Amber wasn’t mean to Shaya. No, she was something much worse—sickly sweet and friendly, and if Shaya hadn’t seen the occasional flash of jealousy and contempt in Amber’s eyes, she might have bought the act. Shaya would have preferred bitchiness, because then she could have said a few choice words to the female and insisted that she stay away from Nick. But while Amber was being friendly, Shaya would simply look unreasonable, mean, and even irrational if she began mouthing off at the healer…and maybe that was why Amber did it. This way, she got to be around Nick more.
When Paisley returned to the reception desk to answer the phone, Kent said, “Well, if you’re set on going on this date, you can at least tell me about him.”
“His name’s Simon. He’s a web designer.”
“Sounds boring.”
“All you’ve heard is his name and occupation.”
“Exactly. Already he sounds boring. Now, if he was a tall, ash-blond alpha male with an inner wolf—”
“Kent,” she groaned.
“Fine. So where are you going on this date?”
“We’re going to the Moroccan restaurant near your place.”
One of his brows lifted. “Oooh, maybe I’ll pop in then.”
“No. You’ll grill him like he’s being interrogated for a murder charge.”
“Yes, for your own good. For all you know, he could be a murderer. An ax murderer, even. There could be bodies hidden under his patio.”
She growled, “You’re a pain in my ass.”
He continued to be a pain in her ass all day—dedicated it to poking fun at a guy he hadn’t even met, calling him dull and wimpy as well as possibly homicidal. But she still made him give her a ride to the restaurant after work. She had changed clothes in the salon, ready for her date. Of course Kent wished her luck, despite his disapproval, but as he drove away from the restaurant, there was a strange glint in his eyes that she hadn’t liked—guilt, maybe?
Shrugging off the matter, she entered the restaurant to find that Simon was already there. He had politeness down to a tee—helping her remove her coat, pulling out her chair, letting her order first. Yes, this could work.
Nick was watching TV with Bruce when his cell phone rang. Derren. “Yup?”
“We have a situation. And you’re not going to like it.”
Instantly Nick was on his feet. There hadn’t been any panic in Derren’s tone, but there was anger there. “What is it?”
“I followed Shaya to make sure she got to Kent’s place safely, like you asked.” There was a short pause. “On the upside, none of the Nazi’s guys or the extremists are on her tail.”
“The downside?”
After another pause, Derren sighed. “She didn’t go to Kent’s place. She’s at a restaurant. According to Kent here—who had apparently noticed me following him and came straight to my SUV in the parking lot to ask me to call you—she’s on a date.”
“A date?” Nick bit out. Son of a bitch.
Again Shaya had to resist the urge to fiddle with her new violet-black skirt. It had been one of those love-at-first-sight purchases. She loved how the outer edges, running from her hips to just over mid-thigh, looked to be laced up—as if just a tug would have the whole thing on the floor. She also loved the feel of the black silk underskirt against her skin. Shame it hadn’t had some kind of warning label to alert her to the fact that whenever she sat down it was going to creep up her thighs.
She smiled at Simon as he poured more wine into her glass. The guy had been okay so far. The date, as a whole, had been okay so far too. Therein lay the problem: it was “okay.” There was no sexual tension, though he had given her compliments that indicated he would happily take over for her vibrator. There was no teasing between them or banter. He seemed to be too nervous to joke.
She had to give him credit where it was due, however—he was doing a fantastic job at not staring at her breasts, despite that her top showed off her cleavage. Whenever his eyes did drift down to them, a blush would stain his cheeks and he would instantly look away. As she gazed at him now and took everything into account that she had learned about him, she realized something: He was exactly the librarian-type of guy Paisley had described as perfect for her.
But this was what Shaya wanted, wasn’t it? Someone sensitive whom she could rely on not to hurt her the way she had already been hurt enough times before. Yes, he was missing the dominant streak that her submissive nature craved, but sometimes people had to compromise. So he would never take control and make her wet with just a look the way a certain alpha wolf could, but so what? Anyway, for all she knew, Simon could be a real Casanova in the bedroom. He could. Given the chance, there could be real passion between the two of them. They could be explosive.
Or she could be living in a fantasy world.
Maybe she was just one of those women destined to go through life traveling from one bad relationship to another. If that was the case, maybe sticking to flings would be better—no emotions, no strings, no rules, no pressure. It was just something based around the primitive need for sex. But a lifetime of that seemed sort of…cold. Shaya wanted warm. No, she wanted hot.
Looking at Simon again, she acknowledged that there wasn’t going to be anything hot between them. But there could be warmth. If that was all she could have, maybe she should accept that, maybe—
The sounds of chairs being moved and the feeling of being crowded stole her from her thoughts. Then all of a sudden there were three other people seated at their table, and the one practically fused to her side had braced his arm over the back of her chair and fisted a hand in her hair in a shifter gesture of ownership. Well shit.
“Hello, Shay,” rumbled Nick, though he didn’t look at her. He only had eyes for the nervous male opposite him. Despite the dark emotions circulating through Nick, his voice was surprisingly even. He couldn’t believe that she’d done this. He’d thought he was making progress, thought she was coming to accept his part in her life. And he’d hoped to God that meant she’d soon let him in—even if it was only slightly. He was fine with letting things move at her pace, despite how much it was killing him not to claim her. But he wasn’t fine with her dating other guys. And if she’d thought differently, she didn’t know him at all.
Shaya chanced a look at Nick’s flawless face, and it verified what his stiff posture hinted at. He was boiling with anger. As he met her gaze, his eyes warned her not to challenge him. Her wolf shrank away—not out of fear, but because she had no intention of taking any blame here; her wolf hadn’t liked being around the other male and had done nothing but growl at him. Both Derren and Kent were lazed in their seats with their arms folded over their chests, glaring at Simon like he had tried to assault her or something.
“Um…is, um, everything o-okay?” asked Simon nervously.
Feeling overwhelmed by Nick and the dark energy spilling from him, Shaya tried to shift away from him, but he growled and clamped his hand around the nape of her neck. When she stilled, he gently massaged her nape, almost as if he was rewarding her. Her wolf relaxed slightly at his touch.
“Why don’t you introduce us, Shay,” said Nick.
She cleared her throat. “Guys, this is Simon. Simon, this is Kent, Derren, and Nick.” Picking up her wine glass, she took a long, comforting gulp.
“Nice to meet you all.” Simon’s eyes danced from her to Nick repeatedly, obviously noticing Nick’s proprietary behavior.
“What do you do for a living, Simon?” asked Nick casually, needing to know every detail about this person, needing to create a profile in his head so he could figure out what the fuck it was that made Shaya want him over her mate. Her mate.