The Mating Game: Big Bad Wolf (2 page)

Saturday night

Flashbulbs popped as Ryker strode towards the Café de Vivre. He walked quickly past the reporters. There seemed to be an unusual number of photographers gathered there, even for a restaurant that was known as a local celebrity watering hole. Ryker had heard of it only by reputation; this wasn’t the kind of place he wanted to be, tonight or any other night.

He didn’t bother pasting on a fake grin or stopping to sign autographs. That was part of his persona – the Big Bad Wolf thing. And it suited him just fine, because he wasn’t a huge fan of paparazzi or idle chit-chat.

The maître d’ raised a disapproving eyebrow at Ryker’s appearance. Ryker was wearing jeans, a leather jacket, T-shirt and boots. And he probably smelled like a horse.

“Sir, we have a dress code here, and—” A hostess leaned in and urgently whispered something in the maître d’s ear, and the man blanched.

“Ryker Harrison? Right this way,” he said, gesturing at Ryker to follow him in.

Just walking through the door confirmed that this wasn’t Ryker’s kind of crowd. Women in cocktail dresses, men in formal evening attire, and waiters looking at Ryker as if he’d come to steal their silverware.

As Ryker scanned the room, he saw that his Uncle Water, whom he was there to meet, was waving frantically at him by the bar. Walter was on Big Bad Wolf’s board of directors.

Why wasn’t Walt sitting at the table already? Oh well, Ryker could use a drink. He’d been arguing with the company’s suppliers all morning, his mother had been riding his tail about settling down and giving him grandcubs, one of his boxers had been arrested and needed to be bailed out of jail…it had been a long, annoying day.

As he made his way towards the bar, his bored gaze swept the crowd of diners…and came to an abrupt halt. A stunning woman was sitting by herself at a table towards the back, checking her watch.

She had shiny red hair styled in retro 1950s-looking waves, and a deliciously curvy figure. Her satiny emerald dress flowed over her and emphasized her luscious body, including her rounded tummy and full hips. Now, there was a woman who had a healthy appetite – in all areas, he’d like to imagine. It was so hard to find a woman like that these days; the boxing groupies were all skeletal anorexics who would order a salad with no dressing for dinner, stare hungrily at his plate of food, and refuse when he offered to share it with them. Ryker hated that; ruined a man’s appetite.

There was no guy with her; she was clearly waiting for some jerk who couldn’t be bothered to show up on time. With a hot ticket like that waiting here? What an idiot. Well, her date’s loss would be his gain. Whatever Walt wanted, he’d have to talk fast, because Ryker was going to swoop that woman up and show her the time of her life.

Ryker strode up to the bar with a big grin; he felt all the tension of the day uncoiling now. Worrying about losing the pack land, kissing up to their investors, reining in his crazy pack before he was forced to eat one of them for breakfast to set an example…none of that mattered at the moment.

What mattered was how he could dazzle the panties off the hot redhead. Nothing was going to put him in a bad mood, not even Walter’s pissy attitude.

“Damn it, Ryker, this is exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about!” Walt snapped at him. He glanced his watch, and then at the clock on the wall, as if he hadn’t already made his point. “You’re fifteen minutes late, you’ve got hay in your hair, and you’re dressed like you were just out riding horses!”

“I was,” Ryker said, plucking off the strand of hay and setting it down on the bar. “I took Lightning out for a run after I left my office. So? Since when are you so eager for my company? Is the honeymoon over?” Walt had married a lovely woman named Carlotta a few years ago.

“Our honeymoon will never be over, and it’s not my home life we need to worry about, party boy,” Walt growled at him. “We are having a hard time getting our investors to commit to this expansion, because of your reputation for being late and irresponsible. And this isn’t just your career we’re talking about, it’s the future of our pack.”

Ryker stifled a snarl. He was well aware of that. Everything rested on his shoulders. Their pack lands were mortgaged to the hilt, their apparel business was on the cusp of big success but needed an infusion of cash, and if they didn’t get it, they’d probably lose the lands they’d lived on since the turn of the century.

“Not everything is about money,” Ryker said, leaning on the bar and frowning. The restaurant patrons here apparently skipped spraying on expensive perfume and cologne, and just dumped it over their heads by the barrel. Not a pleasant experience for a shifter with a heightened sense of smell.

“Speak for yourself,” Walt said. “I’ve gotten rather fond of being able to make my car payments on time.”

“Right,” Ryker scoffed. “You mean you’ve gotten rather fond of wearing designer suits and buying your wife expensive jewelry.” It was true – Carlotta did have a taste for the good life.

“Whatever,” Walt grumbled, nervously playing with his onyx cufflinks. “The rest of the pack depends on you too. We can’t afford any more of your shenanigans.”

“I’ve been cleaning up my act for the last few months, and you know it,” Ryker said, annoyed.

“Yeah, but when someone has had as many front-page fiascos as you have, they have to be better than perfect to make people forget about it. We’re asking these investors to part with a lot of cash. You’ve got to show them that you’ve changed. Make a big, dramatic public gesture.”

“Like what?” Ryker scoffed. “Join the priesthood?”

“No, pick a mate and settle down.” Walter suddenly had a guilty look on his face. “Which is why you were supposed to show up on time and dressed respectably.”

“Walter?” Ryker asked uneasily. “What have you done?” Walter better not have set him up with anyone, because he was bound and determined to get the curvy girl’s number.

He glanced over at the redhead. Now she was texting someone, with a look of unhappiness on her face. He needed to move fast before she left.

“Isignedyouupforamatingserviceandpretendedtobeyouandyouweresupposedtobehereonadatetonight,” Walter said in a rush, suddenly very interested in something on the ceiling.

“What was that? Did I hear the words ‘mating service’ in there?” Ryker was so mad that fur covered his face and his fangs descended. A dating service was one thing; a mating service meant that anyone signing up was looking for a life mate.

He shook his head hard, forcing his animal back down. “Tell me I didn’t hear the words ‘mating service’. And something about you pretending to be me.”

“This girl sounded perfect for you!” Walter protested.

Before Ryker could tear him a new one, literally, an angry, heavy-set woman marched up to him, eyes blazing with fury. She was pretty, looked in her early thirties, and wore a slinky, drape-y dress that accentuated her full figure. Normally he might be interested in a quick roll in the hay with her just because of her magnificent rack, but one glimpse of that redhead had him feeling very single-minded about who he wanted to go home with tonight.

Also, this was one pissed-off woman, and he wasn’t sure why. He was positive he’d never had a one-night stand with her back in his drunken player days.

Pretty sure.

Fairly confident.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t smack you upside the head with my purse,” she said, practically spitting sparks at him. He sniffed to make sure she wasn’t part dragon. Nope, wolf.

He stared at her in amazement. “Umm…because that would be assault, and you do not want to mess with me, especially at this particular moment?”

She shook her head. “You said you’d changed. You said you wanted to settle down with a nice girl. And you not only show up late, but stinking like a stable and dressed like this?”

Walter’s face was flushed red, and he was coughing and clearing his throat and staring at the floor now.

Ah. This woman must be Ryker’s intended date.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, there’s been a serious misunderstanding,” Ryker said, putting on his most charming smile. “I never made that date. And I actually just saw a woman I need to go get better acquainted with, so I’m going to have to beg off. But dinner’s on me.”

She let out a strangled squawk of outrage and raised her arm as if she were about to smack him with her purse after all, and Walter grabbed her arm.

“Hey, Wynona! Wait!” he said quickly. “It’s not his fault. It’s my fault, so if you’re going to hit someone, hit me.”

“Hold on,” the woman said slowly, taking a step back and staring at Walter in confusion. “I recognize your voice. You’re the one I’ve been talking to one the phone.” She looked at Ryker. “But you’re Ryker Harrison. What’s going on here?”

Ryker was backing away slowly, and he looked back at the table, and saw to his anger and disappointment that the girl was gone.

What the hell?
he thought furiously.

Then his sexy redhead reappeared. She marched up to the angry woman and grabbed her by the arm. She was close enough for him to scent her gardenia perfume and her sweet, feminine musk. Wolf. She was a wolf. A tasty, luscious-looking wolf.

Ryker felt something that he’d never felt before. It was like a strong magnetic pull, an urgent need to claim.

His dating drought was over.

Screw Walt, and screw the investors, he wanted this woman.

“Aunt Wynona, I am going home,” the redhead said. “He’s almost half an hour late. Obviously he’s not coming. What happened – did you show him my picture or something?” There was a sheen of hurt and anger in her big brown eyes.

Wait. The hot chick was his intended date? This changed everything.

He stepped forward and stuck out his hand, and the redhead turned and noticed him for the first time. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m Ryker Harrison.”

“Daisy Bennett.” She looked at him suspiciously.

He flashed her his best ingratiating grin. “I’m really, really sorry I’m late. It’s actually kind of a funny story. Ow!” Wynona made good on her threat and wacked him upside the head with her purse, hard. She packed a mean wallop, along with a cement block in her purse, or at least that was what it felt like.

“Funny?” Daisy choked out. She put her hands on her ample hips. “I imagine it’s hilarious.” Then she cast an amused glance at her aunt. “Wow, Wynona, you still got it.”

“What do you mean, I’ve still got it? I’m thirty-three, for God’s sake. I’m not ready for the nursing home just yet,” Wynona growled at her niece. Then she swung back to face Ryker with a fairly terrifying scowl. “Get away from my niece right now! She’s a million times too good for you,” Wynona fumed. “You will not be dating Daisy.”

He glared at Wynona. “Does insanity run in your family? Because that could be a deal-breaker.”

That was followed by a flurry of blows to the head from Wynona’s purse. Wynona apparently had a truly impressive lexicon of swear words stored in her noggin.

Then he turned around and saw that the hot redhead was gone again. Storming out the front door of the restaurant. At the same time, his cell phone began buzzing furiously with his mother’s ringtone, and he realized that she was probably in on this whole thing somehow, which normally would have horrified him, but right now he didn’t even care.

Damn it, why was the redhead running away from him? Was it something he’d said?

Contrary to his reputation as a legendary Casanova, he really wasn’t great with small talk. It wasn’t like he normally had to make conversation; women pretty much just recognized him, squealed, and started taking their clothes off.

The woman was not only furious with him, she was obviously crazy, and she had an even crazier aunt. The smartest thing to do would be to stay the hell away from her.

But on the other hand, she’d made every cell in his body light up and sing from across a crowded restaurant, and furthermore, she was the only chick he’d met in ages who looked as if she might actually eat a meal with him.

And since when had Ryker Harrison ever done the smart thing?

He took off after the redhead at a dead run, with Walt and Wynona at his heels.

“Wait! Wait! Let me explain!” Ryker caught up to her, panting. She was in the parking lot, unlocking the door of her beat-up old Chevy. Walt and Wynona skidded to a stop next to him.

“There’s a very simple explanation for all of this,” Walt said quickly. “I’m Ryker’s uncle, Walt. I called up Wynona’s mating agency and pretended to be my nephew and set this date up without telling him. I didn’t think he would agree to let me fix him up.”

“You got that right,” Ryker growled. Wynona looked as if she were about to start beating him with her purse again, so he held up his hands in defense. “But only because I didn’t know how hot she was! Hell, I’d have even taken a shower if I’d known that.”

“Well, thank you, Prince Charming, but I’d rather go on a date with the horse you were riding before you got here,” Daisy said, pulling open her car door.

“What?” Ryker felt momentarily jealous of a stallion. How dare this woman want to go on a date with someone else, when he was standing right there? “But Lightning’s a real horse, not a shifter. Oh, you’re just being sarcastic.”

“Got it in one,” Daisy said, sliding into her seat.

Now Ryker was starting to get mad. She had the snooty southern debutante accent, and she carried herself like she’d just walked out of some high-falutin’ prep school. He could tell what kind of girl she was. The kind that had looked down on him and his family all their lives – until he became a celebrity. Thought they were trash.

“There’s no need to be a snob,” he snapped at her.

“And there’s no need to arrive late, dirty and smelly for a date and act like you’re doing me a big favor just by showing up at all.” She yanked her seatbelt on and clicked it into place.

“Hold on!” Walt pleaded, grabbing her car door. “Listen! I’ve researched your pedigree. You’re exactly the kind of girl Ryker needs to fix his image. You could just pretend to be his mate. All we have to do is last through the investors’ meeting, which is in three weeks.”

She looked up at him in astonishment. “Pretend to be his mate? Why on Earth would I do that?”

A shrewd look crossed Walt’s face. “You’ve been trying to raise funds for an after-school rec center near that school where you work.”

Daisy frowned up at him suspiciously. “It’s creepy that you know that.”

“I just told you I did my research on you before I arranged this date. I wouldn’t fix my nephew up with just anyone.”

“Oh, I am so grateful that I made the grade,” she scoffed.

“If you pretend to be his mate for the next three weeks, just until the investors’ meeting, our company will make a substantial donation to your cause,” he said.

“Hey, did you ask me if I’d agree to this?” Ryker said to his uncle, annoyed. “I might have an opinion on the subject.”

“Why, you smug, obnoxious jerkwad.” Daisy glared at him.

“Better than a stuck-up princess,” Ryker snapped. “I’m not sure I still even want to have sex with you. Well, yeah, I actually do, but—” It was too late. He was talking to her slammed car door, and fending off more purse-blows from Wynona.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, back at the ranch… The Harrison ranch, that is…

“Did he blow it?” Lemuel Harrison asked his wife, who was glaring ferociously at her cell phone. Lemuel wouldn’t have wanted to swap places with that cell phone at that particular moment. His wife might be five foot nothing and sixty-five years old, but she was no one to mess with.

“Of course he blew it,” Harriet fumed. “Your son is the most pig-headed mule this side of tarnation.”

Lem cast an annoyed glance at his wife. “So he’s my son when he’s an idiot, but your son when he does anything right?”

“Well, obviously.” Harriet looked up from the phone to stare at her husband in bafflement. They’d been married thirty-five years, and he still had to ask such damn fool questions? No wonder her son was a cement head.

But cement head or not, her son was going to marry a nice girl and provide her with grandcubs.

She was sick of sitting around twiddling her thumbs and waiting. She wanted a baby to bounce on her knee again. Harriet Harrison was a very good seamstress, and excellent at crocheting. She wanted to sew little outfits and crochet little booties – but not until there was an actual baby to sew and crochet for, because that would be just weird, crocheting booties for someone who didn’t exist. She wanted to sneak her famous home-made fudge to her grandcubs when their parents weren’t looking, and then look at the parents with wide-eyed innocence and denial.

And the girl her brother-in-law Walter had talked about sounded perfect. School teacher, did volunteer work, loved to bake, and the fact that she wasn’t into sports was actually a big plus. It meant the girl would love Ryker for his big, stupid self rather than his fame. She and Walt had planned everything out. She’d even given him hints as to what he should say when he called up the Mating Agency pretending to be Ryker.

And now Ryker was about to blow everything, because he was the opposite of smooth when it came to women.

Of course, Lem had been the same way. She’d had to chase him and chase him, all the while pretending that he was the one chasing her.

Well, Harriet Harrison was not about to let the perfect woman slip through her son’s paws. Daisy Bennett wasn’t going to get away so easily. Ryker would woo her, and charm her, and coax her down the aisle, or Harriet would nag him until he prayed for a merciful death.

She quickly texted her son.

Answer the phone NOW if you know what’s good for you!

* * * * *

Why the heck was Ryker following her in his car? Daisy wondered in a mixture of bewilderment and anger. She glanced in her rearview mirror again. Following her, yelling at someone on his cell phone…that wasn’t safe, talking and driving like that. She was driving by the City Center Greenway, the city’s largest public park. She pulled over, just so he’d stop being a menace to other drivers. Ryker quickly parked behind her.

She got out of her car and stalked off, passing by a concrete fountain of dolphins spitting water in huge, graceful arcs.

She could hear Ryker calling her name, and she ignored him. She was in no mood. Her feet hurt in her high-heeled shoes, she was starving, and she was exhausted to boot. She’d stayed up late the night before filling out grant paperwork for the proposed Wildwood Recreational Center. Typical exciting Friday night at Chez Bennett.

“Daisy! Wait!” Ryker yelled. She turned around, just as his cell phone started ringing loudly. He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it into the fountain.

“What?” he said, as Daisy stared at him. “I can just buy another one.” Daisy remembered the days when she’d had that kind of luxury.  Not any more – and her freedom had been worth giving up every penny.

He walked up to her, and she tipped her head back to look up at him. He was almost a foot taller than her, and he had eyes the color of faded denim.

“Listen,” he said. “We got off on the wrong foot.” His voice was deep and rich, with a twang of country to it. As he stared into her eyes, his lips curved in a slow smile – the same slow smile that had probably melted the panties right off many a groupie.

Well, she wasn’t a groupie and she’d dated enough jerks lately; she didn’t need to add another one to her score-card, not even one who made her whole body tingle deliciously with just a curl of his sexy mouth.

“Wrong foot? All four feet,” she said, taking a step back.

He looked disconcerted. “Well, my mother just called me and tore a strip off my hide for scaring off the perfect girl. She said I had to at least apologize to you for being rude, so, ah—”

“Ryker Harrison?” a girl squealed, running up to him holding out a pad and pen.

The girl was tanned, toned, and had perfect blown-out hair. She wore a stretchy dress that fit her bony body like a glove; Daisy could see her hip-bones poking out. Daisy had seen enough episodes of
Shifter Entertainment News
to know that was the type of girl Ryker always had on his arm.

Daisy felt a stab of self-consciousness at the way her own dress clung to her every roll and ripple. She thought about sucking her stomach in, but she was too tired to make the effort.

“Apology accepted,” Daisy said, and turned and walked quickly away from him, into the park. Anywhere that Ryker wasn’t – that was where she needed to be.

Her ex fiancé Frasier had been handsome and smooth, just like Ryker. He had rolled over her like a tidal wave, showering her with gifts and compliments from the first day he’d met her. She wasn’t falling for another sweet-talking playboy.

As she walked away, her phone started ringing with the shrill, stabby ringtone that set her teeth on edge and announced that her mother wanted to speak to her.

She grabbed the phone from her purse and answered, with a red-hot flash of annoyance burning through her.

“Yes?” she snapped.

“Oh dear, what a shame the date went badly.” It was that syrupy-sweet tone, the one that her mother coated her words with when she delivered her worst insults.

“What do you mean?”

Her mother ignored the question. “And now, with that public humiliation, you’re really going to have to beg Frasier for forgiveness. You may simply have gone too far this time.” Her mother’s tone was gently mournful. “Frasier was your last chance. You probably blew it. Well, you can always move back in here, if, you know, you can’t patch it up with him.”

Move back in there? Why did her mother not understand that Daisy was just fine on her own? She had an apartment with roommates, she had a job that she loved, and she was able to pay all her own bills. And yet her parents saw her as a desperate failure because she wasn’t respectably married, living in a mansion, and hosting faux charity luncheons for the smart set.

As for her former fiancé, Frasier Sheffield, just hearing his name set her teeth on edge. Frasier Sheffield’s pack owned the land next to her pack’s back in Georgia. As far as her family was concerned, he peed champagne and farted rainbows. He could sacrifice a kitten in front of them and they’d still worship him. When he’d cheated on Daisy with a skinny yoga teacher, her parents had blamed her for it.

“Well really, dear, with the way you neglect your figure – can you blame the man?” had been her mother’s exact words, with her father nodding solemnly and looking disappointed –
with her
.

Yes, she could blame him. And did. And she had thrown his ring back in his face.

“What makes you think my date went badly?” Had it been on the news already? She swallowed hard. Talking to her mother always gave her anxiety attacks.

“For heaven’s sake. Aside from the way you answered the phone, it was obvious from the start. I mean, seriously. You and a famous athlete like Ryker Harrison? I don’t know what your aunt was thinking, trying to arrange a match like that.” Daisy could visualize the venomous scorn dripping from each word.

So that was why her parents had given their approval for the date. Because they had been sure that Ryker would run for the hills as soon as he saw her – and somehow, that would force her back into Frasier’s arms.

“I answered the phone like that because you were interrupting my date,” Daisy said desperately. Oh, why bother lying? Her parents would find out soon enough.

“Hey, I think you dropped your bracelet,” Ryker’s voice rumbled right behind her.

Daisy squeaked and spun around. Ryker was holding up a glittery rhinestone bracelet, dangling from one finger.

“Mother, if you will excuse me, I have to go,” she said. “My date and I were just about to grab something to eat. And yes, I will be having seconds.”

“Daisy!” her mother gasped in horror. She couldn’t have been more offended if Daisy had passed gas in church.

“And
dessert
,” Daisy added viciously, and turned off her cell phone.

“That isn’t my bracelet,” she said to Ryker.

“I know, it’s my cousin Katie’s bracelet, I just grabbed it out of my car so I’d have an excuse to talk to you. Wait, I’m confused. We are going on a date?” he said.

She looked around. Apparently he’d given the groupie the brush off and come back to try to talk Daisy into going out with him. Interesting. The groupie had been a sure thing.

She turned and regarded Ryker with a skeptical eye. “Can I be brutally honest with you?” she said.

“Go ahead. But not too brutal - I’m fragile,” he said with a big, boisterous grin. She stifled an answering smile. His enthusiasm was contagious; it was hard not to smile along with him.

“I’m only agreeing to finish this date to prove my mother wrong. Also, the rec center is in desperate need of funds or it will probably never get built. So if we can still stand each other after hanging out for one night, I’m willing to pretend that we’re together for the next few weeks.”

“I’m not proud. I’ll take it,” he said with a shrug. He pointed at a food cart, where a man was doling out hot dogs and pretzels. “Hey, there’s a hot dog cart! I’ll even buy you dinner, because that’s the kind of stand-up guy I am.”

“Whoa, big spender, slow down,” she said, stifling a laugh.