Curves & Alphas: A Paranormal Box Set: (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (16 page)

Chapter 2

Jane gave a long, low whistle.

‘Now that’s a great set of genes.’

The Longshadow family made their way through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with important guests. At the front was Wilbur, dashing in a classic tuxedo, with a thick head of silver hair and a distinguished moustache. On his arm was a striking, tall woman, also with silvery, ash-blonde hair that was cut into a sleek bob. She wore a full length navy gown with a very thin gold belt. On her head shone a tiny gold tiara. On anyone else, it would have screamed tastelessness, but on this woman it was nothing but elegant.

‘That’s Nancy Longshadow,’ Willow whispered. ‘She’s French. She spends half the year in Europe, chasing the sun and a few of the local boys, too, so they say. She just returned last week.’

‘No way,’ Sophia hissed. ‘She looks so dignified. I can’t imagine her chasing men around.’

‘Rich people still need to get laid,’ Jane remarked, a little too loudly.

Two gorgeous men with neat hair and friendly faces strolled behind their parents, both with beautiful women on their arms.

‘That’s Edward and Timothy,’ Willow whispered. ‘The married ones. And there’s Mark. Look at that face; trouble written all over it. Which means that must be Van.’

She said something else and Jane added another comment, too, but Sophia didn’t hear either of them. Blood was roaring in her ears like a river in flood and the edges of her vision had gone blurry. She vaguely wondered if she might faint.

Standing behind Mark, hands clasped behind his back, was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. He was intensely magnetic, drawing Sophia towards him like a hapless moth to a flame. His physical presence was incredible. He was at least a head taller than all of his brothers, who were all tall men themselves. His deeply tanned skin seemed to glow with life energy. He had a thick head of black hair with a stripe of his father’s silver on the left side. As the Longshadow group passed by Sophia, Jane, and Willow, Sophia’s green eyes locked with his, very light blue and perfectly clear. His thick eyebrows flickered down into a little frown, almost as if he recognized her. He kept her gaze until they’d moved past and their line of sight was interrupted by Nancy’s shining tiara.

Then they were gone, swallowed up by the eager crowd. Sophia was left clutching her empty dinner plate, hand visibly shaking. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. Willow was chatting to another woman from the downstairs reception, but the whole episode hadn’t escaped Jane. She looked at her sister curiously.

‘Everything okay there, buddy? You’re looking awfully flushed.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘Something just happened when I saw Van Longshadow. Something quite astonishing.’

‘Weak at the knees?’

‘Yes, actually.’

‘Dry mouth? Pounding heart?’

‘Yes and yes. Both those things.’

‘Well, fuck me.’ Jane gave a broad smile. ‘Little Miss. Sophia has finally been struck by Cupid’s arrow.’

Sophia placed her hand on her chest, as if the offending arrow might still be sticking out from her heart.

‘You know what? I think you might be right.’

When Sophia didn’t even feel like sampling the desserts, she knew it was the real deal. Jane urged her onto the dance floor, but she felt even less like dancing than before. She lingered around the edges of the party, nervously sipping champagne and craning her neck to try and catch another glimpse of Van. Before long, she was feeling rather tipsy and had to make her third trip to the bathroom.

On the way back, she paused to admire a painting. It was so striking that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it on her first two trips. It depicted a grand oak tree in fall, with leaves scattered mid flight all around its noble branches. The way the painting captured her was unusual, as she was not usually one to spend time studying art. Her parents were regulars in art galleries, spending hours admiring the intricacies of brushwork and discussing the layers of meaning the respective artists intended. Sometimes they would drag Sophia along, determined to change her uncultured ways, but most of the analysis went right over her head. However, there was something about this fall painting that spoke to her. Loudly.

A deep, rumbling voice directly behind her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

‘Fall’s an amazing time of the year. It strips everything down to its bones, reveals the absolute structure beneath.’

She slowly turned around. Who was the man with the dreamy voice? Could it be…? Despite her high heels, when she turned to face him, the top of her head only reached the middle of his chest. She savored each moment as her eyes slid up his broad chest, past a strong jaw with a hint of five pm shadow and on up to those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight into her soul.

‘I like all of the seasons,’ she said with a shaky voice. ‘But spring’s my favorite.’

‘Humans gravitate to the promise of new life. They’re optimistic creatures.’ He stuck out a giant hand. ‘I’m Van Longshadow.’

‘Sophia Fawkes.’ His hand was cool as it swallowed hers up. Sophia half expected hers to sizzle, she was so hot and flustered.      

‘Sophia,’ he repeated her name, seeming to relish the sound. ‘I knew there was a reason I came tonight.’ The line could have sounded a little cheesy, but he said it quietly and with such conviction that it was almost as if he was confirming the fact to himself rather than trying to flatter her. ‘Why are you here tonight?’ He caught Sophia’s surprised look. ‘What I mean is, how do you fit into this whole Trinity Rock story?’

‘I’m one of your authors.’ She saw his impressed look and hurried on. ‘I write children’s books. Not fiction or academic or any of those… serious types.’

He knitted his expressive brows together. ‘As far as I know, children’s books generate more profit than any of those other categories combined. So I’d say you qualify as a serious author, too.’

She blushed. ‘Thank you. I know that I shouldn’t talk myself down because people believe whatever opinion you have of yourself.’

‘Smart.’ He nodded towards the painting. ‘Why do you love this painting so much?’

She was distracted by the soft cotton of his shirt grazing her arm while she tried to formulate her answer. It was a good question. Why did she gravitate towards this painting when more famous pieces rarely turned her head?

‘There’s a sense of vulnerability about it that resonates with me. The tree is at once strong and complete, despite its lack of embellishment, but also vulnerable, exposed when the cold winter winds howl through.’ She looked into his eyes, feeling like she was baring something deep to him. It was risky; he was a stranger, after all, and she wasn’t usually one to give herself away easily. But there was something about him that made her want to whisper her darkest secrets, and know all of his.

‘But the tree’s dormant in winter,’ he said quietly. ‘Impervious to the elements. How would it feel the cold?’

‘You can still feel the cold when you’re asleep.’

His lips curled into a little smile. ‘You’re wise for someone so young.’ He looked at the painting and then back at her. ‘This painting is yours. I know the artist. In fact, I know this tree. Maybe I’ll show it to you sometime.’

Just then, Wilbur Longshadow himself put his hand on Van’s shoulder. Sophia jumped a little, as if she had been caught doing something illicit.

‘Time for speeches. We need you at the front.’ He waited expectantly, not even seeming to notice Sophia, who felt herself shrinking in the CEO’s presence.

Van gave her a lingering look. ‘We’ll meet again,’ he said.

‘I hope so,’ she replied.

Jane pounced as soon as Van left.

‘Oh my God!’ she hissed. ‘I was looking all over for you and then I spotted you practically cheek to cheek with the new love of your life. What were you talking about over there?’

Sophia gave a long exhale, feeling like she’d been holding her breath for the past twenty minutes.

‘Do you know what? I’m not even sure. We spent most of the time discussing that fall painting.’

‘Discussing the fall painting? But you don’t even like art. What on earth were you saying about it?’

‘It caught my eye and I was admiring it when he came up behind me, and asked why I liked it. I just explained… how it makes me feel.’

‘Deep!’

‘I know, right? Then at the end I think he said he was going to buy the painting for me.’

‘Wow! Now that beats a bunch of flowers. When will you see him again? Surely if he’s planning to give you a painting that means you’ll be going on a date as well?’

‘I don’t know. We didn’t exchange numbers. He just said we’ll meet again soon, and I said that I hoped so.’

Jane’s mouth dropped open for a moment and she seemed quite unable to speak. When she recovered, the questions fired out like accusing bullets.

‘Are you crazy? Why didn’t you get his number? Why didn’t you give him yours?’

‘I forgot, okay?! We were in the moment; future communications didn’t even cross my mind.’

Jane rolled her eyes. ‘Mental note to self: phone numbers are a top priority! Does he even know your name?’

‘Yes. And he knows that I work for Trinity Rock.’

‘Well, that’s something at least.’ The look on Jane’s face suggested that ensuring Van and Sophia got together was going to become her personal mission.

‘Don’t worry,’ Sophia said. ‘I’ll see him again. I know it.’

Jane narrowed her eyes, suspicious of such blind faith. ‘We’ll find him later. Look, the Longshadows are all on stage. If you’ve nabbed Van, I’m going after Mark tonight. Damn, he’s hot. Never know; I might be the woman who tames him.’

‘More likely he’s the man who’ll break your heart.’

‘He can break my bed, but he won’t touch my heart. I’m made of tougher stuff than that.’

Sophia watched eagerly as Van took his place on stage behind the others. He surveyed the crowd, never settling on a face.

Is he looking for me?

As she waited for his gaze to fall on her, Sophia’s chest pounded with anticipation.  Unlike Jane, her heart wasn’t a fortress under lock and key anymore. Van had already touched her. In fact, with nothing more than that first simple glance, he had gone and stolen it.

Chapter 3

Nine-thirty AM. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Who holds a party on a Tuesday night, anyway?

Sophia rarely cursed, but this was an occasion that called for an expletive or two. She’d overslept – all the champagne at last night’s party might have had something to do with that – and now she had sixty minutes to wash, dress, walk two blocks to the subway, ride three lines to central, then walk across the square to the Trinity Rock offices in order to meet her illustrator on the third floor at ten-thirty. Wendy, her illustrator, was a painfully punctual person; rather an unusual trait in an artist, and she was also particularly scathing of lateness in others.  

Fifty-eight minutes now. Surely an unlikely task under normal circumstances, but hung over? Near impossible. She usually scheduled forty minutes just to eat breakfast.

She allowed herself ten more seconds to gather her strength, then sprang into action. By some miracle, she was out the door five minutes later, dressed, teeth brushed, face washed, and a slick of tinted lip gloss slapped on her lips. Her hair was in a rough ponytail and there was a half-eaten banana in her hand. There was no time for coffee, which was a damn shame, as her hangover could have used a good strong brew. It wasn’t until she was on the subway, which was thankfully running right on time, that she had a moment to really think about everything that had happened the night before.

Van Longshadow. The moment his name and the image of his face popped into her head, her stomach lurched violently and her palms instantly grew sweaty. She’d hoped to talk to him again last night, but after the speeches, he’d seemed to disappear. Despite Sophia and Jane’s efforts searching through the crowds, he’d been nowhere to be found.

‘Surely he wouldn’t just leave if he was truly interested in me?’ Sophia had moaned.

Jane looked at her sympathetically. ‘Something important must have come up because he was definitely into you. Don’t worry; it’ll all work out.’

That sort of reassurance wasn’t like Jane. Usually, she was firmly on the side of pessimism and the first to hand out a dose of hearty criticism whenever a man didn’t live up to expectation.

‘It’s just that I’ve never seen you like this before,’ she said, when Sophia mentioned this uncharacteristic softness. ‘I don’t want to squash your hopes. While I don’t believe in love at first sight, you’ve sure got a heavy case of lust.’

Now, sitting on the train, Sophia felt as if she had a heavy lump of steel in her chest that would only be lifted by talking to Van or seeing him again. She’d been excited about this meeting with Wendy for weeks. Wendy was the most sought after children’s illustrator of the moment, and Sophia had been over the moon when she’d heard that Wendy had chosen her latest manuscript, A Fairy in My Garden, from a stack of other hopefuls. There was even talk of a series. This could be a defining moment in Sophia’s career. She needed to be engaged, focused, on time. Not preoccupied by visions of bulging biceps and intriguing aftershaves that smelled of the outdoors.

A fresh breeze right on sunset. That’s what he smelled like.

She was still running on auto-pilot as she hurried across the square and through security into the Trinity Rock building. She flew through the door of conference room two, expecting Wendy’s disapproving face to greet her. She was five minutes late. Incredible, really, that it wasn’t much more. She was all prepared to make amends through copious flattery of Wendy’s three prior books, but was utterly stunned to find the conference room empty. Trudy, a commissioning editor, poked her head around the door. Her makeup looked as hastily applied as Sophia’s.

‘Wendy just called to say she’s running late. Car trouble.’

‘Wendy’s late?’

‘I know; unheard of. Mind you, that “car trouble” might have more to do with last night’s party than an actual automotive problem. Last time I saw her, she was knocking back tequilas with Mark Longshadow.’

‘Wendy with Mark Longshadow?’ Sophia said incredulously. She tried to imagine wiry Wendy, with her vast mop of frizzy light brown hair, getting cozy at the bar with the city’s most eligible bachelor. ‘She’s a little… older than him.’

‘She’s forty-six, he’s thirty-three,’ Trudy confirmed. She peeked over her shoulder to check that the coast was clear before whispering, ‘You know what they say about women in their forties, though. Great in bed; they’ve lost the inhibitions of their twenties and gained all their sexual experience in their thirties. By the time they’re in their forties, it’s game on.’ Trudy, who turned thirty in two weeks time, looked as if she’d gladly skip a decade to hurry up and get into that naughty decade.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Sophia said. ‘From what I’ve heard of Mark Longshadow, he prefers women with airbrushed perfection to age related sexual know-how.’

Trudy shrugged. ‘I love that she’s a cougar, especially seeing as she doesn’t look like one. Incognito cougar: that’s what I’m aiming for in my forties.’ Brisk footsteps sounded in the hallway. ‘Here she comes. Make sure you get the gossip,’ she hissed before making a hasty exit.

Wendy bustled into the room, immaculately presented, not a hint of a hangover around her eyes or in the way she moved. Sophia at once disregarded Trudy’s office chitchat. No doubt Wendy had been tucked up in her bed before the tequila bottles had even come out from behind the bar last night. It wasn’t until Wendy sat down, amid profuse apologies, that Sophia noticed the stubble burn around her perfectly painted mouth.

Guess people aren’t always what they seem to be after all.

Sophia left the meeting an hour later, thrilled with Wendy’s concept drawings for her book and energized by two cups of coffee. Her next mission was to satiate her rumbling stomach, perhaps at that new cafe on West Street. She turned a corner and ran headlong into Van Longshadow. In this ordinary environment of tube lighting, computers, flat shoes, and ringing telephones, he seemed even more imposing than he had the night before, and somehow more raw and gorgeous, too. He filled the hallway and Sophia was at once aware of everything that was wrong with her appearance in comparison to his. From her red-ringed eyes, scruffy ponytail, and bare face to her sloppy cardigan and worn ballet flats, she was as far from last night’s glam as possible. Add to that the glowing cheeks and extraordinarily loud stomach grumble, and her humiliation was near complete. Every inch of her brain screamed at her to get out of there. She knew that she shouldn’t care about her appearance; she was beautiful anyway, and all that. That’s what her mother would say. But when faced with a god like Van, it’s near impossible to be so nonchalant.

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Sophia?’

Damn. I’m actually recognizable. ‘Hi, Van. Nice to see you again.’

‘You too.’

There was a long pause. An uncomfortable pause.

‘Listen, I…’ Van began.

‘Could I…’ Sophia said at the same time.

‘You first,’ said Van with a little amused smile.

‘It’s just, I’m kind of in a hurry.’ As soon as the lie passed her lips, she felt disappointed with herself. Am I really going to be one of those girls who lets perfection slip away and then spends the rest of her life complaining about being alone? ‘Could I have your phone number?’ she hastily added.

‘I don’t have a phone,’ he replied and stepped aside. ‘That’s alright. You go and do what you need to do. We’ll meet again soon.’

There it was again; that vague promise of a future meeting. Jane would kill her if she found out. Sophia paused while he waited for her to pass. The agonizing thought that she might have blown this due to vanity nearly brought tears to her eyes.

‘Okay, bye,’ she muttered, and then they continued on their separate ways. The only time she had ever encountered him in the Trinity Rock halls, and quite possibly the last.