A sudden burst of emotion forced tears to her eyes. A big, fat tear rolled down her cheek and plopped onto the tablecloth.
“Megan, are you crying?”
A second tear rolled free. “I’m s-so happy.” She fumbled in her handbag for a tissue.
The waiter chose that moment to arrive with a bottle of sparkling water. He frowned, his eyebrows lifting as he poured the water into their glasses. “Is everything all right?”
“We’re fine,” Jacey said in a husky voice. “We’ll have the steak done rare and one roast lamb please.”
“Starters?” the waiter asked.
“The meat platter,” Megan said and dabbed at her eyes.
“Very good,” the waiter said after noting their selections on his order pad.
“I hope he hurries,” Megan said. “I’m so hungry I can hear growling in my head.”
Jacey’s expression shifted again. He’s worried. Another wave of something close to love slipped through her in an embracing wave.
He rose. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
As she watched, he headed deeper into the restaurant and around the corner toward the restrooms. Her phone rang then, and she plucked it from her handbag, scanning the number and smiling.
“Hey, sister mine. Have you popped that baby yet?”
“Not yet. He’s hanging in there and I wish he’d get on with it. I resemble the rear end of a hippopotamus.”
“Lie,” Megan said. “Stewart loves you. I think you look gorgeous. Definitely a lie.” Although she was bursting to tell Tessa the news, she remained silent, not wanting a lecture about being irresponsible and worse. Besides, it was early days, and anything could happen. She’d watched her sister with her first pregnancy. She’d lost the baby weeks into the pregnancy, so she’d wait. Megan ignored the spike of pain in her chest at the thought. Despite the unexpected conception, she wanted this baby.
“When are you coming home?”
“I’ll be back in three days. Tuesday.” She glanced through the window and glimpsed the moon. The pale globe glinted a gorgeous creamy color, mesmerizing her with its beauty. Almost a full moon, Jacey had informed her the previous night as they’d sat on their deck, wrapped in a cozy woolen blanket. She didn’t know why but it drew her. Always had. “I’ve decided to resign from my job.”
“What? But I thought this was the job of your dreams?”
“It is…was. They shifted me sideways when they gave Rowena the job on the new sports show. I’m not sure what they envision for me. I’ll talk to them when I return, but I’ve moved on.”
“What will you do?”
“Not sure yet,” Megan said, keeping her tone light. “I’ll explore the options and let you know. I won’t have time to drop by on Tuesday, but Wednesday night for dinner. How about if I bring something for dinner?”
“Don’t forget I’m vegetarian.”
“How could I? How does Thai sound? That way I can have my meat, and they’ll have something vegetarian for you. Stewart eats both so that will work.”
“Perfect.”
Megan smiled. They were so different, her and Tessa. She’d developed itchy feet and loved the outdoors, red meat, while Tessa was the polar opposite, loathing meat and preferring indoor pursuits. It was true Megan wrote, but she spun tales of fantastical creatures who were rough and tough and embraced the outdoors and their animal natures. Her mother, who was more like her sister, had despaired of her tomboy ways. Her father used to encourage her.
“I’ll see you on Wednesday then. You tell that baby to hang out until I arrive.” Her sister’s groan was still echoing down the line when she disconnected the call.
“Work?” Jacey asked as he joined her.
“My younger sister. Her second baby is due any day, and she feels as if she’s ready to pop.”
“Did you tell her—”
“No, I want to wait a bit longer until I’m sure everything is all right.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself telling Henry, but he’ll keep it a secret.”
She understood Jacey’s eagerness. It had killed her not to trumpet the news to her sister that she, too, would be a mother—all going well.
The waiter arrived with the meat platter and set it in the middle of the table. He gave them a plate each, topped up their water and left.
Jacey speared a piece of sausage and a testy growl escaped her. He laughed as he offered it to her.
The meaty treat filled her mouth with spices as she bit down. She swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. She’d growled at him.
“What next? One of these beef slices?”
“I can feed myself.”
He didn’t reply but arranged the beef on his fork and held it in front of her mouth. The meaty juices burst across her taste buds, but this time she held back her rude growl.
After the fifth bite of meat, she felt more balanced, some of her hunger pangs appeased. “You’d better eat some before I polish off the entire platter meant for two.”
“You go right ahead. I like seeing a woman enjoy her food.”
Megan stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. “I like you so much. You always say the perfect thing to set me at ease.”
“I like you too,” Jacey whispered, his gaze heated. It skimmed down to her neckline and the thrust of her breasts, and she could have sworn she felt the gentle tickle of his fingers.
“I have a secret,” she announced, her mouth in gear before her brain approved the concept. But no. She sensed he’d never rat her out. “You remember that book I was reading on wolves.”
He stilled, his gaze unblinking. “Yes.”
“I wasn’t just reading it for interest. It was research.”
“Oh?”
He stared at her with his magnetic blue eyes, and she had no idea what he was thinking.
No idea.
“I had a lot of downtime—at airports, in hotels, on planes—and I started writing books. On a whim, I sent one to an agent. I write paranormal romance under a penname. The book on wolves is for a new series I’m developing about werewolves.”
At this, he blinked once. His thoughts remained a mystery, but at least he hadn’t guffawed or treated her like an idiot. She’d heard her male colleagues’ discourse on girlfriends and wives who read that sappy dribble.
“Werewolves, huh?” He finally broke the silence. “I take it you’re published.”
“Yes.”
“Can I read one of your books?”
“So you can poke fun at me?”
“Never,” he said and his tone made her believe him. “London reads romance. She might have one of your books.”
“I can bring you my author copies when I come back to Middlemarch.”
“I’d like that. Are you going to tell me your secret name?”
“Carrie English.”
The waiter interrupted, arriving to remove the empty platter.
Once he’d left, Jacey reached for her hand. “I think that is wonderful, and your secret is safe with me. Can you tell me about your werewolf books?”
“Still in the research stage. I’ll let you read the first draft when I’m done. If you’re truly interested and aren’t going to poke fun at me.”
“Never,” he said. “Have you read up on werewolf mythology?”
“I was hoping to track down books at Auckland library. I like to do my initial research at the library rather than on the internet. It was easier to tote along a book on the plane, although I have apps to save information I can read without being online.”
“There are a couple of books on my bookshelves that might help. Actually, they might still be in storage. Moira and I both liked to read. I’ll hunt them out for you.”
Her heart gave another one of those stupid clenches and her eyes prickled with the beginnings of embarrassing girly tears. Jacey didn’t fit the mold her mind had made for the men in her life. After Charlie, no one had seemed good enough, although she’d tried. Jacey—he was making
his own mold. One she liked very much.
Chapter Twelve
Thursday, the following week
Jacey sat at the kitchen counter, his iPad in front of him. He scanned an online bookstore and hit search, his curiosity driving his quest. How he’d lasted until now—he had no idea.
“Looking for something, Pop?” London darted up beside him like a jack-in-the-box, and he—a big, bad wolf—hadn’t heard a thing.
He scowled at her. “Don’t do that creeping thing.”
Her eyes widened. “I prowled.” She beamed. “Gerard says I walk around with the stealth of a herd of elephants. No elephants that time. What are you so engrossed in?”
“Have you heard of Carrie English?”
“The author?”
“Yeah.” Jacey risked a glance at London, saw she wouldn’t poke fun at him and relaxed.
“I have some of her books. She writes romances with dragons mostly, although she has written series featuring feline shapeshifters. It’s kinda cool reading them now that I know shifters are real. How did you hear about Carrie English?”
“Megan mentioned her. I was curious about how writers portrayed shapeshifters and werewolves in genre fiction.” Heck, his explanation impressed him.
London grinned. “Gerard likes me to read the sexy bits aloud for him. He says that Megan smells different. Is there a reason for that? I asked Henry, but he had a phone call and we got interrupted.”
Jacey reached over and tweaked her nose. “Haven’t you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?”
“The cat learns nothing if she doesn’t ask. Want a coffee?”
“Yes, please. I’m waiting for a phone call about some parts before I go to Dunedin to collect them. Want to come for a drive?”
“Sure, it will give me time to pump for info about you and Megan.” Her impish grin pulled an answering one from him. “She is coming back?”
“Yes,” Jacey said, satisfaction filling him at the idea. He missed the woman, having her in his bed. In the short time they’d been together, he come to enjoy talking to her about anything and everything. It differed from the discussions he had with Henry, Gerard and London.
“Pop.” London shook his shoulder. “Just making sure you were still here. You looked as if you drifted somewhere else.”
“Can I borrow your Carrie English books?”
“You want to read them?”
“Yes please. Don’t tell Henry.”
“Of course I’m gonna blab to Henry. That’s half the fun.”
“You tattle to Henry and I won’t tell you a single secret.”
London flapped her hand in patent unconcern. “Pooh. You’re no fun.” She plunked a coffee in front of him. “I wouldn’t mind doing a grocery run if we’re going to Dunedin. Will there be time?”
“We’ll make time,” Jacey said.
Half an hour later, they were in Gerard’s SUV on their way to Dunedin.
“Carrie English has a new book out. I haven’t had time to read it yet.”
“I’ll buy it for you. Can we get a copy while we’re in Dunedin?”
London wrinkled her nose. “Most of the shops don’t stock romances. I order mine online. In the past, I’ve bought print, but I think I’ll ask for an e-reader for my birthday. Storage is becoming an issue. I’d better write a list. Can you think of what we need?”
Jacey glanced in the rear-vision mirror. “I thought most of the reporters left with Megan.”
London turned in her seat. “They’re following us?”
“Yes.”
She shrugged. “Let them. We’re picking up parts and going grocery shopping. Nothing interesting about either of those things.”
Once they reached Dunedin, Jacey used the GPS to find the warehouse specializing in security products.
“Do you want to come inside?”
“I’ll wait here,” London said. “Can I play with your iPad? I was wondering whether to get one instead of a dedicated e-reader.”
Jacey handed it over. “You should be able to get the internet. Download a book to read if you want. Don’t go nosing through my emails. You might get embarrassed.”
London pulled a face. “Spoilsport. Can I read an online newspaper?”
“There’s a news app there somewhere. I’ve been avoiding the local news since I got sick of seeing my picture.” He shuddered, and it wasn’t pretense. Not just the tabloids, but even the traditional papers had run a story on him and Megan. He glanced out at the street and spotted the car that had followed them all the way from Middlemarch.
It took Jacey longer than he expected.
“Sorry,” he said after he’d loaded the parts in the rear of the vehicle and climbed behind the wheel. “Henry rang for me to add extra items to the order.”
“Pop,” London said. “You’d better take a look at this.”
After all the teasing, her serious demeanor had his wolf pricking its ears. “What is it?”
“A new story about Megan.”
He took the iPad, his gaze fastening on the screen and the photo of a laughing Megan with a younger man, their heads close together as if in an intimate conversation. The wolf growled loud enough for London to stare at him in apprehension.
London squeezed back against her seat. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“She said she had a business meeting last night.”
“There you are then.” London bit her bottom lip, her blue eyes full of concern.
“She didn’t mention the meeting this morning.” She’d told him she was going to the doctor first thing then she was doing an interview.
“Ring her. Ask her about the picture,” London said. “There is no need to grump and growl at me for the rest of the day. Gerard and Henry would tell you the same thing. If there is something going on, confront her.”
London made good sense.
“You know how the press slants stories and pictures to sell papers,” she added.
Also a good point. His wolf ceased his loud rumbles, confining himself to an upset whine. Megan had the power to cut out his heart. He told himself there was a good explanation for this photo. It looked nothing like a business dinner, yet his hand trembled as he hit speed dial.
It rang several times before it went to voice mail. He hung up without leaving a message.
“No reply,” he said in a terse voice.
“Pop, I thought it was the right thing to show you the photo, but I don’t think Megan would do that to you. You said she is coming back to Middlemarch.”
London was right, but pain pulsed inside him like a nagging tooth. And his whining, complaining wolf had his head thumping.
“Let’s get the shopping done.” Jacey started the SUV and backed from the parking space.
“I downloaded Carrie English’s latest book and started reading. I think you’ll be able to follow the story okay even though it’s a series.”
Jacey gave a clipped nod, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it was a wonder it didn’t crack.
“The white car is following us.”
Jacey glanced in the mirror. “Now we know why.”
In the supermarket carpark, the reporters made their move. Two skinny, bearded men ran up to them, one with a camera and the other carrying a microphone. “Have you any comment about Megan Saxon ditching you for a younger man? Did she tell you she was seeing Dillion Grieves?”
London’s fingers twined around his and tugged to get him moving. Blindly, he followed, grateful for her intervention when his wolf rode him so hard.
“Mr. Anderson, don’t you have anything to say about Megan Saxon?” the reporter persisted.
“Don’t say a thing,” London whispered. “No ammunition.”
The reporters ran after them, nipping at their heels and reminding him of pesky bugs. With bugs, he’d fumigate. Couldn’t do that here. Not the thing to make a scene. Wolf, back.
The whining and growling had him pressing at his temples.
London gaspe
d and squeezed his hand tighter, making him realize he’d grown claws. Fuck.
He increased the length of his strides, and London scurried to keep up.
“Just as well, I’m fitter these days,” she said, gasping for breath as they burst through the front entrance of the supermarket.
“I’ll get a trolley,” he said, his tone close to a bark.
London, to her credit, didn’t flinch. She pulled out her list and directed him to the fruit and vegetable aisle.
The reporters didn’t back off. The photographer’s camera clicked and whirred. Great. Both still pictures and video. The man with the microphone kept barking questions at him. Nosy, obtrusive questions.
Megan carried his baby. She wouldn’t betray him in this manner.
“Does Megan know about Dillion’s drug problem?” the reporter demanded, dogging their heels all the way to the potato and onion section.
“That bag of potatoes,” London said with a jerk of her chin at the trolley. “A bag of those red onions.”
“Does Megan know you’re playing house with this woman?”
Jacey turned at that, anger blazing. His wolf would show in his eyes but he didn’t care. The reporter blinked, and the connection broke when London slipped into the gap between them.
“He is my father-in-law, you disgusting weasel.” Her crisp English accent cut the air with the precision of a blade. The whispering huddles in the vegetable aisle silenced, eyes and ears in their direction. “We have nothing to say to you, and if you don’t leave us alone, we will complain to the supermarket management.”
A man in a suit rounded the end of the aisle and headed for them. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes,” London said. “We’re trying to do our grocery shopping and these two…people…are bothering us.”
“I will escort them off the premises,” the man said. “This way, sir.” He gestured at the reporter.
The reporter drew himself up. “We have every right—”
“Grant,” the cameraman said. “We have pictures. We can work with those.”
The reporter gave a clipped nod before turning to Jacey and London. “You can run but you can’t hide.”
The mockery prodded at Jacey’s wolf. He held himself together. Just.
My Plan B (Middlemarch Shifters Book 11) Page 15
