chapter Four
When I awoke and squinted at the sunlight streaming in through the window, Beau’s side of the bed was cold and he was gone. A note sat on a nearby stack of clothing, along with my keys.
I sat up and grabbed the note—not that I was eager to hear from him. Nope. I squelched the shadow of disappointment that I felt at not seeing Beau this morning. Like I cared how he looked in the morning. Or if he had a five-o-clock shadow.
Or if he had those cute, tousled cowlicks in his hair when he woke up. Or if his eyes had that sleepy look that made my legs jelly. Nope. Didn’t care.
His handwriting was scrawly and loose, but somehow intimate, and just looking at it gave me the warm fuzzies.
Bathsheba,
Mike didn’t find anything unusual in the house. I’m going to go and check things out for myself. I’ll be watching the house to make sure nothing—or no one—returns. If you can, please stay away for a few more hours, until I know it’s safe. I went down to the gift shop and got you both some clothes—I guessed at your sizes. Hope that’s okay. There’s some money in the pocket for a cab, and use my credit card if you need it. You have my cell number. Call me later today and we can make plans. I’m not letting you get away easily.
I sighed.
In true masculine form, Beau had incorrectly guessed at both our sizes. The Dallas Cowboys sweatpants and T-shirt he’d gotten for Sara were about two sizes too big. Her slim form swam in the sporty clothing, but she gushed about how thoughtful Beau was.
My clothes—me being taller and bustier than Sara—were too tight. The shirt was indecent and the jogging pants were so short they could have been capris. I put them on anyhow and wore my minidress over them as a tunic.
“Good thing Giselle is never in the office,” Sara said, rolling up her sleeves. “She’d have a heart attack if she saw us dressed like this to come to work.”
Luck was not on our side. We’d no more than arrived at the small Liaisons office and told the nighttime girls (Ryder and Marie) about our harrowing break-in before Giselle breezed in, a vision in a red minidress. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders.
I swallowed hard at the sight of my boss. “Giselle,” I said weakly. “You’re back early.” Well, shit. That just complicated things.
“Bathsheba,” she called in a clipped accent. “I want to see you in my office. Now.” She didn’t bother to look at the four of us gathered at Sara’s desk.
All my senses on alert, I straightened my clothes. Giselle must have somehow heard about my date with Beau and had come into the office to put the smack down on me. Shit.
Sara gave me a wide-eyed look as I passed, but she didn’t scurry for the file room. The other girls in the office weren’t shifters, and Giselle was a siren. Sirens had a lot going for them, but the preternatural sense of smell wasn’t one of them. It was why we’d been able to work here for so long.
Giselle was not the most understanding boss, however. She kept odd hours, expected her employees to be held to higher standards than her own, and had a bunch of weird quirks that I’d written off as supernaturally based, but she wasn’t a fool. She might chide us for dressing down for one day, but it wouldn’t affect how we answered the phones or handled clients. Her anger had to be because of my date.
I’d let myself get carried away with Beau’s attractive face and my own raging hormones. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
As soon as I entered Giselle’s posh corner office, she shut the door behind me. I picked an empty chair and sat down. Her office was furnished far better than the rest of the building—the chairs were plush and thick, and fine art hung on the walls.
We had one lousy motivational poster in the outer office.
She took her time crossing over to the far side of the room and sat down at her desk, a coy look on her face. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Bathsheba?” Her voice was singsongy and deliberately sweet.
Not a good sign.
I plucked at the hem of my dress and hoped she hadn’t noticed that the pants underneath had a sports logo on the hip. “I only met Mr. Russell to tell him that I wouldn’t be going out with him. I tried calling, but you were unavailable.”
Giselle pulled out her cell phone, flicked the screen a few times with her thumb, then offered the phone to me.
I looked at the picture she’d pulled up. Beau and me, sitting at the restaurant table. My eyes were closed, the look on my face rapturous as Beau fed me something.
Whoops.
She leaned over and snatched the phone out of my hand. “Isn’t the first rule of working here that you cannot date the clients? Haven’t I explained to you that humans and Alliance do not mix? Ever?”
I swallowed hard. “I know.” Oh, God, I was going to lose my job.
“And yet you disobeyed my rules.” She pointed at me. “His mark is all over your neck. Do you know how I heard about this?”
“No.” I touched my neck and blushed. The spot where he’d bit me didn’t have a visible mark, though it felt hot to me. Did sirens have X-ray vision?
She crossed her arms. “I had no less than four—four!—calls last night. The werewolf community is quite upset and they’re threatening to boycott my service if I fix up more humans. They’ve made calls to several other important leaders, and I’ve already had one VIP pull his account. Not only is the entire Alliance upset, but they’re furious that I”—she stabbed her finger at her chest—“have given an authorized visa to a human. Even worse, I have not extended the same offer to other leaders as I have to the leader of the Russell clan.”
I put my hands to my forehead and slowly went over everything she’d spouted at me. “Could you repeat that?”
“If one clan of weres can date a human, all can date a human, or so I’m being told. As you can see, I have a problem.” Giselle gave me a look of disgust. “A big problem that you have created. My best clients with the biggest accounts want to know why the were-cougars are so special that they get exclusive treatment over my regular clients. Exclusive access to a papered, pedigreed human virgin—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. She made me sound like a dog. “Pedigreed human virgin?”
She gave me a look that said I should be quiet, then continued. “Rights to a human woman who has been cleared and declared fit for the Alliance. What am I supposed to tell these very important men?” Her eyes narrowed into slits.
I wrung my hands in my lap and hoped she didn’t notice. “I only met him because …”
“Because?”
Could I tell her the truth? That Sara had been freaking out and I’d been distracted by another customer and the answer had blurted out of my mouth before I’d thought about it? Finally, I admitted the truth.
“I tried calling you, but I got your voice mail and knew you didn’t want to be disturbed, so I had to make a decision. He asked me to go out with him, and I thought maybe one teeny date wouldn’t hurt.”
Giselle’s mouth formed a hard line. “You thought wrong. I should toss you out on the street, along with your sister.”
My heart sank. Giselle paid us both very well. If we were fired, it’d be hellish trying to find jobs that paid as much as working here. And here we were safe, because we knew where the packs were and what they were up to. We knew that the were-cougars lived up in Little Paradise on the edge of Fort Worth. We knew that the wolf packs lived on the far side of the Metroplex. We had tabs on every single shifter in the area who used the service, which made Sara safer, knowing who and where to avoid.
If we were fired we’d have to leave the city and start all over again. We had some money, but not enough for a move cross-country into blind territory. What if we moved to Portland or San Diego and the weres were thicker there than here?
“Please don’t fire me or Sara,” I begged. “We need this job.”
Her eyes were hard as they focused on me. “Are you loyal to me and my company?”
“Yes.” Anything to keep my job.
“Will you do whatever it takes to get back in my good graces?”
A few unpaid overtime shifts would be well worth it. “Whatever you want. My schedule is open.”
Giselle leaned back in her chair. “Good. I should almost thank that were-cougar for marking you,” she said absently, staring at my neck. The patch of skin burned under her scrutiny. “His mark makes you infinitely more desirable to others, now that you’ve been staked out as someone else’s property.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d been expecting. “Beg pardon?”
Her perfect mouth curved in a smile. “You, my succulent little human virgin, are going to go on another date. Several of them, actually.”
Beau must have called and made arrangements early. That made my stomach give a happy flip, but I quelled it. I had to think of Sara, not my hormones. “Mr. Russell is charming, but—”
“You’re not going out with Mr. Russell,” she snapped. “You are done with the Russell clan unless they go through the service and pay the fees.”
My brow wrinkled. “I’m not following—”
“This is a dating service. And you know as well as I do that desired females are very much in demand.”
Giselle stood up, towering over me. “As I said, since last night, I have gotten calls from four very important account holders. They were not aware that we had sanctioned human women available, much less a virgin.” Her lips curved into a smile. “I told them that it was a new offering, of course. And since you have the blessing of a clan leader, not only are you papered and authorized but you are also very desirable.” She strolled around her desk and approached the chair that I huddled in. “You, my dumpling, are going to go out on dates with these men. Or mermen. Or werewolves. Or naga. Or whatever I decide. They are going to pay an extra charge to go out with our sweet human virgin with the pretty blond hair.” Her pitiless mouth curved. “And you are going to keep them interested in my dating service, or you are out on your sweet, virginal ass. Understand?”
Each date meant Sara was in more danger—but I couldn’t afford to lose my job, either. “What exactly do these dates entail?”
“No sex,” she said bluntly. “Most of your appeal is that you are virginal. That’s rare in a full-grown human these days. You play sweet and coy and you blush, and you keep them interested. And then you get to keep your job. You and that little Sara bitch.”
I stood up, liking that when I stood, I was half a foot taller than her. “Don’t call my sister a bitch, Giselle.”
“But isn’t that what she is, Bathsheba? A little bitch.”
I stared at Giselle, my mouth dry. Was she hinting at what I thought she was?
“You and your sister think you are so smart. So smug that you’re keeping a secret from your supe boss.” Her eyes were ice cold. “Nothing goes on in this business that I do not know about. Understand? All it takes is one phone call to the wolf pack and she’s done for. Do you understand?”
She knew. I didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. My legs felt weak. Everything we’d worked so hard at, and Giselle knew exactly what Sara was.
“I understand,” I said numbly.
“Good. Now go and talk to your sister, if you like.” Giselle made a shooing motion in my direction. “See if she wants you to go out on these dates, or if she wants to explore that wild side she’s been suppressing.” Her expression was all sweetness and light. “I’ve heard that the wolf pack is very friendly to females.”
I’d seen—and had—firsthand experience of how friendly. Most of the women who dated a werewolf didn’t date one a second time. They were cliquish, irritable, possessive, and liked to fight. In short, they acted like the wolves they were.
She flicked her hand at me. “We’re done now. Go. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind.”
“Made up my mind?” I laughed bitterly. “We both know what my answer is, Giselle. I’m not going to let anyone touch my sister, including you.”
Her eyes gleamed with avarice. “So … ?”
“If I do this, you can’t tell anyone about Sara’s … problem. If you do, all bets are off.”
Giselle’s smile was wide. “My dear, it’s far more profitable for me to keep her secret. It’s safe with me as long as you play by my rules.”
“I have one additional rule,” I said, thinking fast. “Wolves are a deal breaker,” I said in a hard voice. They’d pick up Sara’s scent immediately and know an unfamiliar werewolf was out there somewhere. Then it wouldn’t take them long to realize it was Sara.
She shrugged. “I don’t see why I’m bargaining with you, but I’ll allow this. We don’t do much business with wolves anyhow.”
I left her office, shutting the door behind me, a sick feeling clenching my stomach. Giselle knew everything. Someone must have told her; she couldn’t have sniffed it out on her own. That meant someone else knew about Sara’s secret and was keeping quiet.
Who else was going to show up and attempt to blackmail us? I felt nauseated at the thought.
Sara waited by my desk, her face white and anxious. Immediately, my resolve strengthened. I’d date whatever bird, cat, or rat shifter Giselle dug up, and do it with a smile. And once I had enough money in the bank account, we’d leave in the middle of the night and start over again.
I couldn’t tell Sara what Giselle knew, though. She’d be paralyzed with fear and completely unable to work. So I gave her a cheerful smile that hid the fact that I felt like crying. “Giselle was mad about Beau, but since it’s set a precedent, she wants me to go out on a few more dates. It’s nothing big.”
“Really? Are you sure?” Her expression was clearly surprised. Then a slow smile spread across her face. “Is it because of Beau? You really liked him. Do you get to go out with him again?”
I waved my hand in a carefree manner. “Maybe so, maybe not. You know just as well as I that it can’t go anywhere.”
She hesitated, clearly confused by my reaction, then swallowed. “What about … you know.” She brushed a finger under her nose, indicating scent.
“We’ll be very, very careful,” I said firmly. “Like we always are.”
The phone rang, interrupting us. “I bet that’s Mr. Russell,” she said. “He called twice while you were in Giselle’s office.”
Of course he had. He wanted to make sure we were on for the rest of the week. Being in heat, he wanted to hedge his bets. I remembered how nice it was to be curled up against him in bed last night, then overlaid that brief, tantalizing thought with Giselle’s cold face and Sara’s pinched, worried one.
It would never work.
I picked up my phone and put on my business voice. “Midnight Liaisons. How can I help you?”
“I’ve been thinking about your ears all morning,” he said, then his voice dropped a little. “Thinking about the sweet curve of your earlobes, and how I’d love to nibble on them again tonight.”
Warmth unfurled in the pit of my stomach. God, he knew just what to say to make me tremble. “I can’t. Working.”
“You’ve been at work since seven a.m. Don’t tell me you’ll be working at, say, eight tonight?”
“I’m pulling a double shift,” I said immediately.
“What time does your shift end?”
Giselle’s red dress flashed in the corner of my eye as she cut across the office. I froze. “If you want to see me again,” I blurted, “you’ll have to schedule it through the dating service.”
“What—”
I hung the phone up before he could finish and buried my face in my hands.
Sara’s safety came before my heart, and if chasing Beau off was what I had to do to keep her safe, I’d do it.
I repeated that to myself over and over again, hoping it would make the ache in my chest go away.
Beau wasn’t the type to give up easily. He showed up at the office a few hours later, an enormous bouquet of flowers in his hand.
I stood up at the sight of him, clenching my hands so I wouldn’t do something girly like straighten my hair. “You shouldn’t be here. I can’t see you unless you go through the service.”
“The service,” Beau drawled, “is exactly why I’m here. Where’s Giselle?”
I frowned and gestured at her office. “Back there.”
Beau nodded and knocked on her door. A moment later, he disappeared inside. I turned, looking for Sara; her supernatural hearing would come in handy for spying on their conversation. But in true fashion, she’d disappeared as soon as she’d seen Beau.
Beau stayed inside Giselle’s office for an hour and a half. Not that I was timing it. Or listening at the door—not that I could hear anything. Quiet, conversational chatter continued the whole time he was in there, muffled by the occasional throaty peal of laughter from Giselle. The sound of Beau’s rumbling bass laugh made my knees weak.
Gee, I was glad they were having such a good time together.
Beau emerged from Giselle’s office without flowers and gave me the lazy, confident smile I was already getting used to. “Hello again,” he said, heading toward my desk, where I tried to look busy. He stood across from me, directly in my line of view.
I got up and grabbed a big stack of filing. “I’m really busy, Beau.”
“Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious as to what I talked to Giselle about?”
I opened the file cabinet and dropped a stack of Qs into a J folder. Who cared? I’d fish it out later. “All right, then. What did you talk about?”
“You and me seeing each other. Giselle is fine with it; you’re not in any trouble. In fact, we’re going out tonight.”
I plopped another set of files randomly into the drawer. If only he knew the truth: I wasn’t in trouble because of the simple fact that I was being blackmailed. “Great,” I said, trying to force enthusiasm into my voice. “I can’t wait.”
Actually, the small, selfish part of me was very excited about going out with him again. The practical, thinking-of-my-sister’s-safety side was worried. And all of me was concerned about Giselle. “What about the rest of the week? Until your heat?”
“Taken care of, If you’re willing to put up with me,” he said with a smile.
I didn’t have a choice. “I’m sure I’ll manage,” I said in a voice that I tried to make light and teasing. “You’re pretty hard on the eyes, but I’ll try and suffer through for a good cause.”
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. The warm feeling fluttered in my stomach at the thought of seeing Beau again so soon. It grew when he moved closer to me and put his hand on my arm. He smelled terrific, sun-warmed. I wanted to lick him and taste it.
I blushed at the thought.
“Tonight at eight,” he said, reaching out to touch the soft end of my long ponytail. “Dinner. Wear your hair down, please. For me.”
Giselle emerged from her office, a hint of a frown crossing her lovely face at the sight of the two of us standing so close together. I skittered backward and rammed into the file cabinet. Ow.
Beau glanced over at Giselle, then took my hand and pressed a light kiss to the back of it. “I’ll pick you up here,” he said, and left the office with a quick nod and smile to Giselle.
Uck. Giselle. I froze against the file cabinet and didn’t move until Beau disappeared from sight and the bell on the front door clanged against the glass. Then Giselle slithered forward like a snake with prey in its sights. “You’re going out with him at eight.”
The tension in my shoulders eased. “I know.” I took the information sheet from her with cautious fingers.
“To be on time, you’ll need to be dressed and ready to leave by two.”
Where were we going to dinner? Timbuktu? “Two?”
Her smile was brilliant. “You have a date with one client at two thirty. Another client at five. Then you see Beau at eight to placate him.”
She was going to stack my dates one after another, for maximum use of her new toy—me. I immediately felt dirty but shoved the feeling aside. I’d agreed to do this, even if it made me feel used. “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. Then I asked, “Clothes?”
She handed me a pink business card from her dress pocket (where did she have pockets in that thing?). “You’re going to see my friend Francesca over at Saks in the Galleria. She’ll get you set up with some decent clothing.” Giselle studied my appearance. “See if she can’t do something with your hair and makeup, too. We want innocent but seductive.”
“Right.” I said, taking the card from her. In the corner of my eye, I saw Sara exit the filing room, and just as quickly go back in at the sight of Giselle.
“So who am I dating?” I forced a smile to my face.
“Do you remember Mr. Jason Cartland? He was in yesterday.”
I drew a blank for a moment, then gasped. “The hot guy? Were-cougar?” We seemed to be brimming with horny were-cougars lately.
“It would seem so,” she said smugly. “He’s your two thirty.”
Well, this might not be so terribly awful. Jason was a beautiful man, and he seemed nice. Comfortable, despite his too beaming white smile. “Who’s the five?”
“His name is Garth,” she said with a look of delight, as if she’d just seen dollar signs flash in front of her eyes. “He’s very rich. Middle-aged, never been married. Country music song writer. He likes baseball and trucks. He’ll be quite a catch.”
Blech. “Sounds lovely,” I said. “And he is …” Tall? Short? Fat? Desperate? Deaf? Mute? Lord, I hoped he was mute.
“Naga.”
I blanched. “Snake?” I hated snakes.
“Snake,” she agreed. “And you’re going to tell him that you love snakes. Understand?”
“I love snakes,” I parroted back in a gushing, idiotic voice. “Snakes and baseball and country music. They’re my favorites.”
“Good girl,” Giselle said, patting me on my cheek like I was a dog.