Hero Unmasked: 3 (Heroes of Saturn)

Anna Alexander

Book three in the Heroes of Saturn series.

When Dhavin Kilsgaard landed on Earth, he knew trading his life as a royal guard for a position as a small-town police officer would take some adjusting. But not even his skills at foiling assassination attempts and protecting princesses prepared him for the complexity that is the human female. Fiona Corrione’s shy smile makes him hunger for more than a taste of the delicious chocolate she sells in her candy store, but the woman won’t fall for his
Llanos
charm.

When his empathetic abilities sense her lusty cravings for his superhero alter ego, he doesn’t hesitate to seduce her from behind the mask. Once she falls in love with him, she’ll forgive him for the ruse, right?

Fiona is beyond livid when she discovers the flirtatious officer and her hunky hero lover are one and the same. Before she kicks Dhavin to the curb, she’ll prove Earth girls aren’t easy and revenge is sweetest when served with leather straps and whipped cream.

A Romantica®
paranormal erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Dedication

For my family. Always.

Acknowledgement

You never know when inspiration will strike or when the answers to your plotting obstacles will be answered. When fellow author Eilis Flynn invited me to present a workshop with her at Geek Girl Con in Seattle, I didn’t know the core of Dhavin’s story would find me there. The purpose of the Con is to inspire and celebrate the role of women in predominately male-oriented venues such as science, art and education, and it was here where the idea of Dhavin having to explore the challenges of having a dual identity was born. Thank you, Eilis for the opportunity and thanks to Geek Girl Con for offering a platform for women to stand proud doing what they love.

“He’s here! He’s here!” Margery squealed as she dashed into the kitchen, nearly upsetting the tray of cookies in Fiona’s arms.

“Watch it, Mags,” she shouted and steadied the tray of black-and-whites. “Who’s here?”

A deep, testosterone-filled rumble followed by a chorus of tittering laughter peeled from the front of the store, cluing her in as to who was the cause of Mags’ excitement.

Fiona blew at the strands of hair stuck in her lashes, determined to ignore the teeny-tiny tingle of excitement fluttering under her ribs. “Oh. Him.”

“Yes,
him
.” Mags sighed and slicked on a layer of pink lip gloss. Tossing the tube into her purse, she then reworked her long, blonde ponytail. “Haven’t you noticed he comes in every Tuesday and Friday morning? It’s my favorite times of the week.”

Of course Fiona noticed that the too-too handsome Officer Dhavin Kilsgaard frequented her little shop a few times a week, she just hadn’t recorded his visits to memory. His routine was one of the many things about the policeman she tried not to notice.

Fiona left Mags to her primping and peeked through the window in the door that separated the kitchen from the shop, scowling when she saw the officer leaning over the counter as he chatted up her aunt Bridget.

Case in point, the gaggle of groupies who followed him wherever he went was an annoyance she ignored whenever they took up valuable real estate from paying customers to ogle his rear end. And the way he batted those long, thick lashes and turned her whiskey-swilling, cigar-smoking, hard-as-nails aunty into a giggling schoolgirl? Absolutely revolting.

Bridget reached into the case and pulled out a chocolate-dipped shortbread.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it
, Fiona mentally screamed as Bridget slid the sweet treat across the counter with a wink and a smile.

Office Kilsgaard laughed as he accepted the cookie. The husky notes tickled Fiona’s eardrums and made her right eye twitch. How could that man eat so many sweets and not appear to gain an ounce? Not even his bulky jacket could hide the bulging muscles of his arms and his flat, washboard stomach.

Nope, nope, nope. She closed her eyes to also ignore the way his tan uniform emphasized his strong thighs and finely sculpted backside. Khaki was not meant to be attractive.

When she risked opening her eyes, their gazes collided and he flashed her a dazzling smile. Crap. Now he caught her staring like a peeping Tom leering through a bedroom window. Perfect.

She willed the heat in her cheeks to subside and pushed open the door.

“Ah, here’s the fair Fiona now. How are you this lovely morning?”

“Fine, thank you,” she gritted out between a tight smile and concentrated on refilling the display of cookies as if it were brain surgery.

Unable to resist the allure, she sneaked a glance at his chiseled profile. God, it should be a crime to be that handsome. He was so beautiful, it hurt to look at him. A helicopter started in her tummy and her throat closed up. The tray of cookies rattled against where she rested it on the display as her brain misfired.

Agh! She mentally kicked herself. She hated feeling so clumsy and socially inept. It wasn’t as if she were a femme fatale when it came to men, but usually she was able to keep better control of her faculties.

With a deep, calming breath, she turned her focus to the other customers in the shop. “Is there anything I can get anyone?”

Silence followed her query. Four pairs of eyes remained trained on Officer Dhavin, who was laughing at one of Bridget’s dirty jokes.

“Hello? Joan? What can I get you?”

“What?” The other woman started and turned to Fiona with a girlish giggle. “Oh, um, I’m still looking. Right, ladies?”

Several absentminded nods followed.

“Uh-huh. All right. Well, let me know if I can assist anyone. I’ll just keep putting these cookies away. But…you might want to place your order before Officer Dhavin snaps them all up. You know, they’re his favorite,” she finished with a conspiratorial whisper.

“I’ll take a dozen.”

“I’ll take two.”

“Oh, hey,” Officer Dhavin objected when he spotted the frenzy at the counter. “Save some of those for me, ladies. I want a dozen too, Fiona. And a box of Rollo Eggs. I knew your shipment was arriving today. Those are the best.”

“I’ll take a box too,” Joan piped up along with more raised hands.

Hmmm, perhaps having the officer around wasn’t an altogether bad thing.

Fiona stifled a laugh as she imagined the signage she could create to place around the section of candies she special-ordered from England, complete with Officer Dhavin’s sparkly white smile. Perhaps she should bump up the price a bit too.

“Thanks,
lebshone
,” he said in his sinfully rich accent and Fiona felt the tic start back in her eye and her tongue fill her mouth.

The officer’s family had recently settled in her tiny hamlet of Cedar from somewhere in Sweden, or so she’d been told, and his accent was a lyrical mix of grace and dominance that made her think of late nights and kinky sex.

Damn if she could figure out what it was about him that pushed her lascivious and annoyed buttons at the same time. His cousins, while incredibly handsome in their own right, never affected her as he did. All the members of the Kilsgaard clan had their own unofficial fan club, but Dhavin was the only one who made her sweat. However—a snort of laughter tickled her nose—heaven help her if she were to be in a room with all three of them at once. If the Vikings were anything like those three, no wonder they conquered the world so easily.

Officer Dhavin poked his nose into the bag and drew in the sugary scent. “You have the best sweets I’ve ever tasted. Except that one candy, what was it called? Plenty of Goodness? Yes, did not care for it.”

Dear Lord, even his disgusted face was adorable.

Bridget laughed. “Not a fan of black licorice, eh?”

“Is that what that flavor is? I think I’d prefer to eat my boots.”

The fan girls erupted into hysterical laughter and Fiona rolled her eyes so hard she saw spots.

“So, Fiona.” He leaned his arm against the pastry case. “Have you been to the new casino yet? My cousin Amaryllis says the restaurant there is fantastic. Not as good as hers, or so she claims, but still excellent.”

“No, I haven’t.”

And she left it at that, keeping her head down as she readied a box of inventory for display.

“Are you talking about Chinook’s?” Mags came from Fiona’s blindside and hip-checked her, sending a box of gold-foiled eggs flying. “I am dying to go eat there. It’s the finest thing to hit town in forever, well, besides you, Officer.”

Seriously? Seriously.

“You’re a doll, Mags. Say, is that a new color of lip gloss you’re wearing?”

The girl batted her lashes. “Aren’t you sweet for noticing?”

Fiona restrained the urge to gag and stooped to pick up the dented chocolates. Mags had unbuttoned her blouse so low, the lace of her pink bra peeked out to frame the sideways smile of her cleavage. The tails of her shirt were tied to expose her flat midriff and a pink gem nestled in her navel.

It was difficult not to besmirch the twenty-one-year-old for having a body a Barbie doll would envy. The girl did have good genes. But Mags’ size-four waist made Fiona woefully aware of her size-twelve middle. The only time she hated her shape was in the company of truly beautiful people, which pissed her off.

If she remained in their presence a second longer, she was going to embarrass herself, she just knew it.

She all but ran to the kitchen and attacked the stack of dishes in the sink as if they owed her money.

Stupid. It was all so stupid. The only person with the power to make her feel inferior was herself. And at times, she was so good at it, bullies could take lessons from her. Why should it matter to her that Officer Gorgeous liked the giggling woman-child type? It was none of her business. None at all.

“Fiona,” Bridget called out in a stage whisper as she barreled through the doorway. “What are you doing?”

She held up a soapy scrub brush. “Mowing the lawn.”

“Don’t be a smartass. Get back out there this instant. Officer Dhavin was about to ask you out.”

“Yeah, right. If he’s going to ask anyone out, it’ll be Mags and her perky breasts.”

“Not if you’re out there. Now go. He’s the best catch in town, and if you don’t make a move, someone else will. I tell you, if I was five years younger, I’d be after him myself.”

“Only five?” she asked with a raised brow.

Bridget smiled sweetly and saluted her with a firmly raised middle finger. “What is the problem? You need a man.”

“I don’t need a man.”

“You want a man.”

“I don’t—well, maybe. But I don’t want him.”

“Are you daft? What is wrong with that hunk-a-hunk of burning love?”

“Seriously? He flirts with
everyone
. Even with men. Have you seen how he walks into the room, flashes that big smile and bats those long lashes then gets whatever he wants? Even from you. How would I be able to trust that he’s telling the truth and not just feeding me a lie? He’s a player. And I don’t trust players.”

“Pish-tosh.” Bridget waved her words away. “You don’t know that.”

“Remember when he went out with Janice Harbinger? She kept going on and on about his skills in bed.”

“Oh yeah.” She giggled. “I remember that.”

“And then two days later she went on and on about how he said they would be better off as friends.”

“Oh yeah. I remember that too. But Janice Harbinger is a toad. She’s plastic from the top of her weave to the ends of her fake nails. He probably realized that and got out when he could. At least he didn’t string her along.”

“Whatever. It’s none of my business.” She slid the rack of dirty dishes into the washer and pulled down the door. The roaring swish of water effectively blocked out any more of Bridget’s argument.

At least for the three minutes it took for the washer to run.

As soon as the cycle completed, her aunt was at her side. “So, you’re not even going to give him a chance?”

“At what? Laughing in my face? No way. I don’t want a man who plays games. It’s a waste of time. If a guy is interested in me, I want him to come up to me and say, ‘Hi, I like you and I think we could have a great time together. How about next Friday?’”

“Or, you could do the same to a man you like.”

Walk up to man and make herself vulnerable? Now that was pure crazy talk. Opening her own business, drag racing, even singing in public, no problem. Asking a guy out for a date? No way. Just call her chickenshit.

“I could do that,” she hedged. “But as I said before, I’m not interested in Office Dhavin as anything more than a paying customer.”

Bridget flapped her arms. “Balk-balk!”

“Don’t we have other customers you can attend to? I’m sure Mags is otherwise occupied.”

“I’ll be praying for you, girlie,” Bridget called out on her way to the front. “It’s going to take a man from another planet to make you happy.”

A thunderous boom rattled the windowpanes and the pots and pans hanging from the baker’s rack clanged together.

“Dear heavens,” Bridget shrieked.

Fiona ran to the front of the now-empty store and out onto the sidewalk where the other women gathered. Officer Dhavin was already halfway down the street, racing toward a cluster of people pointing and shouting.

Mags waved down a passing car. “Mrs. Anderson, did you see what happened?”

Mrs. Anderson rolled down the window and ran a shaking hand through her hair. “A logging truck lost its load and crushed some cars. At least that’s what it looked like. I just missed getting pinned by some of the logs. Let me tell you, my life really did flash before my eyes.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Fiona asked.

“I would be surprised if they weren’t. Hopefully help comes quick and someone calls the Chameleon. They’re gonna need his help.”

All the women drew a collective breath.

“The Chameleon,” Fiona whispered when her lungs regained their function.

At her words, the rest of the ladies ran down the street with Mags leading the charge.

Fiona took a step to follow and drew up short. What was she doing? She couldn’t go running into the freezing cold to go gawk at a horrible accident. She wasn’t even wearing a coat.

No, no, no, no. Mere moments ago she’d just been berating the women of Cedar for falling all over a man because he was handsome, and here she was, ready to do the same.

Of course, this wasn’t just any man. It was the
Chameleon. Courageous and kind. Mysterious and built, as her aunt would say, like a brick shithouse. Lord, did he have some muscles. And she really wanted to see him. Really, really wanted to see him.

Nope. She took a step toward the door. She was better than a crazed fan. Difficult though it was, she forced her legs to turn and go back into the shop. Perhaps one of her customers would come back with some juicy details. Secondhand knowledge would just have to satisfy her Chameleon craving.