Tropical Lion's Legacy (Shifting Sands Resort 9)

Scarlet only smiled coldly and kept her secrets.

“The restaurant is open for breakfast and dinner only, but the buffet is available around the clock.” She pushed brochures over the counter. “The bar and spa hours are listed here, as well as yoga sessions, meditation, and dance lessons.”

Oh well. Alice would have been surprised if it had been that easy.

Chapter 4

Graham arrived at the kitchens still scowling, but no one was surprised by that.

“Morning, Grumpy,” Breck called to him as he waltzed past with a tray of fruit cups. “Chef’s got the list on the fridge. Let him know what you’ve got so we can put the rest in on the mainland order. Travis is leaving in an hour.”

The resort produce garden was not all that large; it couldn’t possibly provide all of the vegetables the kitchens used. But it could add a little splash of incredibly fresh produce when called upon, and Graham’s tomatoes were generally accepted as ambrosia from heaven.

Graham frowned over the list, hung on the gleaming fridge with a heart-shaped magnet.

“Morning, Graham,” Breck’s mate Darla said shyly at his elbow. The snow leopard shifter was the newest addition to Chef’s kitchen, and still seemed timid around Graham.

Grant would have liked frightening her. Graham tried to scowl a little less and nodded in greeting.

He stepped aside to let her open the fridge and pull out a gallon jar of milk, then vanish back down one of the shining kitchen aisles to where she was mixing some mysterious dough; her failed baking lessons were commonly available in The Den, the manor where most of the senior staff lived. Most of them were perfectly edible, if too ugly for guest consumption.

Chef’s progress through the noisy kitchen was made obvious by the opera he was singing at the top of his considerable lungs. “Ah, Graham,” he greeted in his booming voice. “I’m not sure about the status of your tomato crop, but if you could perform a miracle and have four dozen of about this size, you would be the answer to a prayer.”

Graham frowned at the example tomato Chef was holding. “I’ll have to check,” he hedged. Truth was he knew off the top of his head that he only had about half of that ripe now, but he might be able to cheat a little.

“And basil,” Chef said, looking at the list.

“Got plenty.”

“Any hot peppers ripe?”

“Few handfuls of jalapeños, a couple of chocolate habaneros.” Graham had been eyeing the ripening habaneros avidly; it was a strain he’d never grown before, and had been reluctant to bloom in the tropical heat.

“Perfect! I’ll take any you’ll part with. I’ve got a spicy Moroccan dish that is perfect to try out on our current crowd.”

Chef wandered back to check on a simmering pot and correct Darla’s kneading technique, and the two of them did a lilting duet from a show tune together.

Graham tucked the list into his pocket and left out the back door.

The resort was steep, and non-shifters would have found the terrain challenging, but Graham climbed the steps two at a time, head down, shoulders rolled forward, face scowling, so no one would be tempted to talk to him or ask for directions.

The last of the guests from the latest flight were checking in, two of them familiar, while the third was a stranger. The two figures he recognized would be the mates of Neal and Tony, who had both been key in bringing down the shifter zoo on the opposite side of the island.

But it was the third one who caught his attention.

She was an Amazon, towering over the two slighter women with her, and she had short, dark brown hair in a practical bob. She stood at easy attention, with a fit, powerful body not the slightest bit masked by her simple t-shirt and jeans. She had the barest swell of hips, from behind, and a small, firm ass.

Graham forgot about talking to Scarlet, forgot about tomatoes and secret identities.

His world had narrowed to this woman, and his lion was growling at his ear, intent and focused.

He could not have said how long he stood and stared, as the strange woman finished signing her forms and turned at last.

Hazel-green eyes met his and every breathless suspicion was confirmed: this was his mate.

Others on the staff sometimes talked about how it felt to meet their mate, and how they fought their instincts when they met for various reasons.

Graham was a fighter. Down at the very bones of whatever name he wore, he was a fighter, and he felt now like he did when he was preparing for battle: calm and ready and focused.