My Plan B (Middlemarch Shifters Book 11)

by Shelley Munro

  “Emily has a point,” he said. “Next time you’ll remember to scent and scan the vicinity before you charge across a piece of open ground.”

  “Not helpful,” Leo snapped.

  “Jacey’s right,” Saber said, the humor fading from his expression. “We need that phone tonight. Kitten, you can still punish them by making them pay for a date.”

  “Tsk-tsk. I’m shocked that you and Emily would consider fixing the raffle,” Leo commented. “If word got out—”

  “Enough,” Emily said. “You will pay the extra money as a fine for not double-checking for human presence. Any kitten knows to check and recheck before running through an area in feline form.”

  Saber chuckled, his affection for his mate clear. “She’s got you there.”

  Jacey sipped his tea, his mind spinning with alternative plans. “I didn’t see any food, apart from the gift basket in her room. Won’t she have to go out to get food at some stage?” He turned to Emily. “Invite her to meet you at your café for an early dinner. Tell her you need to clarify a few things and they’re time sensitive.”

  “Not bad,” Saber said.

  “And if she says no?” Emily asked.

  “They have a dining room at the station for their guests. If you mention food, she might decide she is hungry.” Leo groaned. “Isabella will never let me hear the end of this. Emily, give Ms. Saxon a call and tell her you’d like to run through the plan today rather than tomorrow since you have last-minute hiccups.”

  “I don’t have any hiccups,” Emily said, giving him a hard stare.

  “Tell her some of your people have come down with the flu, and you wanted to check on how many helpers she requires,” Saber suggested.

  “An excuse as transparent as a piece of lace,” Emily said in a tart tone.

  Saber lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’m sure you’ll think of something suitable to tell her.”

  “Women have to swoop in and save the day all the time.” Emily freed her hand and grabbed a cookie. “We fix up messes. That’s what we do.” She bit into the chocolate chip cookie with a snap of her teeth.

  Jacey hid a smile.

  “We could always enter the cottage, blindfold her and take the phone,” Henry said in a mild voice.

  Emily bolted upright, her spine hitting the back of the chair. “No.”

  Jacey didn’t think much of the idea either. He’d hate to scare her witless.

  “It might come to that.” Jacey faced the truth even though he disliked it. “Right, this is the plan. Emily can call her. Please. If she says no to the meeting, we’ll meet at the cottage and play it by ear.”

  Emily nodded, although she remained somber as she stood to pick up a phone. As the phone rang, she turned her back on them.

  From where he was sitting, Jacey heard the dial tone and the feminine voice as the woman—Megan—answered the call.

  “Hi, Ms. Saxon. This is Emily Mitchell. I’m very sorry to bother you but I wondered if we could have our meeting this evening, perhaps during an evening meal? Something has come up, and I need to change our plans slightly.”

  Emily paused, and Jacey strained to hear Megan’s reply.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  Megan spoke again. Jacey couldn’t make out the words, just the tone. His orange-blossom girl sounded depressed. Had she been crying again?

  “Tomorrow morning? That would be perfect,” Emily said. “I own the Storm in a Teacup café. Could you meet me there at ten? Great. I’m looking forward to meeting you in person. Yes, I’ll see you there.” Emily hung up and turned to face them. “I tried. She said she’d had a long, difficult week and was having an early night as soon as she’d eaten dinner. You should go now in case you can nip in and grab the phone.”

  “Isabella is expecting me,” Leo said.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Henry said. “Jacey and I will take care of it.”

  Jacey set down his mug and stood. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Four

  Jacey and Henry stood in the shadow of a pine and watched the stone cottage where Megan Saxon was staying. The lights shone in the bedroom, the windows screened by thick curtains.

  “She’s still in the cottage,” Jacey said.

  Henry frowned. “You like her. I can tell. What happened when you followed her back to the cottage?”

  “Nothing.” Too fast. Guilty. “Nothing happened.” Crap, now he sounded defensive. He jerked his gaze from the cottage door. “I like her fragrance.”

  “Her scent?”

  “Orange blossom,” Jacey confirmed and risked a glance at Henry. Instead of shock or distaste or anger, his stepson—his son—showered him with understanding. “You’re not upset?”

  “Mum died a long time ago. I know there have been women over the years, but never anyone special. If you think for a moment you should walk away from this possibility because of me, you’re crazy.” Passion filled the hard angles of his son’s face. “You’ve looked after me, made me into the man I am now, sometimes at the expense of your own happiness. If there is a chance she might be your mate, you have to get closer to her.”

  The light in the bedroom disappeared, and they watched for further developments. The front door opened and closed, and Megan stepped outside, a tall figure in her bulky coat. A beanie covered her head, and her matching scarf flapped in the brisk breeze.

  Her scent wafted to him on that same wind, orange blossom. Cinnamon. Wolf.

  “Interesting,” Henry said. “I smell a hint of wolf. Is that you?”

  “No,” Jacey said. “I didn’t touch her, not apart from a lick on her hand. Two licks,” he corrected. “I liked her flavor too.”

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “It wasn’t relevant. No matter what happens next, we need to get her phone. She’ll take the phone with her to dinner.”

  “She might not. Maybe she wants a break from work,” Henry said.

  “Henry, she took the phone to bed with her. There was no other place it could’ve been. I searched everywhere, apart from the bed. She’s either a workaholic or addicted to her phone. Either way, not good.”

  They remained silent while she strolled past, the security lights illuminating her way.

  “Not security savvy,” Henry whispered. “She’s not paying attention to her surroundings.”

  “This is a small country town. There are security lights and the owners would’ve told her it’s safe for a woman to walk around.” Jacey stopped talking, realizing what he’d said. Regret filled him at the raw agony on his son’s face. “Henry, I’m sorry.”

  “You’re right. Middlemarch is safe. Jenny…Jenny’s case was different. She’s gone into the dining room. We should check her cottage. Still good with picking locks?”

  “Two minutes tops,” Jacey said, while he wished he could turn back time and make things right for his son. He hated that he’d reminded Henry of Jenny’s murder.

  “Might take longer. Gerard advised the owner to get new locks. These are harder to pick.”

  Jacey stretched his fingers as if warming up for the task. “A challenge?”

  “Yep.”

  In the past, Henry would have cracked a grin or a smartarse wisecrack about him being old. He missed his mischievous son. “You’re on.”

  It took him four minutes and twenty seconds before the lock released, and he pushed the wooden door open to a lamp-lit room.

  “I’ll wait at the door while you search since you know the floor plan. I’ll whistle if anyone comes.”

  Jacey slid inside, shutting the door after him with a click. He ghosted through the open lounge and kitchen, searching every surface for her phone. Not that he expected to find it here. A quick scan of the bedroom, the en suite and a leather handbag told him the worst. She’d taken the phone with her.

  He exited the cottage, frustration tensing his muscles. Annoying, intriguing woman. He wanted this done. “It’s not here. She has
the phone on her person.”

  “Okay. New plan,” Henry said. “We hang around until she comes out and grab her.”

  “She’ll be frightened.”

  “Yes,” Henry said, his gaze steady.

  Renewed regret, this time on Megan Saxon’s behalf, filled Jacey as he acknowledged the truth. Not a single alternative presented itself. They’d have to scare her to snatch the phone. “I don’t suppose we can go to the dining room and have a meal?”

  “Residents only and they need to pre-book dinner. It’s not a casual thing.”

  Jacey’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. We might as well go back to the vehicle and watch for her. We can see the dining room from there, right?”

  “Yeah. We’re lucky the other cottages are vacant tonight. Less people to see us loitering around and recognize us. What are you going to do about the woman?”

  “Megan,” Jacey said.

  “What are you going to do about Megan? Are you intending to pursue the possibilities?”

  The hint of interest, the actual question from his son stopped Jacey from telling Henry to mind his business. “I don’t know.”

  “You should.”

  Jacey climbed into the cab of the SUV. He waited until Henry joined him before continuing the conversation. “She might already have someone.”

  “Was she wearing a ring?”

  Not a single piece of jewelry on her hands. “No, but that means nothing.”

  “Really? This is not the cheerful, enthusiastic and positive father of my childhood.”

  “It feels…weird. As if I’m being unfaithful to Moira.” The truth, as far as it went, but Megan drew his interest, his curiosity.

  “Opportunities like this don’t come along often,” Henry said, his brown gaze full of stormy passion and challenge. “I’d be disappointed in you, disappointed in myself, if I didn’t urge you to at least see if she might be the one for you. You’ll regret it every day if you let her walk away without at least trying.”

  “Do you think she’s friends with a wolf? Or has a boyfriend? Husband?” Jacey wasn’t normally this indecisive, but Megan Saxon’s scent got to him, raised nerves. Anticipation and a healthy dose of anxiety. What if he was making a mistake?

  “The wolf scent isn’t strong. Could be transference. If she had a mate, the scent would be stronger.”

  Jacey tapped his fingers on the dash while he eyed the dining room. Did he want to pursue her? His inner wolf whined, loud enough for Henry to hear.

  His son shifted his weight. “I think your wolf has already made your decision for you.”

  * * * * *

  Megan picked up her glass and sipped the red wine. Hints of berry and pepper teased her palate before she swallowed. She’d had misgivings about the family-style dining but it turned out dinner was a table of one tonight, which was fine since she didn’t feel like company.

  A fire crackled in the hearth while she sat at a table far enough away not to get overheated and close enough to take the chill from her bones. Subdued lighting glinted off crystal glasses and silverware. A vase containing a single pink carnation and a piece of lacy fern graced her table. Real, she discovered on fingering the greenery. She rifled through her coat, slung over the second chair at her table, to retrieve her phone, the only thing she’d brought from the cottage. She switched it on, but didn’t bother checking her text messages. Tomorrow was soon enough, but habit had her placing it within reach, in case her younger sister or her brother-in-law called.

  A swift pang of envy struck, pushed away with a sharp kick of her mind. Tessa had told her she’d regret choosing her career over having children. No! Jealousy had no place in her life, and not for a sister who sniped at her about her decisions. Tessa didn’t understand that after Charlie, work was all she’d had.

  A thin and dark-haired waitress arrived with a bowl of fragrant tomato soup dotted with herb croutons. “Enjoy,” she said with a pleasant smile.

  “Thanks,” Megan said, her stomach rumbling. “It smells great.”

  “It’s a set menu tonight. Would you like the venison or the salmon for your main course? Or we have a vegetarian option.”

  “The venison please.” She’d been craving red meat—another thing Tessa disapproved of since too much meat wasn’t healthy.

  “Good choice. It’s my favorite. The chef prepares the gravy with berries, and it makes the dish,” the waitress said and bustled toward the kitchen.

  Megan took her time with her meal, the good food relaxing her, the tension seeping from her shoulders. Plan B. She lifted her glass of wine in a toast. Yup, she was gonna do it. She could scope out the locals tomorrow when she went to meet Emily Mitchell at the café. Janet’s idea of finding a younger lover looked better and better the more she considered the different angles.

  Since it was a rugby tournament, she shouldn’t have any trouble finding a man to fit her specifications.

  It was almost two hours later when she stood, pulled on her coat and slipped her phone into her coat pocket. She bid farewell to the still smiling waitress and wandered outside to return to her cottage.

  It was cooler outside, and she staggered, feeling the effects of the bottle of wine.

  Oops. She listed to the right, over-corrected and lurched to the left. Oopsie. She giggled and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. “Not much farther,” she muttered. “Just got to get to the cottage.”

  At least she shouldn’t have problems sleeping tonight. A good thing. “Too much time wasted on worrying ’bout the future.”

  As she neared her cottage, two men appeared in front of her. She halted abruptly, blinked. Whoa! Nice specimens. She blinked again because her vision had turned fuzzy, and she hated to miss this spectacle.

  “Hello.” Her voice emerged in a husky breath, and she tipped back her head to stare up at them. No heels for her tonight. She wasn’t a shrimp, but these two men stood inches above her five foot eight.

  “Hi.” The younger one had light brown hair or it might have been dark blond. Difficult to tell in this light. It was long and with his beefy build, he reminded her of the hero of her most recent release. He studied her, and she thought she saw a flicker of interest. Her pulse jumped into a rapid cha-cha-cha. Maybe she wouldn’t need to wait until tomorrow. Tall and sexy had strolled right up to her cottage.

  The older one smiled, and she thought she saw evidence of crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but she wasn’t sure if her mind played her. Moving on. His gray hair was cut short. He moved closer. Light-colored eyes. Blue perhaps? Attractive in an older-man way. One or both of them wore a lovely aftershave. It tempted her to sidle closer. It whispered of sin.

  She turned her attention back to younger Tall and Sexy. An audition. Yeah. No point pursuing a dud. She took a stumbling step toward Tall and Sexy. The man didn’t smile, but she could fix that. She was good at fixing stuff. ’Sides, she didn’t need him to smile between the sheets. All she needed was a man who understood directions and didn’t mind following them. Younger men liked to learn things. She knew a thing or two, had amassed knowledge over the years. Yeah, teacher role would work as long as he was an apt pupil.

  Megan took another step toward the younger man and tripped. His hands shot out to grasp her hips, and she giggled. So far, so good.

  “T-thank you,” she said and beamed up at him as her fingers absorbed the hard plane of chest muscles. Nice. Time for that kiss.

  She moved her hands and linked them behind his neck, stretching at the same time, her gaze on his sensual lips. Her aim was perfect. She knew it was, but at the last instant, he turned his head and her kiss ended up on a lean, bristly cheek. Drat. Tall and Sexy smelled good though.

  A growl came from behind them, and she stiffened. Was it that dog again? He seemed to turn up and disappear at will. Tall and Sexy tensed too. His hands moved to hers and tugged them down. It was a polite brush-off, but a brush-off nonetheless. She stepped back, listed, and Tall and Sexy’s hands shot out to aid h
er balance. He caressed her back and hip, waited until she stood under her own steam and only then did he step away.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  Heat blistered her cheeks at his polite inquiry. Oh boy. She’d done it now. Made an unwanted advance. “S-sorry.” She didn’t attempt to hold his gaze, her own shooting south to stare at her favorite pair of black boots. Drinking an entire bottle of red wine hadn’t been her brightest idea.

  “Are you staying at one of the other cottages?” a rich voice asked.

  The older man, she presumed. “Yes.” She couldn’t look at either man.

  “We haven’t been here long,” Tall and Sexy said. “Wanted to stretch our legs before we retired for the night.”

  Oh. Oh! Were they…

  “Which cottage?” the older man asked. “My son and I will escort you home.”

  “N-no. I’m fine. Don’t have far to walk.” She willed steel to her traitorous limbs and took a jerky step toward her cottage. One foot after the other. She could do this. She would do this.

  Two minutes later, she arrived at her door. A security light switched on, almost blinding her.

  “Let me.” Tall and Sexy’s arm reached past her to open her front door.

  Megan frowned. She was sure she’d locked her door. Maybe not. She’d left in a hurry because she’d been running late for her dinnertime. Besides, it was so quiet here.

  She turned to face the two men and swallowed. They were both gorgeous specimens. Father and son. They didn’t bear similar features, but they both stared back at her unblinking and with a military air. Neither smiled this time, their stern features bringing another rush of heat to her cheeks. She, who never blushed or became flustered, had blushed twice in five minutes.

  “Thank you,” she said, suddenly very sober and aware of her shortcomings. She turned away and stepped over the cottage threshold, sucking in a quick breath. She forced herself to turn and face their stern faces again. “Good night.”

  She shut the door and wished she could wipe away her shameless actions of the last ten minutes as easily. If she met Tall and Sexy again during the weekend, she’d repeat her apology. Hopefully, he wouldn’t make a big deal of her drunken state and tell the press. As a public figure, she needed to take care with her reputation. A sobering reminder. She couldn’t let this setback derail her. While she could and would move ahead with Plan B, she’d refrain from drinking and choose wisely.