be his middle name.

Truly, our biggest obstacle to a happily ever after are his monthly pack requirements. Frankie is the alpha werewolf of the local pack, and though I'm not usually selfish, I refuse to stand in line with a bunch of female werewolves vying for his attention.

The one thing that would help my recent problems would be if I manage to get through the next few months without biting or killing anyone, because... Well it's a long story... Settle in for the ongoing saga of As the Chair Turns, the events taking place in and around Luna de la Mar Salon and Spa.

Copyright

As The Chair Turns Collection

Copyright © 2016 by Eliza March

First E-book Publication: November 2020

Cover design by Eliza March

All cover art copyright © 2016 by Eliza March

Email: [e-mail]

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic, audio, or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission of the author.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Titles and excerpts: All rights reserved.

Hair of the WERE © copyrighted 2016

A Siren's Tail © copyrighted 2017

Mayhem, Magic, and Mistletoe © copyrighted 2018

A Witch’s Curse © copyrighted 2019

As The Chair Turns series © copyrighted 2016

Luna de la Mar Salon and Spa series © copyrighted 2016

Published in the United States by Eliza March

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my husband.

Abig thank you to Linda Hall for your editing expertise and to the authors who are part of the As the Chair Turns series. To my friend Karsley Love who came up with the title for As the Chair Turns.

Also a big cheer for my friends, family, and colleagues who encouraged me to...Write what I know.

Thank you, beta readers and critique partners. You catch what the rest of us miss. And as always...to you the fans who promote me and enjoy my work. You are the reason I write.

Chapter 1 - Son of a son...

Ihummed along with the band covering Jimmy Buffet tunes at the beach bar while the crowd sang and the sea summoned me. An ache deep in my bones couldn't resist the longing as I inhaled the scent of Pina Colada tanning oil wafting on the salt-water tinged air. My lips curled into a wide smile. Mmm. Today was my first beach day since I finished graduate school, and I intended to enjoy every minute of it. Once again, one with the sea...

Too poetic? Probably. More precisely, I was one of the hordes of hundreds, perhaps thousands doing the same thing. The beach was packed.

Looking for a place to plant myself in the warm sand, I forced the ever-present tension from my mind. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to worry about my job interview. A kiss of sun always does wonders for my tan and my confidence, and the results improve my disposition as well.

Delia. A familiar voice called my name. My new condo neighbors sat not far from where I stood and there...Heavens to Murgatroyd...was room for my chair right beside them.

Perfect.

Come. Sit here, Carrie waved me over and pointed to the space next to her.

Hoping not to trip over anyone, I carefully stepped around a few bodies in my way and put my things down.

Nice hat, Jen, I commented. Obviously not a beach person, she hid beneath an umbrella wearing a large floppy hat, huge sunglasses, and a beach cover up.

Can you say overkill? Strange girl.

She responded with her typical grunt just as a teenage boy jogged by, kicking up sand in her direction. Carrie muttered something that even my sensitive hearing didn't catch, and the sand took a sharp left then dropped like heavy beads of metal. Jen brushed off the imaginary sand from her arms and legs using exaggerated movements.

This place is a zoo, she exclaimed.

W-what...? I mentally questioned what the heck had just happened, but no one seemed to notice. Everything was business as usual.

Perplexed because not a speck of sand had landed anywhere near her, I licked my forefinger, raised it to check the wind direction, and nada. Not much of a breeze at all. Perhaps I have too vivid an imagination. Since Jen had intimidated me from the moment we met—I don't know why—I decided to keep my mouth shut.

In any case, I was more comfortable around Carrie, who, to prove the similarity in our tastes, wore a bikini almost as tiny as mine and apparently wasn't afraid of a little sun. I turned my attention to her where she sat boldly in the full sun applying tanning oil.

That's the cutest suit ever. And it was. I wasn't just blowing smoke. I love the combination of those specific colors. The pinks and greens reminded me of summer and watermelon.

Not too skimpy? Carrie asked. Hardly. Mine had half the material.

You'd almost be under dressed on a nude beach, Jen interjected. Yes, she was still as sullen as ever.

I took off my beach shirt and posed. Waddayah think?

Carrie and I burst out laughing while Jen appeared to merely tolerate us.

I love it, Carrie agreed. Jen thinks I should cover up. Too much tanned skin doesn't go with her Goth personality.

Ha-ha—very funny, Carrie. Jen cracked the teeniest smile. You'll all be wrinkled like prunes in a few years, while my skin will remain smooth as a... Never mind. I prefer a light creamy color to my complexion.

She lowered her glasses to make eye contact with me. No offense, Delia, your coloring is perfect. Just don't forget to moisturize regularly.

I wasn't sure I believed her flattering remark, but I thanked her just the same. Balayage blonde highlights mixed with my natural sun streaks were my trademark, but they looked best when I had color in my cheeks.

All I want is the sun and sea and a day to relax before my interview. To say I am nervous would be an understatement.

In a way, Jen and Carrie were sort of responsible for my job application. If I hadn't overheard them talking about the management position opening up where they work, I don't think they would have mentioned it. The opportunity sort of presented itself...well, not exactly. My mother always accused me of eavesdropping, when actually my hearing was just overly acute. I couldn't help overhearing their conversation in the hall.

Don't tell us you qualified for the interview. Carrie interrupted my thoughts.

Yes. And I should thank you both.

Wait... Carrie said. You passed the written test? They responded in unison, staring at me—incredulity written all over their faces.

I may have misinterpreted their level of surprise before they concealed it. Perhaps not. I'd definitely sensed something, but I wasn't sure what it meant.

Yes... I covered the awkward moment. I'm so excited.

E-excellent, Jen said carefully and gave Carrie a quick glance, the kind close friends share that make other people uncomfortable. We just didn't think you'd be interested.

Why not? It's my dream job. Doing hair and managing one of the most famous spas in the world? It's perfect. Everything I worked for.

Getting an extra degree certainly paid off. Well...could pay off. I was putting the cart before the horse. I still had to interview.

Carrie still sounded uncertain. You were able to read and answer all the questions on the forms? She squinted at me.

Why ye-s. Of course I could read and answer the questions— I bristled a little at the insinuation. I do have a Master's in Business Administration. Did she think I was an idiot?

She didn't mean to insult you, Jen hastily added. It's just we heard they sometimes add trick questions.

Oh! Well, that makes sense. I sat in the sun and let the heat smooth my ruffled feathers. Come to think of it, there was one question I've never seen on a job application before. I was baffled by it at the time.

Really? Carrie gulped. The two young women turned to each other then back at me. Were they holding their breath, waiting? They appeared concerned, tense even.

Nah. What did they have to be worried about with me?

What in the world could they have a-added to the application since we applied? Jen's voice cracked halfway through her question.

I pulled my hair up into a bun to get it off my neck for an even tan. Jen paid very close attention as I tapped my forefinger against my lips. In the section where it asks for sex, religion, and race. You know the regular stuff. There was a line that asked for species. At first, I thought it was a misprint or typo. But I wrote the only answer I could think of...human. I scrunched my nose and shrugged. What do you think they expected?

Carrie chuckled and reached over and patted my arm. Sounds like that trick question all right.

I got the interview with Sophia de Wolfe, so it must be okay.

You did? Carrie exclaimed. This time, she appeared genuinely stunned. Okay? Delia, have you thought about having to work with Frankie every day? In close proximity?

My stomach tightened and, holy-moly, parts of me I thought were dead from too much accounting came alive at the mention of his name. I had thought about him and...god forgive me...dreamed about him, too. Sweat burst out on my upper lip just recalling what he did to me in those dreams. Even though I wasn't a practicing Catholic, I crossed myself just for good measure to cover my intentional lie.

It's not as if Franco de Wolfe has ever been accused of attacking anyone. I waved my hand around like I was brushing away a fly. I can handle him.

Ri-i-ight... Jen snorted beneath her breath. I didn't miss the sarcasm in her voice. Both Jen and Carrie were incredibly attractive, each in their own sultry way, and I estimated them to be about mid to late twenties. Like me. Yet for some reason, they made me feel like a kid. I didn't think it was intentional. They were just more worldly than I was.

He's a real...dog and totally irresistible, Carrie warned me.

So what if he's mouthwateringly delicious. I bit my tongue before I added, I can resist him.

Liar.

My inner female knew me better than my conscious would admit. I'd seen him in action in the salon and around town with women dripping off him like warm honey. I understood why. He had a physique like a Roman god, dark good looks, and Italian charm. Not to mention, he was wealthy beyond imagination. The whole family was. If his grandmother hired me, Frankie would put my scruples to the test.

You've heard about him, right? Jen asked.

Of course. What's the matter, I asked. Don't you think I can resist him? You both have. Right?

Carrie scrutinized me as if she'd never seen me before, and both she and Jen wouldn't make eye contact.

What? Both of you? You both did him? My stomach dropped. I was freaked out on one hand and sort of jealous on the other.

My attention spun between them, my gaze whipping back and forth. Carrie I can understand.

She put her hand on her hip. Why me? What do you think I am? Gullible?

No, but you're a sucker for a guy with muscles.

I am, Carrie admitted with a smile, so I didn't take her attitude to heart.

You like men. Especially rich, hot men. But Jen? I settled on her. You? I never would have figured that you'd be taken in by his charm.

I wasn't taken in. I had an itch that needed scratching. He was available. That's all. Jen assumed her usual aloof mien, and lazily drawled, He's not bad, but it was just a one-time thing.

Her tone couldn't have been any more blasé. What she added next took me by surprise. He is pretty irresistible.

But he's your boss. I can't mix business with pleasure, I argued.

Technically, Madame de Wolfe is my boss. And you think you can resist him? Better women than you have tried and failed. I can attest to that. Jen tapped a long fingernail on her cheek.

I c-can handle him, I stuttered as Carrie gave me a sympathetic, yet condescending grin.

What? I asked.

Nothing...nothing at all, she said.

I wish you the best. Jen shoved her glasses on her nose and leaned back in her sand chair.

I was beginning to think I was in trouble.

Carrie lowered her lashes and whispered, He's really, really good. Then she sighed. We just didn't gel. I'm not the settling down kind and neither is he. But if you get the job and need any advice... She glanced at Jen. We'll be there for you.

Jen gave me a slow thumbs up. I can't wait to hear about your interview tomorrow night.

How did you know my interview was at night?

There was an awkward pause in the conversation before she cleared her throat. It's too busy during the day to interview.

Uh—oh. Right.

I decided to drop the subject and relax, but within a few minutes, the sun's rays scorched my body.

Anyone interested in a little body surfing? I asked as I stood. I could use a little stress-relief. Hitting the waves would be a good way to cool off and work off my building tension.

I'm not all that into swimming, Carrie said, but she agreed to cool off by the edge of the water and watch me.

I don't believe in doing anything strenuous, Jen added. I can't afford to break a nail.

Her being a nail tech at the spa, I figured she should be able to handle the repair—but who am I to judge?

Okay, then stay hydrated. It's warmer than you think. The breeze can trick you.

She held up her water bottle and saluted me, as Carrie accompanied me to the water's edge. Our towels in hand, we were ready to claim an empty dry spot beyond the tide's reach.

I soon found my spot then walked toward the water. I'm going in. How about you?

Sure, but just for a minute. Then I'll watch you from here.

Carrie caught up to me and took a quick dip. I went deeper to catch a wave or two after she returned to the shallows where the incoming tide washed over her. It was a great cooling off technique, but not my favorite. The sand accumulation in private places was hell to pay. The breeze kicked up and yet the flag claimed the surf condition was calm.

To me it looked as if the waves were getting stronger. Perfect for body surfing. I was able to catch about four good ones before I sensed a riptide building and was just about to return to shore when I heard a whistle blow.

The lifeguard had her attention on a small group of young teens who had drifted out too far. She blew her whistle again and signaled them ashore. All but two managed to drag themselves back to the beach. One, caught in the newly formed rip current, headed along the shore toward me.

I took the angle closest to where I estimated she'd end up and swam out, hoping to cut her off. Seeing my intention, the lifeguard ran into the surf after the other one. Adrenaline gave me the burst of strength I needed to maintain my position until I grabbed the girl.

Stay calm. I've got you, I gasped.

We're getting pulled out farther, she screamed.

We'll be okay. I lowered my voice and gave her clear instructions. Tread water and hold on to me. We'll swim out of the current when it weakens, or someone will come get us.

Usually a riptide moves along the shoreline, and eventually you can swim out where the current abates. This one seemed to be strengthening, and we were running out of shoreline fast. The young girl was breathing hard, and beginning to worry me.

Don't struggle. I'm a strong swimmer, but I need your help. Keep your head. Relax. Understand?

She nodded.

There's no way for us to get inside the current, and we can't reach the beach. Our only hope is to stay calm and wait for a boat or the Coast Guard. I glanced to the beach and saw Carrie and Jen at the water's edge hailing me. The lifeguard had the other teens safely on shore by the time I signaled for help. She looked in our direction with her walkie-talkie in her hand and motioned back to me in acknowledgement.

Help is on its way. Thank goodness, because the people on the beach were getting smaller by the second.

Chapter 2 - Changes in Attitudes...

I 'm so tired, the girl said, breathing harder. My arms feel like lead.

Hang in there, sweetie, the lifeguard has called for help. I can see her.

Suddenly the girl, flailing and splashing, screamed. SHARK! She practically climbed my body, elbowing me in the face, and pushed me underwater. I struggled with her until I flipped her to her back and gripped her under her arms.

Do not splash, I yelled. You want a shark to think you're a mackerel?

She went dead still and shook her head.

A dorsal fin with a nick in it surfaced, then a friendly dolphin grin smiled at me, snorted, and blew water in the air. Several more dolphins from the pod circled us, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Dolphins, I said. No sharks.

One of the dolphins nudged me. Then another swam up to the girl.

Hear that, chickie? I think it's our ride. I heard the engine of what I believed was a Coast Guard cutter before I saw it coming through the pass. I smiled at the kid when she glanced up and saw the boat racing toward us. She instantly relaxed, and the dolphins backed off to make room for our rescuers.

Hang on to me, I encouraged. Can you do that? Help couldn't get here too soon because the riptide tugged at us with even more intensity as the boat neared.

I can do it. She appeared to gather a second wind as the cutter glided to a stop and two Coasties jumped in to rescue the young girl.

As they brought her aboard, I waved off any help, caught my breath, and held on to the ladder. After the shark scare, my tense shoulders ached from holding the girl and treading water for so long. Just as I attempted to pull myself out of the water, something brushed my legs, and I froze in place.

Definitely not a dolphin.

Creeped out by what might just have been seaweed, I jerked my knees against my body. A dark tentacle surfaced and I shivered in disgust. Seaweed would have been a better option.

No sense getting hysterical. I struggled to remain calm and hang on to the ladder as a slimy tentacle whipped around my ankle and tightened.

Okay, time was up. Freaking out here.

H-he-elp! I gasped, lashing my legs and kicking wildly at the creature that was forcefully tugging me. I shouted, S-something has my legs.

My heart thundered in my chest, and I fought for air. Someone please notice my dilemma. If I let go of the boat all this would be over, because I couldn't break the creature's hold. Weakening by the second, my hand on the ladder began to slip inch by slow inch.

Just when I thought I'd lost the battle, two large hands circled my upper arm and hoisted me up to the first step. Whatever had me around the ankle released me and disappeared into the dark depths.

Seriously muscular arms helped me up the rest of the way. I focused on each step, touched the top ladder rung, and prepared to pull my feet onto the deck. But my rubbery legs couldn't hold me up, and I tumbled over the railing and face planted into two thick, lightly furred legs.

Wow! My savior had an impressive set of thighs, and they were covered in blue shorts. I could barely stand upright, so I said a prayer of thanks to those strong hands that refused to release me.

My view was limited to a massive chest, until I lifted my chin. Then, I was in for a revelation. There, in front of me, was Thor, the god of thunder in the flesh...more than likely just an ordinary guy but...he was the most gorgeous guy I've ever laid eyes on. So help me...like movie star handsome. You know...check-your-breath, close-your-mouth, and wipe-the-drool-off-your-face sort of handsome.

My noodle knees failed me for a second time, but Thor caught me as I swayed.

Are you okay...hurt anywhere? his deep resonant voice asked as his hands moved over my body, down to my ankles then up again.

For a moment, I worried about whether my bathing suit had held up. There wasn't all that much to the teeny-weeny top and floss bottom, and I had put it through the ultimate test. But my hero didn't seem to take notice. Instead, he appeared genuinely concerned with my well-being. Bless his conscientious soul.

He helped me to a seat, and when he finally released my shoulders, I realized he'd been keeping me upright all along. My body went all wibbly-wobbly and weak. Not that I'd show it. What the experience hadn't taken out of me...being rescued by Thor in a Coast Guard uniform had. I wasn't going to faint and miss gawking at this golden god while I had a chance.

I sniffed. He even smelled amazing.

While I ogled my hero, someone handed me a water bottle and draped a towel over my shoulders.

Thanks. At least I had enough ingrained good manners to respond.

You're welcome, the voice with no identity replied from behind me.

You didn't answer me. Thor didn't allow his eyes to stray beyond my face. Apparently, his concern was genuine. Were you injured by that...? His eyes narrowed as he glared out at the dark sea, then he bent, took my ankle, and examined the marks. His fingers brushed over the bruise left behind, and it practically disappeared beneath his touch.

The aftermath wasn't as bad as I thought. I'm fine. Just feeling the adrenaline letdown.

We'll have you both checked out onshore.

I had almost forgotten about the girl. She was wrapped in a blanket and had a water bottle in her hand too. Several crew members hovered over the girl and made certain she wasn't injured. While Thor gave orders, someone reported in over the radio.

They had us. We were safe.

The boat turned and we slowly maneuvered our way back through the pass to the intracoastal side of the barrier beach.

You did good, I told the girl who I'd kept afloat.

No...you were awesome, she said. I'm sorry about the eye...especially after you saved my life.

You listened and did what I told you. Smart girl. I smiled, then wondered about the eye. I pressed my hand to the ache under my left eye just as Thor turned from the helm.

That's going to be some shiner, he said.

Oh, no, I squealed. I have an important job interview tomorrow.

I'm so, so sorry, the girl said again.

Thor stared at me with a deep burning heat in his ice-blue eyes. I've never seen eyes quite that color.

Let me look at that. He put his hand on my lid and the pain subsided almost immediately..

Really, hey...really, she saved me, the girl insisted. I panicked when I saw the shark. I was ready to give up, and she told me what to do. Tears made a path down her rounded cheeks. And I hurt you.

It's nothing, I said and turned my attention back to Thor. If the young teen hadn't spoken, I don't know how long I would have stared at him.

I don't even know your name, she said.

Delia... I answered, never taking my eyes from Thor's. But it wasn't a shark.

His brows lifted in question and I answered, It was a dolphin trying to help us, I think.

He gave me a tiny, knowing smile and glanced out at the water with a dark scowl. I admired his intensity. You should be able to cover the bruise on your eye with a little make-up, he said and returned his attention to my bruises as if I were the only person in the world. When he completed his examination he gave me a lop-sided smile and said, I think you'll be okay.

My mouth went dry in spite of the water I was drinking, and I ran my tongue across my parched lips. Music played in the distance. Angels sang. The sun broke through the clouds. Wow. No—that didn't happen, but oh-my-god, his smile had that effect on me.

I finished my bottled water and dried off by the time we docked. Someone had kindly loaned me a shirt. I guess my bathing suit was distracting the crew.

After the medic cleared me, and Thor and I shared IDs and rehashed the tale about how the strange riptide formed out of nowhere, Jen and Carrie spied us talking and came running. The other teens embraced their friend as several parents flocked around the group.

All was right with the world.

Jen gave me a hug. That surprised me the most. To no one's surprise, Carrie made no bones about sizing up a few of the Coasties, all hotties, and engaged in a flirty conversation with one.

Who wouldn't?

Jen rolled her eyes and nudged me, then in a whisper, asked me about Thor—whose name, by the way, is Ric.

I thumped my hand against my heart so she knew I considered him just a little mine...for now.

Ric had what my dad would call scrambled eggs on his uniform...a captain or something. I was impressed he'd lower himself to the menial task of running a beach rescue knowing he probably had many more important things to attend to than save a couple of lives.

He seems a little smitten with you, Jen said.

I hope so. That had been the first he'd left my side since he pulled me out of the sea like a fish out of water until one of his crew needed his signature on the report. Needless to say I am completely besotted with him. What girl wouldn't be enamored with a handsome hero who saved her life?

Speaking dialogue that could be straight out of a romance novel is a sign I've been watching the Hallmark Channel too much while I work. Thinking like that is one thing—saying it is going way too far.

All my clients love the movies, and I calculated I could get through a whole Christmas movie while I did one or two highlights.

Right. Jen returned to her old sarcastic self and brought me back to reality with...Even if it is his job.

Just then, Ric returned and did the hand on the small of my back thing to get my attention...and got it all right...all of it. He gently guided me away from everyone to a spot where we'd have some privacy.

Tomorrow we leave on a three month assignment. He shifted from one foot to the other.

Nervous? My, my, the big boy was nervous.

When I return, do you think we could catch a movie or go out for dinner?

He didn't break eye contact so I had a difficult time thinking despite the alarm bells going off in my head. My life was just getting started. I was so-o-o not ready for a relationship, and everything between me and this guy screamed connection.

Say yes. Say yes, my girly parts shouted.

Hell, it wasn't as if he asked me to marry him. Right? Just dinner and a movie. A date.

One or two dates with a god-like Coastie, and maybe some excellent no-strings sex, later? Sounded like the answer to a girl's prayers. I pooh-poohed my internal warning signals and let myself drown in his attention.

I nodded like a bobble-head doll in the back window of a low-rider. Sure. I enjoy movies. I eat, too. So why not? Because, what harm could come of dinner and a movie when the man asking was the dreamiest guy on the planet? And a girl has needs. Right?

Besides, who knows what could happen in three months? He could be dating or married to some floozy in whatever port he last visited.

Oh...my gut clenched. My heart twisted in my chest and physically hurt.

Are you okay? He frowned then, touching my arm, and put my worries to rest.

Yes, I choked out, I'm fine. The painful sensation disappeared.

Good grief, what the heck was that? Swallowed too much seawater? Or a bad case of jealousy? I couldn't let that happen again.

So, we have a date in three months? he confirmed, and I nodded, sensing a date with Ric would be a huge mistake.

His grin did the sun breaking through the clouds thing again and all my trepidation disappeared. Only then I immediately imagined him naked, Oh-my-god, think of something else.

Gotta go...have a job interview tomorrow that could make or break my immediate future. I backed away and into Jen. Focus.

So...see you then?

I kept nodding as he turned to leave, still looking back over his shoulder when he reached the cutter.

We waved until Jen gripped my arm and tugged. Let's get out of here before you do something you'll regret. Jumping the guy's bones on the pier will make news, and I'm not sure how that will go with Madame de Wolfe.

Carrie took my other arm just to make sure I didn't follow through with my imaginary plans.

I would never... How did you know what I was thinking?

They both raised eyebrows of disbelief.

Trust me. Every woman breathing has those thoughts around Thor, Jen said and looked exasperated at my question.

I didn't blame her. He does look like Thor, doesn't he? It's as if my mind went on vacation in Ric's presence.

Actually, Madame de Wolfe is very open-minded, Delia. Don't worry. Carrie patted my arm.

Well, that's good to know—

Frankie? Maybe not so much, Jen added.

What? I wouldn't do anything with him...my boss. He's going to be my boss.

If you say so, Jen grunted.

When you came in to get your nails done, Frankie seemed pretty gobsmacked with you, Carrie whispered.

Gobsmacked? Is that a good thing?

Depends on your point of view. Carrie shrugged. Gobsmacked is an old Gaelic expression my grandmother used when someone is so stunned they can't speak.

Yes, and usually, Frankie is never without something to say. ‘Gobsmacked' defines his reaction to you, Jen agreed. If you keep attracting all the hotties, the next time we go clubbing I'm trading in Carrie for you as my ‘wing-woman'.

They giggled over Jen's comment, but her approval meant a lot to me.

Don't jump to conclusions. This is just a strange anomaly. I've never been known to attract men like bees to nectar.

Yeah, well that was one sweet anomaly... Carrie said, and then all three of us turned, sighed, and took one last look at the Coasties before heading back to our spot on the beach.

My heart did another flip when I considered what Carrie and Jen had said about Frankie. The acid bubbled in my throat. I was going to be sick...

Chapter 3 - Changes in Latitudes...

On my way to Luna de la Mar, I shook off my concerns about Franco de Wolfe. I'd heard plenty about him. He was a legend in Boca, and I'd even seen him in action when I had my nails done. The man could charm the panties off—god forgive me—Mother Theresa. Frankie was the only man who'd ever set my heart pounding the way Thor, AKA Ric, had. But the golden god wouldn't be back for three months, so at least I had time to plan a defense against my hunger for him.

Frankie was a different matter. My job interview with his grandmother was tonight, and if I got the job, I'd have to work with the man called the heartthrob of Southeast Florida. For some unforeseen reason I couldn't comprehend, I was suddenly becoming irresistible to some of the most tantalizing men around. In this case, I had to be prepared to fight my attraction to Frankie because I, Adelaide Belaquoit, would never sleep with my boss.

As usual, I showed up fifteen minutes early. The job interview had me rattled, but I remembered to bring my letters of recommendation. Carrie and Jen had given me a few pointers, told me not to worry, and reminded me that getting through the written exam was the trickiest part of getting the job. I wasn't so sure when I saw Frankie working the spa crowd.

Adelaide, welcome, I'm Sophia de Wolfe. An attractive woman, more Sophia Loren at her peak than what I expected of Franco's grandmother. I think I was gobsmacked, because nothing came out of my mouth when I shook her hand. She ignored my condition and continued, We'll talk while I show you around.

Of course. Finally, I forced my good manners to the surface and acknowledged Madame de Wolfe. And thank you for the opportunity to interview.

She sort of stared at me quizzically. Maybe I was overdoing it.

I want to know a little about you...and your family, she went on, and I tried to keep up with her. You do have family in the area?

Uh, yes. My parents have lived here all their lives, but my sister and brother moved to opposite ends of the country after they graduated from college. I wanted to stay.

We entered the salon area, and Madame pointed out where the colorists worked. I understand you will continue working with your own color clients, while managing the staff for both the spa and salon?

Yes, I've been a working manager in a smaller location—

Yes, but here you will have assistants for all your needs.

Well...thank you. That sounds wonderful—

No need to thank me. We will be fortunate to have you with us.

I practically choked, and stumbled at the same time. I was afraid to ask, but I needed to know. Wait! Does this mean I have the job?

Why of course. I thought you understood. The ad is spelled to bring only the right applicant, and the test is charmed so only the person who is perfect for the job will pass it.

Uh-oh gobsmacked again. That word seemed to describe my present state. Spelled and charmed. I pasted a pleasant smile on my face—the sort mental health workers use in the presence of dangerous psychos. Th-that's good to know.

I have so much else to show you before we begin your training.

I imagine it will take a while before I'm up and running with the operations around here—

Madame paused and once again gave me that quizzical stare. She