It was almost eight on Friday evening when he parked outside the resort and dismounted. He secured the bike and carried his helmet in one hand as he strode into the expansive foyer of the WindSwept Narrows Resort and Casino. He’d vaguely remembered hearing something about the many charity costume balls that occurred each year through September and October. But he hadn’t quite prepared himself for the variety of costumes parading around the bustling resort.
He had almost made it to the elevator when he felt a sharp slap to one shoulder. Figuring it was an accident, he turned, ready to let the apologizing partier know it was okay when he caught the barest glimpse of something almost see-through but solid seconds before it smacked the side of his head.
Jonathon Shepherd would have bet anything that at six foot two and just under two hundred pounds, very little would send him reeling against the granite walls next to the elevator. But somehow a gossamer wing managed the job. Not only a gossamer wing, but a gossamer wing swung by a platinum blonde with bangs that kept falling over one eye as she tried fastening something behind her back. She was at the moment spinning like a puppy chasing its tail, the killer wing fluttering randomly.
“I am so sorry!” She told him anxiously, wide, dark brown eyes sweeping him from head to toe before settling on his face. She stumbled dizzily as she tried to remain upright. “Seriously sorry. I can’t seem to…” that’s when she tried turning again, almost sending the sparkling wing into his face once more if he hadn’t reached out with one arm and quickly circled her waist, holding her immobile.
He was positive she squeaked when he held her in place, his face down next to her ear.
“I’d really rather not be hit again. Hold still and tell me the problem,” he instructed firmly, wishing he had both hands free when he felt the very feminine curves pressed against him. His first thought was he hoped she was over eighteen.
“The problem,” she breathed slowly. “Okay…umm…really…I’m thinking that’s not a costume,” she finally managed a complete sentence.
“And what makes you think that?” The corner of his mouth lifted as he gazed over her shoulder, taking in the pale, soft skin; a pair of wide, dark eyes and a fullness to her lips that could easily doom a man with less focus. Not to mention the hips he had pressed against the leather chaps over his jeans.
“Oh, just a guess. My luck hasn’t been swinging too great lately,” she murmured and then sighed. “There’s a couple snaps at the base of my costume that hold the offensive wing in place. I felt them give when I stretched and haven’t been able to fasten them again.”
“Complete sentences,” Jonathon commented with a chuckle. “Don’t move. I’ll set my helmet on the floor and see if I can fix it for you.”
“Thank you. I really am sorry for hitting you. I thought if I twisted just right…”
“I’m taking my arm away now. No moving,” he ordered sternly.
“Yes, sir,” she said instantly, planting the pale gold slippers firmly on the floor and stiffening her legs. “There are a lot of costumes here tonight.”
“You’re attending one of the costume events?” Jonathon set the black helmet on the floor at his feet before placing both hands on her waist, holding her still. “Found the fasteners.” He snapped them quickly into place and took a step back before announcing he was finished. He jerked his head up just in time when she spun to face him, the edge of the large glittering wing barely missing giving him the shave he’d ignored before going on his ride.
“Thank you so much,” she smiled up at him, her palm thrust out toward him. “Molly Fielding.”
“Molly…”
She shrugged. “Hippie parents who wanted a simple, old-fashioned name for their kid.”
“Nothing wrong with that at all, Molly Fielding,” he took her palm with a firm shake. “Jonathon Shepherd. So which of the events are you attending tonight?”
Molly Fielding felt safe. She looked at him oddly, unable to explain the sensation to herself. It had been a long time since she had that sensation around her and she studied the most obvious reason closely.
Rugged came to mind. He was sturdy and well-built with a scar on his jaw and a dark shadow that seemed to make him all the more interesting.
“Well, you know that all the events of the season, which is amazingly two months long, and serve to benefit local charities. Can you imagine the costumes? I can’t wait for the scifi one, myself. It’s held downtown in Seattle in two weeks. Have you been to any of them? Oh, no, I don’t suppose so since this is the first weekend of September,” she paused long enough to take in a deep breath. “Unless you were lucky enough to have been here last year.”
“Perhaps we can go someplace a little less in the way,” Jon looked cautiously at the wings he still considered lethal weapons. “I’m actually very new to the area and don’t know a thing about the seasonal events. Have you had dinner yet?”
Molly laughed, a light relaxed sound, her head shaking, the offensive silver bangs falling over one eye only to be brushed aside and trapped behind her ear.
“I came in the front doors, went straight to the restroom and lost control of my wings. The event is on the third floor. It’s for the health programs the resort has established for the kids in the area whose parents don’t work for the resort itself,” she was considering his question when a too familiar face registered in her mind. She spun quickly, her head shaking. “Thank you. Nice meeting you. Have a great night!”
Chapter Three
Jon watched the odd collection of anxiety and a little fear flit around the wide, dark eyes seconds before he barely escaped another bout with the wings. His hand tightened on the helmet he’d retrieved from the floor at the same time he cast a glance around in the direction she’d been looking before she took off at a quick pace into one of the six elevators coming and going briskly. Then she was gone.
He spotted two men standing about twenty feet away, talking in low voices and casually scanning the throngs of people passing through the foyer. He knew they weren’t security, because those people were clearly identified and he’d met a great deal of them through Cassidy Parker-Lawson.
These two were dressed in somber suits with almost military style haircuts. They should have blended with the widely eclectic crowd of people. But for some reason, they seemed to stand out. He thought about it for a long minute, watching them, and realizing that they weren’t relaxed. They didn’t look as if they were there to enjoy themselves. They looked as if they were there on business and nothing was going to interfere with their goal.
And somehow that goal involved the fairy that had vanished on him.
His hand rose to tap the pearl button for the elevator, the light signaling it was opening for him a few seconds later. Now what would those two want with the fairy with the dangerous wings? That question kept fluttering around in his mind all the way to the suite Vincent Technologies was renting for him until he found his own place.
His key card slid through the electronic reader the same time a change of plans had him dropping the helmet to the chair just inside the door. He checked his jacket pocket for his wallet and slid the card back to an inside slot before heading for the elevator. Once on the third floor, it was easy enough to following the myriad of costumes and noise to the entrance of the huge collection of ballrooms being used for the charity event.
Jonathon raised his opinion of the platinum fairy when the entry fee was quoted to him, the couple manning the desk in their sixties and dressed in costumes from the early twenties. He knew there would be a high fee for some of the charity functions, he simply wasn’t familiar enough to know which they would be.
Evidently the inaugural entry to the season was one of the higher end functions. Which had him wondering just what the little fairy did for a living. Then it traveled a little further to add in the men and the way she ran to avoid them. Or maybe he was really reaching and one had nothing to do with the other.
But his instincts had rarely led him wr
ong. At the ripe old age of thirty-eight, he’d established a reputation within several communities that intersected through his life. From the military to college to various business ventures, opinions varied from asshole to saint, but seldom found fault with the outcomes he achieved.
The crowd wasn’t as thick as he had envisioned. Maybe because of the size of the combined ballrooms they were using that seemed massive. He’d made it to one of the many bars and snacked on one of the small platters of stuffed mushrooms while waiting for his scotch and water on the rocks.
He turned his back to the smooth chrome of the bar, one elbow bent behind him while the other hand held the cool glass of amber liquid. His gaze swept slowly through the varieties of costumes that ranged in time and fantasy. But like the room itself and the venue, none of them were cheap.
A wide collection of finger foods lined the long bars, while signs were clearly visible directing people interested in the buffet to the far end of the ballroom. Decorations were early fall and late summer flowers with banners reminding people what their money was going to supply for the children living in the communities surrounding the resort and Tacoma area.
He tossed back the rest of the drink, lifted a thin slice of crunchy bread covered with diced tomatoes, spicing and olive oil, sprinkled with a lite, chunky cheese. When that one disappeared, he reached for another before beginning a slow meander through the room. Along the walls of one of the chambers, were tables of items up for sale. They ranged from services to paintings to sculptures and other creative entries from local artisans.
He suddenly came to an abrupt halt in his appreciation of the variety of costumes, the couples and the singles. He backed up his gaze, stopping on a bright, blood red velvet cape, complete with hood. The woman had a large wicker basket dangling from one arm. But it was her face and that sexy, if annoying thick thatch of platinum that caught his attention.
Why had she switched costumes?
He didn’t know what was beneath the heavy looking cape, but it barely stopped mid-thigh. And below that was nothing but very long, bare legs that led into a pair of three inch blood red heels with straps wrapped sexily around her ankles. Sexual arousal coasted through his body and ended in his cock.
He hadn’t seen any rings on her fingers, or even signs that there had been a ring there. And his ego was strong enough that he hadn’t seen dislike in the stare she leveled upon him, the confidence in her striking another plus in his attraction. As well as his curiosity.
Jonathon Shepherd realized his mistake the instant the sharp, pointed little elbow struck his ribs. Hard. Just after his hand had come down on her shoulder. He should have spoken first to avoid surprising her. Smart in the after effects and groaning.
Molly wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up behind her. She didn’t think the people searching for her would put out the cost of entry into the event. True, she did have a lot of friends and she was usually much more alert. Her body reacted instantly and without conscious thought, her elbow shooting back with all the pent up power she contained. She pivoted expertly on one foot, ready to face the would-be attacker.
Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened and both hands flew to cover the surprised squeak that erupted when the appearance of the man registered in her memory.
“Oh, my god! It’s you!” Molly shook her head, wincing at the tall, muscled figure bent in half. His groan had sunk through the various courses of actions she had available to her in the ballroom. All of which vanished when she heard the groan and spun to look at the source. Black leather jacket, chaps over a pair of jeans and dark, short clipped hair seasoned with silver strands at his temples. “Oh, god,” she whispered again, her hands out to immediately cup his shoulders.
“Has someone hired you to maim me?” Jonathon groaned again, his palm finally opening and rubbing his ribs. He had no idea a slip of a woman had so much power behind her strikes.
“I…no…of course not,” she said, slightly affronted at his suggestion. She was frowning when he looked up at her. “That’s a ridiculous…” she paused thoughtfully, chewing on her cheek for a few seconds while she looked at her hands on his shoulders. “You’re not the type of guy that would have that happen to him, are you?”
Molly swore she heard a low growl and winced again. She tightened her fingers and slowly eased him upright.
“Come over here and sit down. Let me look…lord, I hope I haven’t broken anything,” she mumbled to herself, withdrawing her hands when he seemed able to straighten on his own, his full height a good four inches above hers, even with heels. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine.” Came the gravely response, wondering when the male ego would kick in and he’d feel more than a little embarrassed at the entire incident. At the moment, peering into a pair of very large dark eyes, he was more concerned that his libido had chosen this woman to kick in with.
“I…I hit you…of course you’re not fine,” she informed him tartly, taking his free hand and leading him toward the many cushioned benches along the walls. Before he could offer another protest, she backed him against it and pushed gently. “Please sit down.”
“Molly, I’m honestly…”
“I hit you,” she repeated firmly, peering at him between the silver strands drifting past her eyes.
Exhaling slowly, Jonathon sat back on the cushions, grimacing and rubbing at his side. A mistake, since she saw it and fell to her knees on the floor.
Between his knees. He couldn’t imagine the situation or the image getting any worse. Seated on a cushioned bench with a red cloaked woman kneeling between his thighs, her hands on his ribs, beneath his jacket and her head level with... And that damned hood hid a great deal from the people passing. Some smiled. Some smirked and others actually issued stern scowls in their direction.
“Molly, seriously…” he reached for her hands, missing them when she forcefully yanked on his t-shirt, pulling it free of his belt and jeans.
“I need to make certain I didn’t break anything,” she informed him, meeting his gaze and waving his hands off. “Let me see, please.”
“What’re you? A doctor?” He growled low, aware of strangers watching them without looking up from the top of the hood covering a good portion of her face, not to mention his crotch as she leaned closer. He was sure if he groaned again, she’d have him in an ambulance. “And what happened to the wings and fairy suit?”
“I swapped with a friend,” she answered absently. “And yes, I am…a doctor, I mean.”
Jonathon decided he really didn’t have a response to that one, grimacing when the slim, cold fingers probed lightly over his ribs.
“I probably bruised you. I am so sorry…”
“Hi, Jon,” Tanner Clayton stood a few feet away, his hand resting on the narrow waist of the harem girl at his side. He wore a white billowy shirt and black fitted pants that disappeared into a pair of knee high boots.
“Tanner,” Jon sighed, his head back against the cushions. “This isn’t…”
“It’s definitely keeping the guests entertained,” Vianne remarked with a little laugh.
“This is my wife, Vianne,” Tanner went on, the ill-concealed smile on his face only making his friend glare at him.
“Pleased to meet you,” Vianne said with a straight face. “Hi, Molly.”
“Hi, Vi…I hit him…it was an accident…he’s not broken, but I did bruise him,” she said with a long sigh, replacing the t-shirt before bouncing to her feet.
“I thought you were in Chloe’s fairy outfit?” Vianne asked casually.
“Swapped with Lacie,” Molly answered with a half shrug. She looked at Jonathon, one finger raised. “I’ll be right back with some water. Don’t move yet.”
“You know her?” Jon asked the couple when they were alone.
“I’ve known her a few years,” Vianne answered easily. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure which incident I should be more embarrassed about,” he said honestly, standing up and hastily tucking hi
s shirt back in before offering his palm. “Jonathon Shepherd…nice to finally meet you. Tanner mentions you all the time.”
“I’m sure it was an accident,” Vianne said softly. “Molly’s not a violent sort. She’s a little stressed right now.”
“Do you know why?” Jonathon asked, his gaze sweeping the various tables set up until he caught sight of Red Riding Hood. He turned back to meet a pair of soft green eyes watching him.
“Just normal life things,” Vianne answered vaguely. “Have you known her long?”
“Only since she smacked me in the face with her wings at the foyer level elevator,” he responded with a shrug at the stunned silence. “She seems a little jumpy.”
“Good thing you’re sturdy,” Tanner remarked with a low chuckle. “Good luck, Jon. I’m off to spend some money on my little harem girl here. I’m glad you’ve joined the team. I think Vincent Technologies is in very good hands with you at the reins.”
“Thanks for the support and the confidence. A pleasure meeting, Vianne,” Jon watched his friend stride off, his head lowered and whispering softly to his wife as they walked. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed finding that kind of relationship in his life. The thought of either of his ex-wives sporting the love he glimpsed in Vianne’s eyes for Tanner an image he just couldn’t manage to pull into his mind.
He wondered briefly if his relationships had begun the same way and somewhere, they lost it.
Chapter Four
“Mr. Shepherd?”
He pulled his attention from memories that had temporarily taken control, his gaze meeting a pair of wide eyes watching him with concern. Genuine concern, he realized, taking in the small, full lips forming a taut pucker.
“I’m alright, Molly. And if anyone asks about the bruise, I’m claiming I was the victim of an attempted mugging,” he winked at the tiny smile that relaxed her lips.
WindSwept Narrows: #23 Molly & Natasha Page 2
