A - Immortal Sea

Ben died. She didn‟t want to drink alone, to finish the bottle after the children went to bed.

He shrugged. “Dylan said it would be appropriate.”

She ran through her mental file of patients. “Dylan Hunter?”

“You know him.”

This was an island. Eventually, she would know everyone. It was one of the reasons she‟d moved her family here.

“He brought in his daughter for her three-month checkup last week,” she said.

“Ah.” Morgan turned his attention to his plate.

He ate with controlled appreciation, she noticed, an almost animal grace and focus. She watched the movement of his

mouth, the flex of his hands on knife and fork, and felt herself flush.

She stabbed at the chicken thigh on her plate. “How did you two meet?”

“Dylan is a colleague.”

“I thought he helped his wife in the restaurant.”

“On occasion. He is also involved in . . . I suppose you would call it environmental protection.”

“And that‟s what you do?”

“Yes. Marine protection, exploration, and salvage.” Morgan‟s eyes gleamed. “Amazing the things one finds underwater.”

Zack‟s fork clattered.

Liz felt control of the conversation slipping and grabbed for the serving dish. “More chicken?”

“Thank you.” He took another leg, some rice, the last length of sausage.

Even Ben, before his health failed, hadn‟t attacked his food like this.

Liz watched Morgan heap food on his plate, aware she hadn‟t cooked for an adult man in a long time.

Morgan looked up and smiled, his teeth very white. “You have stirred my appetite.”

Her breath snagged in her throat. She was light-headed. Dizzy. Dismayed.

This man was not Ben. And the hunger he stirred in her wasn‟t anything she should feel. Certainly nothing she could

satisfy.

“This was one of Ben‟s favorite dishes. My husband, Ben.” She grabbed her wine to steady herself.

“Then I am honored you prepared it for me. I expected you to serve seafood. Lobster.”

Liz choked.

While she reached for water and a napkin, Morgan turned to Zack. “What did you do with them?”

Zack jerked his shoulder. “He took them. The cop.”

“Frustrating,” Morgan observed.

“Whatever.”

“Unless you can get more.”

Liz stopped her frantic blotting of the tablecloth. Zack regarded Morgan through his lashes and said nothing.

“Where did you find the lobster?” Morgan asked.

Liz held her breath.

“In the water,” Zack muttered.

“Four meters down? Forty?”

“What difference does it make?”

“None to me,” Morgan said blandly. “Though I am interested to know how you brought them to the surface.”

He was questioning her son at her dining room table. That was wrong. But she wanted answers. She was tired of battering

herself against the wall of her son‟s silence. There was a certain guilty relief in letting Morgan bear the burden of interrogation

and the weight of Zack‟s resentment.

At least he hadn‟t stomped off to his room. Yet.

“What does it matter?” Zack shot back. “It‟s over.”

Morgan‟s shoulders lifted in elegant imitation of Zack‟s shrug. “Until you do it again. Once you give in to it, that kind of

thrill is hard to resist.”

“What thrill?” Liz asked. “Stealing? Zack doesn‟t need to—”

“The sea,” Morgan said. “It‟s in his blood now.”

Zack‟s pale face flushed. “It‟s not. I‟m not . . . I did it for the money.”

Nerves roiled Liz‟s stomach. She crumpled her napkin in her lap. “Zack?”

He wouldn‟t look at her.

“If you needed money, all you had to do was—”

“I‟m too old to run to you every time I want something,” he flashed.

Liz lifted her chin. “I was going to say, „Get a job.‟ ”

Morgan laughed shortly.

Zack‟s face sagged before he shaped it into his usual scowl. “I can‟t. I have to watch Em.”

“I think today proved you and Emily would both be better off with some other arrangement,” Liz said as calmly as she

could. “Tomorrow I‟ll look into options for her. You can walk into town and see if any of the stores are hiring.”

Zack‟s chair scraped as he thrust to his feet. “That‟s bullshit.”

“Sit down,” Morgan ordered.

“She can‟t tell me what to do.”

“Of course she can.” Scorn edged Morgan‟s voice. “She feeds you, clothes you, shelters you like a child. Sit.”

Zack flopped onto his chair.

Liz frowned. Not that she didn‟t appreciate the support, but she was responsible for discipline in this house. “I don‟t need

you to stand up for me.”

Morgan gave her a long, cool look. “You are female. This is between men.”

“I‟m his mother,” she said, indignant.

He held her gaze. “Precisely.”

She felt naked, all her weaknesses, all her failings as a parent, exposed.

An image sprang into her mind of Morgan, standing in the police station like a black-clad guardian angel, Emily clinging to

his leg.

At the table, Zack watched them with the focused attention he usually reserved for his video games. On any other evening,

after any other fight, he would be in his room with the door shut and music shaking the walls.

Liz drew a deep, careful breath.

“Can I speak with you?” she said to Morgan. “In the kitchen.”

His teeth flashed. “I am at your service.”

7

MORGAN FOLLOWED ELIZABETH FROM THE DINING room, a buzz in his blood. Amusement or annoyance or lust.

She walked with long, smooth strides, hips rolling, shoulders braced for battle.

If she was looking for a fight, he could give her one. He ran his tongue over his teeth. He was prepared to give her any

number of things.

She turned to face him, the yellow light from above the sink gleaming on her sleek mahogany hair. The pads of his fingers

tingled.

Anticipation, he realized. That accounted for the hum in his blood, the tightening in his belly.

He was immortal, but she made him feel alive.

She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You can‟t just stroll into Zack‟s life and start acting like his father.”

“I am his father. He is my seed.”

“He‟s not some test tube baby,” she snapped. “He‟s a person. He‟s my son.”

“My son, too.”

“Which means nothing without some kind of commitment.”

It meant everything if the boy were finfolk.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking my intentions?”

She stuck out her chin. “Towards Zack, yes.”

If he told her, she would throw him out. He shrugged. “I want to know my son.”

“Any relationship you have with Zack has to be his choice.”

He admired her determination to protect her family, even though he had no intention of being hampered by it. “And you

trust his judgment.”

She flushed. “No. That doesn‟t mean I trust you either.”

“Yet I have been inside you,” he murmured mostly for the pleasure of seeing her eyes flash.

“I was stupid then. I won‟t be stupid now. Not with my children‟s safety at stake.”

He was annoyed. “I do not prey on children.”

“I‟m not talking about physical danger,” she said. “But they‟re emotionally vulnerable. Zack is going through a difficult

time right now. I don‟t want you confusing him even more.”

“It may be I understand the boy better than you think.”

“If I didn‟t consider that a possibility, we wouldn‟t be having this conversation,” she said frankly. “But you don‟t really