Exhale (3 page)

“Of course you do.” Red’s eyes flickered, and a zap of heat lightning sliced open the sky behind her. “Stay away from him.” The warning layered deep within her voice flared loud and clear.

She pictured Red and Gavin together, entangled in the throes of passion, his hands all over her as raspy laughter filled the air. Zoe shivered.

Fingers shaking, she unlocked the car with a quick
beep-beep
from her key fob. “Done deal.”

Refusing to meet the woman’s hypnotic eyes again for fear she wouldn’t be able to look away, she slid into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and switched on the ignition. She threw the gearshift in reverse and peeled out of the parking lot like she’d stolen the damn car. Though Red disappeared in the rearview, her condescending grin somehow lingered like a Cheshire Cat’s.

Zoe’s hands trembled as she gripped the steering wheel. The beer had done nothing to settle her nerves. Her heart thumped a wild, out of control rhythm, like a thrashing caged animal trapped in her chest.

She had no business dabbling in these dangerous, jealousy-tinged waters. Red seemed like a short-fused stick of dynamite, and Gavin was a heartbreak waiting to happen. Zoe had enough drama in her life without them.

Buildings breezed by her peripheral vision, but she saw none of them. She punched the air conditioning button to take the edge off the heat prickling her skin.

Darkness had descended on the tourist trap of Hervey Bay, Queensland, the self-professed ‘Whale Watching Capital of the World.’ As she drove past quiet neighborhoods, Zoe slowed her breath. Once she regained the control she’d lost, she allowed herself to replay the most astonishing part of the evening’s events.

It was shocking enough that Mr. Perfect was real and somehow managed to find her, but the fact that he had
her
bird crapped the logic circuits right out.

While on holiday in Sydney with her mother two decades ago, Zoe had met an old Aboriginal Australian named Yileen, whom she’d recently become reacquainted with in both her dreams and in real life. Yileen had given her a wooden bird exactly like the one Gavin left at the bar. He’d said it chose her, and she should be careful to obey its wishes. Mother had groaned at what she’d thought was a hawker and offered a few dollars to get him off their backs, but the man had refused the money.

‘No, this a gift. The bird go where it like, and it like her,’ he’d said, pointing at Zoe.

A few hours later, she gave the bird to a crying kid in a restaurant because she felt sorry for the little guy. When he took it, his tears dried up. She ruffled his black hair and willed him to keep her bird safe. His smiling blue eyes told her he would.

Could it really have been him?

She covered her mouth with trembling fingers. Shit.

Zoe turned onto Esplanade, the fluorescent streetlights illuminating the last stretch of her trek home. She didn’t believe in coincidences. There was a logical explanation for everything that happened tonight. She just had to find it.

When she got back to the research house, it was dark. Reeling again from the events at The Whale & Whistle, Zoe remained in the car for a few minutes and forced herself to chill. She couldn’t go inside flustered. With Randy all over her lately, trying to weasel back in her bed, he would pick up on her stress in a heartbeat.

She shut the Gavin channel in her brain off and went into the house. On top of the bizarre developments in her personal life, she was struggling to manage the humpback whale digital tag project that had gone astray. If she blew it, there was no chance for promotion. Yeah, she had plenty of other worries to keep her neuroses intact without the romantic drama.

Randy and a man she’d never seen before sat at the dining room table. The whale fluke identification notebook lay open between them. Randy’s shaggy gray hair swung as he turned to her.

“How’d the interview go?” His skin looked pale in the low light.

She waved her hand. “He was a no-show. I was running late, so I must have missed him. Sat down and had a beer with a guy.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Randy’s eyes narrowed, then he gestured to the man. “I want you to meet Iri Rangi. He’s from the Cetacean Research Network’s New Zealand office. Iri, this is the amazing and talented Dr. Zoe Morgan.”

Iri was Maori, probably late twenties, but his eyes were older than the hills. Taken aback by the crystalline yellow-brown quality of them, Zoe tilted her head. She couldn’t stop staring.

He stood and offered his right hand. She accepted. His skin was cool and dry, his grip powerful. Deep, ancient words whispered inside her mind as he gazed at her, but she didn’t understand them. What the hell?

As if waking from a trance, Zoe shook her head, tacked a false smile to her lips with emotion-free superglue, and said, “Pleasure to meet you, Iri.”

He nodded and held on longer than was customary for a handshake, drawing her hand to his face. For a moment, she thought he might kiss the backs of her fingers. Okay, this guy was creepy. She wriggled out of his gentle but firm grasp. A horde of heebie-jeebies swarmed up the inside of her arm. Despite the rude message it sent, she shook her hand out. Couldn’t help it.

“Iri’s going to be your back-up driver,” Randy said, apparently oblivious to the entire exchange.

Her smile fell off and crashed to the floor, scattering shards of confidence to the four winds. She turned to Randy. “I thought we agreed I could handle this.”

“You
can
handle this. I’m just making it easier for you. Iri and I are switching places for the duration of the project.”

Iri’s gaze hadn’t left hers, and she felt very uncomfortable talking about him while he was standing right there. “You mind if we step outside for a minute?” She nodded toward the living room.

“Be right back.” Randy frowned, got up, and walked glassy-eyed to the door.

Had Iri even spoken? Zoe didn’t think he had. She followed Randy out to the driveway, regaining the wits she’d lost somewhere between being kissed by her hot rock star dream lover and being told she had a weird new crewmember she didn’t want. God, what was happening to her life?

The tall palms in the front yard cast dubious shadows, their fronds waggling like hairy spider legs in the sudden wind. Zoe’s skin prickled. First the heat, now this creepy breeze. She rubbed her arms and stamped her feet.

“What the hell, Randy? I don’t need that guy” —she jabbed her thumb in the direction of the house— “or
you
to help me. Adriene’s okay to drive the boat now.”

“Doctor said she needs to stay off the broken leg as much as possible.” Randy shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, raised his chin, and fixed his gaze on her. She hated when he did that. Like he was trying to exert his dominance or something.

“Okay, then as I told you before, I’ll drive. Dani’s got the tagging down, and Elizabeth is freaking Annie Lebowitz with the camera. We can manage just fine without
Iri
. Besides, he’s a little strange.” Very unprofessional. She shouldn’t have said that. She’d just met the man. Still…

“Iri is more than qualified. With him on the boat, you’ll be able to take some time off. You don’t need to work every single day.”

“I
like
working every day.”

“I know you’re trying to impress me for this job thing, Zoe, but there’s no need.” Randy stepped closer and skimmed a hand from her shoulder down her arm. “I’m already sold.” He wiggled his pinkie finger into her palm.

She twisted away. “
You
might be sold, but I’m off the market.” Her voice turned ice cold, along with the blood circulating through the rest of her. “We’re through. I can be professional, respectful, and courteous to you, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. And for the record, these little advances are bordering on sexual harassment. Keep your distance.”

“Hard to prove sexual harassment when we had a sexual relationship only a few months ago. And besides, who do you think the Board is going to believe?”

Zoe ground her teeth together. Oh, he did
not
just say that. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

He stepped back and held up his hands. “Do as I ask with Iri, and I’ll be out of your hair. If everything goes well, you’ll have your promotion by the time you return to the States in November.”

“Does he have any qualifications?”

“Of course he does. I wouldn’t throw just
anyone
at you.”

“How come I’ve never heard of him before?” Something was off about this guy—and Randy too, for that matter. Had her boss brought Iri into the house to spy on her? That would be
so
like him. Bastard.

Randy grinned. “Don’t worry about Iri. He’s a perfect fit for your team. Trust me.”

“You’ve told me to trust you before, and that got me nowhere.” Seven years of empty promises, waiting for Randy to fall in love with her. Nope, she wouldn’t waste anymore time or trust on him.

As for Iri, she had no choice but to accept him. Once Randy made up his mind, there was no changing it. She’d learned that the hard way.

“He knows what he’s doing.”

She shook her head and started back inside, then turned once more to Randy. “You tell Iri that I run a tight ship. This is
my
project, and I do it
my
way. At the first sign of incompetence or laziness, his ass is out of here, with no guff from you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Randy said, draping an arm across her shoulder as she shuffled toward the house. She shrugged out from under him.

Parked on the street a couple hundred meters away, a black car rumbled to life with a loud, angry growl. The vehicle roared off into the night.

The cold wind ruffled Zoe’s hair, and she hustled up the steps to the lanai. As soon as she got inside, she went to her room without so much as a glance at Iri Rangi.

She stripped, threw her clothes on the floor, and pulled on her pajama top. A flash of white peeked up from the discarded pants. With one leg in her PJ bottoms, she picked up the printout Gavin had left at the bar and unfolded it again.

And now I know that you’re the one

I’ve waited my whole life for

You’re the budding leaves turning green in spring

You’re the fresh breath of air that summer brings

You’re the autumn sky painted in rainbow hues

You’re the wintry ocean dancing in shimmering blues

You’re the air I breathe

You’re the water I drink

You’re the fire inside me

The earth under my feet

You’re the one

Watery emotions welling, Zoe read the words one more time, then clutched the paper to her chest.

She’d trusted Gavin in her dreams, and he never let her down.

She slid her fingers over the ink, imagining him writing those lyrics while waiting for her—
her!
—at the pub. Having witnessed the hotness up close and personal, she was hard-pressed to deny her feelings for him. Gavin was Grade A, high-octane temptation, guaranteed to blow her mind and steal her heart faster than an adrenaline rush if she let him.

Had she been a less career-minded person, she wouldn’t have thought twice about going out with Gavin. But the whales were her first love. She shared twenty years’ worth of history with them, and now the promotion she’d busted her ass to get was within her grasp.

She’d come too far to give up her life’s dream for a dream she just met.

Damn it.

Mourning the death of her fantasies with a headshake, she shoved the wrinkled paper under her pillow.

Her hopeful heart went silent. And began planning a mutiny.

Chapter Three

Gavin would have followed Zoe straight out of The Whale & Whistle if it hadn’t been for the policeman watching him so intently. But since he knew where she lived, it was easy to track her down.

Not so easy, however, watching her argue with that bloke outside the house. She was clearly upset about something, and the man, whom Gavin believed worked with Zoe, tried to downplay it.

The muse’s yellow-orange aura suggested she was irritated, but nothing more. The man had a mischievous orange streak in his calm light blue aura.

Gavin scanned the neighborhood for Fyres. All quiet.

Jealous, but certain the dickhead guy posed no threat to her, he drove off, unwilling to stay longer for fear of what else he might see.

He’d pay her a visit tonight in her dreams. Once she fell asleep, he could protect her just as well—if not better—in the Dreaming.

Still…He wanted to know who that bloke was. Gavin didn’t like the familiarity between them. Or the man’s hands on his muse.

Not that he believed it, but Sinnder had said the two of them were sleeping together.

He rubbed his aching jaw the whole way home.

As Gavin screeched into his driveway, something big and shiny caught his eye. A motorcycle. He pulled in close, threw the car into park, and turned off the engine. Couldn’t be Yileen. He was dead.

Wasn’t he?

Disbelief dragging him forward by the shorthairs, he climbed out and left the car door wide open.

“Yileen?” His eyes clouded.

Holy shit. Definitely the old man’s Harley. He ran his shaking fingers across the body of the motorbike, inhaled the scent of leather and petrol. Where the hell was he? “Yileen!”

In the darkness, a figure rose from the front step. Gavin barely made out shaggy hair and a beard—the silhouette of the friend and mentor he
thought
Fyre Elementals had killed just a week ago.

He rushed forward to meet his mate.

When the clouds hiding the moon parted and threw light on the man’s face, Gavin stopped.

“According to Aboriginal tradition, you shouldn’t speak names of the dead,” the stranger said. “Though I doubt he’d give a shit.”

Heat flooded Gavin’s veins. “Who the fuck are you?” He shoved the man up the step, crashed his back into the door, and held him there, fists balled in the guy’s shirt.

Looking like some poorly preserved relic from the sixties, the bloke held up both hands—one of them dangling a beer bottle, the other holding a newspaper—and met his eyes. “Whoa, dude, don’t kill the messenger. I was sent here to deliver your buddy’s bike is all.”