A Hollywood Shifters' Christmas: BBW Tiger Shifter Paranormal Romance (7 page)

“Sure,” she said. “He grabbed my arm for about two seconds before the security guard pulled him away. No big.”

Dennis hissed out his breath. “Fucktard. He’s lucky I didn’t get there first. He’d be digesting his teeth.”

Mick walked up on stage at that moment, and the audience fell silent.

After his short talk, that was mostly callouts to people in the production team as well as the stars, the film began, and Mindy sank happily into it. Shelley’s Evil Biker Chick was one of the highlights, as far as she was concerned. Shelley kicked ass with style in the fight, even if it was choreographed.

When it was over, Jan and Mindy walked out together, Mindy exclaiming in delight, ending with, “Shelley was by far my favorite. And I wish I could wear those boots.”

“Speaking as another short girl, I totally agree,” Jan said.

They were funneled to the post-show reception, which was wall to wall people. It wasn’t long before the sheer mass movement of the crowd separated Mindy from the rest. She tried peering over heads, then with relief found Dennis elbowing his way toward her.

“Want to stay?”

She shook her head. “There’s no getting near Mick and Shelley. I’m done.”

“Good. I’ll get the limo.”

“What about JP and Jan?”

“Mick’ll take care of them. He’s got a fleet standing by.”

Their leaving was much quieter than their arrival. The crowd was still there, though fewer. There was no announcer, and since people didn’t recognize them, there was no noise or fuss. Mindy looked around for that guy—and felt the tension in Dennis’s arm as he did as well—but they reached the limo without incident, and both sank onto the plush seat with a sigh.

“I have to say, once was enough for premiers, but I’m so glad you suggested we come to L.A. for this,” Mindy said. “It’s been fun.”

Dennis grinned at her. “I can’t tell you how glad I am.”

“You can show me,” she murmured up against his lips.

“The second we get out of this damn car,” he murmured back.

She laughed, and pulled away, straightening the spaghetti straps of her gown. “So, the last event is Christmas? Which is where?”

“Back in Sanluce, JP’s place. Mick will take us in the plane. Those kids the LaFleurs adopted took over decorating. Mick’s grandparents will be there, too.” He took her hands. “As for the last event, well, for Christmas Eve I’m taking you out. Because it just occurred to me right now that we’ve never gone on a normal date . . .”

She turned to look at him. “You’re
right
. We met under such weird circumstances, and everything happened so fast. Not that I’m complaining. Okay, regular date.”

“Well, sort of regular,” he amended, looking uncertain.

She stared at him, surprised and intrigued. “Where are we going?”

He chuckled deep in his chest. “You’ll see.”

Chapter Ten

Christmas Eve dawned a beautiful, warm day in Los Angeles.

Dennis slipped out onto the balcony of Mindy’s apartment while she was still asleep, and checked in with Mick and JP on a conference call.

Mick: “We’ve got the pavilion to ourselves.”

Dennis: “Really? The entire pavilion? I thought this was reservations for a table at the Rose Garden Tea Room.”

“Oh, the tea will be there. That’s arranged, too.”

“Damn,” Dennis said in delight. “How’d you manage that? What’s it going to set me back for—though I’m saying upfront whatever it is, it’s worth it.”

“Nothing,” Mick said. “JP’s connection at the Public Relations department happens to really be into films, and when I mentioned a shoot there, she offered. She was a little surprised at Christmas Eve, but hey, the film world never sleeps, right?”

Dennis: “
Are
you shooting something there?”

Mick: “No, but I’ll make it happen.”

JP: “And I’ve hired a chorus group who specializes in Middle Eastern music. For a little extra, they’re bringing along some instrumental backup.”

Dennis thought,
An entire choral group
? He winced, then thought firmly,
Anything for Mindy.
“How much?”

JP: “Too much, seeing as it’s a holiday. But call it an early Christmas present.”

Dennis: “We’ll talk about that later. For now, thanks, guys.”

They agreed to be there at three, and everybody hung up.

Dennis turned away, grinning. It felt like the old days, when they put together their secret projects—a lot of which did turn into total disasters, true, but this was different. This was now, they weren’t kids anymore, and everything was going to be
perfect
for Mindy.

He eased back inside, and crawled under the covers to look at Mindy curled up beside him. Once again he felt that hollow-behind-the ribs sensation of tenderness, and wonder, and secret, deep delight. He’d found the perfect mate—and the miracle was, she thought him perfect, too, though he knew he was far from that. But he wanted to be perfect in her eyes.

When her breathing changed from the deep, slow rhythm to a lighter sound, and she moved a little, he knew she wasn’t far from waking, so he slid his hands under the covers to warm them, and when he knew his fingers wouldn’t feel cold, he began to caress her, light as a feather at first. Before she woke completely he wanted to celebrate the miraculous geometry of this woman he loved so much. He gently splayed his hands over the curve of her ribs until he could match the changed rhythm of her breathing, and then—timing his movements to that rhythm—he began to caress up, down, over, until her eyes flickered open, and he delighted in watching her subtle shift from the vague focus of dream to awareness.

He caressed her face with his fingertips until she brought up a hand and dragged his to her lips to kiss each finger. The warm, rosy color of her bare skin ignited warmth in his veins, but when she reached to run her hand down his chest and pause to ruffle her fingers in the hair leading from his navel downward, heat struck flint to the rock.

He leaned over so he could run his palms over her, trying to be everywhere. He was on fire now, white heat flaring everywhere she touched as her caresses strengthened to urgency. He slid his fingers down, over her mound, and slipped them slowly into her, loving how she opened to him, and how she warmed, slick and ready.

He was still moving to the rhythm of her quickened breathing, controlling the wildfire to spin it out into slow burn as he bent to kiss her breasts into tautness.

“Oh yesssss.”

He loved the husky hiss to her breath before he sealed her mouth with a kiss.

Then he moved between her knees, sliding his hands beneath her hips to raise her so he could slide home. Her hips jerked against his, pulling him in deeper, and his abs tightened with his effort to control it, to take it slow.

* * *

She had been dreaming about flying.

Her senses flew, teetering on the edge of dizziness, of deliriousness from the change of state from dream to rapture. She gasped as Dennis tipped her hips so the friction of his plunges burnished her clit to the gleam of fire. She wanted to shout out the happiness so big that one human body could not possibly contain it, and as his last, fastest, hardest thrust brought her off with such intensity that ecstasy splattered fireworks against her eyelids, she did cry out, sending her pleasure out into a world that needed so much healing.

Three more thrusts and he came, causing her to clench around him to prolong it. When the last pulses of bliss had died away, she tugged his arms to pull him up beside her.

She sighed with contentment. “When do we need to leave for Sanluce?”

“Mick wants to be in the air by eight. He and Shelley have promised to attend Midnight Mass at the Russian Orthodox service with his grandparents.”

Mindy nodded. “Okay. That gives us a full day.” She smiled into his eyes, which still gleamed with tigerish golden glints. “We could spend it right here . . .”

The gleam was back. “That’ll happen. First we’ve got ourselves a date.”

She’d forgotten that. And she’d forgotten the sense of sheer pleasurable anticipation. It had been a very long time since she’d had a traditional date, and even longer since she’d truly looked forward to it.

She picked out one of her favorite halter top dresses because she knew Dennis loved the way they hugged her curves. He dressed in gray slacks and a good shirt, open at the neck. He seemed to vibrate with energy, his grin more tigerish than ever. It was clear he was looking forward to this, too, she thought as he pulled on a good jacket. She thought she heard the crackle of paper as he tugged the jacket into place, but was distracted when the phone rang: their car was ready.

“Want me to drive?” he asked.

“Why?” She laughed up at him. “You hate L.A. traffic. We don’t have to be
that
traditional—me going along like a piece of baggage. I’m not used to that. Not even sure I like it.”

“I was thinking more of a cherished lady.”

She snorted. “I love the sentiment, but I had enough ‘lady’ when I was growing up. With you I can be poodle-me as well as woman-me. No room for ‘lady’ of the old school.”

“You be what you want.” He kissed her. “I love all the versions of you. And you’re a way better driver than me.”

“So is this just us?” she asked, once she’d maneuvered through the traffic and headed toward the onramp to the 10 Freeway. She didn’t want to be paranoid, but that light blue SUV seemed to have been driving with them some four cars back all the way. Of course in L.A.’s millions, you were bound to be going the same way as someone else.

“Didn’t I tell you? Mick and JP and their wives are joining us.”

“So it’s a triple date,” she said.

“Okay with this?” he asked, turning so he could lay his arm along the back of her seat.

“Sure,” she said, distracted by the realization that she actually looked forward to that. She wanted to tell Mick and Shelley how much she’d enjoyed the film, and she wanted to hear the banter between the three guys (and prise more stories about young Dennis from JP and Mick) and she wanted to tell Jan that if she ever got involved in a professional production, or gave a concert, Mindy wanted to be there to hear it.

Of course there’s always tomorrow
, she thought. But Christmas Day was sure to be crowded with all those family members and others. A quiet gathering with just the six of them would give them a chance to talk at leisure.

She checked automatically for the blue SUV, because she’d been trained to do that. Gone, or out of sight. She also noticed the lack of glint on the cars behind her. Was it clouding up?

She glanced upward through the dashboard window. Yep. She was glad she’d thrown her shawl in the back seat. She doubted it would rain—it rarely rained in Los Angeles—but the afternoon wind could get sharp.

“So where are we headed?” she asked. “We’re on the Ten now, and I’ll want to plan any freeway changes, as the traffic is pretty thick.”

“Huntington Gardens,” he said, grinning.

“Oh, my darling Menace, you sweetie! We’re going out to tea!”

“Yup,” he said in such a gloating voice she had to laugh.

He straightened again when she pulled off the freeway. Was that the crackle of paper? She shook away the thought as a huge car decided it just had to cut across three lanes of traffic in front of them.

She maneuvered around the near-snarl and soon they pulled into the parking lot, which was pretty empty. “They might be closing soon,” she said, watching the exiting stream of cars.

“It’s okay,” he responded. He was definitely grinning now.

She was instantly suspicious. “We’re here for tea, right?”

“Right,” he soothed. And laughed under his breath.

“Is that your evil chuckle?” she asked as she parked. “Am I going to regret this?”

He was instantly serious. “Say the word and we can leave. Or I’ll stop. Promise me you will.”

She turned to him. “Dennis? I was kidding. Is there something wrong?”

He hit his fist on the door opener, his grin back, but it was more tight then humorous, and she sensed that simmering energy just barely in leash. She suspected if she shifted she could sniff out the strange mix of emotions she was picking up with her blunted human senses, but that wasn’t an option right now.

They got out of the car as another car pulled up in the row opposite them. Light blue—

Then two cars hissed over the gravel on either side of the rental, JP and Mick’s cars. The four got out, Jan wearing something filmy and pretty, and Shelley looking awesome in a severely cut Chinese tunic jacket over flowing pants. The guys wore shirts and slacks. As they greeted Dennis and Mindy, she caught grins passing between the others, and thought,
There’s a conspiracy here
.

Well, if Dennis was part of it, she had to like it, right? Maybe a joke Christmas present? She decided not to ruin the moment by guessing, and took Dennis’s proffered hand as they walked to the admissions building.

Mick slid across a card to the waiting attendant, and they were waved in. They soon reached the Royal Pagoda in the middle of the Garden of Flowing Fragrance, featuring blossoms that bloomed year round so there was always something beautiful to see and sniff. They walked over the hand-carved bridge, looking down into the quiet lagoon.

The bridge gave onto a exquisite terrace overlooking the lagoon, where people waited with two cloth-covered tables and loaded trays of food. As they approached, with a flourish the catering people whipped off silver dish covers, displaying the delicacies the Rose Garden Tea Room always offered: tea sandwiches and breads, hummus and black olive tapenade, several types of scones, luscious fruits, tiny, layered dessert cakes and custards, and salad fixings.

As she looked over the marvelous array, Mindy caught Dennis’s low voice somewhere behind the slatted wall, near the pagoda. “No matter what happens, just keep singing, okay? I’m not sure about the timing . . .”

“Tea, ma’am?” A waitperson stood in front of Mindy, smiling. “I’ve an Assam blend in both regular and decaf, and Gyokoro Green, and a Dongting Biluochen from China.”

“Oh, I’ll take that last,” Mindy said, as Jan and Shelley both opted for the decaf.

The trays had been set on a waiting buffet. “Let’s get started,” Dennis said, rubbing his hands.

As they loaded up their plates, from somewhere nearby drifted the sound of voices. Mindy stilled. Was that  . . . Yes! A Persian love song. No one else was around—she turned to Dennis. “Was this a special program, or . . .?”

He said, “This is just for you, because—” He broke off, staring past Mindy’s shoulder.

She turned her gaze to see a guy in an expensive suit coming over the bridge, with three big guys following.

Dennis lifted his voice. “This is a private party.”

“Excuse me, I have to visit the restroom,” Mick murmured, and beckoned to the catering people, who withdrew with him, one sending a puzzled look back.

Dennis didn’t seem to notice at all as he stood up, tension in every line of his body.

“And you can go right back to your nice party,” the first man said. “Once we have a short chat. You’ve been a difficult person to get hold of, Mr. O’Keefe.”

“Yes, on purpose,” Dennis said, arms crossed. “I’m here for the holidays, with my friends. And like I said, this is a private party.”

In the background, the Persian love song finished, and a minor key Greek ballad started up as the man approached without checking. He was maybe thirty-five, sandy-blond hair, and offered a toothy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, I’ll be leaving you to it as soon as we reach an accommodation,” the man said as the three big guys spread out behind him, each wearing dark glasses, though the clouds had thickened considerably. Mindy instantly distrusted them as she couldn’t see where their eyes were looking.

“You see,” the first guy went on, “Mr. Atkins wants to offer you a very generous deal. Through no fault of his own, his business is taking a severe hit because of allegations you made in the Brent Ellerton article about his connections here in Los Angeles. To repair this unfortunate situation, Mr. Atkins would like to hire you to print a positive spin on his organization—”