by Eve Langlais
Then they sank in.
“Oh. My. Gawd!” Each word was drawn out with exaggeration. “Your date is so cute. And famous, you lucky duck. I absolutely love him in that commercial.”
Petunia blinked. “Excuse me? What commercial?”
“The one for the insurance. He’s been doing them for years. He’s the reason I switched.”
“That’s not the same lizard.”
“Puh-lease.” The woman snapped a hand. “I totally recognize him. But don’t worry, I won’t say a word. Can’t blame him for wanting to go incognito. He must be mobbed by groupies on a regular basis.”
Simon perked up on her shoulder. Look at him, lapping up the praise and making lizard eyes at the woman.
Petunia didn’t like it one bit. “All that attention from his fans plays havoc on his skin. Poor guy needs intense lotion therapy every single day because of the groping.” Dryly spoken, and probably why she got another flick of a tongue.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Poor little lizard. I’m Isabella,” the woman said with a smile, holding out her hand to rub the top of his head. “He’s so handsome. Mind if I hold him?”
Prepared to decline, it took her by surprise when Simon leaped from her shoulder to Isabella’s.
“Ooooh.” More excitement than fear colored the exclamation.
There was something inherently odd about being jealous of the fact that Simon clung to Isabella’s bodice. He clambered up over the swell of her breasts, touching the bare skin of the overflow as he made his way to her other shoulder.
Petunia’s own shoulder felt too light. Empty. It occurred to her in that moment that she no longer feared the lizard. As a matter of fact, he was darned cute in his bowtie, and had she thought once to tell him?
No. And now, he nestled on the breasts of another woman who cast Petunia a sly glance and said, “If you’ll excuse us for a moment. We’d like to get better acquainted.”
What could she do? Scream, “No, give me back my lizard?”
Besides, this was part of Simon’s plan. Splitting up to search.
“Oh, of course,” she murmured, not giving Simon the satisfaction of looking his way. Slick, smarmy lizard!
Since she wasn’t in the mood to start a ruckus quite yet over his disappearance, she wandered away, slipping along the wall and finding some comfort in the mask that hid her features.
Not that she thought for one minute that anyone would recognize her. The rift with her mother’s family was deep and went back a long time.
Long enough that no one would know her face.
Exiting through a door into a hallway, she escaped the most significant part of the crowd, but still, some people lingered. Moving to the back of the house, it got quieter. Especially in the library, which didn’t appeal to guests given it had only a large table with straight-backed, wooden chairs.
Wouldn’t it be funny if she found the cookbook here, out in the open? She began perusing the titles, running her finger along the spines, bored by most of them.
Until one. A book of flowers of all things, with a petunia embossed on the spine. She pulled it, only it tilted forward instead of coming straight out.
A section of the bookcase moved. Which would have been cooler if she hadn’t been confronted by a wall with a touchpad on it.
The handprint outline clearly indicated the next step.
Petunia bit her lower lip. A locked room might be just what they were hoping to find, but how would they get in?
For some reason, she leaned forward and slapped her hand on the console. It flashed, and she cringed, expecting to hear sirens. Only, to her utter surprise, the wall slid to the side. She blinked and ventured in farther, finding herself inside a secret laboratory.
And there, sitting in plain view on a table was the book!
Thirteen
Normally, Simon would have enjoyed his ride on the luscious Isabella’s shoulder. Especially with the view he had of her amazing breasts. She was one well-endowed young lady, and usually, she would have had his trouser-lizard leaping right to attention as he looked for somewhere more private to interrogate her more closely.
But the sight left him cold, and her grabby hands as they slid over his scales made him shiver. Though not in a good way. In an, I need a week-long bath and my Petunia putting lotion on me kind of way. It was his flower’s fault. She’d mentioned lotion, and his lizard brain had totally gone there. Several times.
Jumping from Isabella’s shoulder once she’d taken him on a tour of the ground floor, he disappeared under a table with a swish of his tail. A quick hop and skitter between the legs of the other guests left Isabella cooing and looking for him under the furniture while he was free to go look for his lady.
However, Petunia was nowhere to be seen.
She wasn’t in the main ballroom, not even lurking by any of the potted plants—he’d checked. A dark suspicion filled Simon’s mind. That bastard Ricardo had probably lured her out onto the terrace to put the moves on her!
A hiss in the back of his throat, Simon ran lightly around the edge of the room by the baseboards. It was a close call. He had to make a leap twice as he was almost stepped on. The first time by a heavy male foot that nearly pinned him against the wall. The second time, he was almost skewered by a stiletto…but that one did afford him a nice view of a stockinged leg. He looked up in the hopes it was Petunia, but no go. The thong panties showed a clean-shaven snatch, not his bushy flower.
Aha! He spotted the exit to the yard just ahead. He hissed as he leaped through the open door of the ballroom to the terrace outside, prepared to haul Ricardo off Petunia with his…webbed feet if necessary.
But the terrace was empty. Sloth-less. Definitely sexy Petunia-less.
Hmmm… He sat back on his haunches in the plant pot by the door and thought. She wouldn’t have left the party without him. No. Definitely not. He’d seen the flicker in her eyes when Isabella had whisked him away.
Jealousy. She still wanted his lizard.
She should be jealous of another woman’s hands on him. It served her right! She’d let that sloth, Ricardo, kiss her cheek! That was his cheek to buss! He was the only one allowed to do the kissing. None from any other men. At all.
“We need to get another batch worked up. The last tests were wonderfully effective. I think we can go into production soon.”
The voice just on the edge of Simon’s hearing got his attention, and he went into super-spy lizard mode. Head moving this way and that, eyes circling as he tried to work out the direction that the sound had come from.
“We’re not ready!” another voice exclaimed. Simon locked onto the sound. It came from the floor above. “We need at least another round of trials. Some of our test subjects are showing signs of recovery… But it’s not a permanent solution. We need to eradicate this curse for good!”
Nefarious people making dastardly plans, check. Simon was on the right track! He skittered up the ivy-clad brickwork to the second floor, finding himself outside a window. It was slightly open, a gap in the drapes inside allowing him a partial view inside the room.
“It will be!” The first voice again. A woman’s. And she sounded so done with this shit. Whatever this shit was. “Years of evidence has proven that repeated doses suppress the course of nature. We just need to distill it down so it’s effective in one dose.”
Simon frowned, trying to get closer. Why one dose? Surely, if they were in the business of creating suppression drugs, then the requirement for repeated doses meant repeat business.
Simon wriggled into the gap between the partially open window and the frame, got his legs under him, and heaved.
It didn’t move an inch. Super-spy he might be, super-lizard he was not. Crap. He couldn’t shift, not here, and not yet. But he needed to get closer. Find out what these people were up to.
“If we do that…” the woman’s voice continued. “Then we will finally eradicate the curse of the full moon forever!”
Simon’s ey
es opened wide. His tongue flicked out to lick one of them, but it made no never mind. They were trying to eradicate shifters? Bloody hell, this was far more serious than he’d thought! To be locked in just one body, his human body? He shuddered at the horrific thought. That was a fate worse than death itself—or possibly nineties fashion.
He needed to get out of here. Find Petunia. Warn N.
Trying to wriggle backward, he discovered one more problem.
He was stuck.
Jammed fast in the gap between the window and the frame. Not even lube would help with this one.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The drapes were whisked aside, and Simon found four sets of eyes looking at him intently.
He memorized their faces as the little old lady who had spoken before leaned forward and yanked him from his imprisonment with hard hands.
Before he could fight her off, she upended him and dropped him into a net. “Another thief for the pot.”
“Lizard for dinner?” The voice sounded properly repugned.
“Tastes like chicken.”
“You say everything tastes like chicken.”
“I’d rather have steak.”
The older one grumbled. “You always want steak. A varied diet is the key to a long life.”
“Maybe we don’t want to be as old as you.”
Simon flicked his tongue. No one paid him any mind in the bottom of the net. Perhaps he could chew his way out?
“Today’s youth lacks respect.”
“Here we go with the in-my-day story.” Simon could hear the roll of the younger woman’s eyes.
“Fine. Mock my wisdom. I know nothing.” Said dramatically. “I’m just a little old lady. And this is just a garden-variety lizard.”
“Seriously?”
“No, you dumb girl. It’s an RI agent. Have you seen many lizards wearing watches, underpants, and bowties recently? Question is, how did he know to come after us for the book?”
The eyes swung to stare at him again. He gave them his most charming chameleon smile. The how-you-doin’ smile.
It worked better without a mouthful of net.
It definitely worked better as a man.
Because it got the lizard locked in a cage.
Fourteen
Petunia didn’t dare go back to the party with the book. Someone would surely notice her toting around the hefty tome. A surreptitious exit was called for, one she’d have to accomplish alone since she’d lost her lizard.
To another woman.
Not usually the jealous sort, Petunia found herself miffed that he’d chosen to ride the bosom of another. It appeared she was more attached to the little green jerk than expected.
Could it be…?
No, surely not.
Had she fallen in love with a rascally lizard?
The very idea made her heart pound. It seemed so wildly insane. She’d just met Simon, and during that time, he’d been arrogant. Even aggressive. Tying her to the bed, making her a prisoner to his tongue…
Sigh.
He did have a wonderful way with that muscle.
For a second, she glanced at the door to the hall. She really shouldn’t abandon him. He would wonder where she’d gone. He might even worry about her.
Then she glanced at the heavy tome in her arms, last seen in her father’s possession. Here was the book. Where was her father?
It might be the only clue she had to find him. She couldn’t lose it. Simon would just have to figure out how to escape on his own. Given how he boasted of his shenanigans, it should be simple enough for a chameleon of his talents.
Making sure no one peeked, Petunia ducked down and shoved the book under her skirt. The cold, leather-embossed surface of it chilled her bare skin where she clenched it. Keeping it in place while moving proved challenging, not to mention uncomfortable. Doing her best to keep it lodged between thighs that didn’t appreciate the abuse, she accomplished a mincing walk to the patio doors that led onto a terrace, then stepped down into the garden.
The stairs proved challenging. She ended up hopping, pausing, then hopping again. Perhaps anyone watching would assume she played a game.
The garden spread out before her, a veritable green maze of trimmed bushes, flagstone paths, and tall shrubbery that made plenty of shadows. She just needed to hug those dark spots and make her escape.
A trail of cigarette smoke drew Petunia’s attention. She almost sighed in relief when the raspy scent of it led to the dopey-eyed Ricardo. A familiar face and someone to help her.
“Thank goodness, I found you. I’ve got it.”
“Got what? A sudden lust for a real man?” he asked with a hopeful, arched brow.
She pretended not to understand. “What are you talking about? I mean the cookbook. I’ve got it.”
He eyed her up and down, a frown on his brow. “Where?”
“In a safe place.” She glanced down at her lap pointedly.
“Impressive, and now I am even more envious of Simon than ever. Speaking of whom, where is the bow-tied green crusader?” Ricardo dropped the cigarette and crushed it with a heel.
“Still looking down cleavage for clues, I imagine,” she grumbled.
“Sounds like Simon. Lucky bastard. The part I always fail to grasp is why women go crazy for a lizard touching them. Yet, when it comes to tongues, we all know my kind have the best.” Ricardo’s small smile held a hint of pink and a mischievous glint in his gaze.
Almost enough to tempt her until she clued in on something he’d said. His kind. As if he weren’t human. “Don’t tell me you’re one of them, too,” Petunia grumbled as Ricardo swept a hand and indicated that she take a path that would circle them around the house.
“I am a shifter. If that is what you are implying. But not a reptile. I was born much luckier than that.”
“You’re not a reptile?” Petunia clarified. “But you work with Simon. I swear he told me that the agency he works for is called Reptile Intelligence.”
“I’m on loan to his agency due to a spot of trouble with mine. Temporary, I assure you. A simple misunderstanding. I think we should move faster.” He grabbed hold of her arm and propelled her along.
“Why? Whoa. Slow down.”
Too late.
Her grip on the book slipped, and it fell to the ground with a thud. She quickly scooped it and hugged it to her chest. “Should be safe enough to carry now that we’re out of sight.”
“Don’t be so sure of that. Dammit.” Ricardo cursed. “We don’t want to be caught with this. Let’s go.” He grabbed her by the arm and pulled.
Guilt made her look back at the house. “What about Simon?”
“He can handle himself. We need to get this thing to safety. Now.”
She clutched it tightly and quickly scurried after him, moving deeper into the topiary garden and away from the sounds of revelry coming through the open door.
Her nose twitched at all the rich scents. Green stuff. Dying stuff. Her olfactory senses were in overdrive. Probably adrenaline making them acute.
She could have even sworn she smelled something muskier. Reminiscent of…the zoo? What the hell?
Ricardo abruptly stopped, and she plowed into his back.
“Holy smokes, some warning,” Petunia grumbled.
“Sorry. We’ve run into trouble.”
At first, she didn’t grasp what he meant. Then she saw it, a pair of glowing, green eyes low to the ground, and the rapid flick of a tail.
She laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of cats.” Crouching down, she reached out a hand and crooned, “Here, kitty-kitty.”
Meowr. The sound held a low, deep timbre. The kind that made her take a step back. Then another as a large shape separated from the shadow.
“That’s a pretty big kitty,” she muttered.
“Because it’s a fucking lion,” Ricardo snapped. He had a gun in his hand, and he aimed it in a warning. “Don’t come near, or I’ll shoot.”
A reason
able threat if a second body hadn’t launched itself from the bushes.
Suddenly, there were two giant felines, a stripping agent, and one very scared, all-too-human girl.
Out of her league and comfort zone, Petunia backed away, the book hugged to her chest, only to freeze at a low growl at her rear. A peek over her shoulder showed a third feline, its hackles raised, eyes bright. Smaller than the other two, but no less deadly Petunia would wager.
Sweat beaded under her mask, and given that she had no other weapon, she whipped it off and flung it. The cat easily ducked before raising its head for a loud snarl. Then a strange noise issued forth.
Meowr?
Petunia held the book in front of her. “Don’t come near me or I’ll bash you!” Which probably wouldn’t have much effect, other than to piss it off.
She didn’t have many options, though. She had a cat to the front of her, bushes to the left and right, and behind, a strange sight.
A sloth taking a slow karate pose. And she meant slow. The leg coming up a fraction at a time, the arms moving molasses-quick from his sides.
The puddle of clothes by Ricardo’s paws had a firearm sitting on it. A gun had bullets.
Bullets slowed cats.
The slow-moving sloth appeared to have reached the apex of his move, the cats were winding their haunches. Petunia had to do something.
Her gaze strayed to the weapon on the ground. She’d have to wield it.
She didn’t have a choice. It was shoot or be eaten.
While Ricardo hypnotized them with his slow-motion moves, she tucked the book under one arm, dove to her knees, grabbed the weapon, and aimed.
Everywhere. At everything. While screaming, “Don’t move. I’ll shoot.” There was no need to add the fact that she’d probably end up shooting herself first. Clumsiness and a gun…sounded like a recipe for something terrible.
For some reason, her threat actually worked. A bunch of kitty cat eyes veered her way, and one very furry sloth stared at her with head cocked.
Meowr?
It had such a questioning note to it. Petunia waggled the book at the lot of them. “Listen, I am going to guess you’re shapeshifter dudes just like Ricardo here.” Still moving slowly. “And I am gonna guess you want this book. Problem is, I need it more. It’s the only clue I have to find my dad.”