Her stomach grumbled. He leaned his forehead down on hers and smiled. “Was that your stomach or mine?” he asked.
“I’m ready to see your mad cooking skills in action.” She playfully slapped his ass. “Come on, get moving!”
“Grilled salmon? Steak? Tacos?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.” She grinned. She couldn’t believe that so much of her life could change in just one week. We never really know what’s ahead on the path of our lives: the joys, the struggles, the love.
Rex kissed her again, more deeply than ever, until her breath was completely gone. He took her face in his palms and brought his head to her forehead. Their breathing synchronized until peace settled over them like a cozy blanket. “Steph?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Rex.”
One more mind-bending kiss, and then they made their way into Rex’s sparkling kitchen. What better place to start the rest of their lives together?
Epilogue
REX:
Marry me?
STEPH:
Yes!!!
* * *
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Bear Actually
1
Cleo strolled into Mayor Peter Conrad’s office with an update on the Salish Island Film Festival and, for once in her life, tried to not admire the man’s ass.
Nope. He was too hot. She couldn’t do it.
Even if he was her boss.
Peter was pouring himself a coffee from the urn by the window, but he turned and looked her over from head to toe.
“Cleo, what are you wearing? You’re going to be the death of me.” He held a hand to his heart like he was having a palpitation.
He probably was. She grinned.
She had on a neon green catsuit worthy of Katy Perry—whom Cleo was proud to resemble, with her brunette hair and signature cleavage. At least she felt her cleavage was her signature.
Come to think of it, maybe it was actually her ass. She had a little extra all around, but particularly on the caboose.
Not that anyone ever seemed to mind.
Especially Peter.
Cleo loved working as a cultural affairs assistant for the mayor of Seattle. She loved Peter’s harmless teasing and their daily banter. She even loved the office, which was understated but loaded with simple luxuries: discreet soft lighting, incredibly comfortable chairs, and paintings of the Pacific Northwest on the walls.
“When are we going to go out to dinner?” he asked, just like he did every Friday.
“When hell freezes over,” she teased back, just like always.
“We’re destined to be together, might as well give in.” He shrugged and lifted his cup to offer her a coffee.
She shook her head. She’d already had enough. “What? And ruin my chance for fun? I’m in my twenties still, unlike you, old man.”
Cleo beamed.
He wasn’t really old. She figured late thirties, about ten years older than her. He was so freaking responsible, though, as mayor of the entire city of Seattle. It made him seem older than he was.
He was a good mayor too. The citizens consistently gave Peter the highest ratings out of every mayor since they’d started the surveys.
And his ass? Primo.
Peter had asked her out every Friday since the Friday she’d met him in the mayor’s mansion lobby. She was delivering electronics on the last day of her previous job, and she had fixed the mayor’s power supply while she was at it.
When she’d said no to the date, he offered her a job instead. His receptionist had just eloped, and Cleo happened to need a new job since the mall she worked at was closing.
“Receptionist is the only opening we have, but I promise plenty of promotions if you work as hard as I think you will.”
It had sounded like fun. And it was.
Also, Peter was hot. Had she mentioned that he was hot?
He was huge and muscular, with dark blond hair and sparkling green eyes. He was blessed with what she imagined were washboard abs under his ever-present dress shirt and suit. As mayor, he never took off his suit in the office.
Cleo would have definitely noticed.
She did enjoy admiring Peter, but she never took his flirting seriously. She was holding out for a shifter. Ever since her best friends, Steph and Amy, had fallen in love with bear shifters, Cleo had decided to snag a shifter of her own. Preferably a wolf, although she’d never even met one she actually liked. Wolves just sounded like fun to her.
Peter made it difficult by being so dammed hot, but she’d never date her boss anyway.
“I will keep trying for the date, though. Just be warned.” He grinned. She knew he was just teasing.
He wore a different patterned tie every day. Today it was tiny rainbows.
“Can’t have the rainbows without the rain,” she said.
“If you won’t go out with me this week, at least give me hope for next week,” he’d said after she turned him down the first time. And every Friday since.
“Maybe. We’ll see.” She said that every week.
Then they became all business, and Cleo did what she came into his office to do. Despite his teasing, easy manner, Peter expected 110 percent from his employees and she gave it to him. That was why she had been promoted twice.
After updating him on the cultural and arts events she was planning, Cleo picked up her files and snapped them together.
“I need to take a long lunch today,” she said. “Doctor’s appointment.”
He furrowed his brow. “Everything’s okay, I hope.”
“Just a checkup. No worries.” She sashayed out.
When Cleo got back to her desk, Steph and Amy were waiting.
She hadn’t expected them and was delighted. For one second. Then worry kicked in. Her heart dropped like a lump of clay.
“Dolls..? Is there something I don’t know?”
“No, sweetie, we’re just here to take you to your appointment.” Steph took Cleo by the arm and gave her a little over-the-shoulders hug.
“You’re getting results from the genetic test, right? You aren’t going through that alone,” Amy added.
Cleo’s mother had suffered from a rare genetic marker, 89-FB12, that made her infertile after the age of thirty. There was an easy test to see if Cleo had it too. But she had put it off.
Once she’d turned twenty-eight, though, she’d forced herself to make an appointment. Today she was getting her results and would find out if she had the marker.
She took a deep breath. With only a fifty percent chance that she had 89-FB12, she expected good news today. But still, once she saw Amy and Steph waiting for her, Cleo felt both relieved and more concerned.
“This shit is getting real,” she said. Her eyes teared up.
“No matter what, it will be okay,” Steph said, patting her arm as they walked out of the office. “Your mom had you, right?”
“Yeah, but she started having her babies when she was eighteen. I’m ten years beyond that.”
“It only takes nine months to make a baby,” Amy said. “Last time I checked. Come on, sweetie.”
At the doctor’s office, the waiting room was both feminine and comfortable, with pale pink walls and overstuffed couches. They sunk into one. Amy and Steph sat on either side of Cleo. People and US Weekly magazines were strewn across a square wooden coffee table.
Cleo picked up a magazine and tried not to worry as she flipped through the pages, but she wasn’t seeing any of the articles or photos. Suddenly, fifty percent seemed like an absurdly high chance that she would never have a baby.
A baby. Her baby.
“Cleo Jones? Dr. Carmen will see you now,” the receptionist said with a kind voice.
Cleo scowled and the three friends stood up together.
“Is she being too kind? Does she pity me?” Cleo whispered to Steph as they walked past the
receptionist.
“I’m sure she doesn’t know the results of your test,” Steph said with a frown.
But Cleo was certain she had seen a flash of pity on the woman’s face.
When she entered her doctor’s office and Dr. Carmen looked up from her desk, Cleo saw the same flash of pity. She suddenly knew the truth before the doctor even opened her mouth.
She had the 89-FB12 marker.
Tears rushed from somewhere near the pit of her stomach and flooded her eyes. Her legs felt like jelly. Cleo collapsed on a sofa, her friends glued to her side. Steph took her hand and Amy put an arm around her shoulder.
“The marker means that you’ll lose your ability to conceive and give birth at around age thirty.” The doctor couldn’t have been more clear. “I’m sorry, Cleo.”
A baby. Her baby.
More than anything, at that moment, Cleo wanted a baby. She wanted twins or triplets. Octuplets, even. As many babies as she could birth in two years. That’s what she wanted.
“I’m afraid there’s more news,” the doctor said. “Your fallopian tubes are compacted and it would be best if you had them removed.”
“What?” She’d never even heard of that.
“If you want to have a baby, you might think about doing it very soon.”
Cleo was speechless.
“When you’re ready, if it comes to that, I can refer you to an adoption specialist. Is there a partner involved?” The doctor looked from the faces of Steph and Amy, and back to Cleo.
Cleo looked down at her hands. “These are my friends.”
Steph turned to her. “If you want to have a baby now, I’ll partner with you,” she said.
“Me too.” Amy squeezed her hand. “You’re not alone, Cleo.”
She knew she wasn’t alone. Not really. It just felt like it.
Cleo took a deep breath.
Very soon. She needed to have a baby very soon. At least she’d found out when there was still time to do something about it. At least she wasn’t actually sick.
Cleo knew what to do. She would get pregnant as soon as possible.
“I’m fine.” She stood up. “Let’s do this.”
“Do what?” Steph asked. But Cleo didn’t answer. She was busy thinking.
“Thank you, Dr. Carmen.”
“Come back for a checkup in three months,” Dr. Carmen said as they left.
As they walked out, Cleo didn’t even glance at the receptionist.
Steph and Amy wanted Cleo to take the afternoon off and go to the spa to relax and discuss, just like they always did when they had a crisis.
But Cleo had already done the math. Her last period had been last week. She would be fertile on Sunday night, in two days. She needed a sperm donor.
And she needed him this weekend.
She went straight back to the office.
The assistant district attorney, Shaun Randall, was waiting in the lobby. Peter’s appointment had arrived.
“I’ll let him know you’re here,” she said to Shaun.
She knocked on Peter’s office door.
“Your two o’clock is here. And, by the way? I’ve changed my mind. Dinner tonight sounds great.”
Peter’s mouth dropped open. Then he closed it and a flash of joy crossed his face.
He nodded.
“Seven o’clock. Carmichael’s.” He looked her up and down. “And, Cleo? Don’t change your outfit.”
2
Peter had to laugh.
Cleo was too good to be true. But she was true and she was his mate.
Trouble was, he had sworn to keep his bear hidden from the people who had elected him mayor. And that meant not mating with Cleo for two more years when his final term as mayor would end.
Fuck that shit, his bear said.
See now? That’s the kind of language we can’t have in the mayor’s mansion, Peter thought. His bear needed to be kept on a short leash.
Fuck leashes, the bear said.
His bear had a point, and every time Cleo strolled in or out of his office, teasing him, swinging her sweet ass, he got rock hard.
His entire body yearned to take her. Not just his bear.
Damn right, the bear said.
He didn’t know how much longer he could wait. Looks like he didn’t have to. Not anymore.
Game on, his bear growled.
Peter punched the numbers on his speaker phone to call his friend Gregory Knowlton, Seattle’s district attorney.
Gregory picked up. “What?” he growled.
“Dinner’s off. I got a date with Cleo tonight.”
“Finally,” Gregory grumbled. “I’m in a shit storm over here. I’ll see you tomorrow for squash. I’ll want details.”
Gregory killed the line.
The DA was a busy man. He was also a wolf shifter, and could get more than a little testy when things didn’t go his way. Their weekly squash matches sometimes bordered on violence, but as long as they didn’t draw too much blood, neither one of them minded.
The two shifters were religious about playing every Saturday at 7:00 a.m. and had been doing it since they met at college and discovered that they were both ambitious shifters. One a wolf. The other a bear.
Peter wondered what details he would have for Gregory in the morning. Could Cleo really be ready to take their attraction to the next level?
Fuck yeah, his bear said.
Peter’s two o’clock appointment was with Gregory’s assistant district attorney, Shaun Randall, a good man if a bit of a blowhard.
Peter didn’t care much for Shaun and his self-promotion, but Gregory trusted him, so Peter always gave him the benefit of the doubt. He considered himself a realist. His policy was to act optimistic in his manner, but in his heart be a pessimist.
Hope for the best, plan for the worst.
Shaun walked into Peter’s office like a cat who had swallowed the bird. A shit-eating grin was plastered over his face.
In fact, he reminded Peter of a cat. He was wiry and pale, a long-distance runner who competed in triathlons nearly every month. Five years ago, Shaun had placed in the Seattle Ultra-Marathon, and he never let anyone forget it.
Shaun shook Peter’s hand with a tight grip and held on to it.
“We don’t spend enough time together,” Shaun said. “You know? We always have a nice time.”
Uh, okay.
Clearly he wanted to be friends. Peter extracted his hand. There was something so awkward about Shaun. He put Peter off without doing a damn thing. Some people were like that.
Peter smiled. “What can I do for you, Shaun? I had a situation drop in my lap just now that requires my undivided attention.”
Damn right, his bear said. Some precise fucking attention.
“Putting out fires left and right is a mayor’s job, am I right?” Again, that smile.
Peter just nodded and rolled his hand in a barrel to get the man to continue.
“I’ll get right to it. I have some...unfortunate news,” Shaun said with his odd grin. “You’ll never believe what I’ve discovered. Corruption at the highest level.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a cover-up at the police department. A scandal.”
Peter would take him seriously if he would just stop smiling. “Have a seat, Shaun. Tell me everything.”
“I came straight to you, Mayor. You’re the only one who will know what to do.”
“Go on.” Peter sat down behind his massive desk and arched his fingers into a steeple.
“It’s wolf shifters. They’re real. And the police have two of their bodies.”
“Wolf shifters are an urban legend, Shaun. Everyone knows that.”
“Not anymore. That’s what I’m saying.”
“What have you seen?”
“First I want your promise. I want to be DA in the next election. If I give you this, you’ll support me.”
“Gregory is one of my closest friends. Why would I support you against
him?”
“Not against him. You’ll see...just promise me. I’ll be DA next. After Gregory is gone. Whenever that happens.”
“Of course, Shaun. Let me help you. Tell me what you’ve seen.”
“The police have two wolf shifter bodies in a secret cryogenic lab at the morgue.”
Peter burst out laughing. “You’ve been reading too much science fiction, my friend.”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Shaun flung an envelope on the desk. “I brought photos.”
Peter opened it. The envelope contained several images of two dead wolves suspended in blue liquid inside of large glass containers. He shook his head. “These are wolves, my friend.”
“No. They’re the two men who were shot by the police last year. The ones who they said had taken bath salts.”
Even if that were true there would be no way to prove it. Once a shifter dies, he shifts to his animal form and stays that way. These two would never be seen as anything other than wolves. Shaun had nothing.
“Where is this?”
“They’re in a lab in the back of the county morgue. It’s run by the coroner, Marcus Smith. He’s married to my cousin, officer Julianna Lee.”
“Sergeant Lee is your cousin?”
Shaun nodded.
Julianna Lee was one of the rising stars of the police department. The department always hauled her out for events and promotions. She was smart and cared about her job and the community. She represented everything that was great about Seattle. It didn’t hurt that she had ancestors from all corners of the globe.
“She told you about the wolves?”
“Of course not. She’s in on it, though. I found out because I’m smarter than her.”
“Someone is fucking with you, Shaun. Probably your cousin.” He kind of felt sorry for the man. Clearly, even his cousin didn’t like him.
“Not possible. Julianna never lies. She’s too honest for her own good.”
“It’s a hoax.”
“Do you want to see for yourself? Come to the county morgue. Tomorrow morning. 7:00 a.m. We’ll have the lab to ourselves.”
“Fine. I’ll be there.” Anything to get the man out of the office.
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