The Bear's Hired Mate: A Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance (4 page)

Carrie laughed lightly as they turned into the sandwich shop. “Nah. I didn’t give him a call. It was fun flirting with him and all, but I don’t know that I could really take a man with a daisy tattoo seriously. I need to keep my street cred in check.”

Jane watched as Carrie then proceeded to order the grilled peanut butter and jelly. Secretly, she thought it hit her ‘cred’ a little hard but she chose not to comment. The sandwiches really were to die for. After ordering her usual ham and very expensive French cheese sandwich, the girls sipped on colas and Jane got a little curious. “Carrie, when was the last time you dated a guy? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking. It’s just that in the last two weeks I’ve seen you reject at least three dates and two proposals of marriage.”

“And you think because I don’t take my deliriously happy clients seriously I’m on a man strike?”

“I don’t know.” Jane shrugged. “I guess it’s just a feeling I get. I suppose I’m wrong?”

Carrie’s caramel colored eyes darkened before they flicked down to her straw wrapper. “No, you’re not wrong. I had a mate once and he passed. It was sudden and shocking for a lot of reasons and left me very, very much alone. I was thankful when Vincent took me in, gave me a job and helped to cultivate my tattooing skill. The rest of the clan was avoiding me and he was the only one to jump in and shield me. It was just what I needed, and I’ll be forever grateful.”

Jane placed a comforting hand on top of Carrie’s and gave the woman’s hand a gentle squeeze. Carrie didn’t look up, but after a moment, her hand gave the barest of squeezes back in response and Jane knew Carrie was done talking about her past for the day.

They broke apart as the waiter brought over their food. “Well, to talk about our shared knight in armor, have you checked out my shoes?” Jane extended one pump clad foot out for Carrie’s inspection.

“Oh, well those are lovely, but what do they have to do with Vincent?” Carrie asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Vincent bought them for me.” Carrie choked a bit on her PB&J, but Jane didn’t seem to notice.

“He had three outfits for me the morning after he kidnapped me and offered me the suite as a rental. I know it’s totally wrong, but I’ve decided to keep all three outfits as a bonus for a job well done. Knowing Vincent, he’ll probably roll the cost into my rent price, but I love the shoes too much to give them up!” Jane exclaimed happily munching on the chips that came with her sandwich.

Carrie’s eyes narrowed as she swallowed the last of her lunch. “So, Vincent has provided you a job, a place to live, and he’s clothed you?”

Jane nodded. “Yup. And the man’s so anal he’s had breakfast delivered for the two of us each morning. He says if I’m right next door we might as well enjoy the meal together. It makes it easy to solidify the schedule for the day. And he’s not too shabby to stare at over my eggs,” she finished with a giggle.

Jane looked up at Carrie and found that her eyes were still serious and Jane sat up a little straighter. “So shelter, clothing, and food.”

“Uhm, yeah. What’s up Carrie, you have me feeling a little guilty about all of this. Did I make the wrong decision…” Jane trailed off with a worried look on her face.

Carrie snapped out of it, the last thing she wanted to do was worry Jane. All her chatter had done was tip her off to Vincent’s game. He’d found his mate in this curvy little human. Carrie would’ve laughed if she’d been alone. Oh, Vincent was in for it now.

Standing up to head back to the parlor Carrie wrapped her arm around Jane. “No, no babe. Take that man for all he’s worth. He’s got more money than God. Next time you should ask for Louboutins. But you should ask him about the Clan and mates. It’s a political thing you should be aware of if you’re going to continue running interference as his manager.” That was a lie, all lies! Carrie thought. She’d keep quiet on the werebear front, but she was totally going to push Vincent to make his move.

CHAPTER FOUR

Two weeks later Jane was ambling around the shop at midnight making sure everything was back in its place. Midnight Ink had closed early today, right after the first session of tattoos ended at four o’clock. Vincent wanted an inventory done and he’d left the task to Jane, as shop manager, while the artists enjoyed an extra evening off.

Carrie had texted a couple hours ago saying she and the rest of the guys were headed out to a local bar in the old part of Las Vegas, on Fremont Street. At the time, Jane had been hoping to wrap things up early enough to join in the fun, but as the hours passed and Carrie’s snapchats became more and more drunken with debauchery, Jane felt like she was too sober and too tired to head to the party late.

Vincent had been in and out of the shop checking up on her progress and making sure she didn’t need anything, but other than that, she’d been alone. Early on, he had attempted to help, but he wasn’t good at following her directions or figuring out her inventory system. The man truly had issues with basic logic. No wonder he was unable to keep his own schedule, he seemed to have difficulties counting ten ink bottles in her presence.

Jane rolled her eyes as she locked the ink back up, thinking about how gruff and unresponsive he’d been standing below her at the base of the ladder as she called out sets of ten. In the end, Jane had decided that it was easier to do the whole thing herself. She’d brought up the conversation about the clan and mates to scare him off.

Ever since the lunch where Carrie had suggested Jane ask Vincent about mates she’d been employing the conversation during times when Jane wanted Vincent to clear out. The first time she had brought it up, she’d done so with all innocence and intent to learn more about this secretive ethnicity Vincent was a part of. Jane thought it was kind of like a Native American tribe, but as far as she gathered, Vincent and the others were all of Italian descent. Maybe it was the mafia?

Guesses about the clan aside, Carrie’s suggestion had given Jane a concrete term to question Vincent about. But the instant she’d brought it up, Vincent turned red, terse, and had found the first excuse to leave the conversation. At the time, Jane had just thought she’d caught him at a bad moment. So, she brought the subject up again at breakfast, Vincent’s favorite meal of the day. He was always so happy and relaxed when just the two of them were dining on pancakes and coffee. But again, when she asked about mates, Vincent simply stood up, mid coffee sip and said he had to go. Jane was bewildered, Vincent never left the table without consuming at least three cups of highly caffeinated brew. Ever since, she’d been employing the tactic either to tease Vincent or to get him out of her hair.

Jane sighed, not that she didn’t like him in her hair. She liked him there, she liked him in her living room, at her breakfast table. Jane even entertained the thought that she’d really like him in her bed...if he weren’t her boss. Jane blushed even though she was alone; her crush was turning into a problem. Vincent was feeding it. He was constantly around her, seeing to her wants and needs and yet whenever Jane thought they were close enough to have a real spark of flirtation or a real moment of connection, Vincent seemed to shut down. He slammed a wall in place that made Jane feel as though he was physically abandoning her.

The whole thing was just weird. It was one of the reasons she’d wanted to go out with the crew tonight. Maybe if she met someone else, she could go on a date or even move out from both living and working under his thumb. Since the option to head out on the town had already escaped her, Jane decided to do the next best thing. She would take advantage of the empty studio and sketch.

The studio had lovely light and it was all set to dimmers. Jane grabbed one of the five easels out of the back room, they were all present and accounted for according to the inventory, and she set up some sketch paper and her charcoal along with a beer from the communal fridge. At low volume, she turned on the stereo system to classic rock and Sweet Emotion by Aerosmith hummed in the background as Jane allowed her mind to drift, her hand lazily sketching whatever came to mind. Her first few sheets looked more like doodling; half finished ideas of people and objects associated with the room that surrounded her. There was the impression of a dahlia leaf from one of Carrie’s paintings on the wall and a bear snout from Xavier’s inspiration board. Her mind also tripped over the people and she tried to recollect faces, starting and abandoning her friends’ expressions as she warmed up.

After Jane came back to the studio for her second beer, she sat down with a clear vision of what she wanted to work on for the evening. As she sketched and shaded the scene, her beer was forgotten and rock of the 80’s and 90’s played in the background though Jane had ceased to hear it. It wasn’t until heavy footfalls of shit-kickers thudded on the ebony hardwood that Jane woke up to reality and by then, it was far too late to shield her artwork from prying eyes. Looking up into the face standing three feet above her, Jane realized it would have been smarter to stick with Carrie’s dahlia, because while she’d accurately portrayed the caramel eyes staring down at her, Jane hadn’t meant Vincent to see the sketch.

Vincent had been watching Jane from a distance for almost an hour. He’d entered the studio quietly to check and see what she was doing in the space. At first he’d been mesmerized by Jane’s actions, her concentration so fully on her art that she didn’t even realize he was watching her. Vincent had allowed his eyes to linger on the curve of her neck, trailing down the line of her spine and appreciating the span of her tiny waist. He was getting drunk on her body and Vincent had been beyond the point of no return when Jane had shifted and he’d finally gotten a good view of her subject.

Previously, all he could tell was that it was set in the studio; the black leather of the tattoo chair taking up the left side of the composition, but the rest of the drawing had been blocked by Jane’s beautiful body. When she stepped back, looking at the piece as a whole, Vincent had realized she’d been drawing him: a very good, sensual likeness of him. In his surprise, he’d started to step forward, forgetting to walk quietly and allowing his full weight to reverberate off the floor. Bears were not known for their stealth hunting tactics.

The closer Vincent got to the drawing, the clearer its details became. From a distance, all he could see was himself bent over a woman tattooing a chest piece. Neither Vincent nor the female figure getting tattooed was unclothed in any way. The woman was showing ample cleavage but the girls running around in the casino at the moment were showing just as much if not more in their cocktail dresses. The placement of the figures shouldn’t have suggested anything sexual either, the only connection between the two figures was the touch of the tattoo needle to the woman’s chest. And yet, it was a very sensual piece. Something about the way the woman was arching her back and the way Vincent was staring down at her stirred something deep and longing in his core. Already turned on from his lengthy perusal of Jane’s unsuspecting body, the drawing pushed him over the edge.

Jane knew she needed to say something, but she was utterly embarrassed and turned on at the same time. She had been using the drawing to display a fantasy she had of Vincent loving her body both physically and through art. The two beers had helped her relax and the hours of drawing to rock stars crooning about sex, love, and heartbreak had been a heady combination. Jane only wished that the embarrassment was enough to bring her back down to earth. But the way Vincent was now looking at her, Jane instinctively felt as though she either needed to plaster her body to his or run for the hills and hide in her suite. There would be no polite extrication from this situation.

As Jane opened her plump red lips to offer something lame before ripping the drawing from its easel, Vincent moved swiftly into her personal space wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her in for a deep, long kiss. Jane was shocked, her mouth parted on a gasp and her eyes flew open as Vincent used the opening to run his tongue along her teeth, inching his way into her mouth with gentle experience. He nuzzled her lips as he shifted his head to gain a better position to ravish her and in Jane’s sex hazy mind, she could only give in.

This is what she’d been wanting for weeks now. A woman could only take so many shirtless breakfasts and days following along after a man with an ass that knew how to fill out a pair of jeans. Add the facts that he cared for her, listened to her every word, and hung on her wants and desires; Jane had been a goner from the start. Only propriety that he was her employer kept her from consciously desiring this very thing and now that was shot to shit. It was obvious Vincent wanted her, too.

Jane closed her eyes and lost herself in the makeout session. She had been sitting on the edge of a tattoo chair that was folded down and as Vincent moved closer and closer into her personal space, Jane shifted back on the chair, attempting to find solid ground in the middle of the storm that was going on in her senses. The smell of him was intoxicating; it was like leather, soap, and man. Jane inhaled deeply during each break in the kiss. Vincent was a smooth operator, his large form was surprisingly gentle, touching her face and running hands up and down her body as if she was made of china rather than sturdy mid-western stuff.

Vincent moved down kissing her neck as a hand reached down and firmly clasped her butt. His hand kneaded and massaged at first, which had Jane moaning with desire but then he suddenly stopped and instead pulled her toward the edge of the table. Jane’s hands flew behind her for purchase so she didn’t tumble off the leather chair. Instinctively, her legs tightened around Vincent’s hips, which thanks to the push, were now firmly pressed up against her own private parts. She could feel the hard length of him through his jeans. He was warm and large and she cursed herself that even the thin lace thong she was wearing was too much of a barrier from what she wanted. Shifting for leverage, Jane took advantage of the situation tilting her hips and rubbing herself against Vincent’s length. Vincent let out a guttural sound that suggested he had enjoyed the move as much as she had, though it was entirely possible that his enjoyment had been fulfilled by her breasts, which Vincent had freed from her strapless dress.

The dress was one of easy access. Jane had worn it for the day because it was comfortable, it was a blue strapless number with a full skirt at the bottom and Vincent was thankful that it gave him access to her lush curves without the need to remove an article of clothing. Holding the weight of her ample chest in his hands Vincent lavished alternating attention on her breasts. Pulling one nipple into his mouth and circling the sensitive skin with his tongue before moving on to the other, and replacing his mouth with a very clever thumb which flicked it’s way across her pebbled nipples with just the right intensity and speed. Jane felt her hips tick with another thrust as her body arched, moving her breasts more fully into Vincent’s grasp.

Panting with need, Vincent backed away and Jane felt bereft. He laid a fist on either side of Jane’s hips, the tension in his body making dents into the soft leather.

“What’s up?” Jane asked, her voice far more pleading than she would have liked. “Is something wrong? Do you think this is wrong?” her voice moving from pleading, now to desperation.

Vincent noted the change and shook his head. “No, this is beyond right. I didn’t realize how right it would feel. I...I, uh, I think I’m taking things too fast. I’m trying to restrain myself. I don’t want to overwhelm you Jane.”

Jane was too keyed up to care about being overwhelmed. He’d overwhelmed her with the kiss. Sitting topless in the studio, Jane’s mind had become determined in its single-minded focus.

“Vincent, I want you now. You can’t just leave me like this. It feels right to me, too. Know that now, because I do not want to have a conversation in the middle of it all. We can talk later,” Jane coaxed, bringing him back to her by tightening her grip on his hips with her legs. She applied gentle pressure until he was pressed against her again. “Now, keep kissing me,” Jane finished, smiling smugly.

But Vincent only pulled away again. “Jane, if I kiss you again, if we continue, I’m not going to be able to stop.” Vincent paused and took a steadying breath. “It’s more serious than you think.”

Jane felt powerful in how attracted Vincent was to her. She thought his words were simple flirting. She thought he was being a gentleman for holding back, but slowing down was not what she wanted right now. Right now, Jane wanted him. “Vincent, there is almost nothing you could say to me right now that would make me not want this. Are you single? Healthy?” she questioned.

Vincent sighed. “Yes and yes. But it’s not as simple as you think. There’s no coming back from this Jane,” he said looking deep into her green eyes.

This gave Jane pause, did she want their relationship to change? Was she willing to risk her job? Her home? Against all logic, her gut was telling her ‘yes.’ Yes, this was the right choice for her. “I want the change Vincent,” Jane declared taking his mouth with hers.