Long Shadows: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 2 (38 page)

“An admirer?” I asked as soon as Ted was out of earshot. “Must be for you.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Joanie.” Lonna sipped her wine. “It’s very good by the way, very smooth.”

I lifted a couple of mushrooms to my plate. They smelled of some sharp, salty cheese—gruyere, I thought—a savory blend of herbs, and fresh sourdough breadcrumbs. The tops were perfectly browned, and when I cut one in half, real lump crabmeat that smelled sweet instead of fishy spilled out. While buttery, it was by no means greasy, and the mushrooms themselves were cooked to the perfect texture.

“They certainly know how to do food here.” I thought back to the breakfast we’d had at the diner. I considered myself a pretty discriminating eater, and it was rare for me to have two meals in a day that bowled me over.

Lonna nodded, her mouth full. I studied her as I blew on a bite of mushroom. While she and Kyra Ellison may be similar in build and coloring, Lonna had a certain genuineness. I thought it made her much more attractive than the arrogant Kyra.

As I snagged another mushroom, I admitted I was torturing myself by comparing the two women. I would never be as tall, attractive or curvy as either. No one would give me a second glance if they saw me next to either of them. And as much as the thought of a secret admirer thrilled me, I had to admit it was probably Lonna who had one. Either that, or someone decided my grandfather’s fortune made me that much more attractive.

“Two cents for your thoughts?” Lonna grinned at me. She resembled a vampire with the red wine on her lips and teeth.

“I thought it was just a penny?”

She waved her hand. “Inflation.”

“They’re PhD thoughts. They should be worth at least a dime.”

“You’re evading the question.”

“Lucky in life, unlucky in love?”

“Yeah, that seemed like a self-pity look.” She leaned forward. “You’ve had a hard day. Hard month, actually.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Lonna reached over to cover my hand with hers. “You’re not in it alone.”

At that moment, Ted reappeared with an “Aha, I thought so!” smirk. Lonna leaned back, and laughter danced in her eyes with the candlelight. As she gave her order, I glanced over the menu and picked out the first thing that sounded good: blue-cheese-stuffed beef tenderloin with port wine and mushroom sauce. It came with a salad and rolls, and my stomach growled in appreciation when my eyes landed on the dessert selection.

“Doctor Fisher?” he asked.

“She must have seen something chocolate.”

“I’ll have the tenderloin, house salad with balsamic vinaigrette, and mashed potatoes for the side.”

“Very good. I’ll get these in and check on you in a little bit.”

“He’s cute.” Lonna followed him with her eyes. “I’m a sucker for a guy with dark hair and a dimple.”

“I don’t think he considers us eligible.”

“Yeah, I caught that look.” She arched an eyebrow. “You know, that may actually work to our advantage.”

“No way.”
 

“Hmmm, you’re right.” I could almost see the wheels turning as she went through the possible ramifications. “As conservative as these little towns can be, you don’t want to give the locals any reason to dislike you.”

“Not any more than they already do.”

“I doubt it. They’re just curious. Have you gotten any hostility?”

“Only from the Bowman brothers. And by the way, Peter Bowman is a creep.” I filled Lonna in on the almost-conversation I’d had with Louise about the kitchen. I lowered my voice. “And then he basically said he’d out you as a P.I. if you didn’t go by to see him tomorrow.”

She pursed her lips. “It may be a good idea. I’m sure he has a different perspective on the child disappearances.”

“It sounds like he wants to get a different perspective on you. Like with your clothes off.”

“Possibly.”

“Now you’re being evasive.”

She shrugged. “You know me. Jerks are my type.”

“And married men were mine, but I’ve sworn them off.”

“Probably a good thing. Wives’ll have you killed if you’re not careful.”

“Stick to the cute waiter.” I looked over at Ted, who opened a bottle of wine at another table.

“I don’t think he’d find me eligible from either his or my perspective.”

“You never know. We’re probably totally confusing his gay-dar right now.”

“Oh, he’ll know. They always do.”

Our food, carried by Ted himself as well as a regular waiter, arrived, and we didn’t speak for a few minutes.

“How is yours?” I asked.

“Excellent. I’m jealous.”

“Of what?”

“That you get to live up here among the rich and culinarily spoiled. And you get a kick-ass kitchen. All you need is a butler and you’re all set.”

“‘Culinarily?’” I laughed. “Is that a word?”

“It is now.”

Before I could reply, the door opened and let in a draught of cool air. I shivered and turned to see Kyra Ellison and Leonard Bowman.

“Isn’t that Peter’s brother?” Lonna asked as she craned her neck to follow their progress to the bar. Leonard’s eyes scanned the room. Kyra frowned, almost pouted.

“Yep, that’s Leonard.”

“Who’s the sulky woman?”

“Her name is Kyra Ellison. She’s the one I told you about.”

“She certainly looks like a snob.” Lonna studied her with narrowed eyes, then tossed her hair. Threat dismissed. I wished I felt the same.

The couple took seats at the bar, and Leonard held up two fingers. I don’t know if it was the lighting, but I hadn’t noticed before how slender and graceful his hands were. I pictured him running them through his thick, dark hair while thinking or gripping a steering wheel as he maneuvered winding mountain roads in his rugged four-wheel drive, or running them over my—

Stop it, I told myself. The last thing I needed was to become attracted to another attached man. And Kyra Ellison had definitely attached herself to Leonard.

“I know that look,” Lonna murmured. She held up her wineglass. “Here’s to the Bowman men, unattainable yet irresistible.”

“I don’t know about that,” I grumbled but clinked her glass with mine anyway.

“How about some chocolate? It’ll cure a broken heart.”

“Two nights in a row?”

“Is that what you tell your lovers?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Depends on the lover.”

“Touché.”

Ted came over and took our dessert and coffee orders. I ordered a Chocolate Insanity, which proved to be a chocolate mousse filling in a cookie crust. Lonna opted for crème brulée.

I had deliberately averted my eyes from the bar, so when I glanced up after dessert, I was surprised to see Leonard and Kyra still there. Whatever disagreement they’d had seemed to have been resolved, and they laughed as he tucked a stray ebony curl behind her ear. I tried to ignore the finger of pain that poked my heart. Robert had loved to do just that as we talked over after-dinner drinks. On the nights his wife had been out of town. I envied Leonard and Kyra their freedom. They looked like lovers who didn’t care that others knew they were together.

Ted’s voice startled me out of my observations. “Your check has been taken care of.”

“By whom?” I asked.

“Your admirer.”

“My admirer?” He was definitely looking at me.

“He said to tell you he hoped you enjoyed your dinner.”

“Wow,” Lonna said. “I wonder who it could be.”

As we left, I glanced toward the bar. For an instant Leonard’s eyes flicked our way, and when they met mine, my heart skipped a beat. I wondered if that’s what it felt like to be enchanted. It only lasted the moment it took to walk out of Tabitha’s and into the cool night air.

“Where to now?” I asked.

“I guess we should stop avoiding it. We have to go back to your grandfather’s house sometime.”

“I know.” I sighed and wished we had explored the place during daylight. Who knew what might lurk there after dark?

There’s nothing more deceptive than the truth…

Playing Against Type

© 2014 Heather Long

Soulgirls, Book 4

Pepper Kirk lives for the moment. Diagnosed with an incurable disease, she set out to see the world and found a place—and remission—at the Arcana Royale. For once, life is perfect. Until a federal agent appears, determined to catch the casino in corruption.

Owing her very existence to the magic that sustains her—Pepper reluctantly agrees to seduce the handsome agent and sabotage his surveillance, though she’s not sure how a woman without a dishonest bone in her body will make it work.

Finn Mickelson’s investigation into a crime family is only a smokescreen to keep his real targets off balance. Nothing will keep this witchborn from digging into the secrets of the Royale—not even a Southern belle with honeyed tones and a sweet smile.

He quickly sees through her ruse, yet he finds himself falling under the spell of her porcelain doll beauty, even wanting to help her. But for love to take hold, they’ll have to play the house in a game that’s stacked against them…or lose their lives.

Warning: Contains lies, deceptions, twists, turns, behind-the-scenes plotting, a man with a revengenda, a southern belle who just wants to live her life—and a game they didn’t know they were playing.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Playing Against Type:

Heidi glanced up from the paperwork spread across her desk, a frisson of awareness skating up her spine. Eyes narrowing, she stared at the door. It was the middle of the day and all of the dancers slept in their frozen states, silent and secure. No one moved in the theatre, not even Stan. Minion slept along the back of her shoulders, tufted ears folded close to her head and the imp’s fuzzy kitten-like face buried in Heidi’s hair. Flipping the folder closed, she waited.

The handle turned silently and the door swung inwards. A tall man with black hair leaned against the doorframe. The flirty smile on his lips didn’t quite touch his devastating blue eyes. “Miss Heidi.”

“Connor.” The shadow man’s arrival didn’t bode well. He rarely ventured into the Midnight Mystery Lounge unless something was wrong. Sadly, she’d already had to deal with him twice in as many months over issues with two of her dancers. As far as she knew, however, no one else should have earned this kind of personal attention.

“You don’t look very happy to see me. I’m wounded.” He grinned and strolled into her office. His gaze swept over the contents of the room, from the books lining the walls to the stack of puzzle boxes decorating a shelf. Despite his apparent interest in the surroundings, she knew it was a ruse. He would detect even the faintest trace of weakness in her.

Fortunately, she’d overcome her weakness for him years before.

She closed the folder. “I’m busy, Connor. What do you need?” She added the folder to another stack and dragged a new one toward her. She didn’t bother to read the words, looking at the information inside was enough to piss him off.

He dropped into a chair opposite her desk and swung his booted feet up to rest against the polished wood, one ankle over the other. “Some days I think you forget who is in charge.”
 

“Some days I think you forget who kicked your ass.” She lifted an absent hand up to brush against Minion’s downy soft head and kept the little one asleep.

Warm masculine laughter spilled from his throat, an invitation for sex that would have drowned an unprotected woman in a sea of lust. “I never forget why I like you.”

“Well that makes one of us. What do you want, Connor?” It was the second time she’d asked. If he forced a third, she would have to remind him that despite his position, she ruled this theatre.

The Midnight Mystery Lounge belonged to her, and it didn’t matter that it sat nestled in the heart of the Arcana Royale. She owned it through her blood, sweat and tears. Everything and everyone in it was under her protection. She fought for those contracts, held them tight in her fists, and wouldn’t allow the Overseers any more influence than they were due. Yes, they had some lease on the girls’ souls, but she had everything else. She hoarded that control and the ability to negotiate their freedom when the right circumstances presented themselves.

“Fine. Business it is, then.” Disappointment flickered across his face, too quick for her to grasp what had upset him. She ignored the tug of curiosity. Better to avoid traveling that path again. “We have an issue that needs your delicate touch.”

My delicate touch? Circumstances must be dire indeed if he issued his invitation in such flattering terms. “I’m listening.”

Connor pulled his legs back and leaned forward. His intense gaze locked on hers and urged her cooperation. The compulsion eddied over the surface of her skin, but couldn’t quite penetrate her shields. It wasn’t on purpose, his power came from deep within and he wore it like others would a finely cut suit—natural and effortless.

“An FBI agent checked into the Royale this morning. His name is Finn Mikelson.” He paused, as though waiting for her to acknowledge the name.