Miri: A Paranormal Romance (Plenty of Shift Book 1) Page 4

  But the trick was to get the damn thing installed, which meant renovation work. Who could she ask to help with its installation?

  “Of course,” she said. In a moment of decisiveness she stood, strode to the closet and grabbed a jacket and her purse. Maybe a quick drink was in order.

  And she knew just the place.

  * * *

  Weeknights tended to be quiet at the “Bear Bar,” as the locals had begun to call it. Its true name of The Fox and Hound didn’t particularly represent its place in Grayson City society. This was a bar run by bears, for bear clientele. Not that it discriminated; any sort of shifter or human was welcome. Except for the sort that had a serious aversion to grizzlies—which meant that most of the wolf pack stayed away.

  At six-thirty, Malcolm found himself polishing glasses behind the bar, as usual, his mind invaded by thoughts about the woman who’d been in with Jennika a few nights earlier. The brunette with the curves til Tuesday, the round ass that begged to be pawed, bitten and licked, and the voice that had all too briefly breathed raw sexuality all over him.

  It had been months since he’d found himself so attracted to a woman. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever found one quite so delicious as she was. She was a walking feast, and Malcolm’s eyes hadn’t known where to begin. He could only imagine what he’d do if he could get his mouth on her. And what had gone on in his pants? Well, that was enough to make him consider buying a bigger pair of jeans.

  That Miri had been something else. For one thing, unlike every other female who came into the joint, she didn’t seem all that interested in him—she hadn’t tried once to get him to take her home, or to give him her number. Though she was a flirt; no question about it. But she was smart, independent. The sort of woman who would make her own life, rather than expect a man to figure it out for her. She wouldn’t want him paying her way or barking orders at her.

  And yet the bear in him wanted to look after her; it sensed that she needed protection on some level. Here was a woman who wanted to prove her strength; to hide that she had any weaknesses. But he knew better. Everyone had weaknesses. Even him.

  He put down the shot glass that he’d been cleaning for who knows how long, and found himself staring at his hand as he did so. Those hands that had been used for so much: to fight. To caress. As he picked up the glass again and twisted it around, his thoughts prevented him from noticing the customer who’d just walked in.

  “Penny for your thoughts? Or has inflation increased the price?”

  Something inside his chest leapt. That voice. That scent. He’d know them anywhere now.

  Without turning his face, Malcolm said, “Just contemplating the perfect curve of a shot glass.”

  “You’re an expert on perfect curves, are you?”

  Ah, so she was in a flirtatious mood.

  “I know them when I see them,” he said. Finally his face turned towards her. “Speaking of which, what can I get you, Miri?”

  “You remember my name.” She smiled, her pink lips shining with a hint of gloss that no doubt tasted like the sweetness of sex.

  “Of course I remember. I never forget a name. At least, not one associated with such a gorgeous face.”

  “Oh, my,” she replied. “Flattery will get you…a big fat tip.”

  “I’m not looking for a tip. Unless it’s to tell me how to get you naked.”

  He leaned towards her now, his elbows on the bar, confidence surging through him. It wasn’t so much her words as her scent that rendered him cocky. The last time he’d seen her, the heady scent had revealed apprehension, nervousness. Now she was all sex. Even from several feet away, he could tell what was going on between her legs: her body craved his, whether she would ever admit it in words or not.

  This woman wanted him. And it only made him want her more.

  “I’m not about to explain to you how to get me naked,” said Miri. “That would spoil all the fun, after all.”

  “I do like fun.”

  “Yes, I think you do. And I’d like a rusty nail, please,” she said, putting her purse on the bar as she pulled up a stool.

  “All right. For the record, though, you asked for it: I’m about to nail you.”

  She let out a snicker, unable to hold back.

  “Listen, sweetheart,” said Malcolm, turning away to grab the scotch. “Just be thankful you didn’t ask for a screwdriver.”

  “Good point.”

  “So, what brings you here?” he asked as he expertly combined the drink’s ingredients.

  “I guess I was bored,” she said.

  “No TV, huh?”

  “No TV.”

  “Well, as you can see, we have plenty around here.” Malcolm gestured around the room, where approximately twelve sets seemed to be showing twelve different sporting events.

  “I’m not so into the sports.”

  “I can tell. For one thing, you call them ‘the sports.’”

  “It’s true. I’m a girl.”

  “You’re a woman,” said Malcolm, handing over the glass. “And cheers to that.” He locked eyes with her, and for a moment Miri wondered what would happen if she actually turned into a puddle.

  “So, tell me about the new place,” the bartender added. “Jenn told me that you’d just moved.”

  Miri sipped her rusty nail. The man could mix a fine drink, that was for sure.

  “It’s pretty great. Big, cheap, comfortable.”

  “Just like me.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Well, I think you’d find me comfortable. Not to mention big.”

  Good lord. The thought of it.

  “But not cheap.”

  Miri smiled quietly. This was not good. He was way too attractive. Way too smooth. Way too sexy. And her body was pulsing in places where she didn’t even know she had a pulse.

  And yet, she wasn’t getting up to leave. She was sitting, staring at him. Inhaling that musky bear-scent that oozed raw heat. Her eyes moved between his face—its perfect proportions, those gorgeous eyes that hid any number of secret and not-so-secret thoughts, and his chest, which seemed to be trying to fight its way out of his t-shirt. Had he deliberately bought one that was slightly too small? Whatever the case, bravo to him.

  “Malcolm,” she said, her voice quiet, forcing him to lean in. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

  “Miri.”

  “Would you ever…”

  She watched as the corners of his mouth curled upwards.

  “Consider…”

  “Yes?”

  “Oh, God. This is really hard to ask.”

  “It’s okay. You can ask me anything.” His lips barely parted as he uttered the words.

  “I want you to help me pound a hole in my wall.”

  “Is that some kind of sexual term? Because hell yes, I would do that.”

  Miri laughed. “No. I literally want you to smash the drywall with a mallet.”

  “You kinky lady.”

  “Are you in? You’re the only big strong bear shifter I know. Well, aside from Kor. But he’s busy pounding other things.”

  “You’re inviting me to your apartment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’m no idiot. So of course I’m in.”

  “Good. Give me your number and I’ll text you the address.”

  “Give me your number instead. I can come by tomorrow. Say, sixish?”

  “That sounds great.”

  He handed his cell phone to her and she punched in her number and passed it back. Malcolm hit a button and a moment later, Miri’s phone was ringing.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Pick up,” he said, holding his phone to his ear.

  She reached into her purse and grabbed it. “Hello?” she said.

  “Hi. Listen, I don’t want to freak you out, but I think you’re being watched.”

  “Am I? By whom?”

  “A grizzly shifter. Don’t look now, but he’s standi
ng behind the bar, holding a cell phone. He keeps staring at your chest. It just seems really inappropriate.”

  “Yes, you’re right. And what else?”

  “He keeps licking his chops, like he wants to eat you or something.” With that, Malcolm licked his upper lip, sending blood rushing through Miri like a freight train on crack.

  “I’ll have to keep an eye on him,” she said. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Just the tip? I can give you a lot more than that, if you want.”

  “You are the master of double-entendres, aren’t you?” she asked, laughing as she hung up.

  “I like to think so.”

  Miri downed the last of her rusty nail and put a ten-dollar bill on the bar.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow with a mallet in hand, Thor,” she said.

  He watched her leave the bar, and a moment later his phone buzzed.

  “101B, Barber Street,” the message read. “Don’t be late.”

  Malcolm smiled, thrusting the phone into his back pocket. He had something to look forward to. A beautiful woman. In her apartment.

  He looked down for a moment at the front of his jeans.

  “Down, boy,” he said. “You’re going to have to wait for this one.”

  * * *

  Miri breathed deeply as she strode away from the bar, attempting to decelerate her heart. That had been one quick drink. But if she’d stuck around, there was no way she could ever have left, unless it was to go to some dark, mysterious back room with Malcolm and tear his clothes off. The man was a walking aphrodisiac.

  She walked with her head up, proud to have defeated the monster in her pants. The almighty sex-beast, the thing that made sane people into lunatics and destroyed every man and woman’s ability to think straight.

  And even as she moved farther away from Malcolm, her head cleared. She began to think again about her new business: how would she get it off the ground? Word of mouth? She didn’t have the funds to hire any help or to advertise. But tomorrow, she’d start setting up the apartment to accommodate clients. Tomorrow. Oh, shit. Tomorrow, he was coming over. What the hell was she thinking, inviting that man into her home? He’d be, what? Four feet from her bedroom? How the hell would she resist the desire to push him through the door and straddle him?

  It had been a spur of the moment decision, asking him to help her. He was just so…big. And strong. He looked like he could probably tear down the wall with his bare hands. Or bear hands, even—no doubt in grizzly form he was an indomitable force.

  “Stupid, stupid woman,” she muttered, shaking her head and laughing as she walked by a young couple who seemed to be veering to avoid the crazy lady. “Ah, well. So I have a date with a grizzly who’s going to break my house. Life could actually be worse.”

  Chapter Five

  Miri paced the living room floor as she waited. For the hundredth time, she glanced over at the clock that sat on an end table by the couch.

  5:58. Malcolm was coming around six. He’d said so.

  Why the hell was she so nervous? Was it that he was incredibly handsome? Lots of men were handsome, but they didn’t make her sweat like this. No, it was far more than that. It was like he was a perfect storm of all the male attributes one could want: clever, gorgeous, playful, strong.

  And, she reminded herself as her feet strode across the floor again, he was a flirt. He was a bartender, which meant that he met women all the time, and no doubt went home with them frequently, whatever Jenn said to the contrary.

  He wasn’t the guy for Miri. He couldn’t be. And so she trusted herself to resist him if he became too charming.

  She needed time. And after that, she’d need a guy who was stable. As she’d said to Jenn, she’d done the hot, flirty guy thing, and that had turned out to be less pleasant than a root canal without anaesthetic. The last thing she wanted was yet another man who’d drop her like a sack of potatoes the next time he saw a hot woman.

  She’d get the sexy grizzly shifter to help tonight, then she’d send him on his way. That was it.

  Well, except that she should probably feed him, if he was working for free. She had a chicken roasting in the oven. Yes, she’d feed him after the work was done. Then he’d be out of there, back to wherever he’d come from.

  Unless he wanted a drink, too. She should really offer him a drink at the end of it all. Just one drink.

  Maybe two.

  “Miri,” she muttered, “You’re so fucked.”

  * * *

  Malcolm paused at the front door, his finger suspended, ready to ring the buzzer. In his left hand he held a large mallet that he’d owned for years. Something about the situation seemed comical; showing up at a woman’s place with a giant hammer was usually considered a little threatening, after all.

  Finally, when he’d inhaled deeply a few times, he buzzed the intercom.

  “Hello?” said Miri’s voice on the other end.

  “It’s Malcolm, come to destroy your abode,” he said.

  “Oh, good. I was just getting sick of having so many walls intact. Come on in.” He pushed the door open as soon as he heard the distinct click allowing him entry. With his first step into the brownstone he could already smell her; that sensual, feline scent lingering on the air. God, he loved how she smelled. Too much.

  “This is going to be a rough night,” he muttered under his breath. Much as Miri flirted with him, there was no way that she’d invited him over for sex. She was a tough nut to crack, that one, and not the sort of woman who jumped into bed with a guy just because he dropped explicit hints her way.

  So he estimated that by the end of it all, his balls would be an agonizing and intense shade of royal blue. But he couldn’t resist the invitation, or the chance to spend time with this woman in her territory. Just inhaling her was enough. Almost.

  He knocked at her door to find it slightly ajar, and under his fist it moved inwards.

  “Come in,” she said from somewhere inside.

  As he stepped in, he could see into her small galley kitchen. She was checking something in the oven, leaning over so that her breasts and her behind showed to great advantage. Whether this was deliberate on her part or not, he could only guess. Malcolm skillfully held the mallet in front of his waist to hide the twitching that was taking place inside his jeans.

  Miri stood and turned to him, smiling. “Just making sure dinner’s cooking,” she said.

  “Dinner? I—is this a date?”

  “God, no. But a girl’s got to eat. As does a boy. Are you still okay with doing some smashy-smashy to the wall? We should get started soon, so the neighbours don’t lose their minds with late-night banging.”

  “Late-night banging sounds more appealing than you know,” said Malcolm, that smile of his doing amazing things to Miri’s body.

  “You’re incorrigible,” she said. “And I have to admit that I like it. Though it won’t get you anywhere.”

  “Well, listen—if you’re not going to invite me to bed, tell me what to clobber and I’ll do it. I need to get the frustration out somehow.”

  Miri let out a chuckle as she led him into the living room and showed him the wall separating it from the office. “The goal is to install a two-way mirror here,” she said.

  “Interesting. Not to mention the kink factor. Should I even ask why?” he said.

  “I’ll have clients in the office, on the other side of the wall. They’ll be in there, watching, while I’m out here interviewing their prospective dates. Ignore the mess in there—I’ve been using the room as a temporary walk-in closet.”

  “I see. So the clients will be spying.”

  “Exactly. Well, sort of. Is that bad?”

  “Not in the least,” said Malcolm, stepping towards her. “Physical attraction is very important. I, for one, would certainly want to lay my eyes on a woman I might end up with.”

  “Oh? And what might she look like?” asked Miri, who found her breath growing shallow as he inched closer to her. That scent of hi
s—it was like an injection of pre-orgasmic sensations into her bloodstream.

  “She might have brown hair,” he said, his fingers boldly twisting a strand that had fallen over her chest, so that they grazed her skin ever so slightly. “Brown eyes. And curves that make a man think he’s in the middle of a wet dream every time he looked at her.”

  * * *

  “My goodness,” Miri breathed. For a moment she looked into his eyes, which were narrowed, focused, exploring her.

  Shit. What was she doing? With a sudden leap she moved away, turning once again to the wall.

  “Do you think it’ll be hard?” she said. “I mean difficult. To pound the hole.” Everything, but everything, was sounding dirty this evening.

  “No. But after we smash through, we’ll need to frame it out,” said Malcolm, studying the wall as though he hadn’t even uttered the previous words. “Have you hired someone for that?”

  “No—I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. It just so happens that I used to work as a dry-waller.”

  “Look at you, Mr. Multitalented,” said Miri. “What else can you do?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  I would, she thought. Now it was she who wanted to step towards him, to lay hands on that broad chest, to taste his neck. To seek out his talents.

  “Let me get to work,” he said, once again seeming to focus, tearing them responsibly out of the moment. “Then, if you still think I’m talented, you can reward me with whatever’s in that oven of yours.”

  “Sounds like a deal,” she said.

  “I’m assuming that you know the size of your mirror?”

  “Two and a half by three feet. It’s in the bedroom if you want to look at it.”

  “That’s okay.” If he stepped foot in her bedroom, he’d never want to leave.

  Instead, he took his first blow at the wall. The hit was precise, doing minimal residual damage. Miri watched his large arms bulging each time he lifted the heavy mallet, her breath catching in her throat as her heart rate accelerated. Now this was a man.

  Within minutes, he had a large hole made, revealing the next room’s contents. She was almost sorry to see him work so fast.