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  * * * *

  Bethany lay cuddled in Max’s arms after a relaxed lovemaking session. They both were exhausted from unpacking everything Chet’s movers had packed up, but not touching, holding, savoring one another wasn’t an option. She was just nodding off into slumber when he kissed the top of her head.

  “I was thinking,” he started, sounding a little nervous.

  “Hmmm?” she moaned sleepily.

  “What would you think about joining forces.”

  She laughed softly. “I thought we just did that.”

  His arms tightened a little at her joke. “No, I mean, would you be interested in becoming my business partner?”

  Shifting in his arms, she looked up at him. It was a little embarrassing but she wasn’t entirely sure what he did exactly, and told him just that.

  “I’m sort of a…promise not to laugh?”

  She nodded somberly.

  “I’m kind of a, um, matchmaker.”

  Bethany brayed with laughter, remembering how he’d previously described his job as ‘international relations’.

  “Hey, you said you wouldn’t laugh!”

  “I know, I’m sorry. You just made it sound so…classy before.” Another fit of giggles consumed her and him tickling her ribs as punishment didn’t help. Finally she calmed down and got serious. “What would be my part of this operation?”

  “Well, up till now, we’ve focused on werebear matches but there’s a group of us who think we should try recruiting humans into our fold.”

  “You did a bang up job recruiting me.”

  He kissed her forehead, resting his cheek against it. “I’d argue that it was the other way around. Anyway, I was thinking we should start a side job of hooking up humans and werebears.”

  “What, like a dating site or something?”

  “That’s where you come in. You’re the marketing specialist.”

  “Hmm…” Ideas spun around her brain, chasing away the last remnant of sleepiness. “It might just work.”

  More thoughts came and went as she felt Max’s breathing even out. He’d be asleep soon and she had a question she’d wanted to ask all day but had never found the right time. Now was as good as any.

  “Max?”

  It was his turn to moan sleepily. “Hmm?”

  She was suddenly nervous. “What’s your favorite baseball team?”

  He chuckled softly. “Duh. The Cubs.”

  Bethany smiled and covered his hand with both of hers. Slowly she moved it to her tummy. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  The End

  About The Author

  Marina Maddix is a romantic at heart, but hates closing the bedroom door on her readers. Her stories are sweet, with just enough spice to make your mother blush. She lives with her husband and cat near the Pacific Ocean, and loves to hear from her fans.

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  BEARed to You by Tawny Taylor

  A Beast’s Mate Romance

  Copyright © 2013, Tawny Taylor – All Rights Reserved.

  All Rights Reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is strictly prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  Chapter One

  “I’m an idiot.” Abby Clumm threw down her useless cell phone, wrapped the quilt tighter around her shoulders then hefted the shotgun up to take aim at the front door. “What was I thinking, coming out here alone?” Something strong and big and scary was doing its best to shred the wooden barricade into toothpicks.

  She had no interest in becoming that animal’s entrée.

  Quite the opposite. She preferred being at the top of the food chain.

  Darn it, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Outside, miles and miles of wilderness stretched as far as the eye could see. The nearest neighbor was probably at least a half mile away. She didn’t stand a chance of escaping an animal attack out there. And inside the rural cabin she’d rented with her best friend, her chances weren’t much better. A garden shed had more square footage than this place.

  All one room, with what could barely qualify as a kitchen, a tiny living area and a cot for a bed, there were no potential barriers to hold back whatever beast was outside, trying to find a way in. Unless the ugly circa 1970’s couch would do it. She doubted the brown, gold and rust plaid would shock the animal to death.

  No. Once that door gave way, she was dead meat. It wasn’t like she actually knew how to shoot the gun she was holding. She didn’t even know if the stupid thing was loaded.

  Argh! This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Her best friend, Katie, was the one who knew about this survivor-type stuff. Hunting, camping, shooting. Abby was a city girl through-and-through. She could hunt down a deal on Manolos but she could not hunt an animal, even if it was standing five feet from her with a target plastered to its chest.

  Which was why Katie was supposed to have arrived at their rented cabin, about ten miles outside of Anchorage, before Abby. Of all the times for air traffic controllers to stage a strike. She bet those stubborn controllers, who doubtless made more money in a month than she did in a year, didn’t know her blood was on their hands if something happened tonight. She thought about scribbling down a note demanding legal recompense for her non-existent descendants, but when the frenzied digging at the door stopped, she got all hopeful and thought just maybe the bear or whatever had left.

  Of course, she wasn’t about to open a shutter to check. She might be an idiot for getting herself into this situation in the first place, but she wasn’t that stupid. Everyone who watched thriller movies knew if she opened a shutter the deranged, rabid animal would be standing there, waiting, slobber dripping from its teeth, its huge paw raised and ready to slam through the triple-pane glass. Three quarter-of-an-inch pieces of glass wouldn’t hold up against an animal that could shake a solid door like this one had.

  Her hands trembling, her heart beating a frenzied rhythm against her breastbone like a bongo drummer on crack, she sat on the back of the couch and lowered the gun. Darn thing weighed a ton.

  “Please, please, let it be gone.”

  Shaking, she waited, her senses on high alert. Silence hung heavy, like an angry black storm cloud.

  “I want to go home. I want a Crispy Kreme and a White Chocolate Dream Latte. And a mall.” She set the gun on the floor, making sure the dangerous end—the one the bullets came from—was pointed away from her. “This wilderness stuff is for the birds, literally.” She chuckled nervously at the cheesy pun and switched on the radio. She needed human contact, even if it was one-sided. Being alone in a scary, foreign place sucked.

  She briefly considered heading back into town and dishing out the dough to stay the night in a hotel. Only one problem with that plan. The animal that had nearly ripped the door from its hinges might still be outside. Better wait until tomorrow. Granted, one night in comparative luxury didn’t solve her problem. She couldn’t go home until the strike ended. And she didn’t have the money to stay in a hotel for more than a couple of days. What if the strike lasted a week? A month?

  “God, this sucks!” She paced, chastising herself for letting Katie talk her into this so-called “Great Adventure”. She’d been in Alaska all of seven hours, twenty-three minutes and she’d had enough adventure to last a lifetime.

  Minutes, measured in the steady--if slightly annoying--tick-tock of the wall clock, and the stream of 1980’s tunes, slowly marched by. With each one that passed, her comfort level
raised a tiny bit. Forty-two minutes later, she felt pretty confident she wouldn’t end the night by becoming bear appetizer. It looked like the abominable snowman or whatever had given up.

  Yay!

  She went back to the book she’d been reading, which she’d tossed on the couch when the attack had started. She settled herself in a cozy leather chair and kicked up her feet on the pine coffee table. She was just getting to a good part—a sex scene, of course—when someone knocked on the front door.

  Katie? “Thank God!” She would’ve liked the option of checking through a peephole before opening the door, but since security didn’t seem to be an issue in the boonies of Alaska—at least security against human beings—and peepholes didn’t come standard on the cabin’s heavy wooden doors, she slid the bolt aside and inched the door open instead.

  That was so not her friend. But it—or rather he—was clearly a gift from Katie. He had to be. Another of Katie’s naked-man kind of gifts.

  Bless her, Katie’d sent a stripper out of guilt to keep Abby-the-City-Girl from getting bored and lonely.

  “Uh…may I help you?” She grinned, blinked a few times and opened the door wider. If that was the abominable snowman, then this frigid, isolated place had just taken on some charm. “Did Katie hire you? I love that girl! For my birthday, she sent a stripper dressed as a cop. He was something…was he ever. But didn’t anyone tell you you’re supposed to wear a costume and then take it off after you come inside? That’s half the fun. Oh, and where’s your tunes? And your car?” She tried to peer around him. His frame was wide. The kind of wide she could appreciate.

  “Wh-who’s Katie?” Hugging himself for warmth, the guy standing outside stuttered between chattering teeth, “C-can I come in for a minute?”

  Ah, so he was going to deny he’d been hired by Katie. That’s the way Katie had played it last time she’d hired a stripper too. No problem. She knew there could be no other reason for a man to be standing nude on her front porch at eight o’clock in the evening. Especially since she doubted there were any nude beaches in the area, and even if there were it was damn cold for swimming. His erect nipples testified to that fact.

  She wasn’t too ashamed to say she’d noticed the cold had not negatively affected certain other erect…parts. That in itself was a wonder of nature worth the long flight from Detroit to see. Forget the mountains and glaciers and northern lights.

  Back in Detroit, she would’ve never thought of letting a strange, naked man into her house, even if he was built like a god, had an erection that defied nature, and possessed the crooked smile of a devil. But after Katie’s vague promise about making up for her tardy arrival, not to mention the rabid animal that had tried to rip down her door, and her sorry survival skills, having an extremely manly man for company didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

  So he didn’t quite have the whole stripping thing down yet? That was nothing to hold against him, especially considering how he was built. As long as he didn’t hear voices, have a parole officer, or consider animal torture a hobby, all was well.

  She was going with that. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Sure, you can come in. For a minute,” she said, playing along with their game. “You look like you’re freezing.”

  “Th-thanks. I am.” He stepped inside and wiped his feet on the doormat. Bless his mother. Outside of teaching her son it wasn’t exactly kosher to go a-visitin’ wearing nothing but a smile and a coat of goose bumps, she’d taught him some manners.

  “Um, since you’re sort of denying having been hired by my best friend to assuage my anger, I’m curious. What’s your story? Did someone steal your clothes? Or were you in some kind of car accident?” It was a shame to cover the rippling muscles, bumps…and bulges…that comprised the anatomy of her visitor, but she had to feel sorry for the guy. Although his skin was the warm mocha of a suntanned beach bum’s, his face was pale and he was shivering. Nothing looked funnier than a naked guy quaking with a hard-on. His dick was doing this funny little bobbing thing, which made it all the more tempting to stare. She pulled the quilt off her shoulders and handed it to him. “Here.” He could do his routine after he’d warmed up a bit. A pathetic, shivering naked guy wasn’t quite as appealing as a studly, hot naked guy.

  “I’m not sure what my story is, to tell you the truth…thanks again.” He accepted the blanket with a smile that inspired a few thanks on her part and wrapped it around his glorious body. Despite the fire she’d somehow managed to build without the aid of a push-button ignition switch, he stood by the door looking scrumptious if a bit pathetic. The look in his eyes reminded her of Zoë, the mutt that had parked her pathetic furry behind on Abby’s front porch one frigid January night and given her a dose of the saddest puppy eyes ever. That had been almost five years ago. Zoë was now officially the world’s most spoiled dog. Abby was not the kind of girl who could resist sad puppy eyes.

  Speaking of puppy eyes…clearly this guy had nearly frozen off his more delicate bits by running around Alaska’s vast countryside nude. Must be his first time stripping. Poor baby, he needs someone to show him the ropes. Either he was masochistic, undressing out in the cold instead of waiting until he was inside, or he had a brain the size of a gnat’s.

  Such a shame. The good-looking ones were always so stupid. Clearly this little truth didn’t just apply to Michigan’s less-than-brilliant crop of available bachelors.

  “Why don’t you go by the fire? You’ll warm up faster,” she suggested, motioning toward what had to be pure temptation to a guy who’d wandered who knew how far in near-freezing temperatures.

  “Yes. That would be nice. I was just…didn’t want to scare you. I can imagine what you’re thinking.” He brushed past her as he walked.

  Crazy thoughts of getting cozy with him under that blanket—all in the name of sharing body heat, of course—passed through her mind. “Oh, you never know what I’m thinking,” she said brightly. He looked harmless, in a devastatingly sexy sort of way. Despite the low IQ, Katie’d picked a winner. Abby decided right then and there that Katie deserved something extra special for her next birthday. Maybe twins. Going along with the ruse, she asked, “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “I was sleeping. Then something woke me up—a dream. At least I think it was a dream. And I felt weird…”

  “Hmmm. That’s almost believable.” Almost but not really. She was still going with the stripper story. It made the most sense. “Sounds like you were sleepwalking.” Abby knew all about sleepwalking. She’d done it since she was a kid. It was a little disorienting at times, especially if she woke up in the middle of a dream. “Been there. Though I can’t say I’ve walked out of the house naked before. Thank God. I can just imagine the field day Mrs. Knotsmidt would have with that. She already thinks I’m an oddball.” She nodded her head. “Better sleep in some sweatpants or something from now on. Just in case. It’s a wonder you didn’t freeze to death.”

  He glanced down at his quilt-covered form and then grinned guiltily. “Good suggestion.”

  Oh, what that grin did to her! Knocked her brain clear out of her head. It landed somewhere around her toe region. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” she added before her gray matter had found its way back to its former position. She wasn’t normally so forward, even with a naked stripper.

  “Thanks,” he said, sounding downright cheery.

  “At least you didn’t run into the bear or sasquatch or whatever that was trying to rip down my door a bit ago. A naked guy I can handle, no problem. A wild animal with claws and teeth…no.”

  He studied her for a moment, his lopsided smile still firmly in place. She really liked it. Really, really liked it. The cop stripper had possessed a come-and-get-me smile like that too. Made a girl all soft and warm.

  He combed long, tapered fingers through his hair. Her mouth went dry. Biceps. Oh, mama.

  He did it again. He was clearly torturing her. “You’re not from around here.” It was a statement,
not a question.

  “Gee, whatever gave you that idea? Is it the accent? Or the fact that my friend called from an out-of-state area code and told you that?” she teased.

  “No, actually it’s the luggage.” He pointed at the stack of suitcases still piled high on the cot. “Don’t exactly look like the type who’d come out to a place like this by yourself though.” His gaze dropped to her feet.

  “That’s because I’m not, as my kitten-healed boots do testify. My girlfriend, Katie—the one who hired you—was supposed to come along. But some dumb strike delayed her flight. So, here I am, all alone. In the woods. With inappropriate footwear…” She sounded pathetic, which was exactly what she’d been shooting for. Maybe he’d be inspired to do an extra dance or two to ease her suffering.

  Visibly perplexed, he looked at her for a long beat. Then his expression turned wicked. A good wicked. “Can’t have that. I’ll stay with you until your friend arrives. I think I owe you for saving me from freezing my,” he cleared his throat, “vitals…off.”

  Whoo hoo! He wasn’t just a stripper but a bodyguard and boy-toy all wrapped in one scrumptious package. Okay, so she’d never worked so hard to get a stripper to perform his act before, but they were now on the right track. She was about to spend the night huddled up snug in a cabin with a guy who made her toasty with just a smile.

  She hoped she had enough singles to tuck into his…hmmmm…no garter? Where did one place a tip if the tip-ee was naked? She’d figure it out. She had all night.

  Then again, she felt it was necessary for propriety’s sake to put up a small show of resistance to him staying the night. Not too strong. She’d hate to have him change his mind. “Oh, I don’t know…that’s so nice of you but I’d hate to impose. What about your other…er, clients?” This trip was starting to actually show some promise. Considering what she’d spent getting there, she owed it to herself to have some fun. In any form that presented itself, but especially any form that involved taking a closer look at the abominable snowman there.