She waved but didn’t turn around.
It had been pleasurable. Far too much.
Derry made a dismissive snort and shook his head twice, quickly, like a dog ridding itself of something annoying. That was quite the brush-off. He opened his hand and pressed the palm against a piece of stainless steel. Anyone who did not know about the ultraexclusive Novo Club eight floors beneath the ground would think nothing of the spot.
Derry, unlike most people, knew damn well. You had to be a bit of an animal to be a member.
Or more than a bit.
His phone buzzed in his pants. Funny how they were a little tighter than usual. That long brown hair. Those eyes. The slope of her cheekbone. The tightness at her throat as she struggled with her own arousal. He’d smelled it.
To his shock, upon entering the elevator he had felt the tingling in his nerves that signaled the beginning of a shift. Even now his tailored shirt strained against the expanding muscles in his shoulders and the hair that was thickening all over his body.
What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t shifted involuntarily since the first flush of puberty decades ago. He shook his head again, more roughly this time, and struggled to free his phone from his tightening pocket.
The damn thing was like a child’s dollhouse book in his giant hands. Fumbling, he finally slid the lock and barked into the mouthpiece.
“Stanton,” he snapped.
“Stanton squared.”
“Oh. It’s you, Gavin. Just met your future sister-in-law. She’s a… treat.” He sniffed the air, catching the last of her scent. Mint, dog shampoo, roses, and rubbing alcohol. Now that was a combination. Was she a veterinarian?
That would be a bit serendipitous.
“Don’t even think about it, Derry,” his brother warned. The threat was implied.
The growl was real.
“Too late. I was thinking about it long before I laid eyes on her,” Derry said airily. He loved taunting Gavin about as much as Gavin loved watching his precious football team, the New England Patriots.
“She’s off limits.”
Derry raised his eyebrows and held the phone away from his ear in mock shock. “You think that will stop me?”
“She’s not your type.”
“She has tits and a pussy, no? Then she’s my type. In fact, she could have a secret penis and—”
“We are not going to rehash that Bangkok trip. My bank account still has flashbacks. You cost me a solid five figures in bribes to get you out,” Gavin chided.
Derry sighed, Jess—Jessica?—Lilah’s sister’s scent permeating his thoughts. Something about her was appealing in a Jane Austen sort of way. She was closed off and rather prim. A career woman, he imagined. Someone who wouldn’t give a playboy billionaire rake the time of day.
And yet… why did her scent bedevil him? It should have dissipated by now. And the itch to shift into his other form was still strong, nagging with a persistence that confounded him.
“Derry? You there?” Gavin sounded annoyed. Derry knew it was less about Lilah’s sister and more about being ignored.
“Where else would I go?” Derry asked, looking around the tiny elevator. It felt like a coffin.
“You will not come on to her, make passes at her, brush up against her, kiss her, fondle her—”
“Are you reading from a contract, Gavin?” Derry asked in alarm. Gavin was the type to actually have a contract for this sort of thing.
“No. But I can have my lawyers draw one up if need be.”
See?
“I get the picture,” Derry mumbled. “Virgin sister-in-law is kryptonite. No touching.”
“No thinking.”
“You can’t censor my fantasies,” Derry insisted. Thank God.
“I would if I thought it would do any good.”
Ding! The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open as if propelled by magic. Morgan, the Novo Club’s stalwart master, stood holding a tray with Derry’s favorite drink.
Home Sweet Club.
Her.
That damn woman’s scent grew stronger. How could that be? She wasn’t here. She wasn’t a shifter.
“Derry?” Gavin’s voice held a question, and it wasn’t, Are you there?
“Fine, fine. I have hundreds of other women I can substitute for your future wife’s sister. I’ll console myself with the runners-up for Miss Universe.”
“I’m sure you can find one to keep you occupied,” his brother said as Derry took the drink and nodded thanks to Morgan, who disappeared.
Derry took a sip of fifty-year-old Glenfiddich scotch. The slightly woody taste of dark berries, almond, smoke, and warm oak made him relax and smolder at the same time. The scotch was infuriatingly delicious.
It tasted and smelled exactly like Jessica Murphy, damn it.
“One? Oh, you think so small, Gavin. I intend to have them all. Tonight. At the same time.”
Gavin laughed and ended the call, leaving Derry with his scotch.
And the lingering scent of a woman he’d just promised he would never touch.
Chapter 2
Jess closed her eyes and took a head-clearing breath before setting out to find Molly Sloan, the woman who was going to fit her into a uniform for the evening. She hoped Molly, whoever she was, carried a wide range of sizes. It wasn’t just her chest. She was large all over. From painful experience, any job or activity that required a uniform made her nervous.
She glanced back at the elevator. Not nervous the way the huge, delicious guy who would soon be her brother-in-law made her nervous. That was a hot, sticky, thrilling kind of nervous. The kind she was careful to avoid.
No, preparing for this job made her cold and careful. If they wouldn’t accept her generous figure, tough. Lilah hadn’t said anything, but Jess was a little larger than her sister, maybe just enough to be outside their range of cocktail-server uniforms. If that was the case, she was happy to wear her own clothes. She hoped they would be reasonable.
Whoever they were. Where was this Molly person she was supposed to meet? She walked over to a door across from the elevator, which was slightly ajar, and stuck her head inside. “Hello?”
A muffled voice reached her from the floor to the left. “Sorry! Just a minute!”
Jess opened the door and walked inside a bright, airy space that appeared to be a fashion boutique. Mirrors on one wall, tons of clothes artfully displayed on round racks and low tables, long shelves of shoes, a lounge area, and small doors in the back, apparently for changing.
“I’m Jess Murphy.” She looked around for the source of the voice she’d heard but saw nobody.
“Oh shit,” said the voice. Then more loudly, “I lost track of time.”
A round rack began to shimmy and roll, and then a curvy woman in black crawled out from under it holding a screwdriver between her teeth. Breathing hard, she got to her feet and removed the screwdriver. “Stupid thing keeps falling over. Thought I could fix it myself.” She grinned, a white thread clinging to her tight sweater, and held out a hand. “Damn, you’re as beautiful as your sister.” A petite brunette with impossibly large—and gorgeous—blue eyes, Molly made Jess relax instantly. She looked a little like her sister, Lilah. Maybe this would even be fun.