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It was cold! Meriel hated being cold and it was always fricking freezing in the North Atlantic, even in late April. She longed for home down in Tennessee and tried to remember what a summer’s night felt like. It was no use. Even under layers of blubber and fur, she was still human and still cold.

Seven years had passed since she’d gone to the Burbank company party and fallen into the waters of Block Island Sound in Rhode Island. She should have died. There had even been days early on when she wished she had. But nope. Not her. She was cursed.

No, seriously.

Cursed.

Meriel Byrne had turned into a Selkie.

Seven years ago, she’d thought impressing her boss was important. Since then, she’d learned otherwise. Now, finding fish was important. Staying away from seal-eating killer whales was important. Fending off the damn real seals who wanted to mate with her was important!

“Back off, fur face!” she barked at an importunate male. “I am not your girlfriend du jour. A) We’re in open water, not the rookery, B) it’s not mating season, and C) just yuck. Call me politically incorrect, but I don’t think I can go for the whole interspecies thing.”

She grumbled to herself as she dove away from him. If she’d known how attractive she was as a Selkie, she wouldn’t have worried so much about shaving her legs when she was human.

A lone halibut, separated from its school, swam past her. Lunch time. In a burst of speed, she chomped down on it and swallowed.

If she ever regained her human form, Meriel swore she would never, ever eat sushi again.

But she had no time to waste, even for lunch. Nose pointed south, she swam for the small, historic village of Misquapaug.

Twisted it might be, but she couldn’t help herself. Every year, she had this urge to return to the place where the curse had changed her. And why not? It wasn’t as if she had anything pressing on her calendar. Just a lot of fishing.

At the edge of the sound, she made her way around the inlet to an immense, turn of the century mansion. The house was even more impressive for perching at the top of a lone cliff. She’d been there once. It belonged to Ronan Burbank, heir to Burbank Industries, where she’d been low man on the totem pole in the finance department.

Meriel sighed gustily. She’d had a massive crush on the man. At the company party, she’d been trying so hard to impress him, she stabbed her stiletto heel into the soft, sandy earth, then tripped and fell off the cliff.

It was such an idiotic way to die. Except she hadn’t died. When Meriel hit the water, a curse she hadn’t even known existed kicked into action and she turned into a Selkie. It had taken her months to learn to make her new body work for her, but after such a long time, she was as agile in the water as any born seal.

She bobbed in the surf, wondering if Ronan lived up in that big house now with a perfect wife and perfect children. Someday, she’d stop coming here and hurting for things she couldn’t have. But someday wasn’t today.

A lone sailboat floating in the active waters caught her eye. The choppy sea frothed at the tip of every wave and a particularly vigorous gust of wind sent the blue and silver sail jibing wildly around the mast. That was wrong. Whatever lackbrain was crewing that craft needed to get his rear in gear or he’d sink it.

The boat tipped hard and she realized why no one was at the helm. The solitary sailor was lying at the bottom in a haphazard array of limbs, either unconscious or dead. Meriel dove under the waves and shot toward the sleek little racing yacht, praying she’d be in time.

She was almost there when the boat heeled over in the wake of a high wave and dumped its human cargo into the unforgiving sea. The cold must have revived the man enough for him to panic. Meriel darted over to him and grabbed his collar in her teeth, pulling until they broke the surface. The buoyancy of the water didn’t do nearly enough to counter the effect of the wind and tide. She struggled landward.

“Idiot,” she said between clenched teeth. There was blood in the water from his head wound and the taint of it washed into her mouth. She wanted to gag, but then she’d lose her hold on him.

“If you can’t sail, you shouldn’t be on the water.” She growled at him as she lugged his weight. The boathouse at the end of the Burbank dock became visible through the spray.

“Finally. Hey, moron. I know you’re passed out, but if you can hear me, you need to get up to the house. This is the Burbank place and they’ll take care of you.”

The man burbled, but it might have been the water rushing by. They reached the beach and Meriel nudged the man onto the sand, but he didn’t move away from the rising waves.

“Come on, mister. Get out of the water.” She smacked him with a flipper, but he didn’t move.

“Great. Just great.” Meriel hated going on land. All the grace granted her by the sea fled when she touched the sand, but she didn’t have a choice. She hauled herself up on her flippers, then snagged the guy’s collar again and yanked him higher onto the beach. He didn’t move.

“You’d better not be dead. I better not have just dragged my two hundred fifty pounds of blubbery ass onto land for no reason.” Panic crept into her voice and belied her words. He couldn’t be dead. Meriel didn’t do death. Even being a Selkie was better than being dead.

She flipped him over and finally saw the face of the man she’d saved.

“Ronan?”