A Hollywood Shifters' Christmas: BBW Tiger Shifter Paranormal Romance (6 page)

“Won’t that cost poor Dennis a lot?”

“He’s not going to find out. He’s never asked me for anything before—and if he balks, I’ll insist it’s an early Christmas present. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

He tipped his chin toward the door. “There’s plenty of food left if you’re hungry, or we can go out.”

“Neither. What I want right now is exactly what I have: it’s just us, husband,” Jan said, rising at last and tugging him in the direction of their bedroom.

JP said with his elegant, glinting smile, “Any idea what to do, wife?”

“Give you three guesses. No. One.”

He laughed, and kissed her.

Chapter Eight

Mindy kept it together during the short drive from the LaFleur estate to Dennis’s modest house on a side street filled with little houses.

Dennis yawned a couple times as they drove, apparently okay with the silence, while her thoughts roiled. She wanted to talk, but she didn’t know what to say. That fear of marriage, of weddings, of vows so easily broken—she could laugh about jinxes, but she
believed
it.

And couldn’t get past it.

Dennis parked the car, and they got out. Each noise in the soft night air was distinct: the thunk of the Jeep doors, the high metallic clatter of keys, the muffled metal clicking of a lock.

Their footsteps. Dennis’s breathing right behind her.

She whirled and faced him. “Make love to me,” she whispered. “I want wild, mind-blowing Dennis-my-Menace sex.”

Dennis grinned as he yanked off his tie and dropped it on the table. “Your wish is my command, Mork.”

The expensive, carefully chosen periwinkle blue dress went flying, landing unnoticed over a lampshade, followed by his shirt. Dennis grabbed Mindy by the shoulders, kissing her wildly as she dug her hands into his hair, and raked them over his back, and plunged her fingers into the front of his pants so she could close her fingers around his cock.

He pulled away from her only long enough to get rid of his pants, boxers, and socks, and then he took command of her mouth, his talented tongue making her moan against his lips.

He palmed her breasts, thumbs ravishing her nipples, and then he took her by the waist, whirled her around, and threw her top half on the bed.

Her legs were still on the floor, her butt in the air.

“Spread ‘em,” he growled.

“Oh, yes,” she hissed, and did, arching her hips up high.

He slid in with exquisite slowness until she moaned, “Take me now!”

He obeyed, and began thrusting fast and hard, his hands sliding beneath her to fondle and squeeze her breasts. He pinched her nipples with each thrust, jolting electric zaps of pleasure deep into her core as he worked deeply into her, hitting every pleasure point.

Faster and faster he plunged into her until she howled with a release so hard her vision went white. He rode her down from the heights, coming at last, his pulses mingling with hers and lengthening the afterglow.

Then they collapsed together onto the bed, sweaty, unable to move.

She lay in his arms smiling with contentment—but sleep was still far away.

Presently she turned her head, and in the dim glow of moonlight through the curtains, she caught a gleam in his eyes. He, too, was wide awake.

“Mork?”

“Menace,” she murmured against his chest, and lazily licked the nipple that poked her cheek. “You are wonderful. Wonderful.”

“And so are you. Better than wonderful—amazing,” he said. “Dammit, my brain is too fried to find words except the obvious.”

“I’ll take the obvious,” she murmured into his skin.

He slid his arm around her, moving his weight so they spooned together, then his low, purring voice whispered next to her ear, “Last night was amazing, too. We were both pretty owl-eyed today. And we can have another night like that tonight. And tomorrow. As many as you like.”

“That would be every night.”

“Heh. But really, my sweet Mindy. I’m not ordinarily one to question a good thing—the best thing ever to happen to me—but is there a reason we’ve been a couple of bunnies since hitting L.A.?”

“I want mind-blowing sex . . . because I don’t have to think,” she murmured, feeling her body winding down at last.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to think?” he asked, his strong, warm arms tight around her.

She closed her eyes, her body melting. Their relationship, the miracle she had never thought to have, was suspended in contentment and utter bliss. She recognized her fear: a word, the wrong word—like marriage—might shatter it. Her dear, maverick Dennis seemed to be as content as she was with things exactly as they were.

Let him bring it up
, she thought sleepily.
Then I’ll deal
.

Okay, so maybe that was cowardly, but she was okay with that. She’d be okay if he never brought it up, because then the miracle could be suspended, outside of time, and they could continue just as they were.

As she began falling down into slumber, a little part of her mind remembered his question, and she murmured, “Just old baggage,” her voice hoarse with sleep.

She was barely conscious of him pulling the covers over them before she dropped into slumber.

* * *

Dennis had everything squared away before Mindy woke up. All she had to do was get ready, and they’d be on their way back to L.A.

Basically, he had one day to pull it all together, for most of this day would be taken up in travel, and on the 23
rd
Mick’s thing, and the 24
th
. . . Zero Hour.

His first chore, early that morning, had been to take his phone outside, where there was no chance of Mindy waking and hearing, and he called his mother.

“How was the wedding, sweetie?” she asked. “I wish I could have been there, but you know we booked ourselves into this stint here at the shelter, and they are always short of volunteers. Especially around the holidays.”

Dennis’s mother, uncle, and aunt volunteered at animal rescue centers when they weren’t fostering animals themselves. Right now they had no fosterlings, so they were working their way around some of the big rescue centers in other states.

“Great wedding,” Dennis said. “How’s it going in Utah?”

“Excellent, though they are always in need of funds, and vets, and help. But you know all that. Did you call about the wedding?”

“No, I called for some advice.”

“Is everything going okay with your Mindy? Your father said he met her right before he took off on his deployment, and liked her a lot. I hope this one is lasting?”

He snuck a look around like a kid, then said, “Mom, I want to marry her.”

From the other end of the phone came the sound of his mother taking a deep breath. “Dennis, this is wonderful news. Now I really wish I could have been there.”

“She doesn’t know. She’s real gun-shy around families and weddings,” Dennis said. “If I told you half the shit she’s seen in that family of hers, you’d ask me what I’ve been smoking.”

“That sounds . . . kind of sad.”

“It is. But I intend to put in some serious time making it up to her. Beginning with the best, awesomest proposal I can think of. At her favorite restaurant. With her favorite music, even, thanks to JP. The guys and their wives will be there, and she doesn’t know a thing. But what I need is a ring.”

“What kind of ring? Does she expect a diamond? I don’t really know much about them, except that the good ones can get pretty pricey.”

“I can’t afford what I’d love to give her—and the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that a big-ass diamond from a famous jeweler wouldn’t mean jack to her. If she wanted one, she could fly to New York, walk into Tiffany’s, and pick one out.”

His mom paused, and there were some muffled phone noises, then she said, “Your dad did mention she was wealthy.”

“Wealthy! That’s an understatement. But that’s not why I want to marry her.”

His mom said briskly, “Of course not. You’ve never been motivated by money, or you wouldn’t be chasing stories about tsetse flies and gunrunners in remote corners of the world.”

“Got that right.” Dennis grinned. “So what do I do about a ring?”

“I’ve got an idea,” his mom said. “And if she doesn’t like it, then you two can arrange something else. But if you look in the carved wood box in your father’s bottom drawer, there’s an old satin-covered ring box. In that is Mary O’Keefe’s wedding ring—your great-great grandmother on your dad’s side—brought over from Ireland. Your great-grandmother wore it, but your grandmother didn’t. She wanted something big and fancy that she’d picked out herself, and she took it with her when she divorced your granddad and moved out of Sanluce.”

Dennis snuck another look around. “Were they mates, those old grandparents of mine?”

“On my side, yes. And on his, your great-grandparents had a long and happy marriage, but not Granddad O’Keefe. He was never much of a talker, especially after the divorce.”

“Yeah, I remember that much. Thanks, Mom. That’s a great idea.”

“I want to meet her, Dennis.”

“You will,” he promised.

“Oh, and you’ll probably have to get the ring resized,” she warned. “Measure it against one of her rings, if you want to preserve your surprise.”

“Got it. Thanks.” He was smiling when he rang off.

He slipped back inside, and found the ring where his mother had said it was, in his dad’s militarily neat chest of drawers. He took the ancient ring box with the ring inside it, shoved it into a sock, then stuck that in his go-bag.

Another call at ten on the dot, and Dennis discovered that Winters, the legal shark, was as good as his rep, and the prenup was ready to go.

He had done as much as he could by phone. The rest he needed to do in person.

The phone rang right before Dennis’s toast popped up. It was Shelley, wondering when they wanted to return to L.A.

Dennis turned toward the bedroom—to discover a sleepy Mindy standing in the doorway. “Breakfast?” she said. “You are a darling.”

“Shelley wants to know when we’ll be ready to take off,” he said.

Mindy smiled. “I can be ready in an hour.”

Shelley said it was perfect, and an hour and a half later they were climbing into the sky, zooming in and out of clouds, from fog to sunshine.

As soon as they leveled off, Shelley said to Mindy, “Jan and I are getting together for a relaxing lunch on the 23
rd
, before things start going crazy for Mick’s premier. We’d really like you to join us.”

Mindy said, “Sure. I’d love to. That reminds me. I still would like to hear about the pilot, if that’s not too old news for you.”

“Not at all,” Shelley said. “Talking roles are new for me. I’m in Mick’s film, but just as an evil biker chick who gets in a few fights, and a mountain chase as I try to kill the hero.”

“Oh, that must have been fun,” Mindy said.

Shelley grinned, and the rest of the flight was pretty much taken up by the history behind the television show pilot.

When they landed in Santa Monica, Shelley took off for the Hollywood Hills as Dennis and Mindy returned to her apartment. As soon as she went into the bathroom, he sprinted to her jewelry case, and picked up a ring to measure it against the old-fashioned, tiny diamond ring in the case.

They were the same size.

He stood there, eyeing the rings in distrust, thinking he was doing it wrong, but when he shoved the one onto his forefinger, then tried the other, it came to exactly the same spot. He hastily replaced Mindy’s ring in the case and turned to his go-bag to hide the old ring, resisting the temptation to think it a sign of anything except pure luck.

Maybe there really was a such thing as mate destiny, but one thing he was sure of was how lucky he was to have found Mindy. Lucky that she was in his life, and really, really lucky that she seemed to love him as much as he loved her.

He pulled out his phone and turned the ringer back on before checking it. There were a couple calls from Mick and JP, one from the lawyer, and  . . . how did that asshole Atkins get his number?

That one even had a message, which Dennis deleted without listening to it.

Maybe he should consider himself lucky that he had annoyances like Atkins hassling him, or he might begin to believe his life was too good to be true.

Chapter Nine

Mindy had arranged for the rental car in case Dennis wanted one. Her car was a ten-year-old Honda that she’d had modified for serious speed when she needed it, and she’d added some extras, like side cameras. As she drove up into the Hollywood Hills toward Mick’s place, she wondered if she was going to give up her investigative job.

No, came the immediate answer. She’d worked hard to learn her skill set, including driving this car safely at high speeds if she needed to tail a target. Maybe if Dennis ever wanted help, she might widen her scope beyond cheating sleazebag husbands.

If
he wanted help.

She knew he was used to working on his own, except for an occasional team effort, like the one that had earned the European prize. Dennis had done the digging on the American criminal who’d ganged up with a bunch of Europeans to rip off investors who believed they were donating to medical emergency relief.

Dennis had taken a couple of small jobs while they’d sailed on the
Robin
, both of which he’d been able to investigate and write up in a matter of a couple days. They’d simply required someone with knowhow on the spot.

Both jobs had required him to contact people he already knew, and he’d said that if he was alone, his contacts would talk freely, whereas if an unknown person was along they’d be friendly and social, but clam up. She’d accepted that, and also accepted him hunching over his laptop in the cabin, banging away with two fingers until he was done, then using the ship-to-shore satellite connection to send off the stories.

This past day, he’d been doing a lot of errands, and once or twice she’d seen a tight-lipped expression that made her wonder if in fact he was on another job.

As she eased up the narrow, winding street, she thought about that. Were they both waiting for the other to speak, or did he really want to keep his career separate from their relationship?

She found Mick’s house, parked, and a few minutes later Shelley herself answered the door, and said, “Come on in. We’re holed up in the den. I ordered Mexican food—hope you like it.”

“Love it,” Mindy said.

She stepped down into a comfortable room with mostly masculine furniture—big comfy chairs and clean lines in subtle shades of silver and brown. Framed pictures on the wall turned out to be Shelley, wearing leather, doing heart-stopping tricks in midair while astride a motorcycle. Maybe this wasn’t a masculine room after all. Maybe it was a blend of Mick’s and Shelley’s taste.

“Hi, Mindy,” Jan said from a long, low window seat, where she’d curled up on a pillow.

“Want some wine?” Shelley asked.

“Only if you’re drinking it,” Mindy said. “Otherwise, I’m fine with whatever you’re having.” She noticed ginger ale and water bottles alongside a lone wine bottle, so far unopened.

“Then you’ve got a choice between water and ginger ale.”

“Water’s great. Thanks!” Mindy twisted the top off. “How’s married life so far?” Mindy turned to Jan.

“Awesome.” Jan grinned. “Thanks again for your help the other night.”

Shelley tipped her chin toward the buffet on the other side of the room. “Help yourself.” She picked up her loaded plate and sank into one of the big chairs that, Mindy noted, fitted her perfectly.

Yeah, this was not a ‘his’ room, it was definitely ‘his and hers.’

She got up to help herself to the delicious-looking enchiladas, chimichangas, and tamales, sat down, and then totally surprised herself by saying, “Is it really different than who you were last week?”

“Marriage?” Jan asked. At Mindy’s nod, she said, “In a way I can’t answer that because everything is different. I’ve gone from another L.A. wannabe singer to grooming for mayorship in a small town that last summer I’d never heard of.”

“Royalty,” Shelley said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“It feels like it, in a way,” Jan said. She exchanged a look with Shelley, which made Mindy feel they had some secret to share.

Shelley must have seen something in her expression, because she said quickly, “I’m pregnant—and morning sickness doesn’t hit until late, so I can eat what I want right now. Uh, and there’s a pretty good chance Jan is pregnant, too. So there’s that.”

Mindy sat back. Yet another way she was an outsider—but she understood. These women were farther along a path she was still unsure about, maybe unsure she was even capable of taking.

“And that doesn’t even get into the shifter world,” Jan said. “Because there’s a high probability that any kids we have will be shifters.”

Mindy nodded. She hadn’t had a thought in
that
direction, but with Dennis and her being shifters, she figured that probability extended to them—double.

“Anyway, about marriage. My dad dumped us when I was young,” Jan said. “My mom was so bitter she was the last I would have turned to for advice about relationships. But we had Thanksgiving with Shelley’s folks, since they couldn’t come to the wedding.”

“One of my brothers is expecting his first, like, any minute now,” Shelley said.

“Mrs. Willis is a pretty practical woman.” Jan’s smile flared. “A high school sports teacher, with a whole bunch of sons before she had a daughter. Not much for touchie-feelie, if you know what I mean.”

Shelley gave a crack of laughter. “Not a speck. I didn’t even have a dress, and didn’t want one, until I was in grade school and needed a skirt for a ballet thing. Then I had to learn how to wear one.”

Jan waited till she was done, and turned her smile to Mindy. “That’s Mrs. Willis, all right. But after dinner she took me outside and said, ‘You know that the wedding doesn’t make the marriage, right? No matter how fancy it is. That’s just a fancy party. To make a wedding into a marriage, you’ve got to think of it as a wedding every day. And a negotiation. And sometimes a rescue, which means having each other’s back, even when you’re pissed off at the other’s pig-headedness. And that’s all before you wake up and find yourselves parents.’”

“Wow,” Mindy said on a half-laugh.

“I know, I said pretty much the same thing. When we got home, JP told me that his idea of a marriage is a never-ending conversation that will only end with us,” Jan finished.

Mindy’s head rang. Marriage as
conversation
. The idea was so new, and yet so obvious, it nearly made her giddy.
That must have been what my great-grandmother had
, she realized. The rest of her family sure hadn’t: they were full of secrets, lies, competition, ambitions, and arguments, which were
not
conversation, because each party said the same thing over and over, only louder. “Conversation,” she repeated, and she remembered herself on the boat, happily counting up all the things she and Dennis talked about.

Jan waved a taco. “Hey. Eat up before it gets cold.”

“Yeah,” Shelley said. “And now I’m going to bore you with a private, special screening of our pilot. With live commentary.”

Since Mindy loved action movies, especially with interesting females, she settled down with anticipation, and wasn’t disappointed. At first it was strange seeing Shelley on the tube, but she soon fell into the story, and consequently began looking forward to the screening part of the premier later that evening.

The lunch broke up mid-afternoon as everyone had to get ready, Shelley first of all.

Mick had arranged for a limo to pick the other four up, in order to keep parking hassles to a minimum. Dennis got back to her apartment about five minutes after Mindy did, and there was such an air of mystery—of secrecy—about him that she thought
Conversation. Begin with conversation
.

Then,
Wait a minute
. Somehow she had mentally gone from jinx to what-if, without even realizing it. Did she really want to get married?

She was totally unsure about that.

Did she want to get married
to Dennis?

All of a sudden the answer was easy: God, yes.

But they had a limo arriving in under an hour.

“Shower together?” he asked.

“I’ll start the water,” she said, flinging off her clothes.

It felt so good to share a shower. They soaped each other, exchanging a few kisses under the water, but there wasn’t time for more. Her hair was still damp when the concierge called up to let them know the limo was there. She shrugged—with Hollywood’s glam crowd showing up for this thing, no one would look twice at a woman with poodle hair, wet or dry.

The limo had a bar, but they decided against drinking, what with a long night ahead. Mindy sensed tension and excitement in Dennis, though they were on time, and didn’t have to do anything more than show up.

“How many of these have you gone to?” she asked.

“This is my first,” Dennis said. “Mick didn’t have all-the-fixings premiers until the last few pictures, and I was always on the other side of the world.”

She nodded; that must explain the vibe she was getting off him.

The limo drove up the short distance to JP’s place, where the LaFleurs were ready. They slid into the seats opposite Dennis and Mindy, JP looking more elegant than James Bond in his tux, and Jan wearing a filmy thing from Deborah Viereck.

Jan said, “That’s a Viereck, right? You look awesome in black and white.”

They happily talked Los Angeles fashion, then compared their shoes—Jan loved beautiful shoes as much as Mindy did—during the equally short ride to Hollywood Blvd.

The police had cleared the way, so the ride wasn’t very long—but they had to wait in a row of cars as guests were checked off, then let out one by one. When they were three cars back, they could see the ornate architecture of Grauman’s Chinese, the red carpet under the klieg lights, and media people with their cameras as well as a sizable crowd kept back behind velvet ropes.

JP and Jan slid out first, and Mindy watched a PR flunky with an Ipad cueing an announcer.

As Dennis and Mindy got out, the announcer burbled about “Famous A&R Scout and music entrepreneur Jean-Paul LaFleur, and his bride, opera star Jan LaFleur!”

The audience clapped as the two walked up the aisle, and Mindy amused herself by wondering what the poor PR flunky had dug up about her—or if she’d only rate a ‘plus one.’

An earwigged PR person nodded to them. They started up the red carpet, and the announcer said, “Prize-winning, globe-trotting investigative photojournalist Dennis O’Keefe—”

A hand reached over the velvet barrier and grabbed Mindy’s elbow.

She tried to jerk free, staring with shock into the sweaty face of some guy, who said in an urgent, angry voice, “Listen, lady, you better tell your pal that Mr. Atkins doesn’t appreciate his offers being ignored—”

Dennis rounded on him like a tiger, but the security guys got there first, bodily pulling the man back. The security and the guy were soon swallowed in the crowd.

As Dennis and Mindy had stopped, causing a blip in the proceedings and a lot of questions and comments from the crowd, the announcer said easily, “Looks like Dennis is working on his next story already, eh, Dennis? Should L.A.’s criminal element be worried?”

His eyes glinted yellowish as he leaned toward the mic and said in his chesty growl, “They better run, because I’m right on their heels.”

The crowd loved this unexpected bit of drama. “Woohoo!” and “All right!” followed Dennis and Mindy up the rest of the red carpet, until they passed through the doors into the spectacular lobby of the theater.

Mindy clung to Dennis’s arm. “What was all that about? Do you even know?”

“Just some asshole who tried to bribe me. I don’t know why, and don’t give a fuck. Never read all the way through either message.”

“Well, at least he’s gone now,” Mindy said. “Oh, there are Jan and JP. Over by—whoa, is that LL Cool J?” She closed her mouth, realizing that she was about to geek out over faces she recognized.

Dennis slipped her arm around here. “You’re the most interesting person here,” he murmured into the top of her hair. “As for these other guys, they put their pants on one leg at a time same as anyone else.”

“Yeah, but everyone else doesn’t do it on the big screen all over the world,” she retorted, trying to smile as people glanced their way. Most of them turned again, obviously not recognizing them and not interested.
Just like high school
, she thought, and smothered a laugh.

The thickest crowd was gathered around Mick and the others who’d worked on the film. Voices rose in chatter. Mindy didn’t even try to make out individual words, as more guests crowded in behind. Her shoes were beginning to pinch when at last the doors opened, and the mass moved slowly toward the aisles to be seated.

Jan leaned over to address Dennis. “What was that about, outside? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Just some asshole who thinks I’m in town to hassle him.”

JP said, “Obviously has no idea you were here a few weeks ago, undercover.”

“Which is the way I usually try to keep it whenever I have to deal with L.A.,” Dennis said, looking annoyed. And in a lower voice, to Mindy, “You okay, Mork?”