Beast Behaving Badly (13 page)

“For some couples that really works.” She asked what she'd been wondering for a while, “What happened?”

Bo shrugged those massive shoulders. “Drunk driver caused a pileup on the freeway. We were in the first few cars, and Dad didn't hit his brakes in time and the cars behind us didn't, either.”

“You were with them?”

He nodded. “In the backseat. All I remember is the sound of grinding brakes and then metal on metal—then I woke up in the hospital. A couple days later my uncle came and got me, and we buried my parents a few days after that in Maine.”

Blayne didn't tell him she was sorry; she knew he didn't want to hear it.

“What about your mom?” he asked.

“She was hunted.”

Bo turned, his arm resting against her couch rather than his back, his bright blue eyes focused on her. “What?”

“Daddy was stationed in Japan at the time, and Mom was in London. She was a translator for the Embassy.”

“Where were you?”

Her eyes crossed. “With the
family
in Georgia. My dad's family. They never really took to me, although Mom tried to make that happen. I was supposed to be there for the summer.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“Not really. Daddy won't discuss it, and one uncle that got good and drunk and tried to tell me about it after the funeral—not realizing Daddy was right behind him—found out that tire irons to the head . . . really do hurt.”

Bo chuckled. “Don't feel bad. My aunts missed my parents' funeral but did make it in time to demand the return of their mother's jewelry.”

“Rude.”

“And stupid. Mom was welcome in town because she came with Dad. I was welcome because I'm half bear. But full She-lions strolling into Ursus County? That's all kinds of stupid. The sows had a field day.”

“I have always wanted to go to an all-bear town,” Blayne sighed.

“Why?”

“I don't know. I keep thinking the streets would be flowing with honey and the streams with salmon.”

“Grizzlies aren't the only ones who live there, ya know. I'm not a big honey fan.”

“How can you not like honey? How can anyone not like honey? That's crazy talk!”

“Even though you
know
what grizzlies are, you still think of them as cute teddy bears, don't you?”

“I do.”

Bo began to shake his head but ended up yawning.

“I've kept you up too late.”

“Nah.” He glanced at his watch, eyes going wide. “Okay. Maybe a little. I better go.”

“Sleep here.”

The way his whole body tensed and he didn't look at her made Blayne realize how that probably sounded.

“On the couch,” she quickly added.

They both looked at the oversized loveseat she kept telling people was a couch. “It is a tad small, huh?”

“It'll be fine. But I need to be up at five thirty. I have that breakfast with my agent at six fifteen.”

Blayne jumped up and ran into her room, quickly programming her digital alarm clock. She checked it twice, headed back to the living room, ran back and checked it again. She wanted to make sure she would not be the cause of him being late to any meetings.

“All done,” she said, walking back out with a pillow and several blankets. He took the pillow and stared at the blankets. “Oh. I turn the heat down at night, so my bill's not so high.”

“Thank you, 'cause I'm melting right now.”

“Oh! I'm sorry. Right . . . polar.”

He dropped the pillow on the couch. “Don't worry. Polar shifters can adjust to any temperature if we have to; we're just more comfortable in the cold.”

“Well, no worries. I'll turn the heat down and there's ice water or whatever in the fridge.”

“I know. I cleaned the fridge out. It's like you had experiments going on in some of that Tupperware.”

“Are we back to that?” she asked, using one of Gwen's favorite sayings. “Really?”

“I'm just saying if you took care of those things on a weekly basis—”

“Sha-sha-sha.” She covered his face with the blankets. “Don't make me hate you.”

“I thought you liked me,” he said around the blankets, so she lowered them since they didn't seem to be quite effective.

“I do.” She leaned in, using her “fierce” expression. “But that can change on a dime, mister.”

Seemingly unimpressed with her fierceness—and she'd worked hard on that look for years!—he said, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“See you in the morning,” she said after turning down the heat as much as she dared without risking hypothermia for herself.

“Night, Blayne.”

Blayne closed her bedroom door and quickly changed into thermal underwear, sweatpants, sweatshirt, and extra thick wool socks. She loaded up her bed with blankets and burrowed beneath them.

And, as she sat in the dark, and stared out her window at the brick building next door, it suddenly occurred to her that she had a guy she didn't know very well asleep in her living room—and that she'd never felt safer.

That night, Blayne fell asleep smiling.

CHAPTER 12

B
o's eyes opened exactly at five twenty-five a.m., but unlike most days when he woke up five minutes before his alarm went off . . . things were different. Not “I'm staying in a hotel due to an out-of-town game” different but “there's a wolfdog clinging to me” different.

Without moving his body, Bo studied where he was, which would be the floor. He didn't normally sleep on the floor, but he was definitely on the floor. He was also fully clothed, as was Blayne. In fact, she had on so many clothes, he felt confident in ruling out a wild night of sexual abandon that he couldn't remember.

A good thing, too, since Bo liked remembering past sexual encounters. Less chance of the awkward morning-after moment where one doesn't remember his or her partner's name.

Still, none of that explained why he was sleeping on the floor with Blayne . . . or why they were cuddling.

It was definitely cuddling, too. He had his arms around her and she had her head buried in his chest. They were on their side, facing each other, so he'd wrapped one leg around hers. He'd had sex with women and still never woke up in this position before. He didn't mind waking up this way, it was just not knowing how they got here that was worrying him.

An alarm went off in the bedroom and Blayne groaned, drew her arm back, and slapped Bo right in the face.

Lying there, wondering what he'd done to deserve that, Blayne snarled and said, “Off!” Then she hit him again. When that didn't seem to shut off the alarm that was in another room, Blayne lifted her head. Her eyes blinked wide when she saw him.

“Oh, God . . . was that you I hit?”

“Twice.”

“Oh. Oh! I'm so . . .” Then she burst out laughing.

Unable to take the sound of that damn alarm clock anymore, Bo pulled away from Blayne and stood. He went into her bedroom and turned it off. Letting out a sigh, he went back to the living room. And, yeah, she was still laughing.

“Get up,” he said. “Get showered, get dressed. We'll go into the city together.” He reached down and lifted her off the floor. “The longer you take, the more you're screwing with my schedule.”

“Okay, okay. No need to get snippy.” She reached up again, and Bo immediately moved away from her, which only made her laugh more. “I wasn't going to hit you again. I promise. And I am sorry about your face. Really.” She slid her palm across his cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

“Only my feelings.”

She laughed again, leaning into him.

“It wasn't that funny,” he complained, even while he enjoyed making her laugh. “Now go get dressed. Time.” He tapped his watch for emphasis.

“Okay, okay.”

A half hour later, after Bo had pushed and prodded the woman to have some purpose in her step, they got into his truck.

“Is this thing even legal?”

“It's not like I can fit into a two-door Ferrari.”

“But I feel like I'm in a military transport plane.”

“Don't talk to me in the mornings,” he told her. “Not until I get some ice time. Or, at the very least, coffee.”

Bo pulled into traffic, and they drove in silence for a while until he heard himself ask, “Can you explain to me how we ended up on the floor . . . snuggling?”

“Sure, I can explain it,” she said with that natural cheeriness she had at all hours of the day. He now understood why he'd known she was sicker than she was letting on the night before. She'd been surly, rude, and intolerant. In other words, she'd been acting like every other predator he'd known, but she hadn't been acting like Blayne.

He waited for her to explain what happened, but she kept smiling and staring out the window.

“Can you explain it to me before the end of this millennium?”

“Of course!”

Again Bo waited and again nothing.

Yeah. She was a Navy brat all right. She had the malicious obedience so ingrained in her system, she didn't even realize when she was doing it.

Taking a breath and wishing he'd had some coffee, Bo tried a different tack. “You and me, snuggling on the floor . . . explain it. Now.”

“I was thirsty.”

Man, she was good. But Bo was determined and raised by a Marine. He could handle this.

He could handle
her.

“You were thirsty . . . so you came out of your room for a glass of water.”

“Right!”

“And you saw me lying there . . .”

“On the couch. You looked uncomfortable. All balled up.”

“It was too small.”

“It's a loveseat,” she reminded him.

“Right. So to help me be more comfortable you . . .”

“Rolled you onto the floor.”

Bo waited to turn at a corner. “Did I wake up?”

“Sort of. You kind of snarled. I thought you might maul me.”

“So to calm me down you . . .”

“Petted your shoulder and said, ‘It's okay. It's me.'”

“And I . . .”

“Smiled and grabbed me around the waist. Did you know you have a really nice smile?”

“Thank you.”

“You should use it more often.”

“I'll keep that in mind. So after I grabbed you, I . . .”

“Wouldn't let go. And I was tired anyway, and you were so warm and comfortable that I just curled up next to you and went to sleep.”

Bo pulled into the underground parking garage of the sports center. He parked in his reserved spot and cut off the engine.

“You have your own parking spot?” she demanded, suddenly not so cheery.

“Yep.”

“How is that fair?”

“It's fair because it's to my benefit. If it wasn't, then it would be unfair. Now let's go, I've got to meet him in the managers' restaurant upstairs.”

They got out of the truck, and Bo remotely released the rear door so they could grab their bags. He looked at his watch, grimaced.

“You get to go to the managers' restaurant?”

“Can't you?”

When she only scowled at him, he decided discussing it further was to no one's benefit.

Together they walked to the elevators that would take them to the main floor. From there they would take the stairs to the first floor of the shifter-only part of the building deep under the city streets. It was a lot of ups, downs, and sideways, but necessary to protect who they were.

They stepped into the elevator, and Bo pushed the button for the main floor. His foot tapped as the elevator slowly creaked closed.

“Are you always like this?” she asked.

He didn't ask her what she meant because he already knew. “Yes.”

“You'll be dead before you're forty.”

“The great excuse for every lazy ass I've ever known.”

“We're not talking about my issues with time.”

“Of course not.”

“We're not even talking about your issues with time. We're talking about your . . . intensity.”

“My intensity, as you call it, is what makes me the player I am.”

“Except you don't seem like you're having any fun.”

“Fun? It's a job.”

“A job you hate?”

“No.”

“Then it should be fun. Otherwise what's the point?”

“What's the point? Millions of dollars and the freedom to do what I want.”

“That sounds
great
!” she cheered. “Which would have much more impact if you weren't getting tense and being an asshole because there's the slimmest of chances you might be late to a breakfast meeting with your agent.”

“Wouldn't it be rude for me to be late?”

“Well—”

“And don't you hate rude people?”

She sniffed a little. “Touché, Monsieur Bear-cat.”

“Do not start calling me that.”

“I think it's cute!”

“No.”

“Whatever. So when was the last time you went on vacation?”

“Vacation?”

“You know? To someplace relaxing and fun, where work has nothing to do with it?”

“When?”

“Yeah. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

“Never.”

Blayne moved in front of him. “What do you mean never? You've
never
been on vacation? Ever?”

“That's often what never means. But I travel a lot for business meetings and stuff. That counts.”

“No. It doesn't.”

“It does to me. Now can we drop it?”

The elevator doors opened and she jumped out. “Fine. I'm going to practice.”

He watched her walk off—in the wrong direction. Her skates were hanging from her half-closed bag, threatening to fall out and be lost forever; the shoelaces on her right sneaker were untied; and she had a piece of blue duct tape randomly stuck to her jacket and a piece of white duct tape stuck to the back of her black cargo pants.

It suddenly hit him that he was not only sexually attracted to this mess of a wolfdog with bad time management skills, but he really liked her. More than he liked almost anyone.

Bo stepped out of the elevator and waited. Sure enough, Blayne stopped, looked around, threw up her hands, and spun back toward him. “Wrong way!” she laughed as she marched by him. “I swear, if the head wasn't attached . . .”

He grabbed her backpack before she could shoot past. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“With me. You haven't had breakfast. Your blood sugar will drop on you after ten minutes. I don't want to find you sobbing again.”

“That was
one time
! Why do you have to keep bringing it up?”

 

 

Ric, busy butchering a gazelle for the day's lunch special, stepped back, the bone saw in his hand. “Badger?” he asked the She-wolf standing on the other side of the island in the middle of his recently redesigned restaurant kitchen.

Dee-Ann shrugged.

Placing the saw down, Ric quickly washed his hands and then went to one of the steel refrigerators they had in the restaurant's kitchen. He pulled out a tray of fresh fruit and grabbed a basket of croissants he'd brought in with him. He put that in front of Dee where she leaned against the counter.

“Ya always try and feed me.”

“You look tired. And your jeans are falling off.”

“I got a belt.”

“She-wolves shouldn't be emaciated.” He gave her several napkins. “Eat.”

She did eat and studied her phone. Ric went back to his gazelle.

“Did she go to the hospital again?” he asked, removing a leg.

“Nope. Gwen wrestled that badger off her.” She shook her head. “I swear, that badger went after your teacup poodle like she owed it money.”

Ric laughed, and Dee went on. “Gwen cleaned her up and they finished the job, went to two others, and then headed back to the office, and then she went home. I thought she'd head out to the sports center, but she didn't. Then Novikov showed up.”

Stopping in midswing, Ric looked over his shoulder at Dee. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Bo Novikov was at her apartment last night?”

“Yep. He tried leavin', too, but she came runnin' after him just like a puppy, beggin' him to stay. Kind of sad, really. When a man says no, he usually means no.”

“When did he leave?”

“Not before Keith showed up to take over so I could come over here, which I guess would mean he was in there all night.” She chewed on a piece of fruit before adding, “Yep. Alllll night long.”

No. Ric didn't like the sound of that at all.

 

 

Bernie Lawman checked his watch again. In the ten years he'd been the agent for Bo Novikov, not once had Bernie ever arrived
before
the hybrid—like he did today. And Novikov had never been late, but it was six thirty-one. That was late. Late for Bo Novikov. Pulling his phone out, he'd only punched in nine-one-one, when Novikov rushed up to their private table in the back of the members-only club restaurant in the sports center. You had to be a member or friends with a member to get in—and yes, it was something Bernie took great delight in lauding over his family members that none of them had access.

“Sorry I'm late,” Bo told him as he dropped his duffel bag off to the side. “It's her fault.”

That's when Bernie noticed her. It wasn't the first time some female had tagged along with Bo to one of their breakfast meetings, but it was usually a well-dressed feline Bernie had just seen on the cover of some international fashion magazine. And although this female was pretty, her wardrobe left a lot to be desired and she'd never end up on the cover of any magazine with those thighs. Except maybe one of those weightlifter or running mags.

“Two minutes,” she argued with Bo. “You're two minutes late. Not two hours. Such a drama bear!”

She dismissed him with a wave and started to walk off, but Bo grabbed the back of her pack and pulled her over to the table. “You're gonna eat.”

“I'm not hungry.”

When he only stared at her, she said, “Fine. I'll eat.” She pulled off her pack and dropped into the chair. She smiled at Bernie. “Hiya. I'm Blayne.”

“Bernie Lawman.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The waitress came over to take their orders. After Bo and Bernie put in theirs and while the canine put in hers, Bernie motioned to Bo. They leaned in close, and Bernie asked, “What's going on?”

“I want to make sure she eats.”