Haze of Heat (13 page)

“We need to switch from offense to defense.” Porter’s low voice broke the quiet. “Based on the note that came with the flowers, it sounds as if this guy is coming here. So, who’s on the guest list?”

“Well,” Melinda tilted her head as she mentally reviewed the incoming guests. “We have a family of four requesting a suite, but I don’t believe they’re the source of the threat. Two single woman in separate singles. Ah.” She paused, rankling her nose at Porter.

Porter raised a brow. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

The other woman’s lips pursed and she slid her eyes to Rachel. “One is Beth.”

“Damn.” Porter shoved a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did. It’s in your e-mail. She also requested a spot in Saturday morning’s horseback riding session.”

An old flame, if the agitation marking Porter’s face was anything to go by. Jealousy, cloying and ugly, fisted in Rachel’s chest. Because it damn well better be an old lover. Very old. And covered in warts. “Girlfriend?”

“Past,” Porter was quick to assure. “Very much in the past.”

“Except she comes out every so often to try to change the status quo,” the ever-resourceful Rome said.

Porter leveled a glare on his older brother that rivaled the most cutting laser. He mouthed “asshole,” making Rome grin wider.

“She’s totally out of the picture.” Adjusting their stance so Rachel faced him, he trailed fingers over her hair, eyes full of something that Rachel couldn’t define. “You’re the only one important to me.”

For now.
The
evil whisper slithered through her mind to taunt her self-confidence and remind her that a future with Porter wasn’t in the cards.

But it is now,
she shot back at that insidious voice with a snarl.
And for now he’s all mine. Mating heat or not. I’m going with the flow for a change, so back the fuck off.

The nasty voice went blessedly silent.

“I’ll have Curtis do the walk,” Porter added, probably mistaking her inner arguing with skepticism. She didn’t correct him, or tell him it was fine that he go hang out with an old girlfriend. Because it so totally wasn’t.

“He’s not ready to do a solo trip.” Rome seemed to be having way too much fun tormenting his brother. “You’ll have to do it.”

Rachel could actually hear the abrasive sound of Porter’s teeth grinding. “Then Rachel will go as well.”

“The Johnston males have also requested rides.” Melinda smiled prettily, as if she too were enjoying herself at her youngest son’s expense.

Porter suddenly relaxed, a canary-eating grin lighting his expression. “I’ll just take Plato and Zabana out this afternoon so they’ll be familiar with the trail. Plenty of room for one more.”

“And what if I don’t want to go out for a ride?” Yeah, like Rachel was going to miss placing herself between Porter and the wart-ridden old flame.

“Of course you do.” His hands came up to caress her arms. Leaning close enough his lips brushed her ear, his voice dropping to below a whisper, he said, “You forget how sensitive my nose is. Jealousy has a very distinctive scent.”

Outraged, Rachel shoved at his chest. “Jerk.”

Pleased with himself, Porter chanced a quick kiss on her snarling mouth. “It’s idiot, darling. Your idiot.”

Rachel crossed her arms in defiance to the arm he slung over her shoulder. Yet she couldn’t help wonder what the hell he’d meant.
Her
idiot?

“That it?” Porter asked nobody in particular.

“Well, now that playtime is over, there is one more. A single man.” Melinda sounded worried.

“Ah. Yes. The hotel reviewer.” Rome said it as if the man was of no consequence. “Trevor Daniels checked out fine.”

Rachel almost choked. “Trevor Daniels?”

All eyes turned to her and she gulped, especially at the frown tightening Porter’s features. “You know him?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s my publisher’s brother. Writes travel blogs.”

“Oh. You told me about him,” Melinda said. “He had a reader send him a nasty letter about a review once. Correct?”

“Yes.” Rachel nodded.

Porter’s frown turned into a dark scowl. “And just how well do you know him?”

“Not that well. I’ve only met him once.”

Melinda’s phone pierced the tense silence and she answered it with cool professionalism. “Good afternoon. Olivia’s Orchards.”

“But it’s not him,” Rachel whispered, stepping away from the desk as Melinda took over the controls for the computer. The men followed until the three of them were standing in the middle of the office.

“How can you be sure?” Rome wanted to know.

“He’s...” Rachel paused, searching for the right word. “Mild. It can’t be him.”

“Does he live in New York?” Porter asked.

“I imagine so as he works at the publishing house.”

“He does,” Rome put in. “It came up in the background check, but him working at your publishing house doesn’t.”

Rachel waved that off. “They have like three different companies. Maybe he works for one of the others, yet still with his sister.”

“Then he had opportunity.” Bone-deep fury colored Porter’s tone, but it was the glowing greenish-yellow of his eyes that warned her his cat was perilously close to freedom. “And he knows who you are.”

“True.” She nodded, treading carefully lest she enrage the beast barely leashed. “But once you meet him you’ll understand he isn’t the stalker.”

Porter only bared his teeth.

“Well. You’ll never believe who that was.” Melinda’s strained voice caused all heads to turn in her direction as one. “Rand Hensen. Alpha of the Greenleaf Pack.” Her eyes landed on Rachel’s wide ones. “He’s coming here tomorrow night.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Probably the best chicken chimi I’ve ever had. Thank you.”

The growl reverberating in the back of Porter’s throat wasn’t audible to human ears. Then again, Rachel, sitting to his right at the dining room table, wasn’t completely human, and the pinch she delivered to his right thigh was wicked enough he might actually have a bruise.

Or not. Because Porter wasn’t human either, and his beast did
not
like one Trevor Daniels. When the bespectacled man had responded to Annie’s question on whether he’d enjoyed his dinner, the fur on Porter’s jaguar ruffled in animosity, and thus the sub-vocal growl.

Longing for a beer, which would have to wait until he went home since the B&B didn’t have a liquor license, Porter reached for his glass of tea to douse the taste of repugnance on his tongue. There was something about the blogger that simply bugged the hell out of him. So many possibilities. For one, the guy might be his mate’s stalker—because there was no doubt in Porter’s mind that Rachel was
his
—and there he was, sitting across the table from Rachel, interacting with the large group of diners as if he wasn’t a potential asshole.

Another reason to rip the other male’s throat out was that, to Porter’s disgust, the guy was good-looking, in a polished, scholarly fashion. Behind those wire-rimmed glasses his eyes were light brown and full of intelligence and patience. The dark blond hair was cut short and immaculately groomed. Not a single blemish marked a face that was straight out of some old-world Norse mythology. Thank God he wasn’t as tall or broad of shoulder as Porter—else Porter would have to kill him on principle—but it was evident in the way he moved and the fit of his clothes that Daniels wasn’t a couch potato.

“How many horses do you have?” The question from the youngest Johnston male, a boy of eight or so named Alex, wrenched Porter from expounding on those murderous thoughts.

“Six,” Porter said, concentrating on the kid and not on Daniels—or Beth, who’d been trying to get his attention all through dinner. Having a former lover and his mate in the same room was all kinds of uncomfortable. Though he’d had a lot of fun in Beth’s bed on several occasions, the chick was clingy, high maintenance, and a hair’s width on the wrong side of mean.

It sucked how right Gwen had been when she told him that one day he was going to sleep with the wrong woman. With Andreas, Santos, Ria, and Bob all opting to eat in the kitchen, Porter couldn’t avoid mixing with the dinner crowd; plus he’d walk through the fires of hell to be near his mate. Thankfully, his sister-in-law had his back, saving him a seat between herself and Rachel.

He’d sing her praises later. Now he just had to make it through dinner without his cat pouncing out and doing something truly irrevocable.

“Two are new as of yesterday,” he continued with a smile, the maelstrom of need, rage and dominance all gathering like a thunderstorm too volatile to make it real. “Both well trained and easy going. They’ve already taken to their new home without a hitch.”

“All of your horses are well trained.” Beth spoke up, her voice coated with an invitation Porter had no desire to partake of ever again. Knowing it would be rude not to look at her when she was paying him a compliment, he did so. Grudgingly. And wished he didn’t. There was more than appreciation in her eyes as they all but devoured him. “You’re an excellent...stable master.”

The pause was deliberate and made the back of his teeth ache where they ground together in aggravation. Evidently the innuendo didn’t go completely unnoticed because the second pinch Rachel inflicted was followed by a cruel twisting of his flesh.

He stifled a wince because, yep, that one
was
going to leave a bruise. Closing his hand over hers before she could pull it back, he twined their fingers and shifted both of their hands to her thigh. Along with keeping his flesh safe from further attack, the skin-to-skin contact placated both his raging libido and his jaguar.

At least for the moment.

“We have flan for dessert if anyone’s interested,” Annie offered as she and Katie began clearing away their dishes.

“I’d love some, Annie. Thanks.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Porter saw Gwen’s brows arch nearly to her hairline. Yes, shifters ate more than the average bear. They needed a lot of fuel to compensate for their faster metabolism and active lifestyle. Yet the amount of food Porter had all but licked from his plate would have fed a family of six. He hadn’t planned to take so much, but when he’d walked in and seen Rachel leaning over the table, talking earnestly to Daniels, his cat had lunged at its tether, ready to maul the unknown male.

Between the simmering rage at the sight of Daniels daring to speak to his woman and the vicious lust of the mating heat pounding through his veins, Porter’d had to make a choice. And since he couldn’t fight or fuck, he’d have to eat. A lot.

“Will you take us to the cave?” Alex queried, his eyes aglow with excitement. “I read about it online. It’s awesome you have your own pirate cave.”

Porter leaned back in his chair, his lips twisting with real amusement for the first time since sitting down. He adored kids. Energy, innocence, and mischief all entangled in a thirst to know, see, and explore.

“Well.” Porter paused and rubbed his mouth as if considering the idea. “I usually take riders along the road. If we go into the reserve, where the cave is located, we have to have a park ranger with us.” He directed the latter at Gwen.

“You’re a ranger?” Alex asked, his eyes huge.

Gwen grinned. “Yep. And Porter’s right. If you want to go into the reserve, you must have a trained escort. As for seeing the cave, it’s a long walk. The tunnel goes underground about a mile before it opens up. It’s not for anyone who’s claustrophobic, scared of the dark, or easily tired. Plus you have to wear a hard hat and have one of your parents with you at all times.”

Alex looked imploringly up at his father, all but bouncing in his chair. “Dad?”

The older Johnston male, Ross, looked at Porter. “What about the other riders?”

Porter shrugged. “Either I or Curtis can continue the ride for those who don’t want to explore.”

“Maybe if I were twenty years younger,” Connie commented from the far end of the table. “But we’re heading home tomorrow.”

“And we’re leaving for Orlando.” Victor, the male half of the newlyweds beamed at his bride. “We’re going to Disney World.”

“I’d love to see the cave,” Beth’s dark-haired girlfriend, Christa, and one who’d never come to the B&B before, chimed in. “But I’m not into horseback riding like Beth.”

“That’s because you’ve never been on a horse,” Beth commented as Annie placed a flan in front of her.

“True. But they scare me. They’re so big,” was Christa’s unabashed comeback.

“Until a few days ago, I’d never been on a horse either,” Rachel admitted to Christa. “But Porter showed me around the barn and let me feed the horses carrots to calm my nerves. Then he convinced me to get on Daisy, and I’m glad he did. She’s sweet. It was a little scary at first, but once I got the hang of it, I had fun.”

“It takes courage to do that which intimidates you.” Daniels adjusted his glasses and nodded approvingly at Rachel. “No matter what it is.”

Porter shoveled in another mouthful of flan lest he snarl at the other man. Rachel whacked her knee into his, telling him he’d not been successful. Slanting his eyes to the side, he saw the corners of her lips tip down and had an urge to tug her close and kiss the frown off her mouth.

“Please,” Beth interjected, her eyes going from Porter’s fork-lifting left hand to the angle of his right arm. Porter didn’t give a shit that she could probably tell he was touching Rachel. Beth was in the past. He’d broken up with her. Yeah, he’d screwed up once after the breakup and slept with her, but hey, it was sex. What healthy, virile, unattached male turned down sex?

“Daisy’s so tame she’d accept a toddler. Which is what she was trained for anyway.” Beth’s thinly veiled barb made more than one person at the table pause. It also pissed an individual off who had no qualms about retaliation. The piece of flan on top of Beth’s fork suddenly flew through the air and smacked her in the middle of her own forehead, and stuck, as if some unseen finger had flicked it off the utensil and held it against her skin.

“What the—”

“Hey.”

Melinda jumped from her chair and glared around and over expressions ranging from stunned to barely restrained laughter. “The air conditioner must have kicked on.”

As Melinda soothed a distraught and caramel – and custard-coated Beth, Gwen snickered under her breath. “Seems Cort doesn’t like your ex either, Porter. Shall I say I told you so now or later?”