When can we meet?
She didn’t know how to respond to that. She’d never meant for things to go this far. It had seemed like an easy, no-harm-no-foul way of getting back in the game after being out of it for so long.
The last thing she’d expected was to fall in love.
And now Jess wanted to meet. Which meant he really liked her. Which was exactly how an online relationship would normally develop. And which was totally out of the question.
The cursor continued to blink at her, demanding a response.
She glanced over her shoulder. The twins were happily playing dump truck and fighter jet in the middle of their small living room, blowing each other up then hauling away the crash debris. Toys were scattered everywhere, as usual, and a basket of unfolded laundry lay half-dumped on her old sofa, a hand-me-down from her in-laws, one they’d had since before Keith’s birth.
Keith. Deep down, even after all this time, she felt as if she was betraying him by having this online flirtation. She glanced at the boys again, seeing his eyes and mouth every time they smiled. Sam glanced up at her and gave her a patented heart-melter that seemed to be a genetic quirk of all the Muir boys, even her father-in-law.
Her heart lurched, loving her children and missing their father. Tears started welling so she turned back to the screen, wondering what to do. Just do it, babe, a voice whispered in her brain. Keith’s voice. He’d always encouraged her to follow her dreams, mainly because she was a big fat fraidy cat. You deserve to love again. And to be loved.
A big dollop of saltwater splashed on her keyboard as she watched the cursor flash. “Why not?” she half-whispered to herself.
“Whatchya say, Momma?” Though they were identical twins, it was easy for Veronica to tell her boys apart. Sam was the charming extroverted daredevil, while Jason was tender, sweet and sensitive. Their voices matched their personalities, making them easy to distinguish, at least for her.
“Nothing, Jace. You keep playing.”
Before she’d even decided to respond, her fingers were flying over the keyboard. Can you meet next Tuesday at the Caribou Cafe on Main? Say 11 a.m.?
She was just reading it over to make sure it was exactly what she wanted to say when she heard a crash and a shout of anger from behind her. She turned just in time to see Sam shift into bear form and leap on his defenseless brother.
“Sam, stop that right now!” she yelled as she pulled the struggling cub up under one arm while grabbing Jason’s bleeding forearm. “What’s gotten into you?!”
With a shimmer and a shudder, the cub became a boy, ducking his head with shame.
“I’m sowwy, Momma,” Sam mumbled. “But Jason wan over my jet with his stupid twuck and it made me mad so I thwew it and...” He trailed off. They all knew the rest.
“Don’t apologize to me, Sam. You need to apologize to your brother. Look, he’s bleeding. You’re six years old now. A big boy. You know better than to attack him when he’s in human form. There’s a reason it’s against clan law.”
Tears spilled from Sam’s eyes as he turned to Jason. “Sowwy, Jason. I didn’t mean to make you bweed.”
Jason, ever the forgiving soul, sniffled and pulled his brother into a deep hug, the small scratch on his arm already forgotten.
“It’s okay, Sammy. I still love you.”
Veronica’s heart almost broke at the affection they had for each other. Sam was a bit of a hothead, and he was having trouble learning to control his shifting, but he loved his twin more than anything. Almost before she could blink, they were back to playing with their toys, Sam offering Jace his jet to play with.
Returning to her seat, she held down the delete key and turned off the computer.
~ * ~ * ~
Jess Slade scrubbed a hand across the brown stubble on his chin as he sat in front of his laptop, waiting rather impatiently for Veronica’s reply. Figuring she’d gotten distracted by her boys, he checked his work email, checked the weather forecast, checked on the bean stew in the slow cooker, fed his chocolate lab Fred. A couple of times he thought he heard the tell-tale ding of her response and went running to the computer only to find his question still sitting there unanswered.
Finally, he logged off, his stomach in knots. Why was she ignoring him? After sharing so much with each other, he thought they were beyond superficial wariness. It wasn’t every day that you found someone who got your offbeat sense of humor.
But he had. Right from the start, when he’d spotted her quirky profile on an online dating site six months earlier, he had a suspicion they would have a lot in common. Aside from the usual profile junk — all of which jived with his tastes and interests — her dark chocolate eyes reflected a shadow of loneliness, one he could relate to.
He’d signed up for the site at the urging of his nosy but devoted sisters. Growing up in a house full of women had taught him a lot about the opposite sex, but not enough to prevent his marriage to his high school sweetheart from crumbling.
It didn’t go unnoticed that Hannah was pulling away emotionally during the final months of their marriage, but he didn’t want to rock the boat by confronting her about it. Every couple goes through rocky periods, he told himself, and this was just one of those times.
When she told him she wanted a divorce, he was devastated. He wanted to work it out, to try counseling, but Hannah had refused.
“I’m sorry, Jess. It’s too late for all that now.”
Too late. He’d waited too long and she’d drifted away...right into the arms of another man, as it turned out. She was in love with someone else and there was no winning her back. There was nothing else to do but let her go.
It took months for Jess to get over the loss, then even more time to stop blaming himself. If he’d only fought harder for her, maybe things would have been different. Maybe if he’d given her a diamond tennis bracelet for her last birthday instead of the juicer she’d been eyeing. Maybe if he’d let her redecorate their apartment instead of insisting on saving for retirement. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Finally the Slade sisters had told him it was time to get back in the saddle, that a year was too long to grieve, so he’d registered on the dating site. It took another couple months to actually start browsing profiles, and the first woman he’d contacted was the only one he’d contacted: Veronica Muir.
The photo on her profile was of a pretty, young woman who was thin and fit. A little too skinny for his tastes, but very attractive. But it was those eyes that drew him in. So he sent her one of the site’s silly Cupid-grams — complete with a sappy instrumental rendition of ABBA’s ‘Take a Chance on Me’ — and held his breath.
He still remembered the flutter in his stomach when she responded. They started corresponding more frequently, sharing the safe bits of their lives and ever-so-slowly opening up about the bigger things.
As their friendship developed, she admitted that her profile photo was old, that she looked different now. He’d insisted on seeing what she looked like so she set up a webcam show.
What he saw was much more to his liking: a tall, stately woman, with a drool-worthy hourglass figure. Her auburn hair tumbled in loose waves around her shoulders, framing breasts large enough that her tank top could barely contain them. Her waist tucked in under her bosom and her hips flared deliciously, just begging for hands — his hands — to caress them. When she did a little pirouette for him, showing off her round bottom in a pair of tight black yoga pants, he nearly passed out from blood loss as it was all redirected south of the border.
When she was done with her little show, her huge mocha-colored eyes looked in the camera and asked for one from him, but there was no way he could stand up anytime soon, so he begged off.
A few days later, when he was perfectly in control of himself, he reciprocated. He didn’t consider himself some kind of hunk or anything, but he was pretty fit from all the backwoods trekking he did for work so he quickly whipped off his shirt. He desperately hoped she would be impressed by his tig
ht abs and athletic build.
When asked what she thought, she responded that his physique reminded her a little of her late husband. That was the first time she’d really opened up to him, and it marked a turning point in their relationship. From that point on, they shared every little detail of their lives, from his failed marriage to how she hated artichokes but loved asparagus. Nothing was off-limits.
Except when he would hint at meeting. Then suddenly there was an important phone call she had to take, or she just happened to be out of town for a couple of weeks, or she would simply stop chatting, like tonight. Even though they’d both admitted they were falling in love, she clearly didn’t want to meet him.
That hurt.
Something he’d shared must have turned her off. Maybe it was the fact he was a pescatarian — a vegetarian who occasionally eats fish — or that he lived in a cabin in the woods, or that he studied fish for a living. Or maybe it was all of it.
And if that was the case, why had he taken a summer job beneath his pay grade just to be closer to her? More importantly, why was he wasting his time and energy on someone who didn’t want him?
As a marine biologist, Jess was endowed with a tremendous amount of patience. But he would only wait so long before giving up hope. If Veronica didn’t agree to meet soon, he’d have to break it off. Then spend the rest of his life trying to forget her.
Chapter 2
“Oh!”
Max rushed out of the bathroom at Bethany’s cry, half his face covered in shaving cream, a dripping razor in his hand.
“B, what’s wrong? You okay? Is it the baby?”
She looked up from her laptop and was distracted. A rivulet of shaving cream dribbled down Max’s muscled chest, following the curve of his right pec, outlining his rippled abs like a highlighter. Bethany's thoughts threatened to go in another direction as she watched the white liquid soak into the towel wrapped low on his narrow hips. Ever since he moved in next door to her in the duplex apartments owned by his uncle, Max had been distracting her in the most delightful ways.
She shook the lustful thoughts from her head. “I’m sorry, babe, I’m fine. I just got an email in the Ursa Love account, that’s all. It’s the first real one!”
Relief flooded Max’s face, and Bethany wasn’t blind to it. Even though he’d assured her that there was no inherent danger in her being pregnant with his werebear cub, he seemed overly concerned about her health. This set her on edge, but she didn't want to worry him any more than he already was.
As soon as she’d told him about the pregnancy, he’d called in the clan healer, the one who had tended to his uncle Chet’s human wife and child years before. This did little to comfort Bethany, since Crystal and the baby had both died in childbirth, but the healer insisted he was fully qualified to conduct her prenatal care.
He was an odd little man, older but he carried an air of youth. She’d met a handful of werebears and he was by far the smallest of them. His shock of red hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed in weeks and he wore horn-rimmed glasses that seemed off for some reason. It wasn’t until they were face-to-face that she realized why: they had no lenses.
According to the healer, everything with her pregnancy was moving along smoothly. He’d made this announcement almost immediately after meeting her.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Pearce,” he said.
“It’s Ms. Mills,” she corrected. “We’re not married.”
“Yet,” Max added with a wink.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Mills,” the healer said, taking her hand in both of his. The warmth that pulsed up her arm was disconcerting and she tried to pull her hand away but he held on firmly, his strange gray eyes peering deep into her soul.
Then it got even weirder. He leaned in close to her and took a big, long sniff. The shocked look on her face made Max double over with laughter.
“He’s not going to eat you, Bethany. Relax.”
Then Dr. Graves placed his hands on her belly. She shot another look at Max, but he just winked and nodded encouragement.
“Hmm, yup, yup,” the strange man mumbled as he got down on his knees and pressed an ear to her tummy. What the...? she thought.
Springing upright, he declared, “Done! You and the baby are perfectly healthy.”
“That’s it?” she asked, bewildered.
Dr. Graves looked confused. “What else would there be?”
“Um, I dunno, blood tests and stuff?” She’d never been pregnant before but she was pretty sure prenatal doctor visits included more than some sniffing and grunting.
He waved away her concerns. “Not necessary.”
She sat there in stunned silence.
“What about, you know, a real doctor?” she whispered to Max when the healer left the room.
Max’s face clouded over and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Human doctors aren’t superior to clan healers, you know. Our healers are born, not trained. They know instinctively how to treat wounds and illnesses, if they can. Their sense of smell is so much stronger than an average werebear’s that they can actually smell when someone’s sick. Human doctors are usually clueless until they run a million tests, and even then they often get it wrong.”
His tone was defensive, clearly offended at her suggestion. She slid her hand into his.
“Oh, Max, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just...I’m used to Western medicine. And I’m not going to lie, I’m a little worried.”
He sighed and gripped her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know, babe, but it’s going to be fine. I almost lost you once. I won’t risk that again. It would break me.”
A tear spilled down her cheek remembering how Chet had almost convinced her into breaking it off with Max. But he wasn’t talking about that. He was remembering how a jealous female werebear had nearly killed her for daring to get involved with Max.
Bethany looked up at him and got lost in his powerful gaze. He grazed his lips against hers, his hot breath heating her core to the melting point. Thank goodness he wrapped his arms around her because she felt faint from the love and desire that welled up within her.
“Oops! Should I come back later?” The clan healer was awkwardly backing his way out of the room.
Max’s laugh was honey-covered nougat to her ears. “No, I think we can control ourselves, Dr. Graves.”
What a name, she thought. It appeared she was stuck with him so she would try to make the best of it, but that didn’t mean she had to settle for his mumbo jumbo.
“Can you perform...Western tests?” She’d almost said ‘normal’ but caught herself just in time.
“Of course, but why would I? They’re entirely unnecessary.” He was truly bewildered.
“I understand it’s a strange request, but it would ease my mind.”
The healer shrugged and pulled a needle from his bag. “I always carry a few Western medical items around with me. Mostly to show cubs what kind of torture human doctors would inflict on them if they weren’t werebears, but also in case I need to treat someone in front of humans. Props always make for a more believable performance.”
Props?!
“Wait...” Bethany was saying as he plunged the needle expertly into her arm. It wasn’t pleasant but he drew her blood more quickly and efficiently than any phlebotomist she’d ever seen. It was over almost before it had begun, then her other arm was wrapped in a blood pressure cuff.
The worst part was standing on the scale in their bathroom with the healer peering around her belly to read the humiliating number. He made a few notes on a chart and handed her the results.
“I’ll send the blood to a lab, if you insist, but I can tell you that all your levels are normal. You’re gaining an acceptable amount of weight since your initial weight loss and your blood pressure is perfectly normal. Feel better now?” He shot Max a glance and rolled his eyes a little.
Bethany felt a little silly but it did ease her mind. Chet’s warning about her and her baby’s health echoe
d through her brain every day, and she needed as much reassurance as she could get.
“I’ve never heard of a successful mating between a human female and a bear male,” Chet had told her. “You humans are too delicate to handle our babies.”
She shuddered and tried to shake away Chet’s prophesy, her hand instinctively moving to her tummy.
“Who’s it from?” Max’s words brought her back to the present with a jolt.
~ * ~ * ~
Max smelled Bethany’s anxiety before he saw the flash of fear cross her beautiful face. He knew his own concern was making it even worse for her, and he tried to hide it but when he was caught off-guard, his inner bear got nervous. There was no hiding a nervous bear.
“Who’s it from?” he asked, sauntering casually back into the bathroom to finish shaving. He hoped his light tone would ease her mind. Damn Chet, he thought, even as his heart tugged in sympathy for his uncle. Now more than ever he could relate to why his favorite uncle had turned so bitter.
Chet had been irate with a capital I when Bethany moved in with Max, but when they broke the baby news to him, he’d blanched. With tears in his eyes, he stumbled out of the house without a word.
"He'll be okay," Max insisted when Bethany suggested going after him, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "He just needs a little time.”
But Max wasn’t so sure. The death of his human wife and child had a profound effect on Chet, turning him into a grumpy human-hater. No, that’s not right, Max thought. He didn’t hate humans, precisely, but he was staunchly opposed to human-werebear crossbreeding, claiming it would dilute their breed.
Max couldn’t accept that Chet really believed that, but was instead using it as a form of self-protection. It was only natural that the news of their relationship and pregnancy would hit Chet hard, bring up long-buried emotions.
Max only hoped that his once-jovial uncle could work through it and be happy for them. As it was, they hadn’t seen or heard from him since that tense meeting months before. Since Max lost his parents as a teenager, Chet was all he had left of his family.
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