Billion Dollar Bear: BBW Paranormal Billionaire Romance (Bad Boy Alphas) (3 page)

Becca Donaldson blew across the surface
of the steaming Styrofoam cup of cheap coffee she held in her hands, and tried
to imagine it was a delicious cappuccino instead, and that rather than sitting
at her desk at Tour de Paris, the tour guide agency she worked for, she was
sitting at a patio café in Italy, with a tall, dark handsome stranger to
converse with – preferably one who had already bought the cappuccino for
her.

“Daydreaming again?” Crystalle, her
supervisor and one of her best friends, teased from her own desk. Becca glanced
over to where her friend sat, with a mountain of paperwork on her desk, and had
to admit she had it lucky she didn’t have to deal with that bullshit.

“Just cooling my coffee while I wait for
my client to show up,” she said lightly, then closed her eyes as she took a sip
of the coffee. The hit of caffeine rushed through her bloodstream like
wildfire, boosting her flagging energy. Boy did she love the stuff. She didn’t
understand how anyone lived without it.

“Is that all?” Crystalle waggled her
painted-on eyebrows playfully. An explosion of blonde hair curled around her
square face, deliberately teased by copious amounts of hair product. “You weren’t,
say, thinking about a new lover, perhaps?”

Becca let out a gusty sigh. “Not a
chance.” she muttered. She hadn’t dated anybody in months, and hadn’t seen
anybody seriously since she’d broken up with her ex, Ethan.

Crystalle’s playful expression turned
into a frown. “Sweetheart, you’ve got to get out more often,” she admonished.
“There are plenty of handsome men out there who’d love to sweep a beautiful
girl like you off your feet. Have fun while you’re young!”

“Sure,” Becca said half-heartedly, twirling
a strand of her reddish-brown hair around a finger as she glanced away. Once,
she would have agreed wholeheartedly with idea of living it up, but now, after
Ethan had so carelessly discarded her for another’s affections, she wasn’t so
sure that would do her any good. He’d been the tall, handsome guy who’d swept
her off her feet, and caught up in the whirlwind of their romance, she hadn’t
bothered to look out for red flags and warning signs.

And now that she had her heart ripped
from her chest by someone she loved and trusted, she felt that anxiety whenever
she so much as glanced at a potential lover.

“Don’t let that asshole Ethan scare you
off of men,” Crystalle warned, practically reading Becca’s mind. “Just because
he was a bastard doesn’t mean all men are. You deserve so much better than him,
and I have no doubt that you’ll find it.”

“Thanks.” Becca tried to give Crystalle a
real smile, knowing her friend would continue to badger her until she did. “I’m
just not ready to try again.”

A sly smile returned to Crystalle’s lips.
“You might to reconsider that, because from what I can see of your next client,
he’s one hell of a good looking man.”

“Huh?” Becca shook her head in disbelief
as Crystalle turned her screen to face her. “You know I don’t date clientele,
Crys.” One-night stands and long-distance relationships were
not
her
thing, and since those were the only things that could come of hooking up with
clients, she refrained, no matter how good-looking they were. “Don’t do this to
me.”

“What’s the harm in looking, my love?
He’s going to be here any minute, right? May as well get a good look at him
beforehand so your jaw doesn’t drop when you walk in.”

As if on cue, a bell tinkled, signifying
that the front door opened, and they froze at the sound of an American accent
that sounded deep, and rough, and sexy as sin. “Excuse me, but I’m here for my
tour guide?”

Becca and Crystalle wordlessly stared at
each order. Their desks were a level below the reception area, so they couldn’t
see whoever was up there, but if he looked down over the wall next to the
reception area he would definitely see them. “Shut that off!” Becca hissed,
waving a hand frantically as Crystalle cleared her screen.

“Sure! Can I have your full name,
please?” the receptionist asked the man.

“Jericho Knight.”

“Oh my God,” Crystalle half-squealed, half-whispered.
“That’s him!”

Becca took a deep breath, then picked up
her coffee, and took another sip before the receptionist called to notify her
that a client was waiting.

Tamping down on the nervous jitters, she
gathered her bag and quickly walked up the stairs to the reception area,
determined not to overreact. But that resolution flew right out the window when
she caught sight of him leaning against the counter, waiting for her.

It wasn’t the fact that he was at least
six-feet-tall and built like a linebacker that got her heart racing. It wasn’t
the chiseled face that looked like it had been carved by angels, or the mass of
beautiful dark hair that was trimmed perfectly to frame his masculine face. It
wasn’t even his piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare right through her, and
into her very soul. Nor was it the sexy dimples on his sculpted face that
appeared when he smiled at her, or the way his eyes roamed her body approvingly
as she took a step toward him.

No, it wasn’t any of those things that
had her pulse racing, or her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

It was the fact that the gorgeous
stranger in front of her was a were-bear.

* * *

Jericho’s breath hitched as he caught
sight of the woman hovering at the top of the staircase. She was
exactly
like
the woman he’d read about in the romance novel he’d been reluctantly absorbed
by on the airplane – curling, reddish brown hair, whiskey eyes, and
curves to make any man go wild. Unlike the romance heroine, she was dressed in
a sensible pair of jeans and a snug-fitting t-shirt with the tourism agency’s
logo written across her breasts, instead of a medieval gown, but the modern
clothing only emphasized her wonderfully curvy body.

This woman was absolutely breathtaking.

Her eyes widened with fear as she caught
sight of him, and a second later he realized why as her scent made its way to
his nostrils. It was a mixture of cinnamon and almonds and – were-bear.

No,
he corrected himself a second later.
Half
were-bear.
Which explained why the blood had drained from her face, and she
looked like she was struggling with the urge to make a run for it. He knew he
had to calm her down quickly, or he would lose a tour guide, and she would
quite possibly lose her job.

I will not harm you
, he said, sending her a
telepathic message and hoping she could understand it. Shifters had the ability
to communicate telepathically, a useful trait since they couldn’t speak human
words while in animal form, but half-breeds were a rather unpredictable bunch,
and didn’t necessarily inherit all of the same traits as full-born shifters.
I
hold no ill will toward you.

Apparently she heard him, because she
relaxed, though her fingers still twisted nervously, and he frowned.
Did she
not take him at his word? Didn’t she know that shifters could not lie
telepathically?

“Mr. Knight, this is your tour guide,
Rebecca Donaldson.” The receptionist introduced them with a cheery smile,
completely oblivious to the tense exchange that had just occurred. “She’ll be
showing you around our beautiful city of Paris for the duration of your stay.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Rebecca reluctantly
offered a hand, clearly forcing the smile that stretched her trembling lips.

“Likewise.” Jericho accepted her hand, and
they both sucked in a sharp breath as electric sensation arced between them at
the touch. A flush ignited instantly in Rebecca’s cheeks, traveling down to her
toes, brightening her eyes, and leaving her breathless.

It was clear that Jericho was also feeling
the connection between them, as he studied her face carefully, a look of dark
confusion burning in his eyes, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

What the fuck?

It took a few moments for him to tune
back in to what the receptionist was saying, and be able to make sense of
anything around him. In those few moments of touching Rebecca, everything had
faded and all he could see was her.

“Sir? We’ll just need you to sign these this
form, and you’ll be good to go.”

“Yes, of course.” Jericho tried to shake
off the hold that had taken a grip on his body, and quickly signed the papers.
When he looked back, Becca was already at the door, waiting impatiently. From
the look in her eyes, she wasn’t entirely sold on being his tour guide, and he
imagined she would have a few choice words for him once they got outside.

They made it to the parking garage
beneath the building before she took a deep breath and spun around, fire in her
eyes. “This isn’t what I was expecting,” she began, her cheeks flushed, as she
looked up at him. She was tall for a woman, but he still towered over her.

“Yes, well I wasn’t exactly expecting to
run into a half-breed myself,” he said dryly. Frustration snapped through him
as she stiffened, fear in her eyes once more, and he gritted his teeth. “I
don’t want any trouble,” he insisted, his own jaw tightening as he glared down
at her. “But if you think you can’t put your reservations aside long enough to
be my guide, perhaps I should just go back inside and ask for someone else.”

Becca felt as though she’d been slapped.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, not from arousal this time, but embarrassment and
anger. “No,” she said stiffly, lifting her chin. “It’s fine. I’ll be happy to
show you around.” Her tone wasn’t convincing, but he couldn’t help but smile at
her. She was certainly a spitfire, and he found himself still reeling from the
sensations that had taken ahold of him when they had touched.  He had
never felt anything like that before.

Dammit
, Becca thought to herself.
I should
just walk away.

While on the one hand it would be easier
on her if she gave him up as a client, she wasn’t about to humiliate herself by
allowing him to walk in, and request another guide. The office staff would
think she’d done something to upset him, which would reflect poorly on her,
costing her any change of a raise.

And not to mention the fact that Crystalle
would like give her shit for losing such an interesting client, much less one
as sexy as he was.
Not that any of that should matter one bit
, she
thought to herself. But somehow, it did.

“Alright then.” His shoulders relaxed,
his hands falling loosely to his sides, but he narrowed his eyes at her in
suspicion. “We agree not to try to stab each other in the back while the other
isn’t looking?”

A laugh threatened to bubble out of her
at the twinkle that entered his magnificent blue eyes. His charm and sense of
humor threw her off balance, made her want to let down her guard –
something she definitely shouldn’t do with a man who could inflame her with such
wicked desire with just a single touch. “You really don’t have a thing against
half-breeds?”

Jericho shrugged. “I’ve never been one to
judge people based on the circumstances of their birth. You had nothing to do
with that.”

The truth that rang in his words, coupled
with a complete and utter lack of disgust that she had come to expect from
full-blood shifters, finally helped her to relax.

“Alright then,” she said, allowing a
smile to curve her lips. “You got yourself a deal. No backstabbing.”

She offered her hand without thinking
about it, and as he squeezed it, a hunger sparked low in her belly once again.
Her breath caught as she saw the flame of desire reflected in Jericho’s blue
eyes, and knew the feeling was entirely mutual – something that scared
the hell out of her.

“My car’s this way.” She dropped his hand
like a hot brick, and headed for her cherry-red DS3, sandwiched neatly between
the elevator, and a MINI in the compact section of the garage.

Jericho eyed the car dubiously. “You
can’t seriously expect me to fit inside this thing.”

Becca glanced at Jericho’s broad,
six-foot frame, then looked back at her little car. “I should probably back out
first.”

“I feel like I’ve been sandwiched into a
sardine can,” Jericho grumbled as Becca worked her way down Avenue de l’Opera.
“Don’t they sell bigger cars in Paris? Like, say, that one over there?” He
pointed toward an SUV lumbering down the right side of the road –
something that had shocked the shit out of him initially until he remembered
that people drove on the wrong side of the road in Europe.

      Becca only
arched a brow as she expertly wove through traffic. “Sure, if you want to spend
the majority of your paycheck on gas,” she said. “The average price for a
gallon of gas around here is something like six bucks or so.”

      “Six
dollars?” Jericho choked. “That’s highway robbery.”

      Becca
laughed, and then glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, amusement and
curiosity sparkling in the coffee-brown depths. “You know,” she said suspiciously,
“You speak a little differently for an American your age. Just how old are you,
exactly?”

      Jericho hesitated
before answering. He didn’t want to reveal too much about himself, at least not
initially, as he didn’t want her to treat him differently. And yet he wasn’t
sure she wouldn’t be able to sense a lie. “I was born in the 1890s,” he finally
answered.

      Becca’s
jaw dropped as she turned her head around to gape at him. “You… you’re… that
means you’ve got to be at least one hundred years old.”

      Jericho’s
lips curled into a wry smile. “I wish I were still that young,” he admitted.
“No, it’s closer to two hundred.” He frowned at the look of utter shock in
Becca’s eyes. “You seem surprised.”

      “I… I had
no idea shifters lived so long.” She returned her gaze to the road, her knuckles
noticeably whiter as she gripped the steering wheel.     

      Concerned,
Jericho reached out and touched her forearm, intending to offer her comfort.
This time there was no zap of electric desire between them, only the warm flow
of compassion from his hand to her arm. “I’m guessing you weren’t raised in a
clan,” he said quietly. “Weren’t taught about the history of shifters? What our
lives are like?”

      Biting her
lip, Becca shook her head. “No, not really,” she admitted. “I was raised by my a
human mother. She didn’t really know a lot about shifters.”

      Jericho
wanted to ask more, but her somber expression gave him pause. Within minutes, Becca
abruptly swerved the car toward a parking spot on the side of the road, and he
resisted the temptation to close his eyes as she squeezed her way into the
impossibly tight spot, saving the paint on her fender by the skin of her teeth.

      “Now I
know why you chose a smaller car,” he said once she’d popped the gearshift into
neutral, and cranked the parking brake.

      “Yep. Much
easier to find parking.” She flashed him a smile, then exited the vehicle.
Instinctively understanding her desire to avoid talking about her life, and not
wanting to push her, he followed her out of the car, stepping onto the sidewalk
to stare up at a large architectural masterpiece that appeared to be constructed
of stone. The dusky white façade was ornately carved, featuring a multitude of paintings
depicting musicians and symbolic figures, and the roof of the building was
graced by golden statues of angels on either side and a huge, copper-green dome
in the center.

      “What is
this place?” he asked, still staring up at the building. He hadn’t really had
time to explore the itinerary for the tour since he’d booked it on such short
notice, so he didn’t exactly know what to expect along the way.

      Becca
couldn’t help but smile at the almost child-like wonder that filled Jericho’s
face. “We’re at the Palais Garnier,” she told him, going heavy on the French
accent as she pronounced the name. “The most famous Opera House in the world.”

      “It’s
beautiful.” He turned to face her, a smile spreading across his lips. “Do we
get to go inside?”

      Becca gave
him an answering grin. “We sure do.”

      She took a
few moments to explain the architecture of the façade as they walked across the
courtyard toward the building, pointing out all the different artists carved
into the front of the building and telling him their names. They then climbed
the Grand Staircase up to the Grand Foyer, a huge hall some fifty-four feet
high, glossy floors illuminated by ornate chandeliers hung from a ceiling that
boasted a gorgeous mural. Jericho surprised her by insisting on spending at
least ten minutes studying the artwork, which depicted various moments in
musical history, and questioned her at length about each of the scenes.

      “You
really know your stuff,” he told her as they entered one of the salons flanking
either side of the Foyer, his blue eyes gleaming with admiration.

      Becca
couldn’t quite help the swell of pride in her chest. “I’ve been doing this for
a little while now,” she said teasingly. “I’ve had some time to do my homework
on the different landmarks.”

      “I’m sure
you have,” he murmured, staring down at her. “You strike me as a very
intelligent woman, Rebecca Donaldson.”

“It’s just Becca,” she said, trying not
to betray the thrill that whipped through her at the way he said her name in
that dark, sexy voice of his. But she couldn’t help but feel the air shift
between them, thickening with intense heat and emotion. Butterflies fluttered in
her stomach, her breath catching in her throat as his gorgeous blue eyes swept
over her again. She had to admit that the idea that this mountainous hunk of a
man desired her gave her battered ego a hell of a boost – she hadn’t
missed the flirtatious glances from the various women who’d passed them so far,
or the fact that he’d barely given them a second glance, too caught up in the
art and architecture of this place, and apparently Becca herself.

      But, she
reminded herself firmly, none of that mattered. She didn’t date clients, and
she especially didn’t date shifters, even ones who’d sworn not to harm her.
Even ones as ruggedly handsome as he was.

      “We’d
better get moving,” she said, turning away so she could lead him onward. “We’ve
got a lot to see here before it’s time to head on to our next stop.”

* * *

“I thoroughly enjoyed that meal,” Jericho
replied, as Becca pulled into traffic again. “So much so that I’m amazed I can
still fit into this vehicle.”

      Becca
laughed as she shifted into third gear, her twinkling eyes focused on the road
in front of her. “You packed away enough food for a small army,” she said. “I’m
amazed you can still fit into your jeans.”

      He
grinned, patting his belly a little. “What can I say? A bear can eat.”

      Becca laughed.
“Yeah, so I hear,” she replied, but Jericho sensed the change in her tone at
his reference to his heritage. The subject clearly made her uncomfortable, as did
the attraction between them. He thought about the way she’d reacted to their
connection when they first touched, and then again at the opera house. There
was no doubt that she wanted him, and yet she was determined to avoid him. But
why? Because he was a shifter?

      And why
did he care, anyway?
It wasn’t as if these were feelings he could act on, anyway. He was essentially
promised to another, even if no formal agreement had been made, so nothing but
possible heartbreak could come of anything between them. She was right to keep
her distance… and yet he felt an unusual ache in his chest at the thought that
she could so easily turn away from the intensity that seemed to pull them
together.

      “We’re
here,” she announced, wedging her tiny car into another street-side spot. Jericho
got out of the car, and a grin lit his face, sweeping aside the troubling
thoughts from earlier as he caught sight of the glass, multifaceted pyramid
jutting up from the courtyard outside a sprawling museum.

      “I know
this one,” he said with a chuckle. “This is the Louvre!”

      “That’s
right,” Becca said, laughter teasing the edges of her tone. “And since this is
a private tour, you get to skip that lovely little line out there,” she said,
pointing to the long row of people snaking out through the front entrance, and
into the courtyard.

      Jericho
raised a brow as she whisked him past the line, flashing some kind of identification
to the front desk that allowed them to skip the line, and walk into the museum.
“I guess I really am getting my money’s worth.”

      “You bet your
sweet ass you are,” Becca replied cheerfully as she guided him into the museum.
“I’ve never gotten a negative review from a client, and I’m not about to start
now.”

      “My sweet
ass?” Jericho echoed, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Why Becca, thanks
for noticing.”

      Her stride
hitched for the briefest of moments, and then she shocked him by sticking her
middle finger into the air. A laugh erupted from his chest before he could even
think to be insulted, and he hurried on after her before she toured the museum
without him – but not going so fast that he didn’t get a nice view of her
own sweet, curvy ass, cupped by a pair of tight-fitting jeans that could easily
drive a man insane.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind
of activity that didn’t leave too much room for awkward moments between them.
After introducing him to a variety of exhibits at the Louvre, boasting
everything from Ancient Egyptian art to Italian Renaissance pieces, she’d taken
him by way of a scenic route along the Seine River to the
Ile de la Cite, an island located in the center or Paris in the
midst of the Seine. There, she took him along another series of private tours,
this time to the Notre Dame de Paris with its watchful stone gargoyles, and
impressive display of organs, the Sainte Chapelle with its breathtaking stained
glass windows, the
Conciergerie
with its fat turrets and palace chambers turned to prison cells, and then a
walking tour of Marais district.

      Afterwards,
they did a quick drive through the rest of the city, Becca pointing out other
famous tourist destinations such as the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe,
Luxemboug Gardens, and other places they might visit in more detail over the
weekend. As she gave brief, but enticing overviews of each destination, Jericho
couldn’t help but notice the rosy glow in her cheeks, and the way her eyes
glowed with excitement as she discussed monuments and historical sites she had
probably visited hundreds of times by now.

      “You
really love this city, don’t you?” he remarked when she turned around to drop
him off at his hotel. The sun hung low in the sky behind them, gilding the
Siene as it came closer and closer to dipping below the horizon.

      “I do,”
she said, smiling wistfully. “There was a time I didn’t, of course, when I
first moved here with my mother as a child. Back then it was all a confusing
mishmash of sights and sounds, a loud world full of people who spoke a strange
language, and condescending sneers.”

      Jericho
huffed a laugh. “So the stereotype is true then, about the French being a
haughty bunch?”

      Becca
shrugged. “Not all of them, and not after you get to know them and assimilate
into their culture a bit more. They’re simply not very friendly to outsiders
who think they can enjoy their country without learning their language.” She
smiled again, but this time the expression was a bit more wistful. “I can’t say
that I don’t miss America, or that I’m not struck with wanderlust now and
again. But for the most part I’m content here.”

      She pulled
up in front of the Shangri-La, the gorgeous, sprawling hotel right along the
water where he had booked his stay. “Well, here you are,” she said, but her
voice lacked the finality he would have expected from the statement, and a kind
of longing shone in her eyes as she gazed up at the stone and glass structure,
the endless cream of the outer walls broken with emerald green awnings that
provided a nice splash of color. “I’ll be picking you up at nine sharp, so
you’d better get your beauty sleep.”

      “Have
dinner with me before you go.” It was a statement, not a question.

      Her eyes
widened as she glanced back at the hotel, then at him again. “I don’t know if
that’s such a good idea,” she replied, but he could see the questioning look in
her eyes.

      “Please.”
He placed a hand on her arm and squeezed encouragingly, ignoring his better
judgment in the matter. “I could use some company and besides… it’s the least I
can do after the wonderful time you’ve shown me today.”

      The
resolve in her eyes flickered, and then died with a small sigh. “Okay… I’d like
that…if you’re sure.”

      “I’ve
never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” he replied, his lips
curving into a smile. “Let’s go.”