he moved to the door. Opening it
with the security chain still attached, he gave a nod, and then pulled the
chain free, ushering in the shop assistant from the boutique in the foyer.
Despite telling herself she wasn’t interested in the
designer finery hanging on the portable racks, Alexia couldn’t help but admire
the array of styles and colors.
“What takes your fancy?” Blake asked.
She stepped forward and flicked through the hangers on the
rail, stopping at an off the shoulder, yellow chiffon dress that flared out
from the waist.
“That one is lovely,” agreed the young shop assistant,
looking every inch a pencil-thin model straight off the catwalk.
Blake flipped another frock off its hanger. “And we’ll take
this one too.”
“Oh, great choice,” the assistant agreed. “That style and
color will suit her perfectly.”
Alexia’s eyes widened. The long, slinky flame-red dress was
cut to the thigh at the front, the plunging neckline that was layered in
ruffles, drawing the eye.
As Alexia snagged a handful of lacy thongs, the assistant
retrieved two pairs of stilettos from the shoe racks beneath, the little gems
along the straps winking under the lights.
Blake selected a dark-gray suit and crisp white dress shirt,
along with shoes and a swirling-patterned red and gray tie.
Another knock sounded. Blake repeated the careful procedure
of before, and then opened the door to room service dining. “Ah, great timing,”
he murmured to the waiter who pushed his cart inside.
The smiling shop assistant left with her wheeled clothes
rack, the waiter following soon after.
Once they were alone again, Alexia’s skin goose bumped under
Blake’s burning stare. She gestured weakly toward the food. “That looks
delicious.”
“Delicious, yes,” Blake murmured, his eyes not on the food.
“It’s a warm night, would you prefer to eat out on the balcony?”
Outside, where darkness might shadow at least some of her
true feelings from him? For now at least, her love for him was a discovery that
was still too raw, too new and wild for her to share. “Okay, yes. Sure,” she
managed to utter.
A few minutes later they were seated under the stars, a
squat candle burning faintly on the table and a vista of glowing city lights
spread out before them.
Blake speared a moist piece of barramundi from one of the
plates and proffered her the morsel. She took it, subliminally aware the food
was superb, but barely tasting it.
Anxieties for the danger he was about to put himself in
continued to play at the back of her mind. She chewed and swallowed. “Aren’t
you worried about snipers, someone attacking you out here?”
He cracked apart some lobster. “Honestly, no. These men
aren’t organized crime. They’re individuals who’ll come after me the old-fashioned
way.” His broad shoulders lifted, and even in the weak candlelight his
honey-gold collarbone gleamed beneath the white robe. “At least for now.
Besides, they’ll be busy chasing a phantom trail for a while yet.”
She grinned at the image. She only hoped every single room
of every motel would be checked and double-checked before Blake’s enemies
realized they’d been duped.
She managed one more bite of the duck coated in some kind of
orange-zest crumb, before declining anything more.
Blake methodically polished off all six plates.
His smile gleamed behind the sputtering flame when he
explained, “It takes a lot of fuel to shift shape, for cells to alter and
heal.”
She couldn’t help but smile once again in return, though she
wondered how the scant trail mix they’d shared back at the barn had been near
enough fuel for him. “There’s always the strawberries and champagne, if you’ve
got any hole left in your belly to fill.”
He stood, moving behind her to pull out her chair. He took
her hand and drew her close. “They’re for later,” he said huskily.
“Oh?”
“For after we meet the elusive shape-shifter hater, where I
can hopefully
with the security chain still attached, he gave a nod, and then pulled the
chain free, ushering in the shop assistant from the boutique in the foyer.
Despite telling herself she wasn’t interested in the
designer finery hanging on the portable racks, Alexia couldn’t help but admire
the array of styles and colors.
“What takes your fancy?” Blake asked.
She stepped forward and flicked through the hangers on the
rail, stopping at an off the shoulder, yellow chiffon dress that flared out
from the waist.
“That one is lovely,” agreed the young shop assistant,
looking every inch a pencil-thin model straight off the catwalk.
Blake flipped another frock off its hanger. “And we’ll take
this one too.”
“Oh, great choice,” the assistant agreed. “That style and
color will suit her perfectly.”
Alexia’s eyes widened. The long, slinky flame-red dress was
cut to the thigh at the front, the plunging neckline that was layered in
ruffles, drawing the eye.
As Alexia snagged a handful of lacy thongs, the assistant
retrieved two pairs of stilettos from the shoe racks beneath, the little gems
along the straps winking under the lights.
Blake selected a dark-gray suit and crisp white dress shirt,
along with shoes and a swirling-patterned red and gray tie.
Another knock sounded. Blake repeated the careful procedure
of before, and then opened the door to room service dining. “Ah, great timing,”
he murmured to the waiter who pushed his cart inside.
The smiling shop assistant left with her wheeled clothes
rack, the waiter following soon after.
Once they were alone again, Alexia’s skin goose bumped under
Blake’s burning stare. She gestured weakly toward the food. “That looks
delicious.”
“Delicious, yes,” Blake murmured, his eyes not on the food.
“It’s a warm night, would you prefer to eat out on the balcony?”
Outside, where darkness might shadow at least some of her
true feelings from him? For now at least, her love for him was a discovery that
was still too raw, too new and wild for her to share. “Okay, yes. Sure,” she
managed to utter.
A few minutes later they were seated under the stars, a
squat candle burning faintly on the table and a vista of glowing city lights
spread out before them.
Blake speared a moist piece of barramundi from one of the
plates and proffered her the morsel. She took it, subliminally aware the food
was superb, but barely tasting it.
Anxieties for the danger he was about to put himself in
continued to play at the back of her mind. She chewed and swallowed. “Aren’t
you worried about snipers, someone attacking you out here?”
He cracked apart some lobster. “Honestly, no. These men
aren’t organized crime. They’re individuals who’ll come after me the old-fashioned
way.” His broad shoulders lifted, and even in the weak candlelight his
honey-gold collarbone gleamed beneath the white robe. “At least for now.
Besides, they’ll be busy chasing a phantom trail for a while yet.”
She grinned at the image. She only hoped every single room
of every motel would be checked and double-checked before Blake’s enemies
realized they’d been duped.
She managed one more bite of the duck coated in some kind of
orange-zest crumb, before declining anything more.
Blake methodically polished off all six plates.
His smile gleamed behind the sputtering flame when he
explained, “It takes a lot of fuel to shift shape, for cells to alter and
heal.”
She couldn’t help but smile once again in return, though she
wondered how the scant trail mix they’d shared back at the barn had been near
enough fuel for him. “There’s always the strawberries and champagne, if you’ve
got any hole left in your belly to fill.”
He stood, moving behind her to pull out her chair. He took
her hand and drew her close. “They’re for later,” he said huskily.
“Oh?”
“For after we meet the elusive shape-shifter hater, where I
can hopefully
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