by Milly Taiden
She didn’t know what to do here, either. God, she felt like a failure right now.
A car honked and Francesca snapped her head up. The light had turned green. She tossed her phone on the passenger seat and continued toward the office. Thank goodness it was Friday. She wasn’t sure if she could last one more day.
After unlocking the office door, turning on all the lights, and starting the extra-large coffeemaker, she dialed into the office voicemail and took down messages community members left last night. A moment later, the front door opened and a delivery man rolled in a hand dolly stacked with boxes.
“I’m looking for Francesca Virgata.”
Her brows raised. “That’s me.” Two more people walked in, all wearing the same uniform the deliver guy wore. And rolling in their own hand dollies. He handed her a clipboard with a form for her to sign.
“We’ll get these set up and be out of your hair in a few moments.”
Francesca watched as boxes popped open, each holding their own container of flowers. As the man promised, in a few moments, every flat space in the front office had flowers and plants on it. She had her own flower shop. A card sat on the desk in front of her.
Even a room full of flowers isn’t nearly as beautiful as you. Marcus
When the visitors closed the door behind them, she stared around the room, awed. Then she sneezed, and sneezed again. Frantic to stop the allergy attack she felt coming, she dug in her purse for her medication. Swallowing a couple pills, she sat back and grabbed a box of tissues. She loved the sentiment, but her watery eyes and sneezing would not be fun.
Time to get working. She pulled the checks from the post office envelopes she picked up on her way. She needed to have them entered into the system and ready for deposit when her brother, Shane, got in.
They’d worked out a while back how to split office responsibilities. Since she did so much computer and paperwork, Shane did all the tasks that required leaving the office. That worked fine with her. If she had to leave, she’d never get done what she needed to.
When she ran the envelope opener under the first flap, the front door opened again. This time a lady she’d never seen before entered.
“Hi,” she said, “I’m looking for Francesca Virgata.”
Not again. “Are you delivering flowers?” Francesca asked.
The lady smiled. “No. Something much better. Chocolate.” Outside, behind the woman standing in the doorway, a van backed up to the front door. Oh god.
By the time this group walked out, Francesca had never seen so much chocolate in one place. Even the Hershey Bar store. She had no idea there were so many varieties, either. Again, she sat back in awe. Another card lay on her desk.
Nothing is as sweet as you, but I thought I’d give it a try. You rock. Theo
9
The door opened a third time and Francesca was ready to tell them to go away. But it was her assistant, Joyce, who her brother insisted she hire. The younger girl stopped and stared around the room.
“Oh my god. Who barfed flowers and chocolate everywhere?” She glanced at Francesca at her desk. “I thought you were allergic to flowers.”
Francesca sniffed. “I am.”
“And I thought you didn’t like chocolate,” her assistant said.
“I don’t.”
The girl squealed and jumped around. “Then it’s all for me?”
That made Francesca feel guilty as hell, but those were the facts. Goes to show one can’t assume what a woman liked. Though, with these two guys, it was the thought that counted. And it did. Point for each. She wondered if she needed to start a score card. God, that sounded horrible. “Yup, all for you,” Francesca said.
“Where did this come from?” Joyce asked.
“I went to a cocktail reception last night—”
Joyce looked at her. “You went to a party?”
“Yes,” Francesca huffed. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” Joyce seemed to backpedal. “But you’re not the party type. Even though you’re only a few years older than me, you’re a lot older, if you get what I mean.”
No. Francesca didn’t get what she meant. “I go to parties,” she said.
Joyce put hands on her hips. “Are you planning on coming to the party Shane is having tonight at the Prime house?”
Actually, she’d forgotten about that because she had no intention of going. “Yes,” she said, “of course I’m going.”
Joyce narrowed her eyes. The girl knew Francesca just made that up because of the accusation. Shit, did that mean she had to go now? Stupid me. Was she really so fuddy-duddy? Well, this should rock the girl’s socks. “At the party last night, not only did I meet one guy, I met two. What do you think of that?”
The girl sucked in a breath. “OMG!” She hurried forward, dragging a chair behind her to the desk and plopped down. “You’re a ménage?” she whispered loudly.
“A what?” Francesca was shocked by the word she heard from her assistant’s mouth. “Ménage? No way! That’s…that’s…” she wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t normal.
Joyce giggled. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Francesca. Some shifters are meant for that. I hope I am. I mean, can you imagine, not one, but two gorgeous guys falling all over you to make sure you’re happy and loved all the time? When one is making love to you, the other is cleaning the kitchen. Better yet, both making hot, sticky, love to you. It’s nonstop orgasms for hours.” Her entire body shook while Francesca’s about came on the spot.
“That’s quite a sexual fantasy there, Joyce. But that’s not happening. My mom and dad were perfectly happy with just the two of them and that’s how I’ll be. I just need to figure out which I want and let the other go.” That didn’t feel as easy as it sounded.
“If that’s what you feel, then that’s perfect. Just saying that keeping both is a natural thing, too.” She scooped up a chocolate shaped stapler on the desk and took a bite. “Yes, solid chocolate. Glad I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.” She stood from the chair. “If you don’t pick the one who sent the liquid gold, send him my way. I’ll take him any day.”
The front door opened and her brother walked in. About time. He was getting in later and later. He eyed Joyce as she plopped onto the chair in front of Francesca’s desk and grinned. A grin Francesca didn’t like. The younger girl stiffened, her body freezing still. That was odd, Francesca thought.
“Good morning, Joyce, Francesca. Lovely seeing you both this morning.” He came around to stand behind the assistant in the chair. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’re coming to the party tonight, aren’t you, Joyce?” She nodded.
“I am, too,” Francesca said.
Her brother frowned. “Since when do you go to parties?”
God, she must be really pathetic. No wonder no one in the pride ever asked her out. “I go when I want. I haven’t wanted to before. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve been to the house. I love my own little place, but it’s nice to have luxury occasionally. I love the sofas in the living room. They’re so cushy and great to relax on.”
“I’ll buy you one for your cottage,” he said. She would’ve thanked him for the loving gesture if he’d expressed it with love, not disdain. Did he want her, his sister, not to go to a party at the prime house where he lived alone while their dad was at the nursing home getting better? That was ridiculous. He loved her, even though a tough guy like him never said those kind of things.
Francesca turned in her chair toward the side extension of her desk and stacked the checks entered into the accounting system. “These are ready for deposit. Everything is ready for month end closing.” She swiveled back, holding up the paper-clipped bundle, to see Shane’s hand had slid down the girl’s arm and his finger was rubbing the underside of her breast.
He took the checks from her hand and headed down the hall toward his office. Francesca was shocked into silence. She’d never seen her brother make such a bold move in public.
Were Shane and her assistant dating? By the ashamed expression on Joyce’s face, she’d say no.
From down the hall, Shane called, “Joyce, bring me a cup of coffee to my office.”
Francesca’s eyes remained fixed on Joyce’s downturned face. When the girl moved to get up, Francesca reached out and grabbed her arm. “Was that unwelcomed?” she asked. Then she thought unwelcomed or not, the office was not a place for shows of intimacy. Joyce shrugged.
“He likes me, I guess. I’m…flattered.” She pulled away from Francesca’s grip, headed toward the coffeemaker. The phone rang and a couple guys from the landscaping crew walked in. Friday at the office kicked into high gear and the incident slipped from Francesca’s mind.
10
Why, oh why, did she say she was going to the prime house party? She must’ve not been thinking straight. Someone had accused her of being older than she was; that’s what started this whole business.
She sat on the living room sofa she’d loved the day her mom picked it out and had it delivered. Dad complained because it was a bit expensive, but it wasn’t like the pride was destitute. In fact, quite the opposite.
For many years, since the time of her grandfather, the pride had produced the best beef this side of the Mississippi. It started when her grandparents and a group of fellow tiger shifters settled here to escape persecution from humans. Good meat in large quantities was hard to find. So they purchased cows and bulls and set to cultivating what they considered good eatin’.
Seemed others thought so, too. As money came in, the pride purchased more land and bred more cattle. They were able to acquire quite a bit of forested area and grazing pasture for both building homes and feeding herds. The pride was still small compared to other shifter communities that had been around for a while. But they had the money to sustain a level of comfort few others could afford.
Her parents knew the meaning of hard work since they were part of the generation who worked day and night to establish what they had today. That trait seemed to be lost more and more with each new generation born with everything they wanted and needed in life.
She and her brother knew the meaning of work, but not necessarily hard work. Since their teens, they spent time after school working in the office or doing chores. Francesca considered it work because they couldn’t sit around and play games or watch TV mindlessly.
And based on stories from her grandfather and father working the cattle and doing heavy physical labor, office work wasn’t physically demanding. Though today with the flowers and chocolate consuming her office, it might have been considered physically demanding.
With her last sneeze being hours ago, she relaxed and munched on snacks Shane had set out for guests to eat. He’d just turned the music up to the point it was annoying. The original prime house had been deemed too small and antiquated about ten years ago.
So this new “cabin,” straight out of a luxury travel and leisure magazine, had speakers throughout the house and outside, a large pool, wired for Wi-Fi, professional kitchen appliances, a bathroom for every bedroom, and TVs in almost every room hooked up to satellite service.
Her little cottage was definitely a step, or leap, down, but it was hers.
Several other ladies and some guys gathered in the living room with her. She knew everyone as all knew her as the prime’s daughter. She tried to be nice and outgoing with others, even though she wasn’t the party-goer type. And she was reminded why when the next song thumped with her building headache.
Much of the pride had shown. The parents and older generations were just about gone for the night. They drank wine or beer, chatted while chasing around the young ones or making sure none of the grandkids drowned in the pool. Now, it was bedtime for both age groups.
With the departure came the younger ones, the music being cranked, and hard liquor made a bigger appearance. No more splashing in the pool, but the hot tub was filled with semi-naked people doing who knows what with hands under the bubbling water.
Her brother walked through the large open space separating the interior from the outside. Their parents had installed one of those glass folding doors that slid to the sides and practically disappeared so you couldn’t tell where the house stopped and patio began.
Shane had his arm wrapped around a young twenty-something, which she thought was age inappropriate to his young thirty-something.
The girl was younger than Joyce. Hold on a second. He wasn’t dating Joyce? Then what the hell was the boob massage he gave her assistant this morning?
Francesca was about to confront her brother when she saw the females around her eyeing the couple. Some gave the girl a vicious stink eye, while others looked worried. What was going on? Time to find out.
Francesca set her glass of water on the table and approached Shane and the girl, Mirla, if Francesca remembered correctly. She stopped in front of them, earning a scowl from her brother. “Hi, Mirla,” she yelled over the music. “Can I talk to Shane for a minute?”
Mirla turned her ear toward Francesca. “What?”
“I said,” she repeated, “I’d like to talk to my brother.”
The girls smiled and hollered, “Yeah, this is your brother.”
Francesca wanted to bang her head on the wall. This wasn’t going like she hoped. Instead of using words, Francesca pointed at Mirla, then pointed to the empty chair Francesca just abandoned. The teeny-bopper smile faded and the chick shook her head. Obviously, she got the meaning, but didn’t respond correctly.
Francesca gave her the “mad mom” look: one brow raised, the other eye squinted almost shut, lips pressed into a thin line, nostrils flaring. The female paled and nearly jumped onto the cushioned chair. Huh, maybe she would make a good mom someday.
Shane grabbed his sister’s arm and dragged her down the hallway to a quieter place. “What the hell are you doing, Francesca?”
“I could ask you the same damn question,” she replied. Her fisted hands landed on her hips. “I thought you liked Joyce.”
Shane stepped back. “Joyce who?”
Francesca’s jaw dropped. “The Joyce you fondled in the office this morning.”
His pissed-off expression turned conciliatory. “Oh, that.” He brushed it off with a wave. “That was an accident.” Right, Francesca thought. “That girl is too young for me.” He tried to push past her, but Francesca wasn’t done yet.
“Too young? How old is the one you just had under your arm?”
His pacified semblance turned angry again. “Look, Francesca. Who I date is none of your business. Just like I don’t bother you about who you date.”
Now that she thought about it, he didn’t ask anything about the flowers in the office. Maybe he was respecting boundaries and she wasn’t. “You’d better tell Joyce then so you’re not leading her on. And keep your hands off her. The office is no place for public displays of affection.”
He raised both hands in supplication. “You’re right. I apologize. Can we get back to the party now?” She turned. “Francesca, wait.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Thanks for coming. You never show up. I didn’t think you were the party type.”
“I’m not.” She turned and sighed. “I’m here to prove to myself that I’m not ready for the house full of cats and the old lady name that goes with it.”
Shane wrapped an arm around her shoulder and walked her through the hall. “I’m proud of you, little sis. Let’s get you a drink.”
“My water’s on the coffee table in the living room.”
“No. I mean a real drink. A grownup girl deserves a grownup drink, don’t you think?”
She snorted. “No. But I’ve always wanted one of those beverages with a tiny umbrella that you see on commercials with people at beaches on vacation.”
They reached the end of the hall where the music roared. “All right, little sis. One Sex on the Beach coming up.” He slapped her ass and headed for the bar. What the hell did she just order?
11
The
party at the prime house rolled into the night. And this the most sex on the beach Francesca had ever had—the drink that is. The shit was so sweet, it was like drinking juice for breakfast, with a little zinger. And the saying that shifters couldn’t get drunk—that wasn’t really the case.
Shifter metabolism was so much faster than humans’ that when drinking at the same speed, shifters burned off the alcohol much faster than their counterparts. But there’s a limit to everything.
If shifters drank enough, quick enough—enough that would kill a human—they could get drunk. But it was short lived when the drinking stopped, like fewer than twenty minutes.
She’d never giggled so much in her life. Actually, she thought all her brother’s friends were lame and show-offish. Now she added dork to that list of adjectives. One of said friends laid an arm across her shoulders.
“Hey there, short stuff,” he said, “how’s it going down there.” She looked up at him. Jim, the independent accountant they worked with. He had always been too cute for his own good. And too tall.
“Not bad. How is it above the clouds tonight?” she asked. Jim looked away and nodded at someone. She followed his line of sight to see her brother smiling at him.
“Not bad, either.” He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her over his head like she weighed nothing. “Let me show you!” She squealed and he took off running down one of the paths leading off the patio into the forest.
The little light from the twinklies draped in the trees at the house quickly faded to black. Fortunately, her animal saw perfectly in the dark. She laughed harder when Jim started making caveman grunts and bouncing her into the air. Then her stomach lurched. So not good.
“Jim,” she shouted, “put me down before I puke.” She was on her feet so quickly, her head spun, which didn’t help her stomach. She leaned to the side to get her balance and he caught her up against a tree.
“You okay?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to upset your stomach.”
