Blazing Bedtime Anthology Page 10

  Penny’s differentness had been made even more obvious a few months ago, when she’d come back after going on a two-year-long journey to find out who she was and where she belonged. The trip that had confirmed that whole you-have-nobody hypothesis.

  She’d hit the road shortly before her twenty-second birthday, with one goal in mind: discovering her own past. Dad, as much as she loved him, had been keeping secrets all her life. Secrets about his own background and definitely about Penny’s mother’s. He’d promised to give Penny answers when she grew up.

  Unfortunately, he had died before he could keep his promise.

  So Penny had set off on a quest, following the few clues she had. They’d led to nothing but more questions. Eventually losing hope, she had kept wandering, trying to find someplace that resonated with her soul. She’d gone from city to city, town to town. In each, she’d tried out a new job, a new hair color, a piercing, a tattoo, or a man before moving on to the next.

  And she’d discovered she didn’t really fit in anywhere. No one location was better than the last. Each left her feeling…restless. Out of step, out of touch. Adrift.

  In that old movie, Dorothy had said there’s no place like home. For Penny, no place was home.

  So she’d given up. Decided that having her hopes raised and then crushed was worse than just not knowing. Penny had come back to her father’s old house, her few friends, and to Callie, the one remaining constant in her life. She’d dragged all the remnants of her journey along with her. They were stamped on her body, on her mind and on her spirit, proof of her efforts to identify the real Penny Mayfair.

  Oh, hadn’t that given the residents of LeBeaux something to talk about! Despite being lovingly welcomed back by a few, to the town’s old guard, she’d simply proved what they’d always suspected of her—that she was bad news.

  “Are you all right?” the stranger said. He spoke softly, knowing she could hear, as if they were so in tune to each other that the symphony of gossiping voices and slinging crockery didn’t exist.

  “I’m fine.”

  Penny shook off her sad thoughts. Things were okay, she was okay. Not fabulous. But okay. She had a job, she had a roof over her head and she had a few true friends, which was better than having dozens of phony ones. She managed to maintain her wild-child image that kept people from looking closer and seeing anything she didn’t want them to. And she sometimes even had fun doing it.

  This is not a bad life.

  Even if deep in her heart she knew it wasn’t the one she had been destined to live.

  “What is it you want?” she asked.

  “I want you to come with me.”

  A shiver of excitement danced through her, even as she formed an instinctive refusal. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Yes, you are.” As if realizing he couldn’t exactly force her out through the packed restaurant, though he seemed tempted, he grudgingly added, “I must speak with you.”

  People had begun to notice their confrontation. They were all eyes, all ears, dying to be scandalized by the town’s bad girl.

  Penny sighed. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “It’s urgent.”

  “Yeah, right. If you lay that ‘Come with me if you want to live’ line on me, I’m going to stab you in the eye with a fork.”

  Though, that might be tough. The guy was staring down from what had to be a good foot advantage, and she was no shorty.

  He merely shook his head, continuing that intense, searching perusal of her face, her hair, her black-clad form.

  “You’re truly Penelope Mayfair? Daughter of Lenore Mayfair?”

  She gasped. “What the hell do you know about my mother?” Penny had no memory of the woman who’d given birth to her. She’d never even seen a single photograph, since her father had said they’d all been lost during a move. So for this stranger to casually throw out the name stung sharply.

  He shook his head, apparently unfazed by her sudden anger. His expression suddenly appeared almost regretful as he asked, “You weren’t a foundling, I assume? No chance you were adopted?”

  Penny’s hand fisted. Whatever this crazy attraction was about, it couldn’t overcome her instinctive need to protect her privacy. “Get out.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-four.” In two weeks. She had replied before even thinking about it. Why she was answering this stranger’s questions, she had no idea. But that was it, no more.

  “Where is your father? Did he abandon you?”

  This time, Penny didn’t listen to the voice of caution that said he was a big, scary-looking dude who knew too much about her. She stomped on his booted foot. Which just served to hurt her rubber-covered arch and didn’t so much as make him flinch.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked, tilting his head in visible confusion and not a bit of discomfort.

  Penny ignored the pain in her foot and glared at the man. “Because you’re seriously pissing me off. Now go away.”

  “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head and looking anything but repentant. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

  “Easily? I think I broke a bone in my foot.”

  He shrugged. “Not my fault.”

  Glaring, Penny considered stomping on his foot again. Or punching him. But as if he read her thoughts, he narrowed his eyes in warning. “Don’t even think about it. That shot was free. Next time, I defend myself.”

  “Oh, am I supposed to be all scared now?” she snapped, probably sounding more brave than she actually felt. “You think you’re tough enough to intimidate me?”

  Okay, that was dumb, because he was pretty damned intimidating. Though, honestly, she didn’t truly believe he would hurt her. Not only because they were surrounded by people in a public place, but because something about him seemed more ‘big, overbearing protector’ than ‘bad guy’.

  Penny had always had good instincts about people. Those instincts told her that while this man was going to annoy her in ways she hadn’t yet begun to comprehend, he wouldn’t hurt her. The same instincts had warned her that the roughneck, Frank, was a nasty character. And he’d proved that with one disgusting grope.

  This stranger was different. Not that he couldn’t be trouble, but she didn’t experience that instant shiver of awareness that said he was someone you wouldn’t want to turn your back on for fear of getting a knife between your ribs or a hand on your ass.

  She could handle him. Really.

  Though she felt a moment’s panic when he inched closer, keeping his voice low as he finally answered both of her questions.

  “You should definitely be scared. Because if you swing at me one more time, Princess, you’re going to find out exactly how intimidating I can be.”

  CHAPTER 2

  IT WAS FUNNY. Lucas had thought finding Princess Penelope would be the hard part when, in fact, it had been remarkably easy. Queen Verona had told him where the girl’s father had said he was taking her, and to his surprise, she’d still been here. He had picked up her trail right after he’d arrived this morning.

  But he suspected locating her would be the only easy thing about this job. Getting her to come with him would be a problem.

  Figuring out how to keep her was going to be an even bigger one.

  But keep her he would. Because there was no way he was going to let her go. Not when, from the moment he’d laid eyes on Penny Mayfair, he’d wanted her with every ounce of his being.

  It had finally happened. He’d looked on a woman and known he’d sooner cut off a limb than do without her.

  And she was the princess he’d been hired to deliver to another man’s marriage bed.

  “Oh, miss? My coffee?”

  Lucas glanced past Penny at an impatient-sounding man sitting at a nearby table. Leveling one slow, steady stare at the stranger, he noted that the man swallowed and pushed his empty coffee cup away, reaching for a glass of water instead.

  “Look, you’
re making a scene.”

  “You’re the one who kicked me,” he rebuked, amused by her temper. It brought out the fire in her beautiful eyes.

  “I didn’t kick you,” she snapped. “I stomped on your foot.”

  “So come with me to make amends.”

  Finally, as if too frustrated to argue, Penny said, “Fine. Meet me outside in five minutes. Got it?” Apparently seeing his hesitation, she added, “I’ll be there. I promise.”

  He watched her whirl away, wondering if she would keep her word. But he had no other choice. Short of dragging her out by force, there was nothing he could do but go outside and wait.

  It was just as well. The air was better. Not good, but better than inside the cramped, reeking diner.

  Lucas didn’t like to spend too much time on the Earth side of the world. It was too loud, too frenetic. Much too crowded with people jammed together in their cities, driving their screeching automobiles, moving much too fast. All his highly attuned senses went into overdrive whenever he crossed the border.

  There were times, when doing his job, that he’d had to cross into areas far worse than this. The city of New Orleans was a torturous maze of noise, colors and odors. Like all his kind, he had a keenly developed sense of smell. So the scents, in particular, were so overwhelming he felt incapable of breathing.

  While in New Orleans, he’d experienced its darkest side. He had gone into dingy, rundown hotels, had staked out seedy tourist traps. He’d followed suspects into vampire-themed bars where the other patrons had no idea the creatures of their imaginations actually existed in other realms.

  At first glance, the Mayfair princess seemed more suited to one of those places than to this small country dining hall. From the purplish tinge in her short, spiked black hair, to the heavily made-up skin and darkly shadowed eyes, she looked like anything but a member of a royal family. Except, perhaps, for Snow White…after she’d been in that glass coffin for a while.

  But those eyes. Those dazzling, purple-violet eyes proclaimed her lineage. From what the stories said, they were a trademark of the Mayfair women.

  Then there was the face. Her lips were full, her chin a bit stubborn, her cheeks soft. Finely boned, delicate and almost fragile, Princess Penelope’s face would, without a doubt, be utterly beautiful when washed clean of the layer of cosmetics and about a decade’s worth of mistrust.

  But the rest. Great Rumpel’s ghost, she was nothing like he’d expected. Nothing like anyone had expected.

  Spoiled, petted princesses often wore jewels. But not, as he recalled, hoops of silver dangling from the lobes of their ears, with smaller rings and studs riding all the way up each curve.

  Her black clothes looked more appropriate for a crone than for a young woman on either side of the border. The only relief from the solid black came from the garish, bright-red canvas shoes that extended all the way up over her ankles.

  The top and loose skirt hung baggily over her body, concealing much of her shape. But from where he’d been sitting, by the door, he’d gotten a few glimpses of her calves and thighs outlined beneath the filmy fabric. The tight, black leggings she wore beneath the skirt clung to those limbs, highlighting the slenderness, the length.

  He’d seen her maneuver through the crowded room with platters of food, serving others, waiting on those far beneath her in stature. He’d heard her snap at anyone who tested her and watched her manage ten tasks at once.

  He’d also seen her defend herself against an oaf who had laid hands on her without permission. That was fortunate, for Lucas had been rising from his seat, his hands clenching into fists the moment the stranger’s shifty eyes had hinted at his dark thoughts. A low, black cloud of anger had overtaken Lucas’s vision and he’d almost launched himself across the diner when the bastard had dared to touch her.

  But she’d taken care of herself.

  Something told him she always took care of herself.

  She was also someone who could be taken at her word. Penny proved as much by showing up at the door exactly five minutes after he’d exited. She burst outside. “Okay. You’ve got my attention. Tell me what you want, and then go away.”

  Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the door to make sure she didn’t dart around him to go in, and nobody else could come out. Then he answered. “I am indeed going away. Far, far away. And so are you.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed. For the first time since he’d seen her, she was entirely speechless. He sensed it didn’t happen often. This was a woman who was seldom lost for words.

  She was tough. Ragged. Hard-edged. Outrageously dressed, pierced and made-up. The idea of her presiding over the genteel court of Riverdale was ludicrous. Queen Verona would never accept this woman as the bride for her spoiled Prince Ruprecht.

  Which, actually, was a good thing. Because there was no way Lucas could deliver Penny Mayfair into another man’s hands.

  Not when he was determined to make her his own.

  * * *

  “OKAY, let me get this straight,” Penny said after the stranger had finished his ridiculous explanation. “You say you represent my mother’s people? And that you have to take me back to her homeland to claim some old inheritance?”

  The big, sexy man, whose glorious eyes appeared to have a hint of gold in them out here in the sunlight, nodded, unaffected by her obvious disbelief. “Exactly.”

  Though her heart fluttered, Penny quickly stifled her excitement. Because things like this just didn’t happen to her. Life was never this easy, not in the real world. She hadn’t gone on a fruitless, two-year journey of exploration only to have some hot dude in a black leather jacket show up out of the blue to provide answers to all her questions.

  “But you won’t tell me where you want to take me or what this inheritance is? Or even who, exactly, sent you to find me.”

  “Correct.”

  “And you think I’m going to say, ‘Okey-dokey,’ grab my stuff and blindly follow you to the ass end of nowhere.”

  He cast a long glance at her, visually assessing her admittedly unusual clothes. For some reason, one corner of the sensual mouth pulled up a bit in what was probably his impersonation of a smile. “You don’t need to pack much. You should definitely come as you really are.”

  He said it as if he didn’t mind her wardrobe, which Callie called her Witch-of-the-West look, completed by the ruby-red high-tops.

  “You’re missing the point. The issue isn’t my packing.”

  “It isn’t? What other issue is there?”

  Oh, maybe just the little one that this total stranger thought she would instantly trust him and let him whisk her away to who-knew-where to do who-knew-what.

  Well, okay, some of the who-knew-what might be good. But only if she decided she wanted that ‘what’.

  “The issue is, you can’t show up here and expect me to follow you like a dumb sheep.”

  Though following him would entail walking behind the man. And considering the way his faded jeans hugged those incredible thighs and lean hips, she honestly wouldn’t mind getting a look from—and at—the rear.

  “I’m no shepherd,” he said, something gleaming in the depths of those eyes.

  “More like the big bad wolf,” she muttered.

  For some reason, he suddenly coughed, lifting his fist to his mouth as he turned his head to the side. Finally, after he’d cleared his throat, he said, “We don’t have much time, Princess. We have to go now.”

  There he went with that stupid nickname again. She blew out a huffy breath, then curved her hand around one ear, tilting her head to the side. “What’s that? I think I hear something. Oh, yeah, it’s the nuthouse calling. They want you to bring back their straitjacket.”

  He merely lifted a brow. The man seemed incapable of being provoked, as if, despite his dangerous looks, he really knew how to hold onto his temper. “What can I say to convince you?”

  She hesitated, wanting to walk away, yet tempted—so damn tempted—to
listen to what he had to say.

  Part of her was dying to know more about who sent him. Her mother’s people? Meaning, people who’d actually known her mother, whom Penny couldn’t even remember? People who might be able to fill in the blanks of her history—tell her why Penny had been able to find no record of her mother’s existence, not anywhere. Maybe explain why there was no proof of her parents’ marriage. No record of where her father had lived for a good ten years of his younger life. Why her own birth certificate hadn’t been filed until Penny had been three years old.

  So many questions. No answers.

  Until now?

  Finally, taking a chance, she said, “All right. Here’s how you convince me. Tell me everything. Every single detail. Let me hear it and then I’ll decide if you’re crazy…or I’m crazier and actually believe you.”

  He frowned. Instead of making him look forbidding, it just added to the whole super-hot-bad-boy thing he had going on.

  “I can’t do that.”

  Stabbed with disappointment, she immediately reached around him for the door handle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say.”

  He refused to get out of the way. “You wouldn’t understand, not right now.”

  “Look, Mr…. what is your name, anyway?”

  “It’s Lucas Wolf.”

  An appropriately tough one. Then she rolled her eyes. No wonder he’d reacted when she’d called him the big bad wolf. What was it, the name for words that sounded like what they were? Onomatopoeia? Yeah. That fit. His name definitely fit his whole big, bad self.

  Besides, she’d bet he was a wolf as far as females were concerned. He sure had the looks for it, if not the flirtatious charm. Not that he probably needed to rely on charm or seduction. He was all tough, overpowering, alpha man who women flocked to like…well, like sheep.

  Women often chose to settle down with nice guys. That didn’t mean they didn’t have fantasies about one last, wild fling with a dangerous, edgy man who was relentless in his pursuit. Many such females would probably have said, “When do we leave?” after hearing his proposition.