Make That Man Mine
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Make That Man Mine
ISBN 9781419920516
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Make That Man Mine Copyright © 2005 Shelley Munro
Edited by Mary Moran
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book Publication 2005, June 2009
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Make That Man Mine
Shelly Munro
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The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Ironman: World Triathlon Corporation
Chapter One
“Good morning, George Taniwha & Co.” Emma forced a bright smile and hoped her despondency didn’t crawl down the telephone line. Twenty-five years old today. Twenty-five! And she still hadn’t plucked up the courage to approach Jack Sullivan and ask him out on a date—despite this being the age of equal opportunity. The man in question sauntered past her desk and strode into George Taniwha’s office, shutting the door firmly without giving her a second glance. A man to die for…
Emma sighed and stared at the bronze nameplate on the door in frustration. So she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in New Zealand. She was built with the word generous in mind. A large ass and a chest made to house her big heart. Or at least that’s what her high school boyfriend had informed her. He’d also told her she had a nice smile and that he enjoyed being with her because she didn’t stress about her size. Yep, she was a normal, healthy woman—kind to animals and small children. Most people liked her, yet the wretched man of her dreams didn’t acknowledge her existence.
“Are you there, young lady?”
The querulous voice jerked Emma from her grievances about a lack of sex life back to her phone call. “I’m sorry. I had to sign for a courier parcel,” she fibbed. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Elisa Denning. I need the services of a private investigator. Someone is stealing my prize rose blooms. Right before the flower show, too.”
“Let me take some details, then I’ll arrange for an investigator to come and see you,” Emma said. “Address? Telephone number?” She jotted the woman’s particulars down, an imp inside her laughing as she imagined George assigning this case. None of the men would appreciate chasing a rose thief. George Taniwha’s operatives preferred the dangerous stuff that challenged them and proved they were men.
Her humor died, replaced by a frown that drew her brows together. That was another thing she wanted to change. She’d passed all her private investigator exams. George had promised her she would be able to take on cases. Soon. Perhaps she could start with this case. Never let it be said that Emma Montrose didn’t have ambition.
“When can I expect someone?” the elderly lady questioned. “I’m sure it’s Mrs. Gibb’s grandson, but the police won’t do anything.”
“An investigator will contact you tomorrow morning, Mrs. Denning.”
“Excellent. Tomorrow is my baking day. I’ll make them a cup of tea when they arrive.”
Emma couldn’t restrain a grin as a vision of one of George’s tough he-man investigators drinking tea from a bone china cup popped into her mind. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy a cup of tea. Thanks, Mrs. Denning.” She disconnected the phone and typed up two letters while she waited for Jack to leave George’s office. She was smitten enough to want to gaze her fill as he left since the man had a truly fine butt. The hands of the clock moved slowly, and still Jack didn’t appear. Reluctantly, Emma stood and packed up for the day. She picked up her bag and couldn’t prevent a glance toward the closed door, looking for the tall, dark-haired man of her dreams. Oh yeah. No doubt about it. She was a sad, sad woman.
* * * * *
“I have a case for you,” George said.
Something about his boss’s tone made Jack cautious. “Yeah?”
“Sports-enhancing drugs. Rumor says there’s a ring operating out of the Mahoney Resort on Waiheke Island in the Hauraki Gulf. I want you check it out.”
“And?” Jack’s gut told him there was more to the story. The glint of humor in George’s eyes confirmed it.
“I’ve assigned you a partner.”
Jack straightened from his casual sprawl against the wall, his eyes narrowing on George. “I work alone. I don’t work with a partner.” His last partner had died. Horribly. And he lived with that guilt. He wasn’t damn well having another partner he might come to like.
“You can’t do this job alone.”
“Why not?” Jack demanded. “I’ve managed every other job on my own.”
George leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and looking over the top in a thoughtful manner. “This one might be a little difficult. Reuben J. Mahoney is a slippery character.” The chair squeaked a protest each time he shifted his weight.
“I can handle anything he throws at me.”
George glanced at the calendar pinned on the wall then cast his attention back to Jack. “There’s a blue moon coming up. It might fall before the mission is completed.”
Jack filled in the blanks. The blue moon would erode his powers and make it difficult to remain in human form. Without constant sexual stimulation, he’d shift into a taniwha, the legendary monster from Maori mythology. Jack snorted at the thought of being trapped in taniwha form in the middle of a mission. It had happened to other shifters on George Taniwha’s staff but not to him. He imagined the pandemonium if a change occurred in the middle of the bustling resort. His lips curled in disdain.
Little did New Zealanders know, but the species taniwha survived and lived among them. Jack didn’t intend to be the first taniwha to make headlines in the New Zealand Herald. No way. No how. If he had to find a woman to keep the monster at bay, then that’s what he’d do.
“Okay,” he conceded. “I guess a partner might help. Who’s available? Hone? Billy?”
George made a choking sound, merriment dancing across his lined face as he stuck his feet up on his desk.
“What’s so goddamn amusing?” Jack ground out. Another chortle exploded from George.
Jack bounded upright and paced the length of the room, trying to work off the agitation that thrummed through his body. He paused to stare out the window, his mind taking in the yachts that zigzagged across blue waters of Auckland Harbor. Jack turned away from the window and stalked across the room to drop into the chair opposite George. He kept his expression neutral despite the amusement that still simmered across his boss’s face. “You’d better let me in on the joke.”
“You can partner up with Hone or Billy, if you want,” George said. “But you might want to consider the special circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Jack bit out. Man, he had a hot date with Melissa tonight. Good, hot, sweaty, no-strings sex. He didn’t have time for this crap. “Either Hone or Billy. I’m not fussy.”
“Reuben J. Mahoney runs a couples-only resort. I’m assigning you a female partner.”
“A female— No.”
“I guess you can take Hone. Or Billy,” George mused. “Of course, you’d have to share a room. And a bed.” He shook his grizzled head. “Two taniwha in the same room. Add in a blue moon and things might get a mite ugly.”
Fuck. Jack sent a hard glare at his boss. Trapped as neat as an eel in a net. Jack shuffled through the range of possibilities and came up blank. “Who is she?” he gritted out.
“A new operative.”
Great. Just bloody great. Not only was he being forced to take a female partner, he was getting a raw beginner. Jack didn’t trust himself to speak so he firmed his mouth, folded his arms across his chest and scowled his displeasure.
“I’m teaming you with Emma Montrose.”
“Your secretary?” Jack heard disbelief in his voice but thought he managed to keep his panic to himself. What the hell did a secretary know about investigating a case? What about the danger? To both of them. They would have to share a room for God’s sake. Jack refused to let his mind dwell on Emma’s sexy legs…or the rest of her body.
“Emma’s capable of assisting you on this case.”
“Assign me another case.” Spending time alone with Emma was enough to give a man ideas. Jack wasn’t interested in anything but sex. No relationships for him. Been there. Done that. Chucked away the T-shirt.
Nope. It was best he kept well away from the very curvy, brown-haired Emma Montrose. Every time he came into the office, her big blue eyes trailed after him like some pet dog. Except instinct told him, she had more in mind than stroking or petting. That was part of what made him so edgy whenever he was in the same room. A woman like Emma wanted happily-ever-after. Jack didn’t want that. Not anymore. Some of the taniwha, like George, were happily married, but finding a woman comfortable with her man turning into a water monster wasn’t easy. It was a rare female who could cope with the idea that her children might carry the taniwha gene. Or might not, depending on fate. The peculiarities of the taniwha species had rattled his ex-lover. She hadn’t been able to cope with his ugly appearance and had run despite his assurances that she would always remain human. He hadn’t even reached the part about taniwha living longer—about thirty years longer—than the average human before she’d run.
“Did you say share a room?” Jack ignored the interested twitch from his cock.
“And a bed,” George said without inflection. “But if you don’t think you can act as part of a couple with Emma, I’ll send Hone. He’s due off assignment tomorrow.”
Jack thought about that for all of two seconds. He’d seen the way Hone looked at Emma. “I’ll do it,” he said, even though deep down in his gut, he knew he’d come to regret this decision. “Give me the details.”
* * * * *
Emma marched into the offices of George Taniwha & Co. the next morning, a woman with a mission. After spending her twenty-fifth birthday with her girlfriends and not one man in sight, she’d come up with a resolution. With the help of her tipsy friends, she’d decided to go for it.
Get Jack Sullivan to notice her or bust.
A smile—was that too much to ask for? No, dammit, it wasn’t. And that would be just the start. She intended to progress from there—from a smile and good morning to down and dirty sex. Her breasts tingled at the thought and a swooping sensation spiraled through her lower belly. Of course she wouldn’t go as far as stalking the man, but she wasn’t going to be a shy little wallflower either. Emma Montrose was coming out of the shade and going after the man she wanted. She was going to act like the fictional taniwha on George Taniwha & Co.’s letterhead—formidable and determined, ready to scare Jack into thinking her way. By the time she was finished, he was going to know she was interested. Then he could take the next step.
She drew herself up. No. That wasn’t right. She wasn’t letting him slide out of her sights without a fight. She’d take the second and third steps and as many other steps as the situation required.
Emma pushed aside several possible scenarios, concentrating on and visualizing the one she wanted. A secret smile curled across her lips as she fluffed her short curly hair.
Two lovers.
Emma and Jack.
Horizontal dancing.
Heat seeped into her face at the thought. Emma yanked out her office wheelie chair, plonked her butt on it then grabbed up a pile of envelopes off the desk to fan her face. This brave new Emma might embarrass her a little, but she’d try to keep up.
The front door of the office opened and Emma straightened abruptly, her backbone hitting the back of the chair. Well. No time like the present to put her plan into action.
Emma put her best receptionist manner into practice and flashed a smile. “Good morning, Jack.”
The man froze like a possum in headlights, giving Emma the opportunity to look her fill. He was tall and built like a rower with powerful shoulders, slim hips and a butt that she’d really like to get her hands on. His hair was shiny black, halfway between short and long and in need of a cut, making her fingers itch to smooth the messy strands away from his face. A dreamy sigh squeezed past her lips. The man was blessed with sun-kissed skin, no matter what the season. She often wondered what he looked like beneath the layers of clothing. Did the gorgeous olive tones that were a legacy from his Maori ancestors extend all over his body? Hopefully she’d be in a position of knowledge soon.
“Morning.”
The word came out as a grunt, but it was a definite improvement on being treated as part of the office furniture. Emma forced away the sudden surge of nerves and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you here to see George?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” Emma’s breath caught, her lungs filling with his seductive scent—something that reminded her of the mystical Orient with hints of orange and patchouli and a healthy dose of masculine musk. Emma found herself staring. Holding his gaze felt like poking her finger into a hot fire. Dangerous. Crazy. A challenge. Sorta made a girl wonder what it would feel like to have him thrust deep in her womb. A sensuous shiver swept through her body and arousal soaked her panties without warning.
Emma gulped and licked lips that were suddenly dry. All that from merely passing pleasantries. What would happen if they were naked? Together? Get a grip, she thought sternly as her hormones went haywire. A cough cleared her throat. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Hmmm. Not bad for the first time. She’d do better with the next meeting.
“I don’t mind waiting.”
Emma felt her eyes grow round and her mouth fall open. Huh? What was wrong with this picture?
Jack closed the distance between them and used his forefinger to tap her under the chin. Her heart stuttered in a mad tattoo. She gasped, jerking away from his touch in outright shock.
The door from the street burst open and George bounded inside followed by his son Hone. “Ah, you’re here, Jack. I thought you might change your mind.”
“No,” Jack snapped, glaring at Hone.
Hone ignored Jack’s scowl and sauntered across the office to stop beside Emma. “Hello, sweetheart.” He hauled her from her chair and wrapped her in a bear hug that stole her breath.
“Put her down,” Jack growled.
“But I haven’t seen her for a week.” Hone nuzzled her neck and made Emma laugh. “She’s my girl.”
“Don’t you have a case to solve?” Jack looked as though he wanted to hit his mate.
Not in the least perturbed about his friend’s bad temper, Hone parked his butt on the corner of her desk and flashed her a sexy gri
n. Emma sighed inwardly as she stared through lowered lashes at Jack’s surly face. Why couldn’t she fall for Hone instead of grumpy Jack? It was a mystery all right. Although Hone made her smile and was easy on the eye, he didn’t affect her heart rate in the slightest.
Not like Jack did.
George shook his head. “Hone, I want you to check into a case that came in yesterday. Mrs. Denning has a thief she needs to flush out. Emma can give you the details. Jack, I want to go over a few details about the case we discussed yesterday.” He strode toward his office but paused in the doorway. “Emma, I need to see you in my office when you’re finished with Hone.”
Bother. She’d hoped George might let her gain some practical experience with Mrs. Denning’s case. Obviously not. Emma scowled and decided it was time to remind George of his promise. Five minutes later, Emma knocked lightly on George’s door and entered. She carried a pad and pen to take notes. Jack was sprawled in a chair near the window. He bounded to his feet when Emma came in.
“Ah good.” George checked his watch then stood. “I have a golf date. I’ll leave you in Jack’s capable hands.”
George’s words echoed through her mind for long drawn-out seconds afterward. She heard the click of the door as George left but couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything other than capable hands. A vision popped into her mind, aided by fertile imagination. Masculine hands on her naked breasts, fingers plucking at her sensitive nipples.
Oh my. Emma subsided into a chair before her legs gave out. Suddenly her cotton blouse felt several sizes too small and her face hot enough to cook a batch of small pancakes. She fanned her cheeks vigorously with her notepad.
“Are you feeling all right?” Emma’s head snapped up to find Jack’s enigmatic gaze settled on her. “You’ll be as useful as a war canoe without a warrior to paddle if you fall sick.”
“What…what do you mean?” Emma knew what she wanted him to mean but she didn’t dare hope.