by Tara Lain
He slammed through the department doors and powered toward his cube.
“Jazz?” Amy called. Damn, was she mad?
Jazz turned. “Hey, boss, I’m so sorry. I—”
Amy stepped through the door of her office, and beside her walked Dash Mercury.
Jazz about fainted. No exaggeration. His breath caught so hard seeing Dash again, he got lightheaded.
Amy said, “Jazz, I think you already know Dash. He’s going to be joining our department for his first rotation as an intern. I thought you could show him the basics.”
Jazz managed a normal, interactive expression. “From my lofty position as a one-week veteran?”
“Precisely correct. The best way to learn is to teach.”
Jazz gave Amy a sideways look. “First lesson. Don’t be late for work… like I was.”
Amy flashed him a grin then turned. “Dash, I’ll leave you in Jazz’s capable hands. We set up Dash’s cubicle next to yours, Jazz, so you can catch him up.”
For a second, Jazz watched her. I wonder how she reacted to Dash? She sure doesn’t look faint to me. He turned and glanced into Dash’s magnificent pale green eyes that looked like an amazing stone he saw one time called seraphinite. It was supposed to be able to summon angels, and damn, it must work. “Come on, I’ll teach you the four things I know.” He managed a grin.
Dash stared at Jazz for a moment, then flashed his spectacular dimples. “I’ll take all four.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Amy said. “Call if you need my help.” She walked away and left them on their own.
Jazz’s stomach dipped for a second. What the hell was he going to do with this guy? “My place or yours?”
Dash nodded toward Jazz’s cubicle. “You probably have more on your computer than a few applications.”
“We can remedy that pretty fast. Grab your laptop and come on in.”
As Dash walked into the cubicle beside Jazz’s, Jazz slipped into his chair, started up his computer, then took a deep breath. How the hell did this happen? He’d thought Dash would mostly be with Carla.
Dash rounded the corner with his laptop open in his arms. Jazz pointed at the small round table in the corner of his space. “I think we can both fit on there.”
Once they’d positioned their computers on the table and accessed the available plugs, they sat side by side. Jazz clicked on an analytics tool he’d been mastering. A warm hand on his forearm stopped him. He looked up. Dash wasn’t an angel. He was Medusa, and Jazz was being turned to stone.
Dash smiled softly, crinkles appearing beside his luminous eyes. “I haven’t even said hello to you. Or given you Lysandra’s best wishes.”
Jazz swallowed hard. “Uh, thanks. Tell her I said hi.”
“She said to give you a hug.”
Holy crap! Before Jazz even registered the words, Dash wrapped one arm tightly around him, then followed up with a second. Swamped. The hug wasn’t like a warm blanket, cocooning him. It was more like a flash heater, shooting ribbons of fire into Jazz’s chest, brain, and, oh gods, cock. Everything sprang to attention. Fortunately, they were both seated, so Dash couldn’t feel Jazz’s reaction, but if he looked down….
Dash pulled back first because Jazz was too frozen to move. He gazed into Jazz’s eyes as if he could read the tracks on his soul. “I’m glad I got to come and visit you.”
Jazz needed to reply but couldn’t get any words out of his dry mouth.
Dash grinned. “Oh, by the way, Lysandra asked me to give you a kiss for her.”
Some starburst in Jazz’s brain screamed, What? But ready or not, the lips were coming straight at him, and he might be weird, but he wasn’t crazy. He didn’t turn them down.
Dash pressed his mouth to the edge of Jazz’s lips—not a dead reckoning, but not a peck on the cheek either. Soft, hot, and fuuuuck, a touch of tongue. Accident? Come on. Straight guys don’t kiss other guys they don’t know, unless one of them is five. That was damned sure a declaration of orientation.
Jazz’s guts turned to syrup. He really didn’t care if he ever worked. He also didn’t care if someone walked by, which was stupid and dangerous. On top of that, this dude might be catnip to a starving tabby, but he was human! Mystical, amazing, but human. Jazz snapped his head back. “Uh, tell her I said thanks.”
Dash’s grin turned to a full smile. Yeah, he’d probably looked down. “I will.”
Jazz frowned and plunged into explaining the analytics program. For three hours, taking time out for trips to the coffeepot and men’s room, they plowed through programs and reports. They started out edgy but settled in and got comfortable. Dash was damned smart, caught on quick, and smelled better than a ham sandwich. No! Not pertinent.
Jazz glanced at his watch. “Time for lunch. We better get going so we can meet up with Carla and the other interns. Have you met them?”
“Not yet.”
“They’re interesting.” Jazz got up and stretched. “Let’s go eat.”
They walked out of Jazz’s cube, but as they passed Amy’s office, she said, “Jazz, can I see you for a second?”
Dash touched Jazz’s arm. “I’ll hit the men’s room again and meet you outside.”
Jazz nodded and entered Amy’s open-door office. “Yes, ma’am?”
She glanced toward the door then at Jazz. “Just wondered how it’s going?”
“Good. Dash is a natural. His brain’s at least as spectacular as his looks.” Jazz laughed.
Amy cocked her head and smiled. “Yes, he’s a nice-looking young man.” She said it so off-handedly, Jazz almost asked if she wasn’t at least a little starstruck but decided that was lame. “I’m happy to hear that he’s doing well since I’m told he comes to us on the recommendation of Lysandra Mason,” she continued. “I admire her and the work she’s done.”
“I do too.”
“Have you met her?”
“Yes, briefly, at the same event where I met Dash. That’s when she suggested she send Dash to spend time with Carla, uh, and me.”
“That’s our gain. Great. Go on to your lunch.” She gazed at her computer screen.
“Can we bring you something?”
“Thanks, but no. I have a lunch appointment.”
“Uh, Amy?” He glanced toward the door. No Dash. Good.
She looked up.
“How would you describe Dash?” He shrugged. “Somebody asked me, and, you know, I’m just a guy. Not good at that kind of thing.”
She stuck out a lip. “I’d call him tall, slender, dark hair, hazel eyes, fair skin, nice looking.”
“So you think most girls would find him attractive?”
She chewed the lip thoughtfully. “Probably. He’s a little, I don’t know, artistic looking, so if a woman likes the athletic type, she might not like him.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“Sure. By the way, I’d ask him first if he wants to be set up with a woman. I’d say there’s a chance he might like men.” She flashed him a smile and went back to work.
Chapter Twelve
OKAY, THAT’S even more weirdness. Maybe I see Dash differently? Carla always describes him as gorgeous, but what does gorgeous mean to her? Heart-stopping? Otherworldly? Maybe not.
Dash was waiting for him outside the men’s room. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Amy just had a couple questions.” He headed down the hall with Dash beside him. “Uh, what do you call your eye color?”
He raised his shoulders. “Hazel, I guess. Why?”
“Just always wondered what that color’s called.” He glanced at Dash again. Hazel, my ass. He pushed the door of the lunchroom open and saw Carla, Khadija, and BeBop at a table already littered with their plates. Jazz raised a hand. “Got room for us?”
“Sure. Come on guys, scooch over,” BeBop answered.
Everyone tightened up their stuff. Jazz introduced Dash to BeBop and Khadija. Both of them looked at him with a lot of interest, but nobody appeared lighthe
aded or ready to climb him like a flagpole. No, that only happens to me.
Jazz and Dash got into the food line.
“What’s good?” Dash asked.
Jazz stared at the menu. “I’m kind of a meat lover, so I get a lot of burgers and roast beef sandwiches when they have it.”
At the head of the line, Jazz ordered two double cheeseburgers. Since Dash was there, he asked for fries too. And an apple.
Dash got fish and chips and a salad. How very human of him.
They fit themselves in at the table. Carla smiled and acted close to normal, but she never quite met Jazz’s eyes. It totally blew him away to think she didn’t trust him. He wanted to say something but couldn’t come up with a logical reason. Maybe I should just ask her why she’s acting weird and see what she says.
Carla smiled. “So, Jazz, what are we going to do this weekend?”
“Do?”
“You know, to show Dash around?” She widened her eyes a little, as if she were trying to tell him something.
“Well, uh, tomorrow there’s a family event I have to go to, but on Sunday we can do anything Dash wants.” Think fast. What do you do with a human when you’re a werewolf with a lot to hide?
Carla frowned. “You’re busy tomorrow?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Her frown deepened. “I guess I just assumed that since you knew Dash was coming, you’d arrange to be open this weekend. Maybe even plan something fun that guys like to do.”
Well damn. He leaned forward and stared at her. “But since I haven’t spoken to you, seen you, or gotten a text from you, how would I know I was included in any plans you and your family had for Dash?” He tried to keep his voice even, but it did rise a bit on the end.
BeBop’s eyes got wide, and Khadija stared at her hands. Dash just watched them with a little smile. At least Carla dropped her gaze. “I guess I assumed too much.”
“Yeah, you did. But on Sunday, I’d be happy to spend the whole day with both of you. Maybe Dash would like to see a movie or—”
Dash held up a hand. “I’d love to see a movie or sit on a couch and watch television, or go for a walk, or do nothing at all. You have no idea how seldom I get to do any of those things. Listen, guys, I don’t need anyone to amuse me. I’m very used to entertaining myself. I’ve done it since I was a small child. So please, don’t worry about me.”
“I don’t think that’s what your aunt had in mind. You coming to Connecticut to be alone.” Carla flashed a disapproving glance at Jazz.
Dash smiled. “Who knows what Lys had in mind? By the way, she’s not really my aunt. She’s just a friend of the family. More like a godmother. But I’ve always called her Aunt Lysandra.”
Jazz glanced at Carla, who did manage a teeny smirk.
“But I assure you,” Dash continued, “I’m just glad to be here and will enjoy hanging out in your backyard with a good book tomorrow.”
BeBop and Khadija had been whispering together. “Hey, Dash, why don’t you stay in the city tonight, and you, me, and Khadija can do the museum crawl tomorrow.” He flashed his mischievous smile. “Or the pub crawl.”
Dash grinned. “Uh, are you old enough to drink?”
“I have excellent documentation that swears I am.”
Dash laughed, a heart-thumping, stomach-clenching experience for Jazz. “Well I’m not old enough,” Dash said. “But thank you both. I’d love to do that museum crawl another time, but tomorrow I plan to sleep late and recharge.”
“Okay, man, but remember, another time.”
“For sure.”
Jazz shoved the last of his second burger into his mouth. “We better get back to work.” He glanced at Carla. “Are you getting home on your own?” There might have been a bit more snark than completely necessary in that question.
“Uh, yes. Thanks.”
“Okay, then, I’ll see you Sunday.” He stood. “Come on, Dash.” He grabbed his plates and trash, deposited them in their appropriate receptacles, then walked out of the lunchroom. He kind of hoped Dash would follow, but right then, he couldn’t quite care.
When he got back to his desk and sat at his computer, Dash slid in beside him.
“So, want to go back to the analytics software breakdown?”
“Yeah.” Jazz almost laughed since Dash was so obviously ignoring the elephant in the room.
Jazz walked him through some of the screens. They used data mining to establish trends in industries and to predict where the next generation of investments should occur. “The company adds a lot of human intuition to the analytical models. We’ll get to sit in on some brainstorming sessions where they evaluate the models produced by the software.”
Dash sat back. “Thanks, I get that.” He nodded quietly. “Want to talk about what’s going on with you and Carla?”
Jazz sighed loudly.
“When I met you guys at the picnic, I’d have sworn you were blood relatives.” Dash chuckled. “What’s up? Did you go out with another girl?”
Jazz frowned. “Carla’s my best friend, but she’s not my girlfriend. I’m gay.” He glanced around. “Not everyone knows that, but it’s a fact.”
“But Carla knows?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Your family knows?”
“Yes. I just didn’t want to come out in high school. It’s too messy.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
Jazz sat back and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But she’s upset with me, and I don’t even know why. The other day she had a conversation with this man who’s the father of some guy she knows. Both the guy and his father were at the picnic. You might have seen them. Anyway, ever since that discussion, she’s been weird.”
“Weird how?”
“She doesn’t look at me, won’t return my texts and calls.”
“Have you asked her why?”
Jazz shook his head. “I’ve barely seen her.”
“Harsh.” From the expression on his beautiful face—the one only Jazz seemed to see—he felt pretty bad for Jazz. And his eyes…. Damn, those things are green, baby, not some wishy-washy hazel.
Jazz nodded. “Yeah.”
“BFFs don’t happen every day.”
Jazz tried to smile. It hurts.
They went back to work, and when they separated, Dash said, “I’ll see you Sunday. Enjoy your day tomorrow.”
“Oh. Thanks a lot.”
Jazz watched Dash walk away with that smooth, almost unreal grace. Too bad I’d rather be with him than running some idiot race against a bunch of wolves.
DASH WALKED away, feeling Jazz’s eyes on him. He glanced at his watch. He’d told Carla he’d meet her at five thirty, so he had ten minutes. He strolled out into the still-bright sun of the early evening and sidled to the edge of the building, then grabbed his phone and hit speed dial.
“Hello, darling.”
“Hi, Lys.”
“How’s it going?”
“Really interesting. Carla and Jazz are at odds, and I don’t know why. He’s confided that he’s upset about it but doesn’t know the reason she’s acting weirdly.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Maybe.” He walked toward the parking lot.
She laughed.
“As we suspected, he’s gay.”
“Ah.”
Dash inhaled. “I think we were right about another suspicion. He can see me.”
“Oh?” She sounded more than interested. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s the way he looks at me. Everyone else around sees me as I present myself. But he seems more, uh….”
“Dazzled.”
“Yeah.”
“Is there anyone else who reacts similarly?”
“I think Carla finds me attractive, but I don’t think she sees me quite the same way Jazz does.”
“You are attractive, dear, unless you decide not to be. What do you plan to do to test his, shall we say, vision?”
“I’ll look for opportunities to d
etermine what he sees.”
“Good.”
Across the lot, he saw Carla’s car. She was standing beside it. He waved. “Carla’s waiting. I better go.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, one more thing. Jazz is claiming a family event tomorrow, so I won’t be seeing him.”
“Oh?”
Dash laughed softly. “At least, he won’t know it if I do.” There was open air on the end of the line. “Don’t you want me to spy on him?” Dash asked.
“It’s okay. If you want to. Uh, just don’t get caught.”
“Is there something I should know about this guy? I mean, aside from the fact that we’ve got no idea how he showed up in a rich human family in Connecticut?”
There was another slight pause, so brief he almost didn’t catch it. “No. You’ve got the gist.”
“I better go. Natives are restless.” He waved at Carla again.
“Enjoy the natives.” She laughed musically.
“I promise.” For just a second, the erection in Jazz’s lap flashed in his mind. He clicked the phone. Hope she didn’t pick up on that.
“JAZZ, YOU’RE awfully quiet again.” Lindsey murmured over Jazz’s shoulder, where Jazz was staring out the limo window.
“Sorry.” He spoke softly, but no one could have heard it over the general raucous laughter and dick measuring going on in the limo where the entire Vanessen pack was squeezed.
After a lot of pros and cons, they’d decided to take the big black vehicle to the Packarama because any chance to impress the other packs with their wealth and power helped protect them. After all, they were a bundle of misfits—humans, part humans, and gay werewolves—so intimidation on all levels kept the other packs from getting designs on their territory.
Of course, they weren’t easy pickings. In addition to the really impressive wealth and political clout of the Vanessen family, the group also had the largest number of alpha superwolves among all the packs of New England and perhaps even the most in America. Cole, Winter, Damon, and least impressively, Jazz, all qualified as alpha wolves, while Paris, Cole’s husband was an alpha werepanther. Alpha status usually only happened in the offspring of other alphas. All alphas in varying degrees had super hearing, super strength, speed, and, pretty universally, the ability to shift at will. A few, like Winter, could even shift on the fly in a couple of seconds. Standard wolves could only shift at or around the full moon, in a procedure that took at least three or four painful minutes. Of course, shifting was no picnic for alphas either. It just happened faster.