Authors: Ariana Hawkes
He allowed his mind to drift, recalling Eloise’s lush body, but instead, it flipped to thoughts of Andrea again. He would love to find out what she looked like naked; whether those breasts were as full and creamy as they seemed beneath the tight dress she’d been wearing in the photo. She seemed like a strong, fiery woman. He loved women who were sexually demanding, and gave out as good as they got. He felt his cock straining against the front of his jeans, and he automatically reached for his zipper.
No!
He told himself. He needed to come up with a plan for meeting this woman, instead of lying on his bed by himself, like a horny teenager. His lion mewled and lay down.
Tamika’s right – Andrea and I both live in a small town, where everyone knows each other. Is it the kind of town where I could go into the diner and ask if anyone knows her? Or would that be really weird and stalkerish?
What else did he know about her? She’d only just got back from New York. His lion made a hmph sound, as it very often did when it was disappointed in him.
Yes, doofus, fat lot of good that tidbit of knowledge is going to do for you
. His lion yawned hugely, exposing all of its razor-sharp teeth.
She’s a journalist. Ok, so it’s pretty likely that she’s working for the local paper in Hope Valley.
His lion opened its mouth and ran its pink tongue over its teeth. Magnus’s brow furrowed. What was that paper called again? He picked up his phone and searched ‘Hope Valley newspaper’.
“The Hope Valley Echo – that’s it,” he muttered. “Maybe she’d be in the contacts on the online version of the paper?” No, she wasn’t there. But he did find the address of the office. His lion sat up.
A little better.
He’d go and visit the office, and if she was there and he managed to pick up her scent, things would become a lot easier.
Andrea sat on the end of the bed in her childhood bedroom, her stomach twisted into a knot. Gathering the nerve to write a message to the unbelievably hot lion shifter who the app had identified as her perfect match was one of the hardest things she’d done. He was so far out of her league, it was ridiculous. But so were all the men on Shiftr. Still the 100% compatibility rating had given her courage. He was incredibly handsome, with fashionably styled brown hair, caramel-colored eyes, which seemed to bore into the camera, and firm, masculine lips. His body was, of course, amazing. He had very broad shoulders, and every muscle, from his well-developed pecs, to his taut abs, to those sexy diagonal grooves just beside his hipbones was perfectly honed. She’d shuddered at the thought of running her hands over those muscles. In the full-body shot, he stood with his hands on his hips, projecting an image of complete confidence and self-possession. It was incredibly sexy. In the photo of his lion self, he lay on top of a rock, his paws hanging over the edge, regarding the photographer with lazy satisfaction. She could see that the lion was the man and the man was the lion, and that they existed together in perfect harmony.
It was weird how quickly the concept of shape shifters was becoming normal to her. She’d been so shocked when Dixon had shifted at Tamika’s place, but just days later, after looking at
so many
shifters on the app, it was already making sense. Following her dinner with Tamika, she’d spent an entire day filling out all the details on her profile. As she’d never done before, she challenged herself to assess her character honestly. The end result wasn’t what she’d hoped for. It sounded bland and unappealing, but there it was. Maybe that’s who she was underneath the veneer of sophistication that she’d crafted so carefully over the years. She resisted the urge to delete it and replace it with empty boasts, and instead she left it as it was and messaged the lion. She half expected him to reject her, but not that quickly. As soon as she’d sent the message, she clicked on his profile again, to gawp at his gorgeous body, but it was gone. The thumbnail that accompanied her sent mail turned to a gray silhouette of a man’s head. He’d rejected her. He’d hated her profile so much that he’d swiped her right out of his feed. A stab of pain in her heart made her hunch forward, and she broke out into sobs. Her perfect match didn’t want her. He was evidently so repulsed by her profile that he wasn’t even willing to exchange a couple of messages to see if they got on with each other. This was the best chance she was ever going to have, and it obviously wasn’t going to happen. She’d been rejected by New York men, and now she was being rejected by shifters. Shifters who supposedly liked curvy girls like her. Her heart couldn’t take it. She snatched up her phone, from where it had fallen on the floor, and swiped to the app’s main menu.
Are you sure you want to deactivate your profile?
The alert said. She clicked
yes
. Another message popped up saying:
We’re very sad to see you go. Please feel free to sign up again any time.
She closed the app and moved it to trash. Another door had closed in her face.
At that moment, her bedroom door burst open and her mom walked in without knocking.
“Andrea! Didn’t you hear me calling you for dinner?” she demanded.
“No, I’m sorry. I was just reading a couple of emails,” Andrea replied meekly.
“Very important ones, I’m sure. And what are you crying about?”
Andrea wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. There was no way she could tell her mom about her dating app rejection. She was short on sympathy at the best of times, and she’d been positively hostile since Andrea had come back from New York with her life in tatters.
“Oh nothing. Just a bad day, that’s all. I’ll be down in a sec.”
“Don’t be long about it. It’s your turn to set the table,” her mom said, and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Andrea looked around at her cutesy bedroom, with its faded pink, floral décor and a feeling of absolute desolation washed over her. She felt like the ceiling could come crashing down on her right now, and she’d just sit there and let it happen. How was she a 34-year-old woman, sitting in her childhood bedroom, with her mom bullying her? She laughed bitterly. If she’d known how things would turn out when she’d been killing herself to get into the best school and work for the best paper, she’d have put a bullet in her head. Or run away as fast as she could.
She got up and went downstairs, preparing herself for another mealtime full of interrogations, criticisms and henpecking.
*
Magnus strode into the reception of the building that housed the Hope Valley Echo. He had no idea what he was going to say to Andrea if he saw her, but after years of improvising at meetings, he was confident that he’d be able to handle the situation. The reception was shabby compared to all the glossy, corporate receptions he’d visited over the years, but there was something pleasantly homely about it. It didn’t feel like a deliberate attempt to depersonalize and estrange. It felt like an extension of home. To add to the impression, the receptionist was drinking coffee from a mug with
Is it Friday yet?
printed on it in large black letters. Magnus grinned to himself at the sight. Corporate banks always had seriously hot receptionists, immaculately dressed and made up, but for all their individuality, he might as well have been speaking to robots.
“Good morning!” the receptionist trilled. “What can I do for you?” Magnus flashed her his mega-watt, professional smile.
“Magnus Adams, here to see – ” he broke off. Without thinking, he’d launched into his usual routine, but he wasn’t actually here to see anyone. And he only had Andrea’s first name, if she worked here at all.
“What office are you looking for, honey?” the receptionist asked.
“Hope Valley Echo,” he said, relieved.
“First floor on the right.” She gave him a nice, warm smile that made him feel like he was welcome in the building any time. He followed her directions and walked up the stairs and into the office of the newspaper. But when he opened the door and the room was revealed to him, he froze. He’d been expecting to go into another reception, but there wasn’t one. Instead, he’d walked right into the newsroom, in the midst of a bank of desks. And everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him with undisguised interest. He realized that he must look quite a sight, hurtling into the room like that, as if he was breezing into a boardroom. The staff were dressed casually, mostly in jeans and t-shirts. It was a cluttered, hectic, yet inviting room, with piles of newspapers everywhere –a world away from the clinical open-plan offices where he’d forged his career. As Magnus continued to stand still, looking around in confusion, a tall, auburn-haired woman strode towards him, extending her hand. She was more smartly dressed than the others, in a navy-blue tailored shirtdress and low-heeled ankle boots.
“Hi there, I’m Kristin Pasternak, the editor of the paper. What can I do for you?” she said, shaking his hand.
“Oh, I’m just looking for Andrea,” he replied, in a more hesitant tone than he’d ever used before. He breathed an internal sigh of relief as recognition registered in her eyes, along with a trace of curiosity.
“Sure,” she said. “You’re new in town, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen your face before.”
“Yes I am. I just moved to Hope Valley. I’ve been moving around a lot over the past years, and I’ve decided to settle down here.” She gave him a big smile.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find that Hope Valley is a very nice place to live. People are very friendly here and it’s very family-oriented. But there are lots of single girls too, if you haven’t found that special someone yet.” Her large, dark eyes twinkled.
She knew he was a shifter
. He could feel her engaging with his lion, identifying it, trying to get the measure of it. His lion, in turn, knew when it was being watched. It leaped and frolicked behind his eyes, showing off to her. She must have a shifter mate. He was a lucky guy, whoever he was. She was very attractive, with a pleasant, incisive manner that left you in no doubt about her intelligence.
“Anyway, I'm sorry. You said you were looking for Andrea?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m sorry, she’s not here now. She’s out running some errands.”
“Oh, that’s ok, I just dropped in on the off-chance she’d be here. I actually met her in a bar the other day,” he said, thinking fast. “I told her that I was a businessman who’d just moved here, and she said she wanted to interview me.”
“She did?” Kristin replied, looking pleased. “That’s a great idea! I’m afraid she might be a couple more hours though, so maybe we can schedule a time for her to come and interview you at your place?”
“I’d like that very much. I think that’s an excellent idea,” Magnus said, but he hardly heard himself speak, because his brain was whirring, cooking up an excellent plan.
“What’s your address?” she asked.
“Actually, let me check my diary first, to confirm my availability,” he said quickly, as a plan began to formulate itself in his mind.
“Sure.” She waited for him to pull his phone out.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I keep a paper diary. I’m old-fashioned. And unfortunately it’s at home,” he said. She looked at him quizzically.
“That could be an interesting angle,” she said, pulling out her business card and handing it to him. “A businessman who shuns modern technology. Call me when you’re ready.”
“Perfect. And I’ll give you my number too.”
“Thank you, Magnus. I look forward to reading the interview. You seem like a very interesting character.” He shook her hand again and watched her stride back into the newsroom, her colleagues immediately swarming around her, eager to get her attention. She was some woman.
As he left, he took a deep sniff of the air, picking up the individual scents of the women who worked there. There was one that stood out from the others. It was faint, indicating that its owner wasn’t present in the office, but it was very appealing – sweet and a little musky, with the merest hint of spice. It stirred something deep inside him, filling his veins with little prickles of excitement. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt an ache in his loins.
Is it Andrea’s smell?
He hoped so, very badly.
In his car, he looked up the details of the local real estate agent. He had some urgent planning to do.
Kristin was waiting for Andrea when she returned to the newsroom later that afternoon.
“W-what have I done?” Andrea stammered, her eyes becoming very wide. “I swear there wasn’t a single mistake in yesterday’s paper. I went over it three times. I was up till midnight working on it!” Her voice was tight with panic.
“Hey, relax,” Kristin said with a chuckle. “Yesterday’s paper was perfect. You did an excellent job. I actually have some very good news for you that I’ve been dying to share. Let’s go chat in the interview room.”
“What is it?” Andrea asked, as soon as they’d shut the door of the room. Kristin perched on the edge of the conference table, a hand on her belly.
“I have an assignment for you. A reporting assignment. I need someone to interview a businessman who’s just moved to Hope Valley.”
“That’s great! B-but, why isn’t one of the reporters doing it?”
“He’s a mysterious character to be honest. I need someone who has your experience at extracting information from interviewees.”
“What kind of business is he involved in?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know, but I’m dying to find out.”
“Interesting,” Andrea said, her heart beating a little faster, as it always did when she was on the scent of a story.
“There’s just one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s seriously hot. Like, maybe the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, next to Roman, of course.” Andrea laughed, swallowing down a burst of apprehension that had just filled her throat. After her recent experience on Shiftr, she had never felt less capable of speaking to a good-looking man.
“So when and where do I carry out the interrogation?” she managed to say.
“Tomorrow afternoon, at his address in the national forest,” Kristin replied, handing her a slip of paper. “To be honest, I hadn’t realized that anyone lived in that part of the forest. When I last saw it, which was a while ago, there were just a few old sheds in the midst of some pretty dense woods.” Andrea shrugged.
“Well I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
“I’m so happy you’re doing this interview, and not only because the paper desperately needs some fresh content. It’ll be good to see you getting back to your old self again, Andrea,” Kristin said with warmth.
“That’s so lovely of you to say so, Kristin. And thanks so much for giving me this opportunity. I know you didn’t have to, and could have passed it onto one of the junior reporters instead.”
“Hey, with a guy this hot, I need someone I can trust to be professional,” Kristin said with a wink, and they both dissolved into giggles.
*
Magnus drove carefully down the narrow forest track in a pick-up truck he’d hired for a couple of days. He swung around a hairpin bend and came face-to-face with his new property. He had bought it sight unseen from the real estate agent, who had described it as a charming rustic cabin. The dilapidated building in front of him was more like a shack, or even a shed. The door looked like it was about to fall in, and one of the windows was boarded up. It was perfect. Magnus opened the trunk of his car and took out a large box of tools and some furnishings. He deposited them on the ramshackle veranda, and took the keys to his new property out of his pocket. The door swung open on creaky hinges, revealing an even more decrepit interior. Magnus coughed as dust filled his lungs, and he surveyed the room with some trepidation. There was a lot of work to be done, more than he had anticipated. He rolled his sleeves up with enthusiasm, and got to work.
Six hours later, he was done. He took a beer out of his new fridge, sat on a rickety old chair, and gazed at his work with satisfaction. He could have employed someone to do all of this for him, but he’d wanted to do it himself. The dust was all gone, and every surface of the cabin was sparkling clean. He was good with his hands, and had learned basic carpentry at high school, and he’d put his skills to use fixing the broken hinges on the cupboards, replacing the slats on the bed and fixing the front door. He’d organized for someone to replace the glass in the window first thing tomorrow, and he had a new mattress and stove being delivered. The bathroom could be described as rustic, but that would take a little longer to fix. It would do for now. It was clean anyway.
He realized that this was the first time he’d created his own environment, and it gave him a certain sense of pride. He went out to his truck and brought out his beloved zebra-skin rug, made from an animal that he’d hunted himself in Africa. He laid it in the middle of the bare-board floor, and the place began to feel a lot more like home. He debated spending the night there. He could shift and sleep on the rug. But his belly was rumbling, and he yearned for the gourmet treats he kept in the fridge in his apartment.
He took one final look around the cabin, and locked up for the night.
*
All morning, Andrea had been distracted, thinking about the interview, wondering what questions she was going to ask the businessman. When she'd been a rookie journalist, she’d always made sure she was fully briefed before interviewing anyone. Then, as she’d become more experienced, she'd learned to wing it, to direct the interview based on verbal and non-verbal clues she picked up from the subject. Of course, this sometimes led to disaster, with her asking all kinds of embarrassing and ignorant questions. She still cringed when she recalled asking a well-known author all about his wife and kids, when his most recent book had been a memoir about his decision to remain celibate. Mistakes like that were what had led up to her getting fired, and she was determined not to make them again. But she was going to have to wing it when she interviewed this guy, because she knew nothing about him. Except that he had some kind of business, and was seriously hot.
Andrea looked in the mirror of the women's bathroom as she touched up her make-up in preparation for the interview. She looked different since she’d left New York. She'd stopped trying to tame her hair with straighteners, and it now had a bit of a curl. She was surprised to discover that she kind of liked it. Maybe she'd grow it bit longer as well. Long hair had always seemed girlish and unprofessional, but it would be nice to see what it was like with a bit more life in it. She painted some rose-pink gloss on her lips. She was tired of the crimson matte lipstick she usually wore, and nobody else in Hope Valley was that made up. Her skin was pale, since it was still the depths of winter, but it was no longer subway-pale, urban-pale, relentless-stress and lack-of-sleep pale. She registered that she looked a whole lot healthier than just two weeks previously. She was wearing a burgundy, paisley print wrap dress that finished just above the knee. She’d teamed it with black lace pantyhose and black patent kitten-heeled courts. She was aiming for a professional, but non-corporate look, with a hint of sensuality. As usual, she assessed her figure critically, seeing over-large breasts and a thick waist. She shook her head at her own foolishness. As if this sexy businessman would be looking at her in a sexual way anyway!
He probably has an 18-year-old model girlfriend waiting for him at home,
she thought
.
If he noticed her as a woman at all, he’d probably dismiss her as a dumpy, 30-something spinster. Which was exactly what she was. She took a pair of glasses out of her purse and put them on. They had large tortoiseshell frames, and instantly made her look intelligent and sophisticated. They were her defense against feeling like she was never the hot girl. At least everybody knew that she was a brainy girl.
“Much better,”
she said to the mirror. On her way out of the office, she stopped at her desk to collect her reporter’s notebook and dictaphone. Kristin caught her as she was leaving.
“Andrea! You look amazing,” she said. “Best of luck with the interview. I'm sure you won't need it though!”
“Thanks!” Andrea said, wondering at the same time why Kristin had bothered to comment on her appearance.
Andrea’s parents had grudgingly let her borrow the car for the day. It was a rust-colored sedan, so old and battered that she was almost ashamed to be seen in it. Almost. There was no other way she could have gotten to the businessman's address, deep in the national forest. She set up sat-nav through an app on her phone and let her mind go blank while she robotically followed the directions spoken by the silky computerized voice.
“You have reached your destination!” the voice announced at last. Andrea looked around confusedly. She had followed what looked like a logging track deep into the forest. Now she was surrounded by trees – a lot of trees – and a few old shacks. She squinted at the doors. Everything looked dim in the weak afternoon light. She couldn't see any numbers. Were they even inhabited? She climbed out of her car to take a closer look. The only other vehicle in sight was a pickup truck parked 50 yards away. Planks of wood and an old bathroom suite were piled in the back. She must've got the address wrong. She walked back to the car to call Kristin. Just as she opened the door, a voice called her name. It was a deep, rich, masculine voice, booming through the forest. She turned on her heel and gasped at the sight of the man who was now standing ten feet away from her. He was tall and broad shouldered, with messy golden brown hair and piercing light eyes, almost the same shade as his hair. He was wearing a plain black T-shirt, which failed to conceal his bulging biceps and the swell of his pecs, along with scruffy, pale-blue jeans and cowboy boots. Her stomach lurched, did a double flip, and finished in a tight clench. He was, without doubt, the most attractive man she’d ever seen. And he was also the guy from Shiftr who had rejected her. Just the latest in a long line. She fought an overwhelming urge to get back in her car and drive away.
“You’re Magnus Adams?” she said in disbelief. His eyes narrowed infinitesimally.
“Yes I am,” he said, with a smile. He regarded her steadily, his voice smooth, like molasses. And, completely against her will, her heart gave a little flutter.
“The businessman I’ve been sent here to interview?” He bowed his head, regally, and the image of him as a lion flashed before her eyes. “Am I missing something?”
“What do you mean?” he said with a frown. Andrea’s head spun. He didn’t recognize her. Why would he? He probably received messages from hundreds of girls he wasn’t interested in. He most likely right-swiped them, and never gave them another thought. It occurred to her that she didn’t look much like her photo now either. “Andrea?” he prompted. She swallowed hard. She’d been sent here to interview him. It was very bad luck that she had history with him, but that’s all it was. Kristin had given her this opportunity, which she barely deserved, and there was no way she was going to let her down. She had to be professional now. She was here to do a job. She was going to swallow her humiliation, and do the best damn interview she’d ever done in her life. She lifted her chin defiantly.
“Sorry, I was just figuring out the best spot to take a photo of you to accompany the interview,” she said.
“How about right here?” he suggested, standing in the doorway of the shack. She took her phone out of her purse and looked at him through the screen. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t get the camera to focus.
“That works,” she said calmly.
Why does he want a photo of himself in front of that crappy shed?
she thought to herself. “Do you want to change into your business attire now?” He lifted his hands.
“This is what I wear,” he said, with a charming smile, revealing his perfect white teeth again.
“Uh, ok,” she said. “Whatever you like.” He posed very naturally in the doorway, as if she’d called to him and he’d just stepped outside to see what she wanted. She raised her phone again. His attractiveness was overwhelming. It was like the times she’d interviewed celebrities and tried so hard not to be star-struck, but failed miserably. She held her breath, forcing her hands to be still, and she shot several photos.
“Ok, I think we’re good,” she said, looking at the shots.
“Can I take a photo of you?” he said, already holding his phone up.
“Why?”
“Oh, I just like to keep a record of the journalists who interview me.”
What the fuck?
she thought, but managed to say, “ok,” in an unimpressed tone. She turned her body three quarters towards the camera, as she’d learned from photographers many years ago, and tried to pose naturally as he took what seemed to be quite a few photos.
“Are we doing the interview in here?” she nodded at the shack uncertainly.
“Yes!” he said, as if that was a totally normal thing to do. “Please come in.” He held the door open, and she walked inside. She had the fleeting thought that he could be a psychopath who’d lured her here, and was now intending to kidnap her and use her for his evil perversions.
Oh well, too late now
. She was nothing if not fatalistic. But she was very aware of his presence as she passed close by him. It was intensely masculine. His height loomed over her, yet had the lightness of men who were athletic, their weight distributed evenly across their bodies, every muscle poised for action. At the same time, she sensed his animal too, with the curious feeling that he could pounce on her from behind, as if she was a wildebeest, or a zebra. She sucked a breath in at the sight of his zebra rug.
Right. Ok then.