“It is,” he said, knowing full well how complicated this situation was. It wasn’t as if he could announce to everyone he worked with that he shared Melinda with another man.
Mark’s face went slack. “Really? Awesome. I’ve always thought you were kind of a loner. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” Trace mumbled. He took a seat at his desk and opened the file, anxious for Mark to get the hell out of the room so Trace could bring his blood pressure under control. He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fist on the desktop.
Melinda jerked her gaze to his, a frown on her face. She gave a subtle shake of her head. “Do you trust me?” she asked through their connection from across the room.
He flinched. What the hell kind of question was that? “Of course.”
“Then put your claws away, and don’t let that guy get to you, whoever he is. We covered this ground this morning. I’m yours. It’s established. Doesn’t matter what your coworkers or anyone else think. They don’t stand a chance with me.”
She was right. But Trace still felt combative. “He undressed you with his gaze and drooled over you from across the room. I’m surprised you didn’t get hit by the spittle from there.”
She smiled, shook her head, rolled her eyes, and turned back to say something to Terrance. And then she came straight toward Trace, her smile too big, her eyes too bright. When she reached his side, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “He can look all he wants. He can pretend to know what’s under my dress too. But his hands will never be on my bare skin in this lifetime or the next. Yours will. And furthermore, you have the added benefit of knowing that no man’s hands have ever been on me. There will never be anyone anywhere that will cause you to wonder if he’s slept with me or so much as touched me. Put your claws away.” She finished by kissing his ear and stepping back to sit in a chair next to his desk.
Trace’s cock was at attention from her lips so close to him—the words she’d spoken making him almost moan. And she smelled so fucking fantastic, like the fruity soap she’d used in the shower and the shampoo that matched the body soap.
She was right. He was a lucky bastard and he needed to get his head on straight. Let the other guys look. That was all they would ever get out of it. He lifted his gaze to scan the room. Sure enough, several eyes were on his mate. His mate. Not theirs. His frown turned into a smirk. No one in this room had ever had the opportunity to see his mate naked or touch her sweet nipples or clit. And they never would.
Mine.
“And mine.” Keegan chuckled into his head. “Problems? I can feel you as if you’re in the room with me. You gonna hit someone?”
“Nope. I thought about it, but our mate talked me down. Do you know how fucking sexy she is?”
Keegan chuckled into his head. “I’m aware.”
“Everyone in the building is staring at her as if she were fresh meat.”
“Yeah, I experienced a little of that yesterday. Ignore them. They don’t get to slide into her tonight.”
Trace was shocked. “How many of the men you work with are humans?”
“About half.”
That explained it. The shifters would give a passing glance of approval, but only rarely more than that. They knew the stakes. They understood how Fate worked. Melinda was claimed. No sense wasting time drooling over her.
And besides, the way pheromones worked within the shifter community, no other wolf would find Melinda as attractive as he and Keegan did. It was the way of shifters. Fate organized it perfectly.
Humans, however, were a different story. They couldn’t scent the bond between wolf mates. They had no idea how very taken Melinda was. They could be annoying at times, but it wouldn’t change anything.
Trace turned to look at Melinda. She was glowing. Her cheeks were pink. She had a twinkle in her eyes. And the smile on her lips never quite went away.
I did that to her.
“I may have helped,” Keegan interjected. “Gotta get back to work.”
“Any more news about that email?”
“Not yet. But the more I dig, the more it gets validated. This morning the shit has hit the fan. My boss is here. We’re digging into things.”
“You have time to talk?” Trace wanted to chat out loud for a minute. This was serious.
“Only a few minutes.”
Trace grabbed his cell and called Keegan.
He picked up on the first ring. “Hey.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is. It doesn’t look good. The foundation may have to be scrapped and re-poured. The concrete was subpar, even by last year’s standards before the quake. Now, it’s total rubbish. And I’m worried about who knows this and what their MO is. If the developer is aware of the corners that were cut, we may be in over our heads.”