My Shifter Showmance (Shifting Reality 1)

“The housekeeper? We haven’t seen a housekeeper. Of course Bryan has been too busy playing with his equipment to notice if, say, his new wife was walking around their romantic bedroom suite in nothing but a lacey white thong. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Bryan ducked his head, his expression embarrassed as everyone caught his wife’s not so subtle comments. “Kasey Lynn, please. We can talk about that later.” He glanced over at Julie. “Did you say the housekeeper was a ghost? You actually saw her without infrared?”

Margo choked on her wine as, before Julie could answer, a handsome shirtless man in a kilt appeared on his knees beside Kasey Lynn’s chair. He was pale, so pale she could see through him to the wall. “Ach, he doesna appreciate ye, lass. I ken it. If ye wore such a thong for me, I wouldna leave you so unsatisfied.”

Kasey Lynn’s eyes were wide. “A full manifestation.” A manifestation that was licking his lips and caressing her arm suggestively. “He’s communicating. Did you hear that? Bryan, honey, get the camera.”

Margo heard it. And so did Bryan. Only he wasn’t reaching for his camera. “Hey! Get away from my wife.”

The roguish ghost winked. “Sure, lad? I can pose with this beauty for as long as ya like. T’would be no hardship.”

Kasey blushed, and Margo didn’t blame her. The way the handsome man was looking at her, well, she could feel the heat from across the table.

“Enough.”

The specter disappeared at the low command. Bryan pulled Kasey’s chair closer to his as a new figure appeared in the doorway of the dining room. Another illusion? Margo wasn’t sure how they’d managed these kinds of special effects in the first place. Mirrors? A projector hidden in the chandelier? That couldn’t have been real.

The figure stepped closer, and she sighed with relief, taking another fortifying sip of her wine. This one was solid, and she recognized him from the webisodes. Taller than the others, dark auburn hair to his shoulders, neatly trimmed red beard and piercing ice blue eyes. All that, combined with an expression eternally set in grumpy stone, told her who he was. Mac. Supposedly the owner of this castle…and a vampire.

He came to stand at the head of the table, looking over the group with resignation. Margo almost laughed. Even his disapproval was sexy. He didn’t look like the average movie idol vampire, yet somehow, his was a perfect casting. There was just something about him. He had an alluring stillness, magnetically aloof and unconsciously sexual.

His long, dark coat, the high collared, perfectly tailored suit, though obviously expensive and modern made, gave Margo the sense that he’d walked in from another time. Or off a film set.

“Welcome to my home. I trust you’ve found your accommodations acceptable.”

The murmurs of enthusiastic approval had him dipping his head in acknowledgment.

“Not very authentic, what with all the remodeling. But I am fond of the modern conveniences myself, so I suppose you can be forgiven.”

Margo raised her eyebrows at Stan’s condescending tone. Mac’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened. “Mr. Ayer. I appreciate your leniency. I do have a few rooms below that I’ve left untouched. If you find yourself craving a more…immersing experience.”

“Threatening to throw people in the dungeon already? And I thought this party wasn’t going to get kinky.” Saint walked in, and the four women at the table, Margo included, all released a sigh of appreciation. The supposed demon-human hybrid with a talent for machinery and an eternally distracted air looked like a Lost Boy. She understood his charm. Women wanted to be his Wendy. Torn between the need to mother him, and the desire to steal his seeming innocence.

His dark hair flopping carelessly over one eye as his thumbs flew across the small keyboard of his Blackberry. He wore a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, as though he couldn’t be bothered with formality, but it didn’t conceal his broad shoulders, the thick muscles straining against the fabric. He was fascinating. And Margo knew she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“Did I miss anything?” Joseph Lopez skidded into the room, bumping into Saint, who looked up with an expression that made Margo shiver. Had his eyes just flashed red for a moment? It must have been a trick of the light. Joseph backed up. “Sorry about that, sir.”

Saint shrugged and went back to gazing at his device, pulling out a nearby chair with his leg and dropping into it with a relaxed air. “Never apologize for being bad. You’ll set a precedent no one here wants to live up to.”

Joseph took the chair between Stan and Bryan, evading Margo’s questioning glance as he settled in. He looked like he’d been in a fight. His shirt was half undone, brown hair mussed, lips swollen. And was that a hickey on his neck? So a fight…or the mother of all make out sessions.

Margo knew Chi came in without looking behind her, just from watching Joseph’s expression. It turned passionate, carnal. She looked down at her glass. She needed a refill.

No. What she needed was Thomas. All the players had arrived, the cameras were on. Everyone was in place except him. One empty seat, right beside her. She looked around. Where was that bottle of wine?

“Thomas, about time you showed. I’m so hungry your guests were starting to look edible.” Saint barely lifted his head, but the table reacted to his words as if they were gunshots.

The star they had come to see had arrived, not with fanfare, but stealth. Margo whipped around in her chair, sloshing a few drops of red wine onto her fingers.

The men at the table stood, and the women preened, but Margo just stared in dumbfounded silence. She’d watched him so often she could sculpt him blindfolded, but in person…there was just no comparison.

He was leaning against the doorway as though he’d been there for a few minutes before Saint had said anything. Dirty blond hair curled at the collar of his white, long-sleeved shirt, emphasizing his golden skin. His green eyes were surrounded by long dark lashes, his dimpled smile just as wicked as she remembered. And he was looking directly at her.

Margo’s heart began to race, her chest tightening until it was hard to catch her breath. Thomas inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he studied her reaction. “Sorry I’m late. I hope you’re all as hungry as I am.”

He sat and, as if on cue, servants who looked as though they shopped at Goths-R-Us came out with platters piled high with some of her favorite dishes. It smelled heavenly. Thomas leaned closer to reach across her for a roll. He smelled even better.

“This may be an unusual question, but I’m still not quite sure what we’re supposed to be doing here. I didn’t see any rules.” Julie took a breath as if she’d just climbed a mountain, and Margo smiled supportively.