by Holley Trent
He understood why the place was so organized when his gaze landed on the busty blonde stranger behind the bar, barking orders in an accent he couldn’t quite decipher.
His cook was in the kitchen patting hamburgers into shape. He dropped the ground beef and made a beeline for Patrick.
“Where were ya? I was worried sick. Your dad always handled the business stuff at the old place. I didn’t know what to do. I even hired a woman to—”
Patrick put up his hands. “It’s all right. I had some personal stuff to take care of. I’ll be gone again next month and the month after. Ongoing. We’ll have to put some sort of system in place for my absences. Who’s the woman behind the bar?”
“She works for Miss Slade. She must have thought we’d need the help today.”
Knowing Dana, she probably thought he’d be over his head. Smart lady.
“She’s handy. Strong, too. Already thrown one guy out on his arse.”
Patrick offered his uncle a slap on the back and continued to his office. “I’ll be out in an hour. Need to catch up.”
“Right-o.”
He grabbed a beer from the kitchen fridge before proceeding down the hall. He paused with his hand on the knob. There was breathing inside. No…breathing in chorus. More than one person. Who the hell was in his office?
Quietly, he turned the knob and pushed the door in, hoping to take whomever it was inside off-guard, but they hardly jumped.
There were four women inside. Two he recognized. The other two were unfamiliar. He approached the one leaning onto the edge of his desk holding a glass of green wine. Before greeting her, however, he nodded at the woman perched on his credenza.
“Hello, Sarah.”
She nodded back. “Mr. O’Dwyer.”
He shoved his hands into pockets and shifted his gaze to the woman on his desk. “Hello, shrew.”
Dana let a little smirk quirk her lips up. “Hey, dirty cat.”
“Let’s keep that on the down-low, shall we?” He winked. “Lovely to see you. What’s with the audience?”
“Oh, I thought we’d take you up on your offer for drinks.”
He raised a brow and hoped it conveyed the degree of suspicion he was feeling. “Today? On the busiest day of the year? I thought you wanted privacy.”
“Mm-hmm. Don’t worry, though. Mr. Drake has got us all set.” She pointed to the six bottles of green wine uncorked on his desk and the six-pack of stout Sarah was indulging in.
“Wouldn’t you like to have a bit more space? I can open the private dining room.”
She shrugged. “Good to know you have one, but booze isn’t the only reason we’re here.”
“No?” He wanted to wrap his arms around her, kiss her thoroughly, and drape her over his desk, but he could do none of those things with the six extra eyes on him, watching his every move. Here they were, having a conversation as if they hadn’t been intimate two days ago—as if she hadn’t seen him at his absolute worst. As if his cat form hadn’t taken a knife in the leg for her.
His thigh tingled where the silver blade had grazed even thinking about it.
“No. Sorry, we’re going to have to pull Tamara off the bar. We need to be in D.C. tonight.”
“D.C.?”
She nodded. “Got referred for a government contract. We’re having to shut down the agency for a few days.”
“Oh.”
She stared down at her hands and he knew, even without catching her scent or feeling the beat of her heart, that she was nervous. The little hellcat, nervous.
Shit.
He reached across the desktop and picked up his phone. He stabbed an internal extension. “It’s Pat. Can you pack the ladies some dinners to go? Something that won’t sweat in Styrofoam. Thanks.” He hung up and looked at Dana. “Give him ten minutes.”
She nodded.
“Hey…why don’t we go keep Mr. Drake company in the kitchen?” Sarah suggested. I think Dana needs to settle the bill.”
She scooped up the bottles and winked at him as she backed out. The other two ladies followed her, eyeing him warily and wearing scowls on their lovely faces.
“They’ll kill me if I hurt you, won’t they?”
“In your sleep, probably. Cleaner that way.” Her voice was flat, serious, but she managed a grin, and that made him laugh.
He placed a hand at either side of her thighs and leaned in close so their noses touched.
She closed her eyes and dragged her lips across his, gently, feeling him more than kissing him.
“You scare me, Patrick. I guess I should have expected that. You were in trouble the day I met you, and you still are. I can’t keep you safe.”
Now he did wrap his arms around her, and rested his chin atop her hair, nuzzling it.
She pressed her cheek against his chest and sighed.
“That’s not your job, sweetheart. I don’t have plans to do anything stupid. I’ve got a good head on my shoulders. I hate politics, but if there’s a way I can smooth some things out for those weres…”
“I understand.”
“And here you are, driving to D.C. to probably do something really feckin’ dangerous, huh?”
“That’s part of my job.”
“Look at you. This little thing with only a gun and an attitude, and you’re worried about me.”
She laughed against his chest, and when she stopped, they held onto that embrace for a moment, saying nothing.
Finally, she peeled back a bit, and looked up to say, “I don’t want to get hurt, Patrick. Not again. It’s too hard to put those walls back up once they crumble down.”
Somehow, he knew she wasn’t talking about the kind of hurt that came from bullet holes and knife pricks. “And are they down? Those walls?”
“There’s a crack in the foundation and it’s spreading rapidly. The building will likely be condemned soon.”
“Nice metaphor. I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you, sweetheart. I know you’ve been through some shit. All I can tell you is I’ll always show you your worth—the way you are, and not the way other people think you should be.”
“I think you’re a little bit nuts, Patrick.”
He grinned. “No, I’m not nuts. It’s like I said this morning. I’m not the kind of man who takes the easy way out. I’m going to work for this, because you’re worth it. That’s my promise.”
She smiled, too. “I’m worth it, huh?”
“You’re like a goddamned phoenix, woman. You walked through fire, and probably died a bit inside, but here you are. Better and badder, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Arguable.”
“Do you like me, shrew?”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and worried at it while her eyes smiled. She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Maybe! What do I have to do to get a yes?”
“Don’t know. Maybe letting me and the girls tag along with you to your little full moon hootenanny next month will sway me in that direction.”
“You want me to wait a whole month for a date?”
She rolled her eyes and thrust her empty wine glass out to him. “No, we can have a date next week. Tell me we can come help deal with the weres, and I’ll make sure every little mountain lion in heat in that clearing knows you’re taken.”
He had a sudden urge to bite her neck and wrestle her down to the floor, but somehow he managed to resist.
“You realize you’re offering to commit to a dirty cat, right?” he asked as she backed out.
“Yeah. I’ve never had a cat. I think you’ll be fun.” She winked, gave him a mock salute, and disappeared into the hall, the sound of her high-heeled boots clacking against the old wood.
He stabbed the power button on his computer and straightened the stack of invoices on his desk. He grinned again. He didn’t know which of them was the one who needed taming. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe wild was just fine.
It damn sure felt like it.
End of Story I
Framing Felipe
Look for more Shrew & Company, more were-politics, and another “missing” man in May 17, 2013 with Sarah’s love story: Framing Felipe—a novel.
After six weeks working a grueling undercover job, the last thing Sarah Miller wants is to jump headfirst into another assignment. She doesn’t have a choice. Business is booming at Shrew & Company, and besides the boss lady herself, Sarah’s the only woman equipped to handle the latest were-bear drama. When she gets to the mountains—ready to go in with guns blazing—Dana reassigns her. The circus is in town, and their most famous acrobat has gone missing.
Except…he hasn’t.
Felipe Castillo is on the run, and whatever is giving him chase is scaring Dana, too. Dana won’t tell Sarah why, but it’s now her job to coax the slippery Spaniard out of hiding and get him someplace safe. That is, assuming they can keep their clothes on. Felipe may not speak English well, but the way his body moves needs no translation.
Sarah’s not interested in commitment, especially not with a man who cheats death for a living. Something about the acrobat has her enthralled. Maybe it’s because he has just as many secrets as her…or even more.
Other Fantasy Romances by Holley Trent
Mrs. Roth’s Merry Christmas (Musa/Calliope Romance)
-Holiday Fantasy/Erotic
Love by Premonition (Musa/Calliope Romance)
-Light Paranormal Romance/Romantic Comedy
A Demon in Waiting (Crimson Romance)
-Paranormal Romance (Steamy)
Coming June 2013
About Holley Trent
Holley Trent is a Carolina girl gone west. Raised in rural coastal North Carolina, she has Southern sensibilities but her adventurous spirit drove her to Colorado for new experiences.
Holley writes sassy contemporary romances threaded with oodles of conversational humor, and fantasy/paranormal romances set in her home state.
Her protagonists regularly fall victim to her odd sense of humor and find themselves in improbable situations (with happily-every-after outcomes). Holley's cast of characters tends to swear, drink and do a fair amount of carousing, but they're generally well intentioned and obey all laws and ordinances. Usually.
She’s a member of Romance Writers of America as well as Colorado Romance Writers and CIM-RWA: the Cultural Interracial and Multicultural special interest RWA chapter.
For Holley’s complete backlist, including titles from Calliope Romance/Musa Publishing, Crimson Romance, and Lyrical Press, please visit her website at http://www.holleytrent.com or her blog at http://www.holleytrent.com/blog.
Want to chat about The Problem with Paddy or another Holley Trent title? Catch her online on Twitter where she tweets under the handle @holleytrent or fan her Facebook page.
Table of Contents
THE SHREW STUDY
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Framing Felipe
About Holley Trent