"No! That is, everything is just perfect with us. Really, um, great. But some of the female guests thought a little brush-up course would be helpful to improve their experience. I-Flynn and I thought you could mingle with the males and discreetly drop some hints. The girls would be grateful."

"That may be so, but they won't be you. I wish you'd told me you were life-mated, Lyra. I don't think I would have bothered to come," he complained.

Well, she supposed that was a compliment. "It was very sudden."

"Isn't it always? I suppose your brother hasn't been fool enough to fall in love, too."

"Not quite yet. Let me show you to your room. Lunch is at one. I've left a brochure---"

"Yeah, yeah. I read your website, kitten. Very impressive. Everything I could think of and then some. When do I get to meet the paragon?"

"At lunch. He's out kayaking." And I hope his arm is holding up, she thought.

Dillon walked up the stairs behind her. G.o.d, she had a great a.s.s. He remembered the many times he'd enjoyed her and gave a sigh of regret. Girls like Lyra didn't come around every day. He'd done an outstanding job with her. One of his best success stories.

But she just wasn't meant for him. She'd come close, he knew. It had almost been there. But he wasn't ready to ride a desk instead of doing fieldwork. If he had claimed her, he'd probably be surrounded by a bunch of rugrats and getting paunchy by now. Nope, he'd facilitate until it bored him. He still had a few years before the age difference between his subjects and himself would be a little creepy.

Lyra led him to a s.p.a.cious room in the middle of the corridor. "Love the colors, kitten. You always did have an eye. Every corner of the house shows your touch."

Lyra blushed. "Thank you, Dillon. That's nice to hear."

"Only telling the truth. I remember what this place was like when your grandmother was alive."

Lyra's blush went deeper. They had spent spring break her senior year of college here while her grandmother went on a cruise. Dillon had sworn he'd f.u.c.k her both ways in every single room, and he had.

"I'll see you downstairs at lunch. Flynn's fixed lobster bisque."

"Umm. My favorite. You remembered." He winked at her.

Oh, yes. She remembered. She remembered everything.

Ben took off the helmet and life jacket. His head was sweaty, as was the rest of him, but being out on the calm bay today had settled him. Flynn had told him this morning who the extra guest was, and Ben didn't like it a bit.

Lyra had dolled up for this Dillon McCarthy, too, not that she didn't always look great. Ben even hated the guy's name. It sounded fake, like some alpha hero out of a romance novel. To his shame, Ben knew a little something about them, at least the paranormal kind. Being without his own Facilitator, he'd used whatever fiction he could find to try to navigate the shape-shifting universe. He'd lurked on shifter message boards to see which books were recommended, then ordered them off Amazon. Ben had paid close attention to the females as they waxed enthusiastically about which books were a turn-on. He guessed he'd picked up enough to make Lyra happy so far.

When he kissed her this morning, he'd discovered she was wearing a little red thong. He'd be taking it off with his teeth in an hour in the night garden.

But he'd better get cleaned up before tangling with Lyra's first lover.

He took a hot shower but skipped shaving. Women seemed to like the scruffy look, even if they wound up with beard burn on their thighs. He pulled on tan shorts and a sage green shirt that he'd been told matched his eyes, then stepped into some Topsiders. Yuppie on the outside, all feral within, he reminded himself.

They were already outside on the porch when he came down. Lyra jumped right up and kissed him.

"Hi, sweetie! Can I get you some soup?"

What was this sweetie s.h.i.t? He kissed her too quickly, then extended his hand to Dillon, who lounged in a wicker chair as if he owned the inn and the entire d.a.m.n island.

The man stood and clasped Ben's hand. Hard. "I hear congratulations are in order. You've got yourself an exceptional mate, mate. Don't screw it up, or I'll have to come looking for you." Dillon smiled, but Ben thought it was more an exercise to show his perfect white teeth than anything else. The man's posh accent put his back up.

Figured. American women were suckers for British accents.

Ben smiled and squeezed right back. They held on to each other far longer than etiquette required. Frozen blue eyes met icy green.

"I know what I've got, and I thank G.o.d for her," Ben said quietly.

"Good. Flynn tells me the wedding is set for October. I don't know how you'll be able to wait that long myself," replied Dillon, setting his long frame back in the chair. "This bisque is as great as I remember, Flynn. I remember when Lyra and I were up one spring, we found some in the freezer and devoured it. And each other," he laughed.

"Okay, you can stop this p.i.s.sing contest right now," Ben said. "I'm not playing your game. You were stupid enough to let her go. I wasn't."

Dillon's sculptured face softened. "Well done! You are more astute than I imagined. I'll retract my claws and we'll see about being friends. Or at least not enemies."

"Deal."

Laura had been holding her breath for the whole exchange. Perhaps she'd underestimated her future husband. He might have been younger and less experienced that Dillon, but he'd taken him down in one snap of the jaw.

Lyra fussed over a bowl of soup, blushing furiously. It wasn't that she was hoping they'd come to blows, not really. But she hadn't expected them to resolve their property dispute in a dozen sentences.

f.u.c.king men.

"So, Lyra, tell me how you want me to shape up these shifters." Dillon grinned, this time a bit more naturally.

"I've got a reservation on the 9:30 ferry tomorrow. I'm taking the girls in the van to the mainland. We'll go shopping in Camden, have lunch. I do this every session," she said, turning to Ben. "It helps people from feeling too island-bound, gives everybody a change of scenery. Besides, every red-blooded woman likes to shop. Flynn takes the guys golfing at the country club and they eat there."

"Jeez, I hate golf," Ben said. "That's the one sport I don't have patience for. My dad kept giving me clubs, and I kept loaning them to teammates and now my students."

"You don't have to go," Lyra said quickly. "This lesson is definitely not for you. Y-you," she stuttered, "are fine."

"I hope I'm more than fine," Ben said. Lyra's rosy face must say it all.

Dillon stretched. "Okay, sounds like a plan. Lions, you said?"

"a.s.sholes," said Ben.

The hour in the garden turned into two. Bees buzzed, b.u.t.terflies flew, Lyra had multiple o.r.g.a.s.ms. When he held her afterward, he nuzzled her neck, then pressed his lips to her ear. "You are mine."

Lyra nodded. Yes, there was no question anymore. She was.

Chapter 9.

Ben had a second cup of coffee. He liked having the inn to himself. He'd been an only child, and every now and again it was a relief to welcome loneliness again.

It had been amusing to watch the females last night paw and drool over Dillon. To the best of his knowledge, the man hadn't even shifted and had gone to bed alone, but it wasn't for the lack of trying on behalf of the women. Ben and Lyra had continued their journey and he felt ever more in tune with her needs. She was his responsibility. She had to obey him, but he wanted her to like it.

Released from the torture of watching tiny white b.a.l.l.s go everyplace but where intended, Ben had decided to bike down to the lighthouse and climb the tower. He'd read you could see a couple of dozen smaller islands scattered in the blue water, mostly uninhabited except for birds. Someday he'd like to come back here and cruise from island to island on a little sailboat, with Lyra as his only crew. They'd hop off and christen each outcrop of rock.

The ride to the ferry landing was a little longer than his legs liked. He must be getting out of shape. He was only twenty-six, but playing ball made you old before your time. Maybe he and Lyra needed to run wild in the woods with the others tonight. Challenge them to a race. It was a foregone conclusion that cheetah Steve would win if he partic.i.p.ated. He and Anna had pretty much gone to ground, making Ben wonder if wedding bells were ringing in their future too.

He stood at the base of the circular gray metal stairs waiting for a couple of tourists to come down. Two young women, their voices loud against the bare whitewashed bricks.

From up above, he heard the talking stop.

"Ben? Benjamin Cooper? Is that you?"

Ben looked up and thought his heart stopped. Heather O'Reilly, her hair blonde and bobbed exactly as it had been ten years ago, was standing on the landing.

"Hey, Heather! Haven't seen you since high school graduation. How've you been?" He was surprised his voice sounded as natural as it did. Here she was, the one woman who had the potential to ruin his whole life.

They had broken up not long after his unfortunate furry fiasco. She'd never really bought the idea that the pot had been laced with some mysterious bad s.h.i.t, which was the best he could come up with at the time, being half out of his mind himself.

"I'm celebrating my divorce, actually. Christy and I are renting a little antique house on Crow Cove. Christy, meet Ben. I told you about him."

Christy's eyes widened. Not good.

"You're the baseball player!" Christy said, with all the gush of any Baseball Annie he'd ever encountered. Still not good, but better.

"Was. I'm just a teacher now. Cranford Academy."

"Close to your parents then. They must love that."

"I don't actually get to see them much. I'm pretty busy, coaching baseball and I help out some of the other guys with their sports, too."

The girls had now descended. Heather was just as adorable as she ever was, a delighted smile on her face.

"Where are you staying? You should come for dinner tonight."

"I'm at the Perch. And I'm getting married."

Heather didn't look quite so delighted anymore, but she went on gamely, "Bring your fiancee! I'll put an extra hamburger on the grill."

"Sorry. She's pretty busy. She and her brother own the Perch, and she doesn't get to take much time off."

"Where is she now?" Christy asked, looking like she was very ready to take advantage of Lyra's absence.

"In Camden with some of the guests."

"How come you didn't go?"

"Girls day out. Shopping."

"b.u.mmer. Well, maybe I'll come to the Perch and visit you. It's some kind of private timeshare resort, right?"

"Something like that. Call first. There are always lots of activities planned," Ben babbled. He couldn't very well tell her not to come. He'd have to warn Lyra.

Heather reached up, cupped his cheek and brushed her lips across his. "It's so nice to see you, Ben. I've never really gotten over you, you know. The view up there is truly spectacular. I'll call you later."

s.h.i.t s.h.i.t s.h.i.t. He wiped his mouth vigorously and climbed up the stairs, each footstep clanging a step closer to doom.