Siren in Store Read online

  Siren in Store

  By

  Megan Hussey

  Edited by Angelicka Wallows

  Copyright 2013 My Pouty Lips - All Rights Reserved

  Smashwords Edition

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book with someone, please buy an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  About The Author

  Discover

  Credits

  Preface

  ***

  Handsome, strong and endlessly seductive, the merman Landon represents the ideal embodiment of a male siren. And although he reigns as the king of the sea he yearns for something more; a life and a job on land perhaps, and a woman whom he can love and satisfy as only a siren can.

  From the moment Landon meets Beth Nolan, the plus-sized owner of a beachfront book and novelty store, he knows he has found his mate; a bright, funny and sensitive woman who loves the beach and water, she is everything he desires. And in the siren's quest to seduce and mate with his intended lover, Landon will let nothing stand in his way. Not Woody, Beth's obnoxious boyfriend. And not his own fin.

  ~~*~~

  Chapter 1

  ***

  It was a bright and sunny day. And, depending on one’s current life condition, that could be pretty blasted problematic.

  Beth Nolan for one greeted the dawning of a new Florida morning with squinted eyes and a pounding head; to her the rays of a golden sun equaled little more than a bane to her senses—a reminder that a night of blissful respite had reached an unruly end.

  With the coming of the sun arrived the realization that another day of work was about to commence; a day of standing on her feet behind the counter of Siren’s Call Books, the small store she operated on the border of the beach in Paradise Bay, FL. A day of worrying about bills, taxes, and the young, fresh competitors who’d just opened a chain book store a mile away from her modest shop.

  “And those are my good days.”

  A bad day was a 24-hour period very similar to this one; a day that began with a splitting migraine headache—one prompted in all likelihood by summertime allergies—and a readymade supply of flamingo droppings delivered fresh to the front entrance of her pink sandstone business.

  “Ah, life in Florida,” she managed a smile, clutching her forehead with one hand as she tried desperately to unearth the many newspapers that lay soiled on her doorstep. “Gotta love it.”

  One thing she genuinely did love, she mused, was the way the offending sun sprinkled the azure iridescent surface of Paradise Bay; a crystalline collection of crashing waves that flowed free at the edge of the beach.

  Straightening on the doorstep with papers in hand, she watched as a lone ivory hued seagull soared high above these waters, its pristine reflection adding further color to the waves below.

  This lush tropical vision never failed to impress and inspire her; and today it boasted an additional accent—a very beautiful and dazzling accent that came close to stealing her breath.

  Suddenly the ebullient skyscape before her was graced by the appearance of a crystal blue fin; one that rose with a mighty splash from the streams beneath it.

  As a Florida native, Beth had seen her share of fanciful sea life; whether it took the form of a diamond hued dolphin or a gem blue whale, or even the stately big-mouthed bass that defined Florida waters, each had a distinct appearance and anatomical lineage she immediately recognized.

  “And as far as I can recall,” she squinted her eyes in thought, “none of them have Fabio hair.”

  Indeed, the creature who now ascended in one smooth leap high into the Florida sky did so with the equally smooth flip of its long blond hair; a stately mane that now revealed a chiseled face, sculpted cheekbones, full lips, and azure eyes that mirrored the hue of the waves beneath them.

  “He’s beautiful!”

  She watched amazed as the manly siren, a phantom of the waters, rose heavenward in majestic flight, likening an angel in an ethereal dreamscape that transcended the bounds of reality.

  “Damn right it transcends the bounds of reality.”

  Turning from the vision with a defined snort, Beth shook her head to clear it of its fanciful haze.

  “Dudes don’t have fins.”

  OK, it was official, she decided. The doctor needed to change the prescription on her sinus meds. Majorly. And with haste.

  ~~*~~

  Chapter 2

  ***

  Siren’s Call Books was a tidy collection of sanded shelves that held rows and rows of dreams; fanciful tales of whimsy and adventure that their owner held dear to her heart.

  “A damned good thing too,” Beth rolled her eyes, assuming the place behind the front corner of the store she’d owned for the last four years. “They don’t sell worth squat.”

  Siren’s Call Books did a thriving business—in just about everything but books. Tourists flooded her aisles in search of all things touristy—a word she wasn’t even sure existed but that certainly fit her most popular and fast moving product line.

  Visitors to the beach just couldn’t get enough of the post cards, beach balls, sunglasses and decorative sunblock containers that lined her shelves.

  The males in particular, she noted, also were fond of the mermaid figurines that filled a corner display; a selection of sirens cast in china, porcelain and polystone.

  Despite the obvious difference in their size, price and structural makeup, the mermaids who lined the lit stone alcove at the center of Beth’s display all shared a number of striking similarities that did not escape her notice.

  “What, the mysterious, mystical deep blue sea is so mysterious and mystical that the folks down there don’t ever feel the need to eat?”

  She sniffed at the tiny waistlines and nonexistent hips that graced each example of her siren dolls.

  “And all of that excessive water exposure only strengthens the strands of all that long, luxurious hair that they don’t even need a decent detangler to maintain.”

  No wonder every man who passed through the door of that shop stopped to gape at those blasted sirens.

  Her boyfriend included.

  Around the time Beth acquired Siren’s Call Books, she also acquired the store’s previous owner; a comic book artist who had used the shop as a storefront for his own line of fantasy publications.

  In lieu of hawking three dimensional collectibles that portrayed images of heavenly sirens, her beau Woody inked adult comic books filled with their nude likenesses.

  “Fates be thanked for those fins,” she rolled her eyes heavenward, “or those skinny little wenches would be good and naked.”

  Still she had to admit that those skinny little wenches ‘flooded’ their coffers and helped pay their rent—while her own line of literary novels gathered dust on her fiction shelf.

  Even so, the few tourists who sampled her fiction seemed to enjoy it a great deal. She dreamed of the day that her books would line the shelves of a store she didn’t happen to own—and that, furthermore, someone apart from herself and her literary fan club (which included her best friend Maureen, two people she actually didn’t know very well who were nonetheless possessing of excellent taste, her mother, and her second cousin—but hey, at least it wasn’t her first cousin, surely she didn’t feel obligated to be there, right?) would see fit to purchase her work.


  “As much as I love the creative process and all that, I’d love to see some of those fifty shades of green as well,” she rolled her eyes in keen self-contempt. “And the reader wouldn’t even be tempted to take out an active and ongoing restraining order against my heroes. Bonus!”

  Still Beth figured that all things considered, she and Woody lead a pretty nice life.

  Most of the time.

  “Where in the hell have you been?”

  She jumped at the sound of a booming voice that emanated from her reference section; one that belonged to a man whose slight frame and underwhelming presence served to belie his loudly spoken words.

  “Well top of the morning to you too, man of my heart.”

  Fixing him with a catlike smile, Beth greeted her lover with pursed lips and defiantly arched eyebrows.

  “Can eyebrows truly be defiant?” she mused, adding aloud, “I’m sorry to be late, but today turned out to be a major migraine day.”

  The empathy that Beth expected came in the form of a cool, sharp sniff.

  “As opposed to a minor migraine?” Woody countered.

  “Well it’s becoming more major by the moment,” Beth growled, regarding her approaching beau with a keen, pronounced sneer. “At any rate, I appreciate your kind sympathy.”

  Woody sighed, wrapping a slender arm around her shoulders in a half-hearted hug.

  “Sorry hon,” he offered her a weak smile. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to deal with our morning customers by myself, and to balance the ledgers from last night …”

  “I know,” Beth interrupted, planting her hands on her hips. “This is why we need to hire …”

  “Additional personnel …” Woody completed in a nasal tone that drove her over the edge. “Yes, I know. Go ahead and put up the sign.”

  He winced as his words were met with a high-pitched squeal of approval.

  “You’ve finally come to your scattered senses,” she applauded the man of her heart. “You’re finally acknowledging that we do indeed need a little help around here.”

  Woody nodded.

  “It is a tough job for two people,” he admitted.

  “And it’ll get even tougher next week,” Beth agreed, “when we head off to that comic convention in Jersey.”

  She froze as Woody’s head shot up, and he shuffled his feet beneath him.

  “Actually Beth, that’s another thing I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he folded his arms before him. “It seems my cheap jack publisher is only willing to cover two plane tickets to Jersey.”

  “Well that’s cool,” Beth gave him a look that screamed “And? I am one person. You are a second. That constitutes two people, dear.”

  “I’m taking Shonda,” Woody blurted out, averting his gaze to the counter beneath him.

  Beth bristled at the mention of Woody’s assistant; the slender twenty something who inked his comic books.

  “At least that’s all I hope she’s inking,” she bit her lip, adding aloud, “I understand, of course, that she is your assistant. Yet since they’re going to have to cover two hotel rooms anyway, why doesn’t your publisher allow Shonda to bring her boyfriend,” she paused, staring her lover straight in the eyes, “and you to bring me?”

  Woody shrugged.

  “I guess after shelling out for two hotel rooms, they don’t have enough to cover four plane tickets,” he said vaguely, turning away from her to fix his gaze to the gleam of his computer screen. “Stinks, doesn’t it?”

  Beth stared at him a long moment before turning away.

  “It sure does.”

  *

  Hours later, Beth sat before her own computer, set up quite conveniently in an office far removed from Woody’s post at the front counter. Still she couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to observe that he was hard at work on his latest comical creation which, shockingly enough, was a semi-nude woman with balloon-sized breasts and no noticeable hips to match them.

  Sneaking a quick, self-conscious look down her own fully made form, Beth shook her head before lifting it with pride. She knew and felt the sublime power of her blonde, voluptuous beauty and—blast it—she could fantasize too; specifically about the tall drink of water who now approached their counter.

  The sculpted gold wonder represented in himself a three-dimensional fantasy; an ethereal being with flowing hair, bronzed chiseled features and a muscled frame.

  “He looks so familiar,” she pursed her lips, leaning forward for a closer look. “I mean, I have to look extra close just to see if I know him, right?”

  Her spirits dampened as she detected the direction of his own eyes.

  The handsome stranger, it seemed, was staring with wide eyes at the explicit image displayed on her boyfriend’s computer screen.

  “Oh come on,” she sighed. “Don’t go and be like a real guy. Just be my fantasy.”

  Woody, for his part, beamed with encouragement at the stranger’s interest.

  “Pretty hot,” he coaxed, “isn’t she?”

  He froze as his customer drew back from the counter, fixing him with a concerned stare.

  “Actually I was quite concerned when I saw the model in the image,” he revealed. “She looks as though she hasn’t had a good meal in ages. And her chest seems abnormally swelled.” He stunned Woody with a pointed look. “Is your character ill?”

  Beth could stand it no longer. Leaping from her seat, she bounded from her office and engaged her customer in a warm, hearty handshake.

  “To paraphrase Olivia Newton John, I honestly love you,” she announced with a grin. “I wish I could offer you my heart and my soul. As it stands all I can give you is a free book.”

  Joining in her laughter, the stranger charmed her with a full-toothed smile that dazzled in its ivory gleam.

  “Ah how refreshing, a real woman.” He raised her hand to his lips for a warm, soft kiss. “Beautiful, voluptuous, and funny to boot. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  Beth chuckled at the way his cultured tones massaged this trendy phrase, even as she trembled at the feel of his soft, full lips as they caressed her sensitive skin.

  For just a moment she stared into his azure eyes and the world dissolved around them, leaving a man who seared her with a narrow eyed stare that bespoke warmth and—could it be?—just a hint of passion.

  Suddenly the pain that struck her temple seemed to subside, only to be replaced by unbidden notions of pure and unbridled lust.

  Her heart beat just a bit faster as she studied the stranger’s flawless face, one characterized by carved cheekbones, sun-bronzed skin and full, moist lips.

  The troubles of her life melted away as she lost herself in fantasy. With a drawn breath she clutched the stranger’s hand as though it was a lifeline.

  She felt lost and lustful in equal measure, chills raced up her spine as she escaped into the stranger’s gaze.

  For the moment she felt happy and serene, much like she did during her all too rare sojourns into the azure blue sea.

  And as per the course of Beth’s everyday life, the moment didn’t last long.

  “Are you serious here, Dude?”

  The annoying tones of Woody’s cigarette tinged voice disrupted her dream, shattering her rapture with its scratchy strains.

  “You’d really prefer Beth over the girl I’m drawing here?”

  The subject of his pointed comments gritted her teeth, feeling her cheeks flush as she suddenly hoped for the convenient arrival of the hurricane, tornado or other natural disaster; anything that would suck her violently into the ground, thus rescuing her from this humiliating situation.

  Their visitor, for his part, turned to her boyfriend with hard eyes and firm, drawn lips.

  “Oh what’s wrong Dude?” He made a mockery of Woody’s casual tone. “Did this lovely lady here turn you down for a date?”

  The broad beam returned to Beth’s face as she considered these words.

  “No, but on reflection I wish I h
ad,” she squared her shoulders. “As it stands, however, I’d now like to offer you two free books today.”

  “And my hand in marriage,” she added silently.

  The stranger chuckled, inclining his head to acknowledge her offer.

  “As a loyal customer at your place of business, dear lady, I would indeed love to claim some complimentary books from your shelves,” he grinned, adding with an arched eyebrow, “I’d far rather, however, purchase them myself with the aid of an employee discount.” He belied this declaration with a short, sharp nod. “I’d very much like to apply for the job you have posted at the front of the store.”

  Beth thought a moment, then nodded.

  “You’re hired,” she announced.

  “Now wait just a moment!” Woody seared her with a disbelieving stare. “Aren’t you even going to quiz him about his retail experience? His degree of familiarity with the literary world?” He crossed his eyes. “His name, mayhap?”

  “I honestly don’t care if he’s never read a book,” Beth declared, pinning Woody with what she hoped was a most annoying smile.

  Their visitor laughed in the face of Beth’s antics, adding in a more serious tone:

  “My name is Landon. I cannot claim to have extensive retail experience. I’m mostly a beachcomber who spends a great deal of time reading.”

  He paused, raising his muscled arms to make a broad gesture toward the shelves of Siren’s Call.

  “I don’t just see those books when I regard those shelves,” his azure eyes glowed with a gleam of wonder that stole Beth’s breath. “I see tomes, fables, adventures. I especially love stories of life at sea, as penned by Hemingway and Melville. Female authors are really the best, though—people like Austen and Du Maurier capture the true essence of life through their writing.”