The PlayBear Billionaire: A Bear Shifter Romance (3 page)

“That seems like an… interesting addition to my responsibilities,” Daphne said as diplomatically as possible. She swallowed. As much as she had enjoyed the triumph of convincing Oberon, she didn’t think he liked her very much, and she didn’t look forward to taking time out of her normal work to track him down and convince him to attend events or do interviews.

“Well, as you know, we all tend to wear multiple hats here,” Amelia said, with that pleasant-unpleasant smile on her face. “Of course, this project will give you an edge when it comes to moving up in the company.”

Therefore
, Daphne thought wryly,
trying to turn it down and pass it off would make her look bad.
“I look forward to the challenge,” she said, smiling as broadly as she could. “Do we have Mr. Oberon’s contact information on file?”

“I have his card all ready for you.” Amelia handed her a long, heavy card; when Daphne looked at it, it was covered in details: address, business address, both personal and business email, business and personal phone number, on and on. Daphne felt her stomach starting to turn over inside of her again, and thought that as unsettled as she felt, in order to tackle the new challenge, she would definitely need some coffee.

“I’ll check in with you later,” Amelia told her—an obvious dismissal. Daphne stood and left the office as quickly as possible. She definitely needed some coffee.

*

Alexander was seriously beginning to regret the impulse that had brought him to sign up to become a spokesperson for ARC. It would have been so much easier to cut himself some slack on his duties to the charity as a spokesperson if he had not been forced to work with Daphne. He had thought—when he signed up—that it would be the last real time that he would have to talk to her in any real capacity. Maybe they would exchange pleasantries at an event or two and he could breathe in the alluring scent of her pheromones, enjoy the view from the front and the back, but he would be paired with someone else in the organization, someone who would just be grateful that he was doing his part at all.

Instead, the very day after the gala, when he was settling in to read some reports on the progress that one of his competitors had made in their foray into what Oberon Industrial had been doing for decades, his phone buzzed. “Mr. Oberon, Amelia Harkness from the Animal Rights Coalition is on line one for you.”

Alexander smiled to himself; he fully anticipated some sour grapes from the woman in charge of spokesperson recruitment after she’d seen him let Daphne lead him to the sign-up table. He had long since given his assistant the notification that he would take Amelia’s calls at any time—it was amusing to him, and she rarely presumed, mostly calling to let him know when the next gala would be.

He put the call on speaker. “Hey, Amelia, how are those grapes tasting?”

“Well, I’m just pleased that someone was finally able to persuade you to help our cause in a larger way,” Amelia said over the phone. Alexander smirked; he could hear the annoyance that she was keeping out of her voice so carefully. “In fact, when I went in for the morning meeting with my bosses, they agreed that since Daphne was the one to break through to you, she should be the one to handle you.”

Alexander paused in his half-hearted perusal of the documents in front of him, looking at the phone with a rising sense of irritation.

“I didn’t think your recruiters usually handled spokespeople,” he said carefully.

“Well, we didn’t want to risk losing you because you didn’t like who you were working with,” Amelia said sweetly. “You’re a very high profile addition to our list of committed spokespeople, Alex. We want to give you everything you could need for success.” Alex considered for a long moment.

“And this way you can get back at Daphne for succeeding where you failed; if she loses me, it reflects poorly on her.”

“Alex! I’m surprised that you’d think I’d be so petty.”

Alexander rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think it—you just confirmed it. Okay, I’ll work with her.” Alexander had managed to get Amelia off the phone but his irritation was growing. He knew—based on how seriously she had brought her salesperson skills to bear on him—that Daphne would be just as serious about getting him to events and getting him to publicize his support.

He was not mistaken; only an hour or two later, his secretary had buzzed him to let him know that Daphne had called for him, and Alex—feeling his own part in her difficult situation—had let the call through.

If it were just phone calls, he would be able to deal with it; but when he brushed off her initial attempts to get him in front of a camera, she had shown up in his office. Alexander had been infuriated—he had been working on an ongoing situation with a competitor, reaching out to some clients who might be able to help him get the rival businessman off-track. When his assistant informed him that Daphne Jackson was waiting for him in the lobby, he had nearly told the woman at the desk to have Daphne escorted out.

When she came into his office, though, Alexander had been able to scent her pheromones immediately. They bowled him over—his mind had gone totally blank for an instant at the spicy, warm smell that radiated from her, tinged with a more acrid touch of stress sweat. “What perfume do you wear?” he had asked her abruptly, instead of starting in on the harangue he had in mind.

“I—it’s cedar wood and chamomile,” Daphne had said in confusion. “Is it too strong?” Alexander had been forced to give himself a shake to relieve his reaction to her scent.

“No. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “What gave you the idea that you could just show up in my office and take up my time?” Daphne strode confidently forward into the office and Alexander could only just discern the tiny uncertainty that her body language betrayed.

“Well, you’ve been basically ignoring my calls for a week now and I really need you to do
something
as a spokesperson. If you weren’t going to actually fulfill your obligations, why would you sign up?” Alexander had smiled to himself at the anxiety in her voice.

If he knew Amelia at all, the older woman was giving Daphne a hard time, but he also knew that Daphne was probably driving herself to accomplish something above and beyond the pressure that Amelia was giving her.

“You can have ten minutes of my time. If you can’t get something accomplished in that time, it’s on you.” Daphne had taken a camera and a prepared script out of her purse.

“I will get this done in seven minutes if you’ll cooperate,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “And then you’ll be rid of me for a week.”

“Only a week?”

“Well you wouldn’t want to miss our beer garden party, would you?” It was another donation drive, and in this one, Alexander knew that he would be not just an invitee, but also a de facto worker. But at least there would be beer to drink, and maybe he could spread the word to some women who would distract him from the way Daphne smelled—and looked.

“I won’t miss it.” True to her word, Daphne managed to get his message filmed in seven minutes flat—she had him go over the prepared script once, filmed three takes of the one-minute message, and thanked him before rushing out of the office.

Alexander wasn’t sure which of his feelings towards the woman was more intense: his annoyance at her earnest need to do her job as thoroughly as possible, convincing him to take time out of his schedule to uphold his commitment, or his growing attraction to her.

After she had stormed his office, he had taken her calls more seriously; at least if he spoke to her on the phone and arranged for one of his own staff to film his commercial spots for the charity, he wouldn’t have to deal with the aggravation of her presence near him. She smelled so tantalizingly clean and fresh and warm, with curves that practically begged to be touched, and keeping him at arm’s length with her professional, persistent focus.

One afternoon, after Daphne had called to invite him to an event that was just for members of the charity—not a donation drive, a planning meeting where strategy would be discussed and assignments for different kinds of advocacy would be given out—Alexander decided that he needed a break.

“I can’t make it,” he had told her. “I wish I could, and I hope you’ll keep them from giving me something boring to do, but I have a family commitment.” Daphne had backed off at that; the news was full of his mother’s weak health in the wake of his father’s passing.

That very night, Alexander had climbed into his private plane. The pilot already had the location logged with air traffic control, and as the plane took off, Alexander closed his eyes. He had made the trek so many times to the secluded area where he could indulge the depths of his other self that the relaxation that seeped through him was automatic at that knowledge.

The forest preserve was isolated—there was a small airfield nearby where the pilot could refuel, but very little else. It had been part and parcel of Alexander’s childhood even before he had fully understood what it meant to be a shifter; his father had taken him camping, and had taught him woodcraft there just as his grandfather had taken his father.

Within a few hours, Alexander had trekked deep into the woods and the whole world of regular humans fell away. As the near-full moon rose over the horizon, Alexander fell into a crouch and closed his eyes in the darkness, willing the change to come over him. His bones shifted inside of his body, his skin tingled and burned and crawled, and in a matter of only a few heartbeats, Alexander had completed the transformation, replacing his tall, lanky human body from head to toe.

He fell into a crouch and let out a low, contented growl, falling to the paws his hands had become and moving deeper into the woods to find the hive and the bushes that he knew were only a few dozen yards from his den. His thoughts had shrunk down to a much simpler impulse, and the scents of the forest filled his nose, steadying his pulse and driving away any thought of the human world; the frustrating, intoxicating woman who filled his thoughts more often than he wanted her to whenever he was in that world.

In the woods, in his other form, all that Alexander could trouble himself to think about were the necessities of life. He would get back to the other world soon enough—better not to even consider it while he could avoid it.

CHAPTER 2

Alexander wasn’t sure whether he felt more dismayed or annoyed when he arrived at his office on Monday morning to find Daphne Jackson waiting for him. His time spent in the woods had done wonders for his equilibrium—re-connecting him with the animal essence that lived deep inside of him, alongside his humanity—but he felt all the benefits evaporating as the woman who plagued him the most stood up in the waiting area outside of his office proper.

“What brings you to my office, Daphne?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice as pleasant as possible. He knew it wasn’t her fault; in Daphne’s position he would probably do the same thing. But the mixture of her frustrating persistence and the alluring perfume of her body were enough to drive him absolutely insane.

“Can we speak in your office?” Daphne asked. Alexander raised an eyebrow. His gaze shifted downward from her bright eyes; she was biting her bottom lip, the first look of true uncertainty he had ever seen on her face before.

“Certainly,” he said, wondering at what was making the woman so jumpy. Underneath the enticing scent of her body, and the faint perfume she wore, he could scent the undercurrent of fear—a sharp, not entirely pleasant wash of pheromones that awakened dual instincts to protect and to seek out prey. Alexander shook his head to clear it, letting Daphne precede him into the quiet of his office. He closed the door behind them and hit the button that indicated he didn’t wish to be disturbed.

Striding to his desk he sat down and watched Daphne. She was tense—more than just the tension that came over her when she normally came into his office expecting an argument. “You’re upset, Daphne. Care to tell me what’s going on?” Daphne hesitated and sat down across the desk from him, taking a deep breath.

“Mr. Oberon, I get a really strong impression that you are trying to do everything you can to avoid me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and Alexander tried not to look at the way the movement brought her full breasts to greater prominence, deepening the subtle cleavage that showed above the neckline of her blouse. “I have to ask why.”

Alex shifted in his seat as imperceptibly as he could. He couldn’t tell her the entire truth—that her scent, her personality, something deep and essential about her made him conflicted between wanting to devour her, wanting to strip her naked, and wanting to drive her out of his life for good. He took a deep breath.

“You’re stubborn,” he said firmly. “You’re annoying.” Color rose up in Daphne’s cheeks, staining her face a brilliant pink. “If I’d had a choice in who handled me, I would definitely have gone with a handler who would let me slack off.”

Daphne pressed her lips together and Alexander saw her nostrils flare as she inhaled quickly. Alexander swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. “I let you convince me to sign up to become a spokesperson thinking that I’d brush everything off, and you won’t let me.”

“That’s my job as your handler,” Daphne said, her voice slightly shrill.

“I know that, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying.” Alexander smiled slightly. Daphne’s fear-pheromones were dissipating, replaced by the scent of rising anger. “There are other reasons as well. I’m doing enough for you to keep your job, aren’t I?” Daphne sputtered, and then took a deep breath. He watched the color receding from her face slowly, her chest regaining its normal color, and when she opened her eyes, she was once more composed—at least on the surface.

It was a side of Daphne that Alexander hadn’t seen; she had always been so in command of herself, so confident and poised, every time he had ever been in her presence. To see her flustered, even angry—Alexander felt a low throbbing hum of arousal, his body reacting to the scent of her, the heat he could see rising in her body.

His normal sense of annoyance at her persistence dissolved in the beginning flare-up of his lust, and he was torn between the need to get her out of his office as quickly as possible, and the desire to keep her there, to feel her out and see if he could channel her frustration to a more productive end.

“Yes, I’m holding onto my job for now,” Daphne said, speaking slowly and deliberately, barely holding onto her composure. “But Amelia is really putting pressure on me to get you to commit to more, and you disappearing off the face of the planet isn’t doing my career any favors.”

“I wasn’t gone from the face of the planet,” Alexander said, keeping his voice light. “I was on a retreat. You can recognize that my job is very stressful, can’t you, Daphne? At least as stressful as yours.” Daphne blushed again—this time in embarrassment rather than frustration—and Alexander had to stifle the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. “If it will make your life easier,” he said, letting warmth creep into his voice gradually, “I will make myself more available to you.”

“It would be a relief if I could depend on you to reliably show up to events,” Daphne said, licking her lips unconsciously. Alexander thought that if she knew just what effect that little movement of her tongue had on him, she would work hard to suppress the impulse. “And if I could get you to be a more obvious spokesperson for ARC.”

“You have my word,” Alex said, smiling slowly. “I will be every bit as available for your organization’s needs as you require.” Again, Daphne licked her lips and Alexander saw her eyes flicker with a burst of ambition. “I really hope you’re not going to try and put one over on me, Daphne.” She shook her head quickly.

“No. I understand that you’re a busy man, Mr. Oberon. I just… I’m in a difficult position and your help could make it possible for me to keep a job that I really love.” Alex nodded, trying not to stare too directly or obviously at her.

“First of all,” Alexander said, sitting back slightly in his chair and relaxing. “I think at this point you can settle on calling me Alex.” Daphne’s cheeks flamed again with a blush and Alex smiled more broadly, enjoying her slight—but clear—discomfort. “I mean, I just told you that you annoy the hell out of me.

I believe at this point we should both me on a first-name basis, don’t you Daphne?” She glanced down at her hands and Alexander followed her gaze; the woman’s hands were shaking ever so slightly—though whether with the remains of adrenaline-laced fear and frustration or her own embarrassment was impossible to immediately determine.

“Second of all: don’t you find me frustrating and annoying?” Alexander watched her intently; he wanted to know if she would hedge, to say the diplomatic thing for fear of offending him—or if she would be honest.

Daphne stood, and Alexander saw her swallow.
Her throat is as dry as mine
, he thought. She scrubbed at her face, somehow managing not to mar her subtle makeup, and looked for a moment as if she might bolt—her gaze flickered around the room as if looking for an escape.

“Since we’re being honest,” Daphne said finally, straightening her shoulders and standing firm in her spot, “Yes. You have annoyed the hell out of me ever since you signed on, and if I didn’t have to keep you onboard to keep my job, I would have let you drop weeks ago.”

Alexander laughed out loud, letting his head fall against the back of his chair. Through half-closed eyes he saw Daphne’s entire face go red with shock and embarrassment at his reaction—uncertainty in her eyes. He could almost feel the pulse of her hurried thoughts: was it good that he was laughing? Had she called his bluff when she shouldn’t have?

“I have been making your life difficult, haven’t I?” Alexander stood quickly and moved to the refreshment station off to the side of his desk, hugging one wall of his office. He glanced at Daphne as he stepped over to the mini fridge, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you could use something to drink. Water or something harder? You’re a bit on edge.”

Daphne swallowed again, licking her lips, and Alex fought down the rising rush of desire that flowed through him at the sight. He opened the fridge. He couldn’t understand just why he wanted Daphne so much—she was pretty, it was true, and he knew that her pheromones played more than a small role in his attraction to her—there was something about her that goaded him and charged him up, that made him want to devour her, fight her, protect her, in equal measures that confused him.

“Water,” Daphne said, her voice strained. “If I go back to the office smelling like alcohol...” Alexander chuckled.

“They’ll think you had a drink or two with me to soften me up. Perfectly fair in the world of nonprofits, Daphne.” He took out a bottle of water anyway, setting it on the countertop while he served himself a well-watered jolt of whiskey. He was not at all the type of person to get drunk at the office—but he needed something to keep him occupied while Daphne was in the room, and he’d be grateful for it after she left.

He crossed the room and handed Daphne the bottle, taking his own drink with him and sitting back down behind his desk. For a long moment, he watched her drink from the bottle, trying—and failing—to keep his mind away from the gutter. He took a sip of his whiskey and exhaled.

“Daphne, do you think that there’s a way that you can get rid of me without getting into trouble or losing your job?” Daphne’s eyes widened and she set down the bottle of water, staring at him for a moment.

“I swear, Alex, I’m not going to try and force you to do things you don’t want to do…”

Alex smiled.

“You’ve already coerced me into doing things I didn’t want to do,” he said, raising a hand to forestall either apology or counter. “If I had had a real problem with it, I wouldn’t have had any qualms about helping you to lose your job.”

“So why… do you want me to drop you as a spokesperson?”

Alexander took a deep breath and another sip of whiskey.

“We have a problem, you and me,” he said slowly. Alex took in the pink of Daphne’s blouse, the crisp black of her blazer. When she had gone into his office he had noticed the way her jeans fit her perfectly, somehow managing to leave little to the imagination while being completely appropriate. “Part of the reason you annoy me so much is because I’m attracted to you.” Daphne sat back in her chair, her face going first red and then pale and then red again as she processed his words.

“You are?” she asked, her voice soft and shocked. Alex wondered if he should have said something else—if he had overplayed his hand. Daphne could, in theory, make a lot of trouble for him just by knowing he was attracted to her. But for the moment, there was something refreshing about the honest shock on her face.
In for a penny…
he thought wryly.

“Surely I’m not the first guy on the planet to notice you’re incredibly hot,” Alex said, smiling slightly.

“Well—no, I mean—but you’re—and I’m—I…” Daphne took another deep breath and Alex couldn’t quite suppress the amusement he felt at how flustered she had become.

If she doesn’t terminate our working relationship immediately
, he thought to himself,
I could have a lot of fun making her flustered as often as possible
.

“You’re this gorgeous billionaire, and I’m just… I’m a plebe. I’m a nobody.” She shook her head, laughing slightly. “I’m the kind of girl you’d just sleep with after a charity event and give a fake number to.” Alex almost cringed, remembering that that very thought had flicked through his mind the night he had met her—and that he had done something very similar with another woman later in the same evening.

“I didn’t do that the night of the charity event,” Alex pointed out. “I figured that you would be the last woman in the world to let me get away with that.” That was the beginnings of his frustration with her—that she was not a woman at all that he could simply sleep with and have done. Daphne relaxed slightly, a smile curving her lips.

“I’d test the number before you left.”

Alex laughed again, shaking his head. “So I’m a gorgeous billionaire,” he said softly. Daphne, blushing once more, nodded firmly. “I can’t argue with being a billionaire—it’s an established fact. But I can argue with the idea that you’re nobody.” He shrugged. “After all, you’re the woman who got me to sign up to be a spokesperson for ARC—no other person at any charity has been able to accomplish that. You’re also the woman who’s made me live up to that commitment.”

“An ambitious nobody then.” Daphne shrugged off the importance of what she’d accomplished.

“An ambitious nobody doesn’t stay a nobody.” Alex stood, taking another quick sip of his whiskey. “You know I won’t give you a fake number—you already have my real number. You know I can’t avoid you entirely. You’re attracted to me and I’m attracted to you.” Alex set his tumbler down and came out from behind his desk, moving to stand only a few feet away from Daphne. “The walls in here are sound proof, you know.”

*

Daphne’s heart was pounding in her ears. She heard Alexander’s words without entirely understanding them, without being able to process what he was telling her. She was in shock; the meeting that she had geared herself up for was not going at all the way she had expected. She had recently come from a meeting where Amelia told her that if Alexander Oberon kept shirking his responsibilities as a spokesperson, and if she couldn’t keep him consistent, it would “directly affect” her future with ARC. That had prompted a very real terror in her as to the outcome of her seeing Alexander.

Daphne had expected that he would either refuse to see her, or that he would give her a token ten minutes of his time, make good-sounding promises to be more on top of his responsibilities in the future, and then have her seen out politely.