Marriage & the Mermaid (Hapless Heroes) by Louise Cusack Page A

happened in his boring life before. And when she looked up at him with that combination of kicked–puppy and innocent–naked–wet–girl he wanted to take bullets for her. So he convinced himself that he could protect her from the police, which his testosterone driven jealousy demanded anyway, then he’d help her on her way. Because she wasn’t a keeper. Even drugged to the eyeballs he could see that.
    “I’m sure you’ve got identification papers somewhere,” he lied. “Did you have anything at the beach? A bag? Suitcase?”
    She shook her head. Maybe she really did jumped off a passing ship as he’d suspected earlier. But he wouldn’t be telling the police that theory. “It’s okay,” he told her. “I’ll think of something.”
    “They won’t take me away?” she asked.
    Baz shook his head. “They’ll ask some questions. Just follow my lead.” He wasn’t sure what that meant — what he was planning to do to ensure she wasn’t taken away – but he hoped it wasn’t going to be something incredibly stupid.
    “I need help,” she said. “If you can’t give me a baby, can you at least make sure I don’t get locked up?”
    “I’ll do my best,” Baz said, and that felt right. In that moment, while his libido wasn’t revving him into overdrive, he just felt protective of her. She was a kid, stranded in a strange place with an even stranger mission. It wasn’t her fault. And maybe given time, if he could find out more about her, and when the damned drug wore off, he could counsel her to something other than a teenage pregnancy. He was just a science teacher and not a social worker, but he’d seen girls dropping out of school because of bad choices, and it felt good to be able to do something practical, now that this problem had landed in his lap.
    Of course, getting past the whole overactive lap thing was the first step. But she’d said the drug would wear off, and he could feel himself getting moments of clarity. Surely by tonight it would be gone altogether. A man could hope!
    He picked the tee shirt up off the bed and got on with practicalities. “Put your arms up,” he said softly, and she did. When he had that on her, he started on the shorts, one foot at a time into the leg holes, then he slid them up her calves and over her knees. “Stand up,” he said and she did, leaning heavily on his shoulders. He could smell her then, over the tea rose soap – the scent of a woman’s juices, and his hands trembled as he pulled the grey cotton shorts carefully up over her incredible butt. He fumbled with the drawstring. Okay, maybe the drug hasn’t worn off as much as I thought.
    She sat heavily back onto the bed. “I want the police to go so I can sleep. After that I need to find someone to have sex with.”
    Baz shuddered past a surge of jealousy. “Let’s comb your hair.” He got up and walked to the mahogany dresser. “And while we’re waiting, let’s introduce ourselves,” he said, coming back to sit on the bed beside her where he could untangle the long strands that fell to her waist. “I’m Balthazar Wilson.”
    He heard her sigh, struggling to stay awake. “Will Son,” she replied, her back to him, and, “Bal Thaz Ar.”
    Was she Polish? Danish? Definitely European, he decided and said, “Everyone calls me Baz. So what’s your name?”
    She shook her head, the golden hair sliding back and forth across his red Nike tee. “I’m not sure. What do you think it is?” she asked, and he suddenly realised she wasn’t going to tell him. So he could either demand a name and get a fake one, or …
    “Well you came out of the ocean,” he said. “Is your name Venus?”
    “Yes … it is,” she said quietly, her head tilting off to one side, as if she was too tired to hold it up properly. Had the bump caused that? Or the shock of near–drowning? “Vee Nus,” she added softly. “That is my name.”
    “Okay,” he said, and a quiet acceptance of the situation settled inside