Shifters, Inc. The Bear Who Loved Me (A BBW paranormal romance)

Shifters, Inc.: The Bear Who Loved Me

 

Copyright 2014 by Georgette St. Clair

This book is intended for readers 18 and older only, due to adult content.  It is a work of fiction.  All characters and locations in this book are products of the imagination of the author. No shifters were harmed during the creation of this book.

License Statement
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Heath, a bear shifter criminal turned security consultant, just got what should be a dream assignment:  going undercover on a floating pleasure palace to flush out the assassin known as the Chameleon.  Unfortunately, there’s one thing getting in the way of his fun: Tonya Crandall. A curvy cub reporter and a total fox – literally and figuratively -  she pushes all his buttons and drives his inner bear crazy every time she shows up bugging him for an interview.  

Turns out she’s sneaked onto the giant luxury cruiser too, and she’s in way over her head. Heath suddenly finds that when anybody looks at his fox (
his fox?
) his bear has a way of making its displeasure known - violently – so he’ll just have to pretend she’s his companion for the duration of the cruise.  When they get back to shore, the grouchy bear is going to let her know what’s what – isn’t he?  Unfortunately, things are not as they seem on the Shangri-La of the Sea, and betrayal waits for both of them in the most unexpected of places.

 

Chapter On
e

 

The auction was scheduled to start in half an hour, and a casual observer scanning the room at Le Magnifique Art Gallery would have seen nothing but a sea of handsome men in tuxedos and beautiful women in evening gowns.  In reality, in that crowd were several dozen security operatives who were dressed to the nines and mingling with the crowd, an art thief, and one very pissed off fox shifter.

“I solemnly vow, I will never again start out a night by saying ‘What could possibly go wrong?’” Tonya Crandall said to her roommate Bridgit.

“That seems like a good plan,” Bridgit agreed. “Don’t ask fate a question like that unless you want to find out the answer.”

The answer to that question was standing across the room, near the open bar. Tonya glowered at Heath Anderson, the most annoying bear shifter in the history of…well, ever. As if sensing her presence, he looked up and met her gaze. Then he held up his glass of beer in a mock toast to her, and winked.

Her glare deepened, and he shrugged and resumed his conversation with the beautiful brunette who seemed to have all his attention tonight. Coyote shifter, Tonya was pretty sure. She felt something tighten in her gut and looked away.

Bridgit glanced at Tonya’s hand, wrapped in a makeshift bandage. Within minutes of showing up at Le Magnifique, Tonya had tripped and bumped into Diana Oliver, the new curator, knocking over her wineglass and somehow cutting herself. Then, while she’d been stammering her apologies, she’d felt a strange erotic tingling sweep through her body, looked up and seen Heath. The evening had not started off well.

Diana walked by, accompanied by the gallery owner, Jacques Barbeaux.  Tonya happened to know that his real name was Jack Blotsky, from Idaho, and he totally faked his French accent, but that didn’t bother her.  He frequently held auctions that benefitted charity, so he could fake it all he wanted as far as she was concerned.

Tonya waved at Diana with her bandaged hand.  Diana, a tall, lean woman with a severe nose and shiny black hair, waved back. She also had a bandaid on her hand.

“Sorry! “ Tonya called out again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Diana called back.

That did not set the tone for the rest of the evening
, Tonya thought uneasily.
This will go off without a hitch. Hammersmith has it covered.
“You could go duck out back in the alley, shift into your foxy form of foxiness and heal it in, like, five seconds,” Bridgit pointed out.

Tonya shook her head decisively. “And miss my first big scoop? Forget about it. I’ll shift once this is all over.” She was still only a freelancer at the
Playa Linda Telegraph
, but if she could just get one major story, she was sure they’d hire her.

And she’d do just about anything to get that scoop. That was why she was standing ten feet away from a bronze Renaissance statuette, which was up for auction and was going to be stolen in – she glanced at her watch – two minutes. Well, the art thief was going to attempt to steal it, and Hammersmith Security was going to intercept them.

“You’re sure that Hammersmith won’t let him get away?” Bridgit said nervously. The statuette was expected to bring in at least a hundred grand at the auction tonight, and the owner had pledged to donate the money from its sale to help build Playa Linda’s first no-kill animal shelter. Bridgit was donating the rest of the money from her trust fund, and would be on the shelter’s board of directors. The cause was very important to her.

“They’re all over it. Look, they’re standing right next to the statue. There’s six of them,” Tonya reassured her. They were standing in a cluster, all wearing tuxedos and pretending to drink while visually scanning the room. She had to admit, they looked really obvious and not incognito at all, but still, how could the art thief get past all those shifters?

The auction company had considered cancelling the entire event when they’d heard that they might be targeted, but Hammersmith had assured them that they would catch the thief in the act.

She looked across the room at Heath. He was a security consultant for a company called Shifters, Inc. They were a relatively new company, only a year and a half old, and they were Hammersmith’s main rivals. They had also steadfastly refused to grant Tonya an interview, which irked her hugely. Of course, Hammersmith hadn’t given her an interview yet either, but Tom Hooper, the owner’s nephew, regularly leaked her information.

“So, bad things come in threes,” Bridgit said. “You’ve already had three tonight, so you should be good, right? You tripped and cut your hand, your least-favorite bear showed up, and…what’s the third thing?”

“Nothing. Yet.” Tonya looked around uneasily.

“Oh. Well we could be in trouble then.”

“You are not helping!” Tonya elbowed her friend in the ribs. “That’s nothing but a silly old superstition. Trust me, I’ve had plenty of days when bad luck came in the dozens. Also, you should go. Other side of the room; you promised.” Things were about to get a little too exciting, and she didn’t want to risk Bridgit getting in harm’s way.

“I’ve never seen an actual heist before,” Bridgit protested. “This is going to be better than TV.”

“It will be an
attempted
heist. And I don’t want anything to happen to you. I would never forgive myself. Well, I’d feel mildly guilty for a short period of time. Of course, your room does have the better view…”

“I’m so touched I think I might cry,” Bridgit said drily. “Also, I swear to God Tom wants to sleep with you. Be careful of accepting favors from him.”

Tonya was sure Bridgit was wrong, not that it would really matter. Tom wasn’t her type; he waxed his eyebrows and gelled his hair and apparently bathed in tubs full of cologne. Sure, he flirted with her, but he did that with all women. It was a natural reflex for him.

“He’s just being helpful. He has no interest in my fat butt. I’m not you, Bridgit; men don’t gape in admiration when I walk into a room.”

Bridgit was a slim blonde with big blue eyes and pre-Raphaelite curls. Tonya was, to put it kindly, full-figured. A good ten sizes bigger than her roommate, which sucked, because Bridgit had a great wardrobe and Tonya could never steal her clothes. From looking at Tonya’s big, zaftig figure, nobody would ever guess that she shifted into a cute little red fox. Bridgit’s animal, ironically, was twice Tonya’s size; she was a wolf shifter.

Bridgit shook her head chidingly. “Seriously, Tonya, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Plenty of men like a well-padded woman.”

Tonya shrugged, trying to banish the memory of the taunts she’d endured growing up in the children’s home. “If someone adopts you, they’ll be getting three for the price of one!”

“That is nice of you to say. And now you must leave. Stuff’s going down. And you promised to stay out of the way.”

She gripped her camera, which was tucked into her purse.

“Oh, fine, funkiller,” Bridgit pouted.

“That is what they call me,” Tonya agreed. “Along with other, less flattering names. Go.”

Bridgit flounced off, and Tonya pulled out her camera and began snapping pictures of the guests as they circulated through the room, admiring the statues and vases on pedestals, and the art installations and paintings.

Diana was chatting with the mayor now. Jacques was schmoozing with a senator. Le Magnifique auctions always drew the city’s elite.

She glanced at Tom and his team again, and she felt a jolt of alarm shoot through her. They all looked glassy-eyed and out of it now. What was wrong with them? They’d been drinking so they could fit in with the other guests, but they’d been nursing the same drinks ever since they’d got there. They couldn’t possibly be drunk.

And Heath and his group were hanging out on the opposite side of the room. Did they even know that a theft was going to take place tonight? Maybe they were just here to provide additional security? Hammersmith had received a tip from a snitch they worked with; perhaps Shifters, Inc. wasn’t as well-informed as they were.

She shook her head and went back to taking pictures of the crowd.  There was a retired movie star with a big frosted hair helmet, wearing a dress that was much too young for her.  Standing nearby  was her husband, the retired football superstar, already soused.  But they were celebrities so she could give their pictures to the society page editor.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite cub reporter.” The deep, booming voice made her jump. She hadn’t even noticed Heath walking up to her. For a man as big and burly as he was, he moved with surprising stealth when he wanted to.

Every time he got close to her, she felt hot arousal pulsing through her body and her heart started pounding. It was beyond frustrating, because she couldn’t stand him. Her brain knew that; why didn’t the rest of her?

She felt her nipples swell to hard buds, and quickly crossed her arms over her chest to hide them. He was an arrogant jerk; he didn’t deserve to know the strong physical effect he had on her.

She tipped her head back to stare up at him. He was easily six-four, a good eight inches taller than her, and built like a linebacker. His eyes were a rich brown with glints of gold, and he had a strong jaw and an amused quirk to his lips.

“Right.” She raised an eyebrow. “Cub reporter. Because I’m a fox. That’s hilarious. We have kits, Heath, not cubs.”

He grinned and took another sip of his beer. “I stand corrected.”

“You’re also standing much too close, unless you’re finally ready to give me an interview.” He had somehow moved even closer to her. They were practically pressing up against each other. She swallowed hard and forced that image to the back of her mind, but not before her panties went damp with arousal.

Heath had a lascivious gleam in his eye. “There’s plenty of things I’d like to give you, but an interview isn’t one of them.”

“Does that kind of line work on most women?”

He grinned at her. “Surprisingly, yes.  Everyone but you. Why do you even want to talk to us? We’re not that interesting.”

Why did he always have to do this fake flirting thing with her, when clearly he wasn’t really interested? Also, he’d just been chatting up some gorgeous coyote; it was obvious he liked to spread his favors far and wide.

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