No Fox to Give

by Savage, Vivienne

  “I came to fetch you; not repair your ride.”

  “I don’t have a helmet.”

  “You’re in luck. I do.”

  “You need that for your head.”

  “I got a second.”

  Dean nodded toward the bike, and then for the first time she noticed another helmet attached to the passenger peg on the left side. He crouched beside it, flipped up the visor, and revealed the gun lock securing it to the rear set. After unfastening it, he returned to her and set the cheerfully pink and white helmet on her head. Then he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on her shoulders.

  It smelled clean inside. Unworn, or at least freshened since the woman who’d last donned it rode with him.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I don’t have to, but it’s what I’m gonna do. Grab anything you don’t want to leave behind in your car, lock up, and get on.”

  * * *

  With ten minutes to spare before the meeting, Maddie hurried into the office building’s first floor restroom and fumbled through her purse for a comb to fix her hair. The helmet had matted it, and a few strands around her temples clung to her skin. She patted the fine hair edging her temples with a Kleenex then inspected her face.

  She didn’t know if she was flushed from the ride in the heat, or if the pinkness of her cheeks came from hugging against Dean for an hour of the most frustrating experience she’d ever spent with a man.

  Motorcycles were fucking sexy.

  Men with abs like his? Even hotter, and her roaming fingers had betrayed her at least twice by smoothing over his stomach. If he noticed her copping a feel, he’d been too much of a gentleman to mention it.

  The ride on the back of Dean’s motorcycle hadn’t been bad, but it hadn’t been safe either. If she weren’t desperate, she’d have never gotten on his death trap. It had to be the single most irresponsible thing she’d done in her adult years, ever since that time she’d backpacked across Europe along with Emma and a pair of hot guys they met in Holland.

  Damn him. Now was not the time to let Dean McAvoy distract her from her goal of impressing her idol—a critical step to securing her future as an artist.

  Thankfully, she hadn’t sweated much and her makeup setting spray had been on point—not that she’d worn much to begin with, aside from a little concealer to disguise her dark circles, lipstick, and eyeshadow. Applying a little blotting powder fixed the shiny spots, and with a minute to sprint upstairs, she hustled to suite 304.

  An elevator took her to a third-floor office space where a smiling secretary sipped coffee and tapped at a touch screen monitor with long, manicured nails. “Ms. Dubois?” she asked. The placard on her desk said Christie Quinn.

  “Yes. That’s me. I hope I’m not late.” Or as sweaty, gross, and disgusting as she felt. While being a shifter came with a lot of perks and benefits, she perspired as much as any human.

  “You’re perfectly on time. Ms. Montgomery just concluded a call, so you can head inside any time you’d like.”

  If she hadn’t been sweating before, Maddie certainly did now. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Along the way, she found her poise and her courage. The door opened into a spacious office, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows to highlight the breathtaking woman sitting behind the oversized desk.

  Charlotte Montgomery couldn’t have been a day over thirty-five. Her white hair spilled flawlessly over her shoulders, her eyes big and gold, a shade of brown Maddie never saw outside of shifter families.

  A little tingle traveled down her spine and raised the fine, almost translucent hairs of her arms. That tingle only ever happened in the presence of another shifter for the first time.

  One of the wealthiest women in America was a shifter, and decorum required that Maddie did not ask about it. Now she wondered if this is how her uncle had managed to get her in contact with the business tycoon.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Montgomery. Thank you for seeing me today.”

  The CEO of Southern Comfort waved off her greeting and chuckled. “Call me Charlotte. After seeing some of your other work, it’s a pleasure to have you here, Madeleine. Or should I call you Maddie?”

  “Either works. I’m Maddie to friends.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Excellent. If your ideas are as good as Martin claims, I certainly do hope we can build a business relationship rooted in friendship. Please relax. I promise I don’t bite.”

  Maddie felt the tension melt from her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “Now, during our phone call you mentioned you would bring examples of your work. What do you have for me?”

  Managing not to grimace when she thought of all the beautiful creations left behind in her trunk, Maddie swung her extra-large purse around in front of her and brought out two bubble-wrapped objects. The largest was a teapot for steeping green tea, sculpted to resemble a dolphin coasting on a wave. God must have been watching out for her, for it to arrive intact. She’d been petrified it would crack in transit, and the piece was one of her strongest.

  “I’ll have a few different types of merchandise in the catalog. Some will be finished sculptures like this that I’ve made during my free time. Art lovers enjoy purchasing unique pieces that can’t be bought elsewhere.”

  “How much will you sell it for?”

  “Two hundred dollars depending on the complexity. In addition to these, patrons have access to a selection of unpainted ceramics they can glaze in the studio.”

  One by one she removed more objects cushioned in bubble-wrap, picking apart pieces of tape to free them. She set a pixie riding a unicorn on the woman’s desk next, followed by a faerie kneeling on a flower, and a dragon curved around a pot of gold. They were all white and unglazed, plain.

  “Will they all be this size?”

  “These are small objects. We’ll have some miniatures smaller than this that may cost a couple bucks to buy. Next up from this, we’ll have medium objects, large, and very large.”

  She slipped a portfolio from her purse and passed it to Charlotte. The woman took it and flipped through the pages, but her expression betrayed nothing.

  “A subscription service?”

  “Yes. Subscriptions services are the way of the future. They’re hot right now. People love memberships and the illusion of getting a deal. They’ll sign up for things to save money then sometimes even forget that they’re a member, even when the charge goes through their bank account monthly. Imagine a deal where they’re able to sign up to participate in artistic workshops each week for a flat monthly fee, and if they don’t show because they weren’t in the mood, were ill, or just didn’t feel like it, we still receive the same flat fee.”

  “I like this. Will pottery be the only offering?”

  “Not at all. I apologize for the lack of merchandise to show you. I had a box of different products, but I had to leave them behind.”

  Charlotte popped one perfectly drawn brow upward. If not for a pencil, they’d be too fair to see.

  “My vehicle broke down along the way,” she admitted, “but I didn’t want to waste your time by using that as an excuse to reschedule when you’ve already been accommodating and fit a meeting with me into your busy agenda. This was my best, and all I could fit in my bag along the way.”

  “Sweetheart, that isn’t an excuse. I would have understood. Hell, I would have sent a car for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Emergencies happen, but the true test of character as businesswomen is our adaptability. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to fix one of my own fuck-ups when I was building this empire. Southern Comfort is my baby, but let me tell you, the road to success is rife with potholes.” She leaned back in her seat and smiled. “So, tell me why you want this. Convince me to invest my money in your dream.”

  Maddie drew in a deep breath. A dozen streams of thought rose to the surface like bubbles in a pond, but one shoved its way to the forefront.

  “I love everything
about art, and in a world where everyone can be so ugly to one another, I want to provide a place where people of all ages can make new friends and have a good time while creating something beautiful.”

  8

  When Maddie strode back into the lobby from her meeting, she looked like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from her shoulders. All the worry and stress were gone from her posture, and she was actually smiling.

  Smiles lit her face brighter than the sun. He could have sat there on the sofa forever basking in the glory of it, just soaking in her radiance.

  Instead, he realized how fucking weird he’d look staring at her, so he rose from the couch and smiled. “How’d it go?”

  “Well, I think. I feel bad because I’ve wasted your time. Your ride wasn’t necessary, after all. Ms. Montgomery would have sent a car for me.”

  “And that car would have taken an hour to reach you while you stood alongside the road under the hot-ass sun, melting in your nice suit. It’s cool. At least my bike has natural air conditioning, right?”

  Her smile didn’t fade. “Right. Even though it was foolish of me to ride a bike without gear.”

  “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

  Her cheeks pinked. “Um. Anyway, we can leave now.”

  “Sure.”

  Once outside, they returned to the bike and donned their helmets, though Dean paused after swinging his leg over and waited for her to join him. Her body was soft, and the sweet sandalwood and floral scent of her perfume enveloped him like a fragrant hug for the second time. “You hungry, Madeleine?”

  “A little.” She paused. “I skipped breakfast. Nerves, you know? You have something in mind?”

  “I’m starving. While you were gone, I googled local restaurants and checked a few Yelp reviews. You down for phō?”

  “I’m always down for Vietnamese.”

  “Great. It’s my treat then. Besides, it’s been forever since I had a good bowl of phō and this place has good ratings.”

  Her fair brows rose. “Pho An?”

  “Yep. How’d you know?”

  “Because there isn’t a better Vietnamese restaurant on this side of Houston and it’s along the way home northbound. Also, their shrimp cakes? Fucking delicious.”

  “Awesome. Now show me how we get back to the interstate.”

  A brief ride through a couple busy intersections brought them back out to the highway. Along the way, Maddie practically melted against his back, all the stress and tension that had tightened her body disintegrating in the freeway’s breeze.

  And she stroked his abs again. He’d been positive the first time it was his imagination or a hellacious case of wishful thinking, but then her fingers crept over his stomach, petting the ridges of defined muscle before—seeming to become aware of her own behavior—she interlaced her fingers together again.

  Christ. He wasn’t familiar with the area, but she directed him, applying pressure with her hand and calling out turns when he neared them. Then her fingers splayed over his pec again, and she didn’t let go.

  A man could get used to that. His cock stirred, threatening to awaken minutes before he had to saunter into a restaurant and sit across from the most stunning woman in the South. Every time her fingers moved over his body, he imagined her bare palm against his naked skin, touching and caressing, wrapping around his length and stroking until all that remained for him to fantasize about was the tight feel of her mouth and those gorgeous lips surrounding every inch, sucking until he—

  Maddie patted his stomach with the pads of her fingers. “Here! Make a right.”

  “What? Right, yeah.”

  Fuck, he had it bad. This girl was dangerous.

  Chuckling at himself, Dean turned into a lot attached to a strip of different shops, the big blue letters atop one section of the building advertising Pho An & Sushi Bar.

  They took their helmets inside and settled at a window table near the front of the restaurant, the light of a fish tank casting its pale glow upon Maddie’s alabaster skin. The girl was gorgeous in her suit, but he suspected she could have worn a potato sack and still come away from that business meeting like a star.

  Then he realized he was staring at her again, so he dropped his attention to the menu.

  “Don’t judge me,” Maddie said.

  “For?”

  “I’m really hungry.”

  She ordered both a seafood phō and a combination beef. Dean shrugged, requested the same, and added on a handful of appetizers while a skeptical waitress took down the order for more food than two people should reasonably eat in one sitting.

  Dean leaned across the table and dropped his voice. “We’re totally not ordering like two shapeshifters. Nothing unusual about four soup bowls and three appetizers for two people.”

  “Didn’t you say you love a lady who knows how to eat? Besides, I need leftovers.”

  Damn. She hadn’t even acknowledged his guess. He suspected her—no, he knew she had to be one of the swans inhabiting the lake area, but they were a tight-knit community of secretive birds. “There will be none, and you know it.”

  Maddie gave a mock gasp, raising a palm to her chest. “There will be. I’m a lady, and if I want to ride that monster bike home without tumbling off and rolling down I-45, I’ll take most of my combination beef home for later. As for the amount, we’re both very large, muscular people.” Maddie raised her glass and sipped through the straw, pink-glossed lips wrapping around it the way he’d wanted them on his dick minutes ago. Correction: still wanted them on his dick, the urge intensifying in direct proportion to the mischief gleaming in her blue eyes.

  Nothing could have convinced Dean she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

  “We are,” he agreed, shifting uncomfortably.

  “You look like a bodybuilder, and everyone knows you dudes can put away serious calories.”

  “True. I gotta say, you look pretty sporty yourself. What’s the deal there?”

  “Yoga.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She laughed, the sound husky and inviting. “Genetics.”

  “Uh huh.” Desperate to get his mind off sex and the dozen things he wanted to do to her nude body, he cleared his throat. “By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, what was the meeting about?”

  “I went in to pitch an idea to Charlotte Montgomery.”

  “Who?”

  At his blank expression, she rolled her eyes. “Richest woman in Texas.”

  “Oh. And the idea? How’d it go?”

  “It went great. She loves the idea and we have a verbal agreement to go into business together, but her lawyers will have to draft paperwork. It’s exciting and scary and I still can’t believe it’s really happening.”

  The waitress arrived to refill their drinks and bring their assortment of appetizers. Talking fell to the wayside for a time as they stuffed their faces, dipping shrimp cakes into sweet and savory sauce. Ever the polite dining companion, Dean surrendered the last spring roll to Maddie when they reached for it at the same time.

  “Tell me more about your new business partner. If she’s the richest woman in Texas, she must have a few ventures out there, right?”

  “She owns Southern Comfort and a bunch of other companies.”

  “Oh. Well, shit. I didn’t realize a woman founded that chain.”

  “That’s because she didn’t found it. She acquired it in some kind of hostile takeover six years ago, then really built the company up. Expanded it. Made conditions better for employees and tripled revenue.” There wasn’t a better dining chain across the states when it came to fast and affordable southern-style cuisine. “I wish I had just a fraction of her business sense.”

  Something told him Maddie could have gone on singing Charlotte Montgomery’s praises for another hour. He smiled and nodded, listening. “And the idea you pitched to her—is it top secret?”

  Maddie shook her head. “Far from it. I want to open a cafe of my own and get a liquor
license. But not just any cafe. I want to make a painting cafe where you go in and make an artistic project while sipping fine wine, or maybe a mixed cocktail with a friend. We’ll serve finger foods and maybe get a partnership with Ellie’s bakery. She can supply all the cookies and cakes. I want adults to come in and have fun creating art, the way we did when we were in grade school.”

  “When I was in high school, the art teacher made us knit blankets. Mine came out badass.”

  “Oh?”

  He grinned. “I’m not one to brag but…nah, I’m totally one to brag. My mom keeps it out on her couch for all her visitors to see. Now ask me to do that shit again and I’ll give you a tangle of thread, but that thing was a whole semester of my life, one hour at a time.”

  Again she laughed, a throaty noise that sent pulses of arousal straight to his dick. Her cheeks grew rosy and warm, pink blooms of color against her ivory skin, and he imagined the rest of her body flushed with heat, writhing naked beneath him in bed.

  This girl was dangerous. As much as he wanted to believe it was the months since his last lay, he knew it had nothing to do with his incidental celibacy and everything to do with Madeleine being a sweet temptation too good for him.

  Just as he warned his cock to behave, the waitress arrived bearing the first of their enormous bowls of Vietnamese soup, appearing stunned they’d annihilated the appetizers so quickly. He compartmentalized his lascivious thoughts, forcing a smile to his face.

  He wasn’t here for romance.

  His entire purpose in Crisis was to stay out of trouble.

  And trouble was sitting across the table from him.

  * * *

  Maddie’s car waited in the driveway when Dean’s motorcycle rumbled in front of the house. They must have passed at least a dozen Swan Lake residents, and tongues would be wagging during Sunday service at the church. If there was one thing swans loved, it was gossip, and the majority of homeowners in their little community were swan shifters.

  Her cousins were under the hood of the rusting beast when they cruised by her house and into Dean’s gravel driveway. After the motorcycle stopped and he killed the engine, both of the twins’ fair heads shot up.