Remy Read online

  “So – uh – you mentioned coffee?”

  “I did. I’m on the west side of the lobby, 4th floor.”

  “East side, 5th floor,” he replied.

  “Well then how about I meet you back at the café as soon as you’re dried off and dressed. Unless you want to do coffee in your swim trunks?”

  I’d like a better look at you in your bathing suit, he thought. He was glad the water was hot because he was sure he was blushing. The bubbles were an added bonus since his swim trunks were too loose to hide his body’s reaction to the mental image of her wet bikini top clinging to her breasts. He cleared his throat. “No, getting changed is a good idea. I’ll go grab my towel and stuff.” He turned away. She followed him but he was careful to keep his eyes forward. When he did have to turn to face her, he found she was wrapped in a fluffy robe and was busy toweling her hair dry.

  “I’ll see you at the café in a few,” he said.

  “Mm-hm.”

  He hurried out.

  Tara watched him go. He’d rushed and barely toweled off so his shirt was clinging to his back almost as much as his wet trunks were clinging to his legs and ass. He was tall, broad shouldered, and bronze-skinned. She’d thought Latino at first but his features were wrong, and his accent was – interesting.

  Not to mention the powerful shoulders and chest that had been sticking out above the surface of the hot tub. I’d like to run my hands over that chest, she thought, watching him walk away. And that ass. There’s a man who works out, or maybe … maybe he’s here for the conference. Dad always did want me to marry a werebear. I’d have been more open to the idea if we had werebears like him back home.

  When he disappeared out the door, she gathered her things and followed, humming to herself. She’d been upset about being dragged to this conference. She wasn’t a Clan chief and she wasn’t even a secretary, as her Chief had claimed to the Council. But he always gets what he wants in the end and he wanted me here, so here I am. Maybe this time I can get a little of what I want, too.

  * * *

  The café was small but cozy with enough space between the dozen or so tables to keep it from feeling crowded. The décor was classy but rustic, a combination of raw wood and beautiful oil paintings of forests and mountains and wild animals. No tacky hunting trophies or cheesy lumber jack jokes to be seen.

  Remy settled at a table for two and politely told the waiter he was waiting for someone. If you order before she arrives maybe you can pay upfront and then she can’t try to pay for your drink. The reasoning was sound and he really didn’t like people paying for him. He was about to wave the waiter back over when Tara walked in.

  She hadn’t taken the time to dry her hair, that was the first thing he noticed. It was tussled like she’d rubbed it over a few times with the towel and left it. The rosy had left her cheeks so her hair sat dark and damp against her smooth, pale cheeks and neck. She was wearing one of those t-shirt dresses in a doeskin brown over black tights and had a little bag over one shoulder.

  She was looking around the café and quickly spotted him, her face lighting up in a smile. “You didn’t order without me, did you?” she said as she bustled over and settled into the chair opposite him.

  “No,” he said, choosing to omit the part about thinking that very thing.

  “Good. So, what’ll you have?”

  “I came from east of here so something with caffeine to get me through the day would be good.”

  “Me too.” The waiter came over. “I’ll have a large vanilla frappe with a cinnamon bun please.”

  “Sure thing, and you sir?”

  “Oh, just a regular coffee.”

  “Come on,” Tara said. “You don’t have to keep it simple just because I’m paying. I really don’t mind.” Her smile was radiant.

  “Okay, fine, a large latte.”

  “Anything to eat with that?”

  “Uh – “

  “Come on, I don’t want to be the only one eating.”

  “The offer was for coffee,” he said. “You really don’t need to buy me food.”

  “Order something,” she said, her eyes burning into him. She refused to look away. Her eyes were beautiful, and distracting.

  “Okay, uh, I guess I’ll have a cinnamon bun, too.”

  The waiter was trying to keep a straight face as he noted the extra pastry on the order pad. “Okay, I’ll have that out to you right away.”

  “Sorry,” she said, grinning as the waiter walked away. “I don’t mean to be pushy.”

  “No, it’s okay, you remind me of some friends back home. I seem to be surrounded by strong-willed women.”

  Tara’s hopes drooped and she tried to keep her smile bright. “You got a pushy mother?”

  “Not really, not any more than mothers should be. She’s sweet. And she lives in Florida in a retirement condo place. I hardly see her, except video chat.”

  “Oh, well I’m sure your wife doesn’t think she’s being pushy.”

  He laughed. “I’m not married,” he said. “Not even close.”

  “So, no one waiting for you back home?”

  “Just friends.”

  “I suppose that means you’re here for the conference but you’re not publicly out so you don’t want to say ‘clan’ in front of a stranger?”

  “Strong-willed and sharp too,” he said with a grin. “You look a little young to be a Chief.”

  “No comment on my gender?”

  “In general, I have a lot to say about your gender. But I know a few female Clan Chiefs so I wouldn’t rule anything out.”

  “Huh.”

  They both stopped talking for a moment as the waiter returned with their order.

  “Just put that on room 417W,” she said with a smile. “All of it.”

  “No problem, just let me know if you need anything else.”

  “So, if you’re not a Chief, why are you here?” he said, picking up his cinnamon bun.

  “I accompanied my Chief.”

  Remy hid his disappointment behind the snack. While he hadn’t planned on anything romantic happening, he couldn’t deny his attraction to her and he’d assumed the offer for a coffee and the fishing for information on his marital status was a sign she was single but apparently, that was not the case. “I hope you won’t be bored during the conference.”

  “No, I’ll be busy taking notes and such. Being a secretary is a tough job.”

  “I’m sure being married to a pushy dominant male is no picnic either.”

  She laughed. heartily “No, I’m definitely not married to my Chief.”

  “Oh – well – uh … now I feel a little embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. Didn’t I make the same assumption about you? Or just about?”

  “That’s true.” It didn’t alleviate the embarrassment.

  “So, since we’ve established we’re both single, want to do something this evening?”

  “What kind of something?”

  “Oh, I was thinking wild kinky sex.”

  He nearly spit his drink across the table.

  She laughed again, even louder this time. “I’m sorry. You should see the look on your face.” Her laughter rolled on and on.

  “Okay, okay.” He dabbed at the table with his napkin.

  She gave him a sexy little pout. “Don’t you want me?”

  He felt his cheeks heating up and she laughed again.

  “I’ll stop. I’m sorry. I was actually thinking dinner. I’ll be stuck eating hotel food all week, practically, so why don’t we head into town and try something local?”

  “Only on the condition that you don’t try to pay for me.”

  “Hey, an accidental almost drowning will only get you so many freebies. You want dinner, you’d better be ready to get hit by a car or something.”

  “No thanks, I’ll pass. I like my legs the way they are.”

  Can’t say I blame you, she thought, smiling into her mug. She glanced over the brim at him, admiring the
way his casual dress shirt clung to his arms and shoulders. Now that his hair was dry, she could see it had a little wave to it and it was just long enough to run fingers through. Her fingers if she had her way.

  “Do you know a place? Because I’ve never been here before.”

  “Me either.” Her hand shot up and a moment later the waiter appeared at their table. She smiled at him but it was a tight-lipped, sweetly professional smile and not the wide grin she’d been casting in Remy’s direction. “Besides the resort, is there anywhere you could recommend for dinner tonight?” she said.

  “There’s a steak place on Main Street,” he said. “They’ve got local micro-brewery beers and peppercorn steak. Otherwise, there’s Chinese and a sandwich place.”

  “I think we’ll try the steak,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Sure. Anything else?”

  “Mm, could you toast up a whole-wheat bagel with some butter and bag that for me. I’ll take it to go.”

  “No problem.”

  * * *

  “It’s stopped raining,” she said as they came out of the café into the lobby. “Want to go for a walk? They have a nice yard here with some paths. Shouldn’t be too bad for puddles.”

  “I could use a bit of fresh air,” Remy said, but what he meant was, As long as I get to spend more time with you. They’d already lingered over coffee for over two hours, laughing and talking and flirting.

  “Let’s go then.” Her phone rang and she sighed. “Hold on, that’s probably important.” She pulled the phone out of her bag and read the message on the screen. She typed something in return and dropped the phone back in her bag. “Sorry. I have to go. I’m needed, apparently.”

  “Helping with the set-up?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to be needed until tomorrow but I guess they need more hands. I’m sorry. I really would like to take that walk.”

  “There’s always later. Here.” He fished his car rental receipt out of his pocket and glanced about the lobby for a pen.

  She rolled her eyes and fished her phone out again. She unlocked the home screen and handed it to him. “That way I won’t lose it.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled sheepishly and took the phone from her.

  When he handed it back, she said, “You could always come with me. If they’re paging me, I’m sure they’d appreciate the help.”

  He almost said yes but then thought of running into Charles again and having him sneering again, and this time in front of Tara, whom he actually got along with was not an ideal situation. “Maybe tomorrow. I should go check in with my clan back home and see when the other Chiefs I know are expected to arrive. Call me as soon as you’re done and we’ll go for that walk, or at least get dinner. I rented a car so we don’t have to walk into town.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  * * *

  They were setting up the banquet room for the dinner Friday night. The stage had been put up by the resort staff and all the tables and chairs were out, complete with fabric covers and table cloths, but now they needed to arrange the seating charts, set up the reception table, and decorate the stage. Tara felt like she was back on prom committee, something she’d had no interest in but had volunteered for at her father’s insistence. Just like now.

  She was busy checking off names on the attendance list while Mabel, the wife of one of the Clan Chiefs from Arkansas, read her the names on the seating chart. Mabel was a thin woman in her sixties with a hair style straight out of the fifties. Tara knew the older woman was friendly and meant well but anyone would think she was cold based on her thin-lipped smile and harsh makeup.

  “Why do we even need a seating chart?” Tara wondered.

  “Because that way anyone who comes as a pair doesn’t worry about being split up if they’re one of the last ones in the room. And it’s only for this one dinner. After this everyone will be free to dine at the café or the restaurant or order room service – whatever they want. A little ceremony is nice.”

  “It’s a lot of work,” Tara replied. “We’re all adults. I’m sure we could figure it out on our own.”

  “You’re young yet, you’ll come to enjoy tradition.”

  Tara sighed and kept her focus on her work. She was bored. She was tired of blank smiles and nodding at everyone while they rattled off instructions and details she’d heard a dozen times before. There was a large bank of windows along one side of the hall and she stared longingly at the afternoon sunlight that was peeking through the thinning clouds. Everything looked fresh and green. I bet is smells wonderful out there.

  “Did you get Daniel Jenkins?”

  “Hmm? Sorry. Yes. I’ve got him.”

  “Really, Tara, this is important. We don’t want to miss anyone so pay attention.”

  “Sorry, Mabel.” She turned her back on the window and focused on the task at hand as best she could.

  * * *

  There was a text message waiting for him from Brock and an email from his supervisor at work. He sat down on the love seat in his room and looked over the files his supervisor had sent. He noted a few corrections, commented on a new color scheme, and requested that any further changes be directed to Jules in the Graphic Design department. “I’m out of town for a week,” he reminded his supervisor. “There are other people who can deal with this until I get back.”

  The text message said, “All’s well on the home front. Bring be me back a snowball.” He just rolled his eyes and didn’t bother with a response.

  He took the time to unpack his shirts and hang them in the closet, then he glanced at the clock. He didn’t watch a lot of television at home but there was really nothing else to do so he kicked off his shoes, stretched out on the bed, and turned the TV on.

  His cellphone ringing woke him. He stretched and rolled out of the bed. He’d left his phone on the loveseat and it stopped ringing before he got to it. The missed call was from an unknown number and he stared at it, his still half-asleep brain confused. It started ringing again – same number.

  He hit the green button and said, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Remy, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Tara said.

  “No.” He perked up right away at the sound of her voice. “I was just on the other end of the room from my phone. How’s the set-up going?”

  “Oh, the Council is stressing to no end but I think it’ll be fine. I’m all done for the day if you still want to catch that walk and dinner?”

  “Yes, please,” he said, shutting off the TV. “I’ll meet you down in the lobby.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be waiting.”

  * * *

  She was wearing a brown trench that fell mid-thigh and was fiddling with her phone when he stepped off the elevators. She heard the ding and looked up, only smiling when she spotted him striding across the lobby. She hooked her arm around his when he got close enough and said, “Ready to go?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They went out the back doors into the garden. The path was interlocking paving stone and mostly free of puddles. There was snow hiding here and there beneath bushes, water dripping off the still-bare branches. The air was cool and damp but it smelled clean and sweet, something neither Remy or Tara was used to. They walked arm-in-arm, enjoying the breeze, the bird song, and easy peace of the afternoon.

  They rounded a corner to find a clearing with a bench at either end. In the middle there was a square of patio stones in contrasting colors. “There should be a box or shelf nearby,” Tara said.

  “Oh?”

  “It’s a chess board. There should be pieces around somewhere.”

  “Chess? It’s huge.”

  “So are the pieces.” She was making her way around the edge of the clearing, following the line of bushes in a square. She stopped. “Here. Come help me. You do play, right?”

  “I know how,” Remy said. “I don’t know the last time I actually played, though.” He joined her and peered into the wooden crate she’d found. Inside was a complet
e set of chess pieces, probably wooden, the pieces ranging between eighteen and twenty-four inches in height, half painted black, the other half painted white.”

  “Do you want to play?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? Beats watching TV.”

  They pulled the pieces out and arranged them in their starting positions. Remy watched Tara out of the corner of his eye so he managed to get all the pieces in the correct places. Tara handed Remy a stick with a hook on one end. “The pieces have rings on the top. You use this to move them so you don’t have to walk on the board. Do you want white or black?”

  “Why don’t you take white, then you can start. Just go easy on me, I’m out of practice.”

  Her grin wasn’t very reassuring.

  She won the first game with ease, even though she was trying her hardest to go easy and not take advantage of every opening he presented, which were many. Remy didn’t mind losing, this time, since he was just trying to figure out how all the pieces moved again and what he had to watch out for.

  The second and third games she also won, but with each game he was gaining confidence and was letting her take fewer and fewer pieces.

  “Okay,” she said with a laugh. “My fingers are starting to go numb out here.”

  “How about that dinner then?”

  “Sure. Let’s just get this cleaned up and we can go. You’re getting better, you know.”

  “I was hoping so. Of course you’ll stop going easy on me the second I start winning.”

  “You know it. These pieces have a good weight to them.”

  “Guess it’s so they don’t topple too easily. Is that everything?”

  She nodded.

  He held out his hand so she took it and he smiled. “I wasn’t looking forward to having to fly out early, you know. I thought I’d be bored out of my mind, stuck in my room with nothing but the TV to entertain me. Now I’m glad I came early.”