Human Interaction (19 page)

"But, shifters are magical, powerful…"

"And not immune to bullets."

"Which is why you never speak of your shifter family?"

"The welfare of the group depends upon everyone using common sense and keeping their mouth closed. Pride secrets are just that. Secrets."

The firm tone told me exactly where he stood. Protective of his loved ones with sound reasons. "Have any siblings?"

"A sister. And, yes, she's a liger, too."

"Parents?" I lifted the spoonful of soup to my lips, relatively confident I could swallow now without aspirating.

"Yes."

I rolled my eyes. "I figured you had parents. Last thing I knew cats didn't hatch from eggs."

His lips twitched.

"So, are they still alive? What do they do?"

"Yes, they're around, still middle-age in shifter lifespan. Being pride alphas, they oversee all investments and happenings that have to do with the group."

His parents were alphas? Oh, my. "Which makes you…?"

"An alpha. Next in line for pride alpha."

Why didn't that little fact surprise me? Because he acted like an alpha, carried himself like one. Possessed the confidence and oozed arrogance as only a truly born leader could.

"I expect along with the position comes money, especially as you can save and invest for centuries. Considering that, why do you still dance?"

He shrugged, chewing another large bite of his meat. "I like it."

"And the PI business?"

"A hobby I happen to be good at."

"Ever date a human?"

His eyebrow arched up. "Date? No. You ever date a shifter?"

"Not even close." I swallowed. "Why me?"

The sultry spark reappeared in his deep blue eyes. "You're entertaining, different. There's an innocence that makes me want to shield you from everything bad even as I teach you the bliss of shifter sex."

I took a stout drink of my water. His words buoyed my heart, sending a streak of joy as well as a healthy wave of embarrassment over me. Shifter sex. How did that differ from human sex? Curiosity prodded me to ask for details. My luck, the liger would proceed to demonstrate, and we'd become a public spectacle. Much better to have an ostrich moment and stick my head in the sand than fan the already roaring flames of kitty libido.

"What's it like to be in kitty form?"

His eyebrow cocked. Sliding a full fork in his mouth, he pulled it away empty. "Empowering. Freeing. It's hard to explain. I'm still me, just in a different form. The cat and I are one and the same. Sure, my senses are a bit sharper and instincts more at the fore, but I'm really the same person whether I'm covered in skin or fur."

I shot him an impish grin. "So, in kitty form, you're on the prowl for female kitties in heat?"

"Are you in heat?"

I coughed as my face burned as hot as a blast furnace.

He chuckled. "The only female I'm interested in is you."

"Good thing. I've become a bit attached to you, fur, claws, and all." The declaration felt right and good. I seized the words and tucked them away for later, close to my heart.

The rest of the date went fairly well. He accused me of a Freudian slip. I pointed out he was a barbarian. I reminded him I was haughty, not horny. He said time would tell.

We finished eating and headed to the bowling alley. Yeah, I know. The thought of me with a ten pound weapon in hand was a bit frightening. Meat didn't seem concerned for me, but more like for others. In fact, he watched my every move. Silly me thought the rapt attention pertained to the safety of other bowlers from my menacing klutziness until he commented on how nicely my slacks pulled snug when I lowered the ball to the waxed surface. Such a barbarian.

Afterward, he loaded me in the car and drove me home just before midnight. Pulling up in the driveway, he turned off the engine, jumped out of the car, trotted to the passenger side, and opened my door. Offering a hand, he helped me out, leading me to the front porch before wrapping both arms around my waist.

"I had a great time." He rubbed his nose against mine in an Eskimo kiss.

"Me too."

"The date doesn't have to end. We could go inside…" He waggled his eyebrows in suggestion.

I smiled at his playfulness. "Sorry. There'd be gawkers."

"Can't perform for an audience?" He nuzzled my ear.

"Definitely no."

"It could be fun."

"Or not."

He laughed, shifting until our bodies meshed against one another. Leaning in, his lips lowered, covering mine with precision. Gently, he coaxed them apart, then slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. I followed suit, long dormant passion returning as I clung to him, needing his taste more than anything else at that moment.

Too quickly, he pulled back with a deep sigh. "Dream of me tonight."

With those words, he spun, leaped off the porch, and walked back to his car. I opened the door, turned on the light, and watched him drive away.

CHAPTER 18

Cannibal called at dawn, ordering me to pick up a box for him and deliver it the very same morning. He warned the item was fragile and sensitive to heat. And, just as a nice add on, reminded me if I broke it, I would find myself transferred to the North Pole to serve the tiny anti-Santa Enforcer group. I fired back that Santa kept a naughty list, and his name would climb to the top of the list with such threats. He snorted and hung up.

I pulled the SUV into the parking lot, having decided to make a pit stop at Melody's Cookie Shop. I needed to pee. Besides, a fresh hot chocolate chip cookie in the morning made the world a better place.

Melody and I had met a while back when she'd first opened her cookie shop. With my sweet cravings and her slow beginning, we had formed a solid friendship, exchanging sorrows over cookies and milk. Lately, her business thrived, but she always made time for me when I popped in for something decadent.

The box sat in the back floorboard, protected from any pothole jostling. I even had the heater turned way down, lest the thing melt. As a result, the cold turned my fingers a lovely shade of blue. Going without heat at the end of November bordered on stupidity or masochism. In my case, I chalked it up to fear of a head hunter and a fondness for my toes.

Hopping out of the X5, I took a moment to consider the package. It was probably some sort of ancient crystal ball that foretold the future. With the holidays upon us and shoppers out in force, boxes were known to disappear from parked vehicles. And I certainly didn't want to have to call Cannibal back and explain how his precious box had been stolen. Oh, no.

Opting to carry the box with me, I took the container in hand and paused to look both ways before crossing the busy street. A flashy motorcycle pulled up beside me and stopped. The rider, dressed in somewhat familiar black leathers, turned the ignition off and nudged down the kickstand. Once he removed the black helmet, I easily recognized the shoulder-length dark hair and those piercing blue eyes.

"Oh, hi." Looks like I wasn't the only early riser after our date.

"Hey yourself." He raked his gaze up and down my body then flashed a wicked grin. "You're up early this morning. Couldn't sleep for your naughty dreams of me?"

I snorted, shifting the heavy box a bit. "You wish."

"I know." He literally purred, full of confidence.

My face flamed
. He didn't? Did he?
No. Despite all their magical abilities, shifters couldn't read minds or eavesdrop in on nighttime dreams, right?

The horny toad actually laughed. "I'm quite good at guessing."

Yeah, well. I was going to be quite good at beaning him in a minute.

The box weighed down further, prompting me to gingerly set it down by the rear tire of Meat's motorcycle. Well out of traffic, in the section allotted for motorcycle parking, no one would get close enough to swipe the all-important cardboard box.

"I haven't seen this before. Is it new?" I gestured to his bike.

He swung his leg over, smiling proudly. "Not new, actually. Had it about three years. She's my baby."

"It's very pretty. Powerful too, I'd think." I noticed the small license plate on the back. "2HOT?"

His dimple popped out. "Don't you think it fits?"

Not touching that with a twenty foot pole.

He trailed one hand along the exquisitely painted metal and over the leather seat. "Ever hear of Jesse James?"

My brow furrowed as I nodded. "Train robber? Bad guy? Wore a bandana over his face?"

"No. Motorcycle genius." He chuckled. "Same name, different century. Anyway, it's custom built by him."

"Wow. That had to cost a pretty penny." With his Jaguar and his house, I didn't figure him for the poor house, but what he stated next dropped my mouth open.

"Seventy-five grand."

"That's a lot of lap dances." I stared at the bike from a new perspective and backed up a step so I wouldn't be near enough to even brush a speck of dust on the highly priced machine.

"Oh, yeah. That's one of my talents you should try and soon." Those eyebrows wiggled once more.

I found my feet enthralling.

He chuckled and glanced across the street while hanging his helmet from the handlebars. "You headed to the cookie shop?"

I nodded. "One of my good friends owns it. She makes the best cookies in the region."

Meat grinned. "Then, I must give them a try."

He reached out; I automatically took his hand, letting him lead me across the street. Pulling the door open, he waited for me to enter.

I peeked back and realized I'd forgotten something. "Oh, my box. I need to…"

"Don't worry about it. I put a ward on the bike. The box is close enough it should be included."

I stepped up to the door, noting Melody behind the counter with her hands full of cookie sheets. "What wards?"

"Just some magic. I would like to see some juvie try to steal it." His eyes flashed wickedly. "Dumb kid would wake up a while later asking what bus just ran over his ass."

Chewing my lip, I asked, "You sure?"

"Yep. It'll be fine." He pulled the door open a bit wider for me to enter.

A huge explosion jostled us, shaking the entire building. I thumped into Meat, who braced himself in the door jamb. Right before my eyes, Meat's 'baby' went poof. One second it sat there, the next, it fell from the sky in dime sized metal pellets. The small license plate landed with a clank at his feet, blackened and bent.

"You okay?" he whispered against my ear, still holding me tight.

"I think so." Glancing up, I studied the emotions flashing over his face.

He stood in stunned silence, his mouth gaping. Slowly, he bent to pick up the license plate, rubbing it tenderly with his thumb. His eyes returned to where his motorcycle once stood. That expression of 'I can't believe what just happened' quickly evolved into one of rage.

Cars screeched to a halt. Onlookers drifted out of shop doors. Only a couple at first, then more as long seconds ticked by.

Uh-oh
. His eyes met mine. "Can't you just wiggle your fingers, say abracadabra, and it'll reappear?"

He glared down at me, enunciating clearly and sternly between clenched teeth. "No. I can't make it reappear. This isn't David Copperfield, you know."

Sirens sounded as the first fire truck pulled up, stopping beside a blackened spot on the cement. Judging by the non-harmonious wailing of other sirens, more first responders would show up any second.

"It was one of a kind." He turned back to stare across the street. "What in the hell was in that box?"

"I don't know. My boss had me pick it up this morning. Just said it was fragile." I stammered out, still in shock that his prize possession ceased to exist except for tiny pieces dotting the cement.

His stormy blue eyes locked onto me once more.

Oh, yeah. He was pissed. Majorly pissed. Only once before had I seen him like this. And, just as then, I stepped back, retreating from the absolute fury about to be released.

"Hey, Shy… ummm… do you guys want to sit down for a minute? I have fresh cookies out of the oven. On the house," Melody called from a nearby table, obviously trying to break the tension.

I slowly ambled her way, noting that Meat followed, still sadly petting his damaged license plate.

He sat at the table, tenderly stroking his one remaining possession from his now deceased bike, his eyes reflected pain, and began to actually water up. My heart broke as he reminded me of a little boy who had just lost his best friend. Forlorn came to mind.

I shot Melody a pleading glance as she hurried over to pass out some cookies and milk to Meat.

As things couldn't get much worse, I opted to go ahead and call Mr Cranky Enforcer and notify him of the loss. More than likely, he'd tell me something like I just signed the warrant for the end of the human world or something cheerful like that. Not to mention he would most likely still be asleep, until my downright depressing phone call woke him.

He picked up on the fifth ring. "This had better be life or death," he growled into the phone.

I pondered if death of a motorcycle counted. A seventy-five thousand dollar motorcycle at that. If not, I was pretty sure my own lifeline was drawing short from the expression on Meat's face.

"Ummmm. Hello, Cannibal," I stammered. He cussed. I opted to just blurt it out and get it over with. "There was an accident with your box, you see."

"I told you it was fragile! Don't you ever listen to anything? What did you do, lose it?"

I chewed my lip for a second. "No. Didn't lose it."
Technically, it didn't qualify for lost and found.

"Was it stolen?"

"Ummm. Nope. That's not it either."

I must have garnered his full attention as he paused before demanding an answer. "Well, what in the hell happened to my blasting caps, then?"

Blasting caps?
My fuzzy brain contemplated that information for a second. "You had me carrying around a box of highly dangerous and combustible blasting caps!" I erupted back at him. "I could've been killed, blown up in my car, became tiny bits of Shy splatter on someone's windshield!"