My Plan B (Middlemarch Shifters Book 11)

by Shelley Munro

  Plan B was about liberation. Self-destruction wasn’t part of the equation.

  * * * * *

  “I got the phone,” Henry said.

  “Good.” Jacey struggled to bat his wolf into submission. His wolf pushed against his skin, pushed, pushed, pushed for freedom. A growl squeezed past his teeth, rushing up from his belly. He lengthened his steps in a hurry to get to Henry’s vehicle. Henry wasn’t interested in the woman, but it hurt that the first female who caught his attention made a pass at his son. He didn’t doubt if Henry had shown interest, Megan Saxon would have dragged his son into her bed.

  Another growl escaped him, sharp enough to burn his throat as it roared free.

  “Stop,” Henry snapped, striding to keep up.

  But Jacey wasn’t in control, knew it, admitted it, even though none of this was Henry’s fault. A part of him, the part his wolf wasn’t controlling, groped for the shreds of restraint. He dragged in a breath. A second. A third.

  He was aware of Henry waiting at his side, giving him space, yet standing his ground. Jacey shoved at his wolf and silently demanded him to settle. Henry didn’t want the woman. Do you hear? Henry isn’t interested in Megan Saxon.

  Jacey forced himself to march around the front of the SUV. He opened the passenger door and climbed inside. As soon as they arrived home, he’d go for a short, fast run around Henry and Gerard’s property. Rid himself of this tension. If Megan Saxon wasn’t interested in him, he’d keep away from temptation.

  Simple.

  Henry opened the driver’s door. “Is it safe for me to get in?”

  “Of course. I would never hurt you. You’re my son.”

  “You wanted to bite me a few minutes ago.”

  “My wolf is under control,” Jacey said, and this time he sounded testy.

  Henry barked out a harsh snicker and slid behind the wheel. He thumbed the phone to life.

  “Password protected?”

  “No.” Henry clicked on several icons. “She snapped a photo of us.” Henry showed it to him.

  Jacey grunted. While he and Henry might be mistaken for large dogs at a quick glance, Leo looked like the leopard he was—an animal that shouldn’t be running through a New Zealand paddock.

  Henry deleted two photos, then removed the photos from the trash folder too. “I’ll check the email in case she sent a photo to anyone. Nope, no emails. I think we’re good.”

  “What are you going to do with the phone?”

  Henry considered. “I’ll put it outside her cottage. Somewhere the phone will keep dry if it rains. She’ll think it fell out of her pocket.” He scanned the phone again, checking for any other evidence.

  Jacey watched his son with approval. The boy was thorough in everything he did.

  “Won’t be long,” Henry said as he exited the SUV. He glided across the open ground to the cottage and placed the phone near the door. Seconds later, he was back in the vehicle and pulling away from the empty cottage where they’d parked with no one the wiser.

  The silence grew, darting into uncomfortable.

  Jacey cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I tried to control my wolf but I couldn’t. It has never happened before.”

  “Never?”

  “No. It…I…it was a surge of jealousy, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to touch her.”

  Henry’s brows rose, his face pulled into a prune expression as he glared at Jacey.

  “You used to look at me like that when you were a child and didn’t get your way.” Jacey smiled at the memory. He and Moira had laughed later, after they’d sent Henry to bed early for his misbehavior.

  “It wasn’t my fault. She jumped me. What did you want me to do? Push her away so she fell on her shapely butt? Our mission was to get the phone. Mission completed.”

  “I know, and I apologize for my behavior. My wolf…I couldn’t control him.”

  “I was like that with Jenny. When I found her…” Henry shuddered and shot Jacey a tortured glance. “If it weren’t for Gerard, I would have gone wolf in front of the police, the runners, the zombies and my other friends. I get it, and you don’t have to apologize. You need a plan.”

  “I have a plan,” Jacey said. “This mating business doesn’t always work the way we want it to.”

  “Did you know straightaway with Mum?”

  “Yes.”

  “I did with Jenny. It was her scent, and when I touched her and she grinned at me—that was it. You might be mistaken.”

  “No, every time I see Megan I want to breathe in her fragrance. I want to touch her…and well, that’s enough. She made it clear she doesn’t see me that way, and that’s an end to it. She’s here for the weekend. I don’t have to see her again.”

  Jacey said the words and wanted to howl along with his wolf. He felt as if a sharp knife stabbed his gut, yet his words held the sad truth. If Megan Saxon wasn’t interested in him, he couldn’t force her to think otherwise.

  * * * * *

  The next morning

  Megan dragged her butt to the shower and once dressed, drove to the café in the small township of Middlemarch. Too early for her appointment, but she needed coffee to get through this day and the opening match of the tournament to take place under lights during the evening. Originally, she was meant to meet Emily Mitchell, who represented the council, at a pre-match dinner, but this earlier meeting meant she could plan the way she handled the evening instead of ad-libbing. She could also ask the woman about the town to get an idea of where to focus her special-interest piece. Something to do with the Sevens rugby tournament, for sure.

  She nodded her thanks to the waitress who delivered her cup of coffee and a fresh-from-the-oven blueberry muffin. “I’m meant to be meeting Emily Mitchell,” she said to the teenage waitress. “I’m early, so tell her not to worry if she’s not ready to see me yet. I have planning to do.”

  “Emily should arrive soon.” The teenager’s black ponytail swished. “She said she had a meeting. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  “Thank you.” Megan picked up her latte and took her first sip, almost moaning at the surge of caffeine. Strong and hot. Most places made wishy-washy coffee. This stuff…excellent. Megan drank a second hit and glanced at her phone when it buzzed with an incoming text.

  She’d mislaid her phone during her drunken antics the previous night. To her relief, she discovered it had dropped from her coat pocket at her front door and was none the worse for wear.

  The text was from her sister. Still big & fat with my future rugby player on board! How are the boonies? XX

  Quiet & pretty. Excellent coffee, she typed.

  She flicked through her photos, intending to send one and frowned. Only one photo there? She was sure she’d taken more of the countryside with the weird piles of rock. Must have been more out of it yesterday than she thought. Probably the reason for her ill-fated pick-up attempt. Disappointment had made commonsense leak from her brain. Besides… Her fingers pressed into the sides of her coffee cup a little harder. Just because she and Janet thought a younger man would work for her purposes, it didn’t mean the young man she propositioned had to go along with the plan. The one last night certainly hadn’t. She hadn’t seen the men this morning, or maybe she’d misunderstood, because the nearest cottage had appeared empty.

  Even now, embarrassed heat flooded her cheeks. Don’t dwell, stupid. Move on and don’t make the same mistake again. Megan attached the one photo she had—thankfully, in focus—and hit send on her text.

  Her phone peeped again. What about men?

  Megan pulled a face. Her younger sister never stopped her matchmaking, positive that Megan would die alone. Too soon to tell & too busy. Work.

  When her phone remained silent, she focused on her coffee, her blueberry muffin and her surroundings. The café did a brisk trade with people of all ages coming in for coffee and food.

  A woman—obviously pregnant—approached her table, a broad smile in place. Her layered brown hair glinted with
golden highlights in the sun coming through the front window of the café. She held out her hand in greeting. “Emily Mitchell. Sorry I’m a little late.”

  Megan stood and shook hands. “Megan Saxon. No problem. I’ve been enjoying sitting here in the sunshine coming through the window. You have excellent coffee. The muffins aren’t bad either.”

  The doorbell tinkled, and Emily glanced over. She muttered under her breath, her smile not shifting.

  Megan thought she heard a damn and a blast, and something about inconsiderate bus drivers.

  “I apologize,” Emily said. “I’ll need to help my staff deal with this influx of customers. I would read the tour operator the riot act about not giving us pre-warning, but the business helps. Is that a latte? I’ll send you over another one. I have another helper starting at ten thirty, so I shouldn’t be long.”

  “It’s fine. I wanted to write up notes for a special-interest piece. Happy to wait for you.” Normally a fluid starting time for an appointment would drive Megan crazy, but she could see Emily Mitchell was telling the truth and for once, she was glad to sit and relax. The opportunities for downtime didn’t come along often.

  * * * * *

  Emily hurried away from Megan Saxon. Rachel, the girl on the counter, was quick and efficient. It was the kitchen where her presence would work best.

  “Bus load of tourists has arrived,” she said briskly as she grabbed a white chef’s coat to cover her clothes. “I’ll be with you in a sec. I need to make a quick phone call.” She lifted the mobile handset of the landline. “Need anything from the freezer?”

  “Butter to soften. Golden syrup and treacle from the pantry.”

  “Done,” Emily said and took the phone with her. In the storeroom, she dialed Henry and Gerard’s number and prayed Henry answered rather than Jacey.

  “A and D Security,” Henry’s familiar voice answered.

  “Oh good. You’re there. Are Gerard and London back from their honeymoon today?” she asked, not bothering to state her name since Henry would recognize her voice.

  “Yes.” Henry was a man of few words.

  “I got the impression your father was interested in meeting Megan Saxon. She is here at the café right now for a meeting with me. I’ve had a busload of customers turn up and she’s willing to wait. Now would be a perfect time for Jacey to come to the café to pick up some of London’s favorite chocolate brownies as a welcome home gift.”

  “I see.”

  There was a long pause, and Emily wondered if she’d misjudged the situation.

  “Dad likes chocolate brownies. I’m off to pick up Gerard and London.” He hung up.

  Emily pulled a face at the phone. Sometimes, a person needed a few more words to communicate a plan or their acceptance of said plan.

  Chapter Five

  Jacey climbed out of Henry’s SUV—Henry had headed off in Gerard’s SUV to Dunedin airport—and walked the four car lengths to Storm in a Teacup. It was a pretty building, surrounded by flowers. Several customers sat drinking coffee on the front verandah while inside, he could see a line waiting for service.

  The doorbell tinkled as he entered, and myriad scents wrapped around his senses. He joined the end of the line for service. Coffee. Baking scents—something with golden syrup, if he wasn’t mistaken. The pungent scent of green herbs. A rose scent from the lady in front of him in the line. Orange blossom…

  Everything in him froze and time seemed to still as he scanned the seats inside the café.

  Megan Saxon was sitting in the corner at a table by herself. While he gaped at her, his wolf telling him to stake a claim, she glanced up and spotted him. She recognized him straightaway, tension sliding through her shoulders to match his own. He watched her throat work in a swallow and cursed his timing. He should’ve waited until later when the café wouldn’t be so busy. The truth—he liked London and wanted to have the welcome-home treat on hand as Henry had suggested, especially since he’d share their home for the foreseeable future.

  Bad call.

  She wanted Henry, and Jacey didn’t need another rejection. His ego had already suffered enough. He jerked his attention away and focused on the line of customers in front of him, willing them to stop procrastinating over their orders.

  The scent of orange blossom became stronger, the tints of cinnamon and wolf sharper. Jacey had to wrestle with his wolf, fight for control. A tremor racked his muscles.

  “Excuse me,” a hesitant voice said.

  A hand tapped his forearm, the slight contact like an electrical current passing through his body. It rocked him and blew away his resolution to avoid the woman.

  Slowly, slowly he turned to face Megan Saxon.

  She swallowed again, her cheeks pale as she faced him. “I-I thought I recognized you. I-I want…” She cleared her throat. “Can I buy you a coffee to apologize for my behavior last night? I-I…” Her shoulders slumped, and she glanced at her boots. Then she squared her shoulders and forced herself to meet his gaze. “I have no excuse for my bad behavior, but obviously, I shouldn’t drink red wine on an empty stomach. What do you say? Can I buy you a coffee and a muffin?”

  Jacey nodded, even though he thought this was a bad idea.

  “Um, I don’t even know your name.” She thrust out her hand. “My name is Megan Saxon.”

  “Jacey Anderson.” His hand grasped hers but he let go as soon as possible.

  “Sit at my table. It’s the one in the corner over there. Would you like a muffin to go with your coffee? The blueberry ones are delicious.”

  “A chocolate brownie, please,” Jacey said. He could do this. Drink a cup of coffee with the woman, accept her apology and move on with his life.

  She slipped into his place in the line and waved him away. “I won’t be long.”

  Bemused, Jacey maneuvered his way through the busy café, past tables of families, two gossiping grannies, rounded two strollers and a discarded doll. He pulled out the spare chair at the table and wondered how long he should stay to be polite. Anything longer than that would be self-torture.

  Megan glanced over her shoulder at the man. In broad daylight, she could see how attractive he was with his silver hair, his fit body and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her to her acute embarrassment. Age—she’d guess five, maybe ten years older than her, yet he hadn’t let himself go. Those faded jeans of his showcased muscular thighs and a tight butt. A real silver fox. Her girlfriends—the few she kept in touch with, but didn’t get to see as much as she liked because they lived in different parts of the world—would go gaga over him.

  On reaching the counter, she placed her order and realized she hadn’t asked what sort of coffee he wanted. Most men preferred something plain.

  “Jacey drinks black coffee,” Emily said. “I didn’t realize you knew anyone here in Middlemarch.”

  “Ah, I met him last night and owed him a drink. I like to pay my debts.”

  Emily nodded. “I’ll be another ten minutes. Do you want to reschedule for this afternoon?”

  “No, it’s fine.” She handed over money to pay for the order.

  When she walked over to her table, she noticed Jacey playing with a toddler at the next table. He differed from the men in her workplace, most of whom would brush off a kid in a café. They only deigned to deal with the youngsters who had something to do with their latest assignment.

  She pulled out her chair and slipped onto the seat, unaccountably nervous. “Emily told me you drink black coffee. Sorry. I focused on apologizing and didn’t ask your preference. I owe an apology to the other man with you last night, an even bigger one.”

  “My son, Henry.”

  Oh, god. Her stomach seemed to swoop to her boots. She hadn’t remembered that bit. “I’m so sorry. What must you think of me?” She bit her lip. “I suppose I behaved badly with a married man?” Another question popped up. “Did I hear you say you were staying at the cottage?”

  “Our company provides security for
Gilcrest. We were there to check the lighting.” He stared at her, his gaze piercing, dissecting. “Henry is single.”

  And you? She wanted to ask, but bit down on her bottom lip to halt the question. After making a fool of herself already, it was best she censor her curiosity.

  “His girlfriend died, murdered by her ex-husband. Although you’re embarrassed, the kiss jerked Henry from his misery, even if it was for a short time. I worry about my son.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. That must be difficult. At least he has you and his mother to support him.”

  “My wife died when Henry was twelve.”

  Megan stared at Jacey, her stomach churning and a prickle of heat rushed across her face, down her neck and back. Could she do anything right with this man? “I’m so sorry,” she blurted, unable to meet his gaze. “I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth with you. Oh, here’s the coffee and the brownie. Thank goodness. It will save me from another faux pas.”

  “Emily made a fresh cup for you too,” the waitress said. “She said to tell you she won’t be much longer.”

  “Could you get Emily to put away a dozen chocolate brownies? Gerard and London are coming home today.”

  “Great! We miss London around here.”

  “I’ll pay for the brownies on my way out.”

  “Okay.” The waitress cleared the table of empty cups and plates and disappeared behind the counter.

  Megan sighed, waiting for Jacey’s reaction to her blurting. Really, her friends and colleagues would wet themselves laughing if they were witness to this awkward encounter.

  When he didn’t reply, that told her everything. She still couldn’t look at the man. There was something about him that tugged at her senses, made her want to get him to like her, but she didn’t trust her instincts at present.

  Smiling at the waitress, she sucked in a deep breath and stilled. His scent. It was the same one from last night. A mixture of ginger and…and mulled wine, yet the fragrance reminded her of the outdoors too. Someone should bottle the decadent aroma and sell it. They’d make a fortune. A pang of reluctance filled her at the idea. Good grief. What was wrong with her? A three-day weekend tournament, remember? After last night’s mess, she’d refine Plan B to keep herself out of trouble.