“That was just a hypothetical example,” she added, before he marched off and uprooted a whole shrub. “I don’t need any flowers.”
One of his hands flexed a little, fingers clenching in the white sand. “Then what do you need?”
“Nothing,” Martha said, trying to stop her ears to her coyote’s whining. “I had my husband, and no matter what you do to try to impress me, nothing is going to change that. Please, just let me be. I’ve had love enough in my life, more than anybody could ask for. I’ve got my memories. I’m content enough.”
“I know I am…I am not what you need. Or want.” His voice roughened even further, harsh as sandpaper on skin. “But let me do something for you. Anything. Let me have a memory, that I once did something that pleased you, and I…I too will try to be content.”
Her heart broke for him. It wasn’t his fault that his one true mate had already been claimed. Life had handed him a whole bushel of lemons, and all he was asking for was one spoonful of sugar.
“All right then. But I don’t need anyone murdered, thank you very much.” She racked her mind, trying to think of something she could ask him to do for her.
It can’t just be some make-work fluff. A man like him needs a task he can be proud of, a real honest-to-God challenge.
If it’s a difficult feat he’s after… Her coyote’s tongue lolled out in a trickster’s grin. There is one thing we could ask him to do.
Despite herself, her own lips curved as well. “Can you dance?”
Chapter 7
The waiter looked at Tex, then back up at the Master Shark. The expression on the small land-shifter’s face very clearly stated: I am going to die.
“Come on, Breck.” Tex twanged an encouraging chord on his guitar. “You’ve always claimed that you could teach anyone to salsa. Time to put your money where your mouth is.”
“You’ve got the easy job,” muttered the other man Tex had summoned, who the bartender had introduced as Travis. He was attempting to measure the span of the Master Shark’s arms, which was somewhat difficult in the limited space within the vacation cottage. “We’re going to need a bigger tape measure. Tex, there is no way in hell I can adjust a shirt to fit this mons- uh, gentleman. Not by tonight, anyway.”
Tex scratched the back of his neck. “What if you started with something of Chef’s?”
“I’d have to start with something of Magnolia’s just to have enough fabric to fit round his chest.” Travis cocked a wry eyebrow up at the Master Shark. “And I’m not sure that pink floral would give quite the effect you’re looking for, sir.”
The Master Shark considered it. “I am not attempting to appear intimidating. Dry-landers consider pink an unthreatening color, do you not?”
Tex, Breck, and Travis gazed at him for a long, wordless moment. Even though they were all different sorts of shifters—and thus shouldn’t be capable of communicating telepathically with each other—he had the distinct impression that all three of them were sharing the same mental image.
“The temptation is almost overwhelming,” Travis murmured.
“No,” Tex said firmly.
“Spoilsport.”
“Come on, it’s his one true mate. Let’s give the poor guy a chance.” Tex idly picked out a plaintive, wistful melody on his guitar. “I promised we’d help him out.”
“You’re a sucker for doomed romance.” Travis snapped his tape measure shut with a sigh. “I’m sorry, but there’s really nothing I can do. Even I can’t pull super-sized formalwear out of my ass at two hours’ notice.”
The Master Shark tilted his head. “Tonight’s dance is a formal occasion?”
Travis shrugged. “Well, it’s not white tie or anything, but we do encourage guests to dress up a bit. You’re going to need a little more than swim shorts, sir.”
“I have formalwear.” He pulled open the small wardrobe in demonstration.
There was a small, stunned silence.
“Oh, my tail and whiskers.” Breck let out a long, low whistle. “Well, I for one would pay good money to see him wear that.”
“Yeah, but on a dance floor?” Tex said dubiously.
“I think it’ll work.” Travis rubbed his chin. “If we lose some of the…accessories.”
“Accessories,” Magnolia said, pursing her lips in consideration. “You need just a tiny splash of color. Aha! I know the perfect thing.”