by Em Ashcroft
The drinking water wasn’t cold enough, and then it wasn’t warm enough. The food was unacceptable. The chairs in the lodge were too hard, and the sofas unthinkable because other people had used them. Bianca’s favorite word was “unacceptable,” so much so that Rachel wondered if she’d only just learned it and was trying it on for size.
The other model, Susie, by contrast, was a doll. She asked for what she needed to do her job, laughed at discomfort, and said she’d known far worse. “I’ve taken a contract for a cosmetic line that gave me spots. I’ve frozen to death in the Antarctic dressed in a bikini where we could only do shots in ten-second bursts.” Her stories grew more outrageous as the day wore on until Rachel came to the inescapable conclusion that Susie hated Bianca’s guts and would do anything to show her up. Her coffee-colored skin had more natural resistance to the sun than Bianca’s milk-white complexion, and she pointed that out more than a few times.
To give Susie justice, if Rachel had to work with Bianca for more than a week, she’d probably do something similar. The woman was a bitch of the first order. How many designers employed both women, currently at the top of the modelling tree, and had to put up with these antics? Bianca was astonishingly beautiful. Her hair had clever glints of red and gold in its depths and curled down her back. Her face was blemish-free and perfectly, exquisitely shaped, the high cheekbones and ice-blue eyes only the highlights.
Rachel, with naturally curly hair, envied the straight look. She could achieve it with lots of product and time with a hairdryer, but one drop of moisture, and it curled up like a corkscrew.
They took a few framing shots that day, with Rachel standing by holding water, a notebook, and an electronic pad for Bianca to amuse herself with in her downtime. Then they brought in the guys for preliminary pictures.
Grumbling, CJ took his place with Susie. “I’m not used to this.”
“That’s what we want.” Mason had rolled up his sleeves, revealing a surprisingly sinewy pair of forearms. While he didn’t interfere with what Gary wanted, he remained through the whole thing, encouraging, timing, and asking for certain shots. He seemed impervious to the blistering heat the few times they ventured outside, relentless energy driving him to push them into doing as many framing shots as they could bear. “We want the untrained, unseasoned look,” he said to CJ. “Just be yourself.”
“So you don’t want us in fringed jackets and red bandanas?” Sam winked at Rachel. She couldn’t resist smiling back.
“Only if that’s what you wear normally.” Mason laughed. “Are you forgetting where I come from? We have our national dress, too. I own one kilt, and I only wear it under protest for weddings and suchlike.”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Point taken.”
Now that the worst of the heat had dissipated, they were outside one of the cabins. Number five, the one Rachel had occupied during that memorable week last year. She’d been meant to share with, but after Brooke had fallen off her horse and hurt her foot, her guys had taken her into their house. Then they’d married her. No such luck for Rachel, although she’d made it as obvious as she could to Sam and CJ that she was available.
What would sharing a bed with two men be like, anyway? Last year had been her chance to find out, to satisfy the curiosity rioting through her. Would they fuck her one at a time or just take her any way they wanted? Her imagination had given her vibrator an extra workout or two over the last year. But CJ and Sam had refused point-blank, making it crystal clear that they never fucked the guests. Ever since she’d wondered if that had been a way of letting her down lightly, but she hadn’t dared asked Brooke yesterday.
Brooke and her husbands had opted to stay at the hotel, keeping way out of the action on the vacation ranch. Rachel didn’t blame them. Given half a chance, she’d do it. Even if she had to share with Dana, the experience would have been better than this.
“Rachel!” At least Bianca had finally remembered her name, although there was no guarantee she wouldn’t be yelling “Girl!” in a minute.
Automatically she stepped forward and offered the water. Rachel took a sip and spat it on the ground. “Too warm. Get another one.”
Rachel turned too fast and landed in Sam’s arms. She squeaked, and water went everywhere, spurting from the open neck of the bottle. Sam burst into laughter but held her steady.
“You okay?” His laughter faded, and he looked into her eyes.
Rachel’s sudden tears of humiliation must have been showing. She blinked and forced a smile. “I’m fine.” She needed to get a grip. “The water goes warm really quickly in this heat.” She’d had plans to drink it herself. Her throat was dry, and her legs ached with an impending cramp, due to running around and not drinking enough. Tonight she’d have a doozy of a headache if she wasn’t careful.
“Come on.” Without a glance back, Sam curved his arm around her and led her off.
She looked back. Bianca already had another bottle in her hand, and it wasn’t the brand she’d demanded. Maybe she was too hot to care. She handed it back to CJ with a sly smile. Not too hot to flirt, it seemed.
Not that Rachel could blame her. CJ looked particularly delicious in denim and a black T-shirt that had a picture of a pair of horns on the front. Sam urged her forward.
They weren’t going back to the lodge but toward the house a hundred yards away. Weariness swept over Rachel. “We’re going in the wrong direction,” she pointed out.
“No we’re not.” Sam kept going. Since he had his arm around her waist, she had little choice but to go with him. “I bet your boss has told you to keep us happy as well as the model.”
“But—” She couldn’t think of anything useful to say. Her mouth went dry. Did he mean what she thought he did?
No, her imagination was running wild again. She needed to get ahold of herself, fast.
She couldn’t suppress her involuntary sigh of relief when Sam took her through the door of the house into the big kitchen. He didn’t stop until he had her sitting in one of the wooden Windsor chairs at the big table.
The kitchen reflected its surroundings but didn’t fall into cliché territory. A large cooking range stood in an alcove along one wall, with a mantelpiece made out of one huge piece of wood set above it. Cabinets stood on either side of it, their natural polished wood gleaming in the bright sunshine. The flagstone floor was smooth and well cared for.
Rachel loved the traditional but modern look. Sam headed toward one of the two big refrigerators that stood against the wall opposite the door. Grabbing two of the glasses that were stacked next to it, he filled them with cold water and ice. He brought them over to the table and set one in front of her.
“Drink,” he said. “Not a word until you’ve had all that glassful.”
She was only too glad to comply. Gulping down the cold nectar, she thought she’d never tasted water so delicious in all her life before. She finished hers in time to see Sam tip back his head and finish his own, his throat working in solid gulps. With a twinkle in his blue eyes, he took her glass and went to refill them both.
“This is a gorgeous kitchen,” she said.
“Thanks.” This time he brought a canister with him, and opened it to reveal fresh cookies. The smell was heavenly, but Rachel shook her head. “That looks like it would double the weight on my hips. It would take me a month to diet one of those off.”
“Then don’t diet. Just enjoy. Besides, with the heat you’ll probably sweat it off in no time.”
Cool air flowed over them, and Rachel couldn’t resist him any longer. She took a cookie, trying to find a small one. The scent of cinnamon drifted to her as she took her first bite. Surely one bite wouldn’t do much harm? Closing her eyes, she let out an appreciative, “Mm.”
Sam finished his cookie in a couple of bites and reached for another. “Our cook always leaves us with a good supply of baked goods.” He winked. “It’s my sweet tooth. Sugar and spice and all things nice.”
“I can’t afford too
many of those.” Rachel took her time with the treat, licking the crumbs from the corners of her mouth. “I should get back. I need to keep Bianca happy, or she’ll leave.”
Sam raised a brow. “She’s testing you. Seeing how much she can get away with. You were almost fainting back there.”
His gaze fixated on her mouth when she licked up a crumb. Oh, man, he shouldn’t look at her that way, his eyes hot and his mouth slightly open.
Rachel sipped her water, trying to treat this like a normal break. “I’ll be okay. But thanks for this. A little peace is just what I needed.”
“I’ll say. Will she be like this all the time? And why do you have to do it?”
“Because when Bianca had a tantrum at the airport, her assistant walked out on her. She gets through them like wildfire.”
“She’s a brat.”
“A lot rests on her shoulders, and she’s good at her job. You saw her, once she started working.”
Sam put down his glass, the ice rattling. “Nobody has the right to treat people like she was treating you.”
Rachel shrugged. “Mason is much more understanding. Otherwise, I’d have walked out months ago.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“He’s much better than Chelsea was. She was hands-on with everything, but he just runs the financial and management side. Says he leaves fashion to people who are interested in it. He’s the son of the owner of the publishing company, but I read a lot about him after he arrived, and it seems that nepotism is the last reason why he’s the CEO. He gets a lot of calls from headhunters. He’s the company’s troubleshooter, keeps an eye on the less profitable parts of the business and turns them around.”
“Style was in a bad way, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “We thought they were going to shut it down, and that was why Mason came to deal with it personally. He doesn’t hesitate if he thinks the business is unrecoverable. But he saw something in it and stayed to keep an eye on things.”
“And he’s a good boss?”
Without hesitation, Rachel nodded. “He’s fair and reasonable, but demanding. If he keeps me in the office until midnight, I get the next day off, or a day in the future, if he needs me.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “And he’s just your boss?”
Indignantly, Rachel slammed her glass down. “Yes he is. Did you think he was anything else?”
“It crossed my mind. When we saw you with him this morning, CJ and I both thought you were very close.”
Rachel sighed. That wasn’t the first time they’d had that reaction. “I just like him, that’s all, and we’ve spent a lot of time together.” She found Sam so easy to talk to. None of the inherent anxiety that led her to talk too much affected her when she was with him alone. It wasn’t that she felt entirely comfortable, not that because a prickle of awareness always crackled between them, but… She groped for the explanation. That was it. She trusted him. He would not judge her, and he never had. After her roomie, Brooke, had moved into the main house, they had made sure she was looked after, spending more time with her than the other guests.
It was just a pity she hadn’t been able to persuade one of them to go the extra mile. She hadn’t even been in this house before. Now she shook her head. “He’s just my boss, but he’s a good boss.”
“Not even fuck buddies?”
Her laugh was awkward. She hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, and she didn’t like the insinuation. She lifted her chin and glared.
He gazed at her, his stare intent.
“No,” she said, when it was obvious he wasn’t about to stand down. “I don’t think Mason would do that. He respects people.”
“So do I.” He leaned forward, his chair emitting a light creak. “But I want to be your fuck buddy.”
Shock jolted Rachel. It caught at her throat. “What?”
“You heard.”
“But I thought you didn’t—you know, with guests?”
He laughed, a light, happy sound. “You’re not a customer or a guest. You’re here to work, just as I am. That puts us on a more even footing, wouldn’t you say?”
Her heart started beating again, double time as if to make up for when everything stopped. “Are you kidding me?”
The smile gone, he shook his head. “Not one bit. I wanted you before, and that’s not changed.”
“You did?” The squeak returned to her voice.
“Sure. But it wasn’t right. Listen, Rachel, I don’t want to sound swell-headed, but women hit on me.”
“I can believe it.”
He glanced away then back at her. “Thanks for that. That wasn’t what I meant. I’m a shape-shifter.”
“I know that. Why, do you shift during sex or something?” Her pussy dampened, and she had to work not to rub her thighs together.
“If I want to. The shifting is under my control. It’s not that. Since human women became potential breedmates, I’ve had women come on to me even more. Before that, just being here seemed to be enough. Now they try to trick us.” He drummed his fingers on the table, a soft, thudding sound, and a slight frown creased his forehead. “Do you know how breedmates are made?”
Rachel shook her head. “I never really thought about it.”
“Two breed partners have sex with a woman. Straight-up, vaginal sex. They are both unprotected. The magic happens when the sperm hits the womb, and they are bonded. They also make a child. Or two.”
“Like Brooke?”
“Just like that.” His face relaxed. “Except they fell in love.”
Rachel had never heard these things before, not even from Brooke. “Do ordinary people know that?”
He shook his head. “Not many. They don’t know exactly how it happens because we haven’t told them. We’ve agreed to keep certain things to ourselves.”
He was trusting her. That meant so much to Rachel. “You know I chatter, right?”
A smooth smile curled his lips. “I’ve also noticed that you don’t say anything important when you run on. I think it’s cute.”
She gaped at him. Cute? “Nobody’s called it that before. Annoying, infuriating, irritating, sure. Even I find it annoying sometimes.” He’d given her a confidence. She could only give him one in return. “I can’t help it. I just start, and I watch myself, and I can’t stop.”
“Don’t stop. I love it.”
Nobody had said that to her before. Everyone she had ever come across either walked away from her or told her to control herself. Either he took no notice or, like Mason, told her to shut up. She preferred Mason’s approach best of all. Mason must have come to the same conclusion as Sam because she was still working for him, and she’d given nothing important away. They were right. She chattered on, but she never revealed confidences or privileged information.
Sam’s attention gave Rachel something she rarely felt. A sense of self-worth was the nearest she could get to describing it, although that wasn’t exactly right. “You can talk to me like this? Do we make an informed decision or something?” She was out of her depth here. Her sexual experiences were mainly in the heat of the moment, easy come, easy go, although she didn’t indulge very often. Too many dangers in the big city for a girl to be wary of.
“I want you to know. That’s all. You know why I’m sitting here, across the table from you?”
She shook her head.
“Because if I didn’t we’d be in bed right now.”
His low tones thrilled her to her soul. “How?”
He got to his feet and held out his hand. She knew he was offering more than to help her to her feet. If she took his hand, she was accepting something. Accepting him, and maybe his breed partner. But he wouldn’t force her. She knew that, too. That talk sitting at the kitchen table, with him holding himself so still, so carefully away from her until he learned more, showed her he could control himself.
She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. She kept coming until her breasts pressed against his chest and he curved his arms
around her. His cock pressed against her, hard and insistent.
Then he kissed her.
Chapter Four
Slowly, he lowered his head until their lips met then, just as slowly, increased the pressure of his mouth on hers. She melted into him and did what she’d wanted to do since she first saw him. She pushed her fingers into his blazing, curly hair. So soft and silky, losing herself in him.
The kiss, at first soft, deepened and became all encompassing. She forgot why she was here, where she was, everything but him. As she pressed herself against him, her body melted into wet heat. When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she groaned, the sound vibrating through them both. She sucked on his tongue, hearing his responding moan, calling to her as if she was already his.
“Oh, honey,” he muttered against her mouth and kissed her again. His muscles, harnessed for her use, surrounded her, cradled her, kept her safe and, at the same time, challenged her to do more, to meet him and then let him take her into his world.
He turned the deep, consuming kisses into smaller, playful ones as he brought one hand around her to touch her breast, caress its softness. He stroked the underside through the thin cotton and the silk of her bra, rousing her nipple to a hard, sensitive point. Bringing his mouth back down on to hers, he drove her mad with his mouth and fingers. He spread his hand wide, encompassing her breast before giving it one last squeeze and moving lower. He caressed her waist, and around to cup her ass, pressing her against his groin, his kisses growing in fierce possession.
He went still before he lifted his head. “We can’t do this now, can we?”
She urged him back. “Why not?”
“Because you’re working.”
Jerked back to reality, she gave a shocked yelp and tried to pull away. But he wouldn’t let her go. “Do you want anyone to know about us?”
“No.”
“Why not?” His silky voice held a note of menace.
She answered him honestly. “Because the others want you. The models want you, and I can’t compete with them.”
“They do?” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I thought they were playing or something. Honey, when I look at you, I don’t see them. They’ve been polished into china statues. My mother liked china statues. I got rid of them all after she died. That should tell you what I think of perfect, shiny people.”