Bear's Kiss (Bear Heat Book 2)

BEAR'S
KISS

By

Natalie Kristen

Copyright
© 201
5
Natalie Kristen

ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED

No
part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
used fictitiously or are the products of the author's imagination.
Any resemblance to actual locales, events, establishments or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

About
this Book

Prisha
Singh has just moved to the city to take over her grandmother's
little restaurant. Determined to continue her Nanni's legacy and
build up the business of Curry Corner, Prisha throws herself into her
work. She is just a hardworking chef, a small business owner, and
she never expects danger to come striding through the front door of
her little restaurant.

When
Caleb Nash, Beta of the Black Bears, saves the life of his hot, new
neighbor, he realizes that a deadly plan has been set in motion. The
fate of the city and this beautiful, curvy human woman is
inextricably linked.

Caleb
is in charge of the operations of the Black Bears Group, a large
security company, and he is used to taking risks and executing daring
plans.

But
the risks and the cost may be too high this time

Will
he risk the entire city for the life of his mate?

Or
will he sacrifice Prisha to save the city?

Caleb
has only one choice and one chance.

*****

CHAPTER
ONE

Prisha Singh held the door
open and smiled. “Thank you, and have a good evening, Mr and
Mrs McPherson. Please come again,” she said warmly.

“Oh, we will,”
the sweet elderly lady replied. “We've been coming here for
years. No other curry place in the city serves curries that make my
mouth and eyes water! Your grandmother was an amazing cook. And so
are you, my dear!”

“Thank you, Mrs
McPherson.” Prisha beamed.

Mr McPherson chuckled and
winked at Prisha as he walked out the door. “Now that's my
girl. Red hot and spicy, with just a little bit of sugar.” He
leaned on his walking stick and tucked his wife's hand into the crook
of his arm.

“I heard that, old
man.” Mrs McPherson elbowed her husband but she was smiling.
“Come on, let's get home. It's almost time for bed.”

“Oh, I'm ready for bed!
Are you ready for me, sugar?”

Mrs McPherson giggled like a
schoolgirl and slapped him on the arm. Prisha grinned and called
out, “Have a great evening. And make it a real spicy one!”

The couple laughed and ambled
down the street arm in arm. With a wistful smile, Prisha flipped the
sign over on the door. Curry Corner was now closed for the day.

Prisha turned and saw Nurin
clearing the plates from the table. “Let me help.” She
hurried over to Nurin's side but was promptly shooed away.

“You just leave the
cleaning up to us. Go do what you have to do,” Nurin said
firmly. Jennifer was already standing by with a mop, waiting to
clean up the restaurant at the end of another busy, bustling day.

“I can help...”
Prisha began but was forced to back away when Jennifer shoved the mop
under her feet and began mopping with a vengeance. “You're
getting in the way, boss,” Jennifer mock grumbled.

“Fine, I'll be at the
counter, okay?” Prisha laughed, putting her hands up in
surrender.

“Finish your work
quickly,” Nurin said as she headed towards the kitchen with a
stack of dirty dishes. “Tally up the accounts and go home.
Don't stay too late. It's not safe.”

“I can clean up the
place by myself. You should get yourselves home. It's been a long
day, and you've been working so hard...” Prisha tried again,
but Nurin and Jennifer simply tut-tutted at her.

Prisha knew better than to
argue with them. Those two women had been working at Curry Corner
for over two decades. They had worked for her grandmother, and when
Prisha inherited the restaurant, she inherited the two loyal staff as
well. Nurin's son, Ali, had recently finished his chef
apprenticeship at one of the largest restaurants in the city, but
instead of staying on in that upscale, posh restaurant, he had come
to work at Curry Corner as an assistant chef.

Curry Corner was a small,
little eatery serving authentic Indian cuisine and it had been her
grandmother's pride and joy. Prisha had been the only one in the
family who showed any interest and talent in cooking. Her siblings
and cousins had been more interested in working in the family's
modest accounting firm in their small hometown. They didn't have
Shamila's entrepreneurial, adventurous spirit.

Prisha's grandmother,
Shamila, had moved to the city by herself at the ripe old age of
fifty-nine. All her children were grown and her husband had been
dead for years. Shamila had been a dutiful, devoted wife and mother
for forty years. She decided that it was time to do something for
herself. She wanted a change of pace, have a go at creating and
building something, a small business all by herself.

Shamila Singh had upped and
left, and she never looked back. Her family came to visit her often,
but they all preferred the comfort and security of their tiny
hometown. Shamila didn't insist that her children and grandchildren
move to the city with her. She respected their choice, and she asked
that they respect hers as well.

Prisha used to come out to
the city and help her grandmother in her restaurant during her school
holidays. Curry Corner held fond memories for her. She'd learned to
cook all kinds of delicious, tantalizing curries from her
grandmother. But Prisha's parents were strict, traditional Indian
parents, and they didn't want their teenage daughter living so far
away from them.

Prisha returned to her small
town, but she insisted on doing what she loved. Cooking. She worked
in the small eateries in town, gradually earning a reputation as an
innovative, hardworking and talented chef.

And when her grandmother
passed away suddenly just eight months ago, Prisha was shocked to
learn that she was now the new owner of Curry Corner. Shamila had
bequeathed the restaurant to her. It was Shamila's wish that her
granddaughter inherit, carry on and grow the business of Curry
Corner.

Her parents didn't say no
this time. Prisha was now a twenty-nine-year-old woman. It was high
time for her to leave her town and carve out her own niche.

Her mother had hugged her
tearfully and made her promise to visit often. “Maybe it's for
the best,” her mother had whispered. “You can escape
that crazy man, and hopefully he will forget about you.”

The mere mention of her
ex-boyfriend had sent a shiver down her spine. Terrence had taken to
stalking her around town months after their breakup. He was sneaky
and insidious, and he was careful not to leave proof of his threats
and harassment. The local Sheriff department had given Terrence a
stern warning, but there was not much else they could do.

Moving to the city gave
Prisha the fresh start she needed and the opportunity of a lifetime.

She was determined to leave
all her unhappiness behind and build a future for herself here. She
would work hard to make Curry Corner a success and do her grandmother
proud.

She owed it to herself, and
Shamila.

CHAPTER
TWO

Prisha finished with the
accounts and was preparing a list of new dishes and the ingredients
she needed to buy when Ali came out of the kitchen drying his hands
on his jeans. “All done. Everything's in order now, all ready
for tomorrow. Are you ladies ready to go?”

“Tsk. Just a moment.”
Jennifer frowned at the crooked stack of menus at the counter. She
straightened the pile and stepped back with a satisfied smile. “Yep.
We're ready.”

Ali went to hold his mother's
handbag while Nurin put on her coat. “Come on, Prisha, let's
go,” Nurin urged.

“I'll stay a while
more. Don't worry, I'll lock up.” Prisha added quickly, “See
you tomorrow.”

Nurin shook her head.
“You're just like your grandmother.”

“I try. But I still
have a long way to go,” Prisha admitted.

“Shamila was a
workaholic too. A perfectionist,” Jennifer said, looking round
the restaurant. “An inspiration and an angel. She gave me a
job when no one else would hire me. Those who could bear to look at
me only gave me looks of pity.”

Jennifer was blind in one eye
and her face had been disfigured in a brutal acid attack. Her
attacker was never caught. Nurin put her arm around her friend and
said fervently, “There are demons in this city. But there are
also angels. I was a struggling single mom, and Shamila gave me
flexible working hours and paid me a full salary. She allowed me to
put Ali through school and raise him to be a fine young man.”

Ali smiled shyly. “I
love Aunty Shamila's cooking. I always came here after school, and
she would always have a big bowl of rice and curry for me.”

Prisha swallowed the lump in
her throat as she stared at the three loving, beautiful faces in
front of her. Her grandmother had done so much good, with her
cooking, with her life. She had much to learn, and so much more to
do.

“I miss her,”
Prisha said softly, blinking back sudden tears.

“We all do,”
Jennifer said, coming up to squeeze her hand. “But Shamila
lives on, right here!”

Jennifer pressed her hand
over her heart and threw her arms wide to encompass the whole
restaurant. “This—is her pride, her crowning
achievement. Shamila defied the odds and succeeded. So did we. And
so will you, Prisha.”

Prisha nodded. “Thank
you...for your faith in me.” Sucking in a deep breath, she
ordered, “Go home now. It really is getting late. I'll see
you all tomorrow!”

With repeated reminders for
her to lock up the premises and get herself home safely, her staff
finally left the restaurant.

Prisha switched off all the
lights, leaving only the counter illuminated by a small lamp. The
restaurant felt so much emptier without them. With a small smile,
Prisha realized that it was the people as much as the food that made
Curry Corner what it was today.

After another hour or so,
Prisha finally finished her work. Stifling a yawn, she carefully
locked up the cash register and drawers. After a quick look around,
she let herself out the front door and locked the place up.

Stuffing her hands into the
pockets of her long coat, she yawned again and tried to get her legs
to walk faster. She had rented a nice little apartment not far from
the restaurant. It was just a twenty-minute walk, and she usually
enjoyed the exercise. It was the only exercise she got anyway. She
was usually too exhausted to do anything else but sleep once she got
home.

Food and cooking. That was
her passion, her work, her life.

She always made sure she was
the first one at the restaurant. There was just so much to do. Ali
came in early as well to help her prepare the dishes, but she always
tried to be there before him. She wanted everything to be perfect.

With hardly any time or
energy to exercise, she was getting even curvier and chubbier. Not
that she minded. All the women in her family had generous figures,
and the look suited them. Prisha liked her curves, but some of her
old jeans were getting a weeny bit tight.

Perhaps she should take the
stairs instead of the elevator tonight.

Prisha wrinkled her nose.
Nah. Her apartment was on the twentieth floor. The thought of
dragging herself up twenty flights of steps was enough to turn her
legs to jelly.