“Do I what?” he asked. “Believe in something?”
“Yes. Love, for example?”
He hesitated, sweeping a hand through his hair with the practice of a prep schoolboy. “Couldn’t say. Perhaps I’m more like my father than I thought.”
She seemed disappointed. “And your mother? Your biological mother will be joining us?”
“Dead. Don’t include any mention of her or Bella will riot and burn the party to the ground.”
She nodded. “Sounds like a cheery family dynamic.”
“Are you a therapist or an events planner?”
“You’d be surprised how much one role bleeds into the other.”
“And you?” he asked. “Are you a bleeding romantic?”
She offered a smile so biting that it nearly gave him shivers. “I used to, but I believe in different sorts of love now. For Oliver, for instance.”
He took a swig of his whiskey. “Fiancé leave you at the altar?” he joked and knew immediately that it had been a mistake. Her eyes turned to cool stones of frozen honey.
“Before the altar, thankfully,” she said with a dark laugh. “But after the baby, unfortunately.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Marcy, I—”
She held a hand. “Don’t worry. You didn’t know. Let’s chat about the party. I promise not to psychoanalyze your family anymore, deal?”
“Deal,” he said uneasily and slammed down the rest of his whiskey. “I suppose I’ll be buying you a steak tonight.”
“You’re damn right.”
His lips turned up into a tantalizing smirk. “I think you might be the only person that can pull off my father’s birthday.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“You’re about as feisty as the old man,” he said with a laugh. He enjoyed watching a soft pink color bloom up her throat and onto her face. It made her look even more delectable. They talked of the party, of his families, of his summers spent dodging his father’s perfectionist fury. He told her things he’d never told another person…especially a woman, before. There was no pillow talk with Blade’s lovers. It was always business and lust. Emotions were off the table.
And yet…
Marcy’s laugh was enchanting. It was like listening to music for the first time.
“What’s my job tomorrow?” he asked her.
She smiled devilishly, a gesture that caused a primal urge stirring inside him. “You’ll see.” She clinked her refreshed cocktail glass to his tumbler of whiskey. “You’ll see, Blade.”
He felt a stir of excitement inside of him. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time.
Marcy
The next day, she was ready for him. With a striped apron tied around her waist, she revealed their planned activities for the day.
He stared at her. “You want me to bake?”
“I mostly want you to watch Oliver,” she admitted. “You can try to bake if you want.” He shook his head furiously, his handsome head of thick hair flying. Odd to see such a powerful specimen of a man terrified of baking. Was he a man? Or a beast? She shivered and pushed the delectable thought away. Her cookbooks sat open on the counter, ready to be followed. She knew them all by heart now, but it was always nice to have them there. They were more for comfort than anything. Her fingers spread across the page and she grinned.
“The best smell in the world is from the pages of a cookbook,” she informed him. He raised an eyebrow, busy dangling things in front of Oliver’s delighted face.
“I’ll trust your judgment on that.”
She began to collect all of the bowls that she needed and utensils, shiny and clean from their fresh bath in the dishwasher. Truthfully, the custom pastries were always a delight with guests at parties, but she found an odd sort of joy when baking. It was so different from the calling and scheduling of events planning, the constant hustle and bustle of her e-mail inbox.
“Do you like chocolate?” she asked as she began unloading things from her grocery trip.
“Who doesn’t?” he asked and laughed as Oliver grabbed his finger. “Strong baby.”
“What about your father?”
“He likes the occasional sweets, but Bella will go mad over anything chocolate. I always caught her binge eating chocolate late at night when I was home from boarding school,” he said with a smirk.
“She’s only twelve years older than you, right?” Marcy asked with a raised brow. “That must’ve been odd growing up.”
“I thought you said you were going to stop playing family therapist,” he said with a half-grin. Oliver was babbling happily as he tugged on Blade’s finger. She smiled at them both.
“Fair enough,” she said and began her work. First, she needed to make samples of the potential offerings. There would be about three-hundred guests, and he’d informed her that Bella, along with many of her socialite friends, had recently adopted a vegan diet. This meant that she’d make two versions of distinct, but similar pastries. She didn’t want anyone eating a non-vegan cupcake by accident.
“Do you really need to go through all this work?” he asked. He’d moved to holding Oliver now, supporting the baby surprisingly well with a firm grasp. “Oliver says you work too hard.”
“Oh, does he?” she asked with a little grin. “He should know. He’s the one making me work too hard at night.”
“Is he sleeping through the night?” he asked and then furrowed his brow. “I’ve never been around babies this much. I’ve got no idea how much they sleep.”
She laughed. “They sleep like drunk cats prone to crying. Sleeping through the night will be a pipe dream for a few more months, unfortunately. He’s good about sleeping for the most part though. I can’t complain.” She shrugged and then began to measure out heaps of flour on her digital scale. “What’s your favorite thing to cook?”
“I know my favorite thing to order to cook,” he confessed with a slightly ashamed glance. She threw a look of disbelief towards him.
“You don’t cook?” she asked. He shook his head. “Ever?”
“Never,” he replied coolly. It was as if she was looking at a Prince of Shifters. He was poised with Oliver in such a calm manner that it suddenly struck her that Oliver rarely cried when Blade was around. Her baby boy seemed able to provide rapt attention only towards Blade’s every facial expression, utterly enchanted by his wild edges.
Perhaps she was, too, enchanted by those striking features. She swallowed hard. Her mouth was too dry.
Blade furrowed his brow. “Is it upsetting?” he asked and then made a stab at a better guess. “No, disappointing. I’m a grown man.”
“It’s not,” she corrected. “Did you cook with your mother at all?”
He smiled, it was professional and perfectly polite. Underneath, there was a great sadness that she wanted to reach out and touch.
“You said you wouldn’t play therapist anymore,” he said and set Oliver in his playpen, which had been relocated to the open waiting area, safe away from any sharp utensils and electric appliances. He had her there, she thought, nibbling her lip with worry.
“You’re right,” she muttered. “I suppose it’s usually easier for me to think of ideas for the pastries, you know. Families always have some sort of traditions and—” She stopped herself as her eyes widened. “And I think I just got an idea.”
He watched and helped, with occasional breaks to console an Oliver who was worried that his infant presence had been completely forgotten. At the end of the afternoon, after laughing with bits of flour flung on both their bodies, she presented the creations. At first, his jaw opened. Then he laughed.
“Do you like it?” she pressed with a biting smile.
“I love it.”
She’d made the perfect pastries alright. Gourmet chocolate cupcakes with candied toppings that resembled gold bars and coins. Blade confessed that his father might actually keel over in dark humor and have a heart attack at his own party.
“I’ve
never had a party end in death,” she said and then scrunched up her nose. “Although I’m not sure I’d ever bragged about that.”
He smirked and she realized that there was a bit of frosting on his lip. She pointed to it and almost instinctively moved her hand towards his mouth. Just as she was about to brush the frosting away, her eyes widened, and she jerked her hand back when she realized what she was doing.
“Sorry, I’m used to doing that with Oli,” she said with pink cheeks. He laughed and licked the frosting away, causing deliciously bad thoughts to scurry into her mind. She turned away and cleared her throat.
They were done for today.
And somehow, she thought with a nervous stir, something had shifted between them.
Blade
“Gorgeous,” Blade muttered to himself at his desk. Marcus picked his head up and craned his neck towards his boss from over near the filing cabinets on the far side of the room.
“Sorry, Sir. What did you say?”
Had he said the damn thing out loud? “Nothing,” Blade said quickly and cleared his throat. He’d been thinking of Marcy yesterday, bent over her counter, hair spilling over her shoulder as she flipped through her cookbooks. Of Marcy, looking sad and perfectly delicious, during their awkward dinner conversation.
And her scent. There was something about Marcy’s scent. It was like freshly baked cookies mixed with his favorite whiff of whiskey. How could a woman smell that good? Marcus didn’t say anything as he left, and Blade was grateful. His assistant had definitely noticed how lost in thought Blade had been getting lately.
Well, that’s why he paid Marcus good money, to not ask questions. Blade sipped his coffee, his third today. The great thing about being a Shifter was higher energy… usually. But, his dreams had been haunted by Marcy’s honey eyes and her intoxicating smell. He groaned once he was sure Marcus was back at his desk. Blade was losing it.
He considered his options. The rest of the day was full of work. He’d delegated most of the duties on his new babysitting days to Marcus and their team. But, he had to work hard on his days in the office. He had a strong urge for a cigarette, something he hadn’t wanted since he was a teenager.
“I’m going down to a café,” he told Marcus. “Gonna get some air.” He brought his laptop bag with him. On his way, he tried to admire the other gorgeous women milling about on their days. His barista was cute. She smiled sweetly when she handed over his double-shot espresso. And yet… there was nothing. Nothing stirred in him. He sat with a storm cloud over his head near the bar at the window. The businessman seated next to him scooted over one chair with a fearful glance.
Blade sighed and opened up his laptop. As he ran through his emails, responding quickly and without pleasantries, he sipped his espresso. It was bitter but lifting his spirits at least. A flash of deep purple caught his eye from beyond the window. He looked up and his eyes widened.
Marcy was walking down the street, chuckling happily and throwing her head back with a smile. His eyes darted to the person beside her, a handsomely dressed man in sharp button-up shirt and slacks. A sudden wave of jealousy and annoyance came over Blade, one like he’d never experienced before. Maybe in puberty, once. But this was different. It hit him like a punch in the stomach. He downed the rest of the espresso and watched the two disappear into a store. With a quick movement, he slammed the laptop in his bag and gave chase.
What was he doing? He couldn’t stop himself. All he could think about was how Marcy’s fragrance was pulling him like an enchanted leash towards the boutique the duo had gone inside. He didn’t bother reading the title of the store, only dove in madly behind them. He could still hear them laughing. The two were at the counter of what he now realized was a bar. A bar in the middle of the day? He nearly grabbed the man by the neck but calmed himself. He was not the animal inside him. Not right now.
“Marcy,” he called in a casual voice. The pair turned and Marcy’s eyes lit up as she saw him.
“Blade! What are you doing here?”
Blade offered them both a friendly smile but made sure his pointed canines were flashed towards the man, who was staring at him without a worry in the world.
“I was passing by and saw you. My office is nearby,” he explained and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
She grinned. “Well, I’m glad you did, I’d like you to meet someone.”
His stomach dropped as the other man extended his hand with a broad grin.
“This is my Charles,” she announced with grandeur, “He’s one of the best scotch experts I could find for your father’s party!”
A wave of relief like he’d never known crashed over Blade as Charles extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Blade,” he said in a charming voice. So, it was work! A boyish shame crawled up Blade’s neck as he shook the offered hand.
“You’re a scotch man, wonderful.” He glanced towards Marcy. “Glad to see you’re working hard.”
“Would you like to join us for a tasting?” Charles asked. Blade laughed and checked his watch.
“Unfortunately, I can’t. Just wanted to say hello. I’ve got a meeting in about a half hour.
Was it his imagination or did Marcy seem disappointed? They said their goodbyes, and he headed out the door. Just as he was about to head out, an elegant hand grabbed him by the shoulder. He glanced down to see Marcy smiling up at him.
“I forgot to tell you,” she said. “You can come a little bit later than usual tomorrow. Feel free to sleep in. I know you’re working a lot lately.”
He cocked his head and grinned. “Worried about me?”
“Babies can be tiring,” she said simply with a shrug, but a ghost of an impish smile was on her face. He wondered what she looked like mad. Probably even more arousing, the beast inside him argued. He hoped they wouldn’t find out.
“I get up at six in the morning most days but thank you.” He glanced to his office building and then back to her. “Let me know if you’d like me to take you for a tour sometime in my building.”
Her eyes sparked with something, an elusive thing that he couldn’t identify.
“Have a good day, Blade,” she said softly and then retreated back into the bar. Her scent haunted him for the next several hours.
Marcy
“He’s so into you,” Charles said immediately upon her return to the bar. “And you’re into him.”
“Charles!” she said, scandalized. Charles lifted one teasing eyebrow and crossed his arms. In a softer voice, she asked, “You think he likes me?”
“Gay men rarely miss these things,” he said with a shrug. “Did you see how fast he ran inside here? He probably thought that I was trying to put the moves on you.”
“I didn’t even think about that…”
“Yeah, because you know that I’m very much in love with my husband. But, he thought I was some handsome guy trying to bring you to a bar in the middle of the day.” He simmered in knowing that he was right, and she laughed.
“Let’s get to the scotch then.”
---
The next day, Marcy felt like she was dancing. Even Oliver seemed to be smiling more as she moved throughout the house.
“You excited to see your new friend?” she asked Oliver playfully. The baby babbled something incoherent and began playing with the stuffed animal in front of him. She made their breakfasts, putting on a soft upbeat playlist. She cleaned as she went, feeling a spark of energy as she moved throughout the kitchen and dining room.
Blade was set to arrive in about twenty minutes. Her stomach flipped at the thought of him walking through the door. Suddenly, she was nervous. When was the last time that a crush made her feel this way? She blushed, thinking that it must’ve been all the way back in high school. She’d taken care to dress casual but cute today with a pair of form-fitting jeans and a tight v-neck t-shirt. Jewelry was always off the table with Oliver around though, she thought with a smirk. Her son liked to grab anything and everything. Shiny and
dangly things were always off the table.
It was a week until the party. They had the location booked and the preparations made with the vendors. She had hired a small staff to help her the day of, and the hotel they were rented would provide the necessary waitstaff.
“Will you attend as a guest?” Blade asked when he arrived. He came in toting two lattes, a bag of pastries, and a jar of organic apple sauce from the bakery down the street. He glanced down at his moving fist. “I’m guessing Oliver doesn’t take coffee.”
A slow smile found its way to her face. She winked. “You guessed right. And I don’t always attend as a guest to parties. Most people prefer me in a nice blazer with a clipboard.”
Oliver accepted a spoonful of applesauce from Marcy as the adults split their coffee. On her digital tablet, she presented Blade with a sleek presentation.
“I’m not most people,” he said finally. “I’d like you to attend in the same formal wear. You’ve planned for everything. You might as well enjoy your own event.”
“Everything’s prepared except for the band’s music. We went with the string quartet.”
“Right, right,” he muttered as he flipped through the slides with an expert hand. “All the plans look good.”
“How did you know that I liked scones?” she asked as she opened the bag of pastries.
“Just guessed,” he said with his charming smile. It disarmed her completely. She shoved a bite in her mouth to keep from drooling over him. “You never answered my question though. Are you coming as a guest?” His deep voice sent a thrilling chill through her. She swallowed the scone.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe,” he repeated with a quirked eyebrow. “What’s a man have to do to get a yes from a beautiful woman?”
“Beautiful?” she echoed. It’d been a while since a man had called her beautiful. She wasn’t counting her lying ex-fiancé’s compliments. She grabbed a sip of coffee and shrugged. “Ok, then maybe I’ll come. Everything’s planned… I didn’t expect us to get through the work so quickly, she admitted.” She glanced at Oliver who was still enjoying his applesauce and waving his spoon around as a clear request for seconds.
The Baby Shift- Pennsylvania Page 2