Furever Mine: A BBW Werebear Romance (Furever Shifters Book 1) Read online

  FUREVER SHIFTERS

  Furever Mine

  Iris Balfour

  Georgette Stephens can’t forget the sexy stranger she stumbled on during a mountain hike. Shaken to the core by his mesmerizing gaze, she escaped without learning his name. When he shows up at the company where she works, she can’t deny the deep and decidedly unprofessional connection she feels toward him. But she’s been hurt before by trusting too easily.

  Bancroft “Bear” Bruin, the chief of the Northern California bear shifters, is jubilant that his mate has finally walked into his life. He didn’t expect her to be human, but he won’t let that stand in his way. She’s his mate, and he will have her — no matter how hard he has to work to gain her trust.

  Copyright © 2015 by Iris Balfour. All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts or quotations incorporated in critical articles and reviews, no part of this work may be duplicated, reproduced, or transmitted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contact Iris Balfour:

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii | ix | x | xi | xii | xiii | xiv

  About the Author

  i

  Georgette

  I was huffing a little as we climbed the last steep stretch of trail. We’d left the trees behind and the sun blazed overhead. But the discomfort was worth it when we got to the summit. On the other side of the valley, the Sierra Nevada was outlined in front of us, crisp and seemingly within arm’s reach. Below us the winding river crashed over rocks. The fine spray glittered in the sunlight.

  “Look!” I clutched Becky’s arm. “A grizzly!”

  “Grizzlies are extinct in California,” she said matter-of-factly. A biologist for Fish and Wildlife, she ought to know.

  But she followed my pointing finger to the huge tawny bear poised on the river’s edge. As we watched, it dove into the water. When it returned to its rocky perch, it was carrying a fish in its mouth.

  “It does have a hump,” she admitted. “If it actually is a grizzly, that’s big news.” Slipping her daypack off her shoulders, she rummaged through it.

  The bear dove a second time. This time when it came out, it shook the water from its fur. Diamond-bright water drops flew in all directions. Picking up the first fish, the bear trotted up a trail and out of sight through a stand of sugar pine.

  Becky hurriedly clicked her phone camera. “Damn! Missed it.”

  “It was probably just a really big black bear,” I consoled her.

  “True.” She grinned at me. “But it would have been fun to get the guys at work stirred up.”

  That was Becky. We’d been friends forever, and I’d lost count of the scrapes she’d gotten us into. She was always the one who came up with the ideas, and my specialty was talking us out of trouble afterward. My smooth tongue served me pretty well in my public affairs job.

  We enjoyed the view a few minutes longer before hiking down the switchbacks on the summit’s other side. The grade wasn’t nearly as steep as on the way up, and we chattered as we went.

  “I might be getting a transfer,” Becky said.

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I like the people I work with. It’s just I’ve been in the same place so long.”

  “Five years is a long time?”

  “Well, for me. Anyway, I haven’t decided whether to take it yet. What about you? Have you told Roland it’s over yet?”

  Pretending not to hear her, I took a giant breath. The air did smell wonderful. “Doesn’t the scent of pine make you wish you could quit your job to be a hermit in a little wooden cabin?”

  “Didn’t work out so good for Kaczynski.”

  “He was crazy.”

  “I’d be crazy too. I love the outdoors, but I need my city.”

  We tromped along on the trail. When it narrowed, I went in front. A patch of ferns hugged the trail on one side. I navigated past the hanging fronds, careful not to bend them, and came to a fork in the trail. A short post pocked with nail holes stood between the branching trails.

  “Which way now?” I asked.

  “What does the marker say?”

  “Nothing.”

  She came alongside me. “It can’t say nothing.”

  “You’re trampling Mother Nature. Back on the trail, you.”

  She rolled her eyes before studying the ground beneath the post and around the nearby sections of trail. With the toe of her boot she pried a flat piece of wood from a pile of leaves. “Here’s one marker. But it doesn’t have an arrow.”

  “Bruin Trail,” I read aloud. “That doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “No,” she agreed.

  We scoured the ground for another marker, but soon gave up.

  “Let’s just go,” Becky said.

  “Sounds good to me,” I said. “If it’s the wrong trail, we can just come back.”

  I led the way along the left-hand trail. It continued downward for about half a mile before leveling off and exiting the trees into a small meadow.

  Stopping, I reached for my water bottle and drank as I admired the blue lupine and golden poppies. Grasshoppers buzzed in the high grasses.

  We followed the trail through the meadow and a fragrant grove of pines to a large clearing. In the center of the clearing was a cabin.

  No, not a cabin, a lodge. Built on a foundation of river rock with granite piers, it rose two stories plus an attic. A steep tile roof topped walls covered in herringbone shingles. A covered porch ran the whole width of the front. To one side and slightly behind was a matching two-story structure with a paneled wooden garage door.

  “Oh my god, how adorable.” Becky ran lightly up the granite steps to the porch. Cupping her hands around her eyes, she peered in one of the tall windows next to the door.

  “Becky!” I warned in a low voice from the foot of the steps. “There might be someone inside.”

  “You’ve got to see this,” she enthused. “It’s abso—”

  The door crashed open. “Are you lost?” boomed a male voice.

  Becky and I both jumped.

  A bear of a man stood there. A handsome bear of a man. He was tall and broad, with intelligent eyes and a strong nose over a thicket of tawny beard. His arms beneath the short sleeves rippled with muscle.

  He frowned at Becky.

  “I’m so sorry.” Becky smiled, tilting her head just a tiny bit. That always got guys’ attention, if they weren’t interested already.

  And they usually were, because Becky was gorgeous. Tall and slim with generous breasts. Check. Long curly hair floating over her shoulders like a cloud. Check. Sherry-brown eyes with thick lashes. Check. Glowing café au lait skin. Check.

  I was the plump friend who always got overlooked. I was pretty enough for a big girl, but next to Becky I faded to invisibility. Guys just didn’t see me.

  “Your cabin is so cute, I had to peek—”

  His gaze flicked past her, and locked on me.

  I stared back, trapped in his gaze. His amber eyes mesmerized me. Without intending to I found myself climbing the steps toward him.

  “—didn’t think there would be anyone here—
” Becky babbled on.

  I stepped onto the porch before my senses came back to me. Gripping the handrail, I forced myself to stop. I didn’t know this man. Whatever his pull was, I couldn’t give in to it.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  My mouth moved, but no sound came out. I took a deep breath to steady myself. Clutching the handrail tighter, I shoved my other hand in my pocket so he couldn’t see my trembling. He was so very big and so very masculine, and something about him called to me, and that — that intense power scared the crap out of me.

  Becky’s apology stuttered to a stop when she saw my predicament. Linking her arm with mine, she eased me down the steps.

  “So sorry, sir!” she said with artificial gaiety. “We’re leaving now.”

  He let us go without another word, but I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my back as we hurried back along the path. For some reason I thought he might follow us, but that was just vanity on my part. He watched us leave from the edge of his porch. Then he went back inside and with crisp finality shut his door.

  “Whew!” Becky said when we were out of sight of the lodge. She looked at me sidelong. “Some weirdo, huh?”

  I made a production of uncapping my water bottle and taking a long drink.

  “Handsome, though,” she continued. “And he was quite taken with you.”

  I laughed shakily. “Obsessed is more like it. Hope he’s not the next Unabomber.”

  But in my heart, I couldn’t believe he was crazy, and somehow it felt disloyal to make fun of him. He looked past Becky. That had never happened before. There had been guys who quickly realized Becky was out of their league and latched on to me instead. But this guy was in Becky’s league, and he wasn’t interested in her.

  “Nice cabin, though.”

  “Yeah,” I responded, and Becky let the subject drop.

  Bear

  I let my mate walk away from me.

  Every instinct urged me to race after her. She had felt the pull. Her eyes showed it. Her body showed it.

  Her mind resisted.

  She was human. I would have to woo her mind before I could claim her.

  I made sure the stove was off. My fish would be cold when I got back. I bared my teeth in a smile. There would be other fish.

  There was only one mate.

  Quickly I stripped, stepped onto the back porch, and shifted.

  I followed them, stopping where the trail forked. The sign was down again. I’d have to fix it if I didn’t want more visitors.

  But I thanked the accident that had led my mate to me.

  My mate.

  A glow warmed my heart. For so long I’d been yearning for her. I’d come to believe it wasn’t to be. She was human, true, but I could accept that failing. I would be strong for her, and I would protect our cubs. A heat rose in my belly at thought of making cubs with her, but I set the thought aside for later.

  Sniffing, I found the direction my mate had taken. Her scent was intoxicating. Mine, mine, mine. The knowledge thrummed through my whole being.

  When her scent grew very strong, I slipped off the trail into the brush. Birds foraging on the ground flew up as I passed. Squirrels scrabbled up trunks and rabbits dashed away. Silly creatures, they held no interest for me. Only my mate was important.

  I followed her to an asphalt parking lot, where she and her companion got into a car. I memorized the license plate number.

  My mate. My heart sang.

  I would see my mate soon, and this time she would not resist me.

  ii

  Georgette

  “Don’t forget, you need to make nice to this investor,” Walt said.

  “Yes, Walt.”

  “I wish I could get out of the dinner tonight,” he fretted. “You’re going to have to take up the slack for me.”

  “Yes, Walt.”

  Walt wasn’t bad as bosses go, but he wasn’t the greatest either. That happened sometimes in the second generation, losing the sharp edge that built the company and drew the best out of people. Walt’s dad was the McBride of Perkins McBride. Without that connection, Walt wouldn’t have been executive material.

  Of course I would make nice. That was my job, for crying out loud. I didn’t have no stinkin’ silver spoon and wouldn’t have been head of public affairs for Perkins McBride if I didn’t know how to make nice. Like right now, when I smiled sweetly at Walt and asked if that was a new tie.

  He beamed, made some answer, and ambled back to his own office.

  I gave my assistant a few last-minute instructions, and then headed downstairs to wait for the VIP. Normally I would have my assistant handle check-in, but even without Walt’s reminder I knew how important this prospective investor was to the company. The last product launch had been a failure, to put it mildly.

  The lobby was empty except for the receptionist and the security guard. They’d been chatting when the elevator doors opened. The guard quickly moved back to his post at the door. His job primarily was to be conspicuously alert, but he couldn’t do that when he was leaning against the reception counter trying to butter up Amanda, the receptionist.

  I suppressed a sigh. Time for another talk with Security.

  “Amanda,” I said, “a Mr. Bruin is supposed to arrive in the next fifteen minutes. Do you have his itinerary?”

  She brought the embossed folder out from behind the counter. I flipped through it, giving the itinerary and associated materials a final check. All good.

  I set it back on the counter. Ten more minutes. I took out my phone and handled a few email messages. When I heard the lobby’s street door open, I instantly pocketed my phone. Donning my professional welcome smile, I turned to the door.

  A tall man strode up to me. A tall, broad man with amber eyes and a tawny beard. He looked just as big in a suit. And just as handsome as when I saw him two weeks ago. I fought back the uncalled-for leap of joy I felt.

  Practice makes perfect. I held out my hand, my face blandly professional and my smile never faltering. “I’m Georgette Stephens, Mr. Bruin. I’ll be giving you the door.”

  “So soon?” he asked cheerfully, holding out his hand. His hungry eyes didn’t match his voice.

  I pretended not to notice the tiny shock when our hands touched. What had he said? I mentally replayed my words as I shook hands. Oh no.

  “The tour,” I corrected, the blood rising in my face. “I’ll be giving you the tour.”

  My hand was still wrapped in his. I smoothly — I think — disengaged. Amanda was looking at me with barely veiled curiosity.

  Grabbing the folder, I held it out. “Here’s our itinerary and some other information you might find useful. I thought we would drive out to the plant first, meet the board for lunch, and then come back here to show you the administrative offices and answer any questions you might have.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t have any objections. Only the fact I’d gone through these motions several times helped me maintain my composure. If I’d had to think creatively — well, I couldn’t. My brain was all tied up with joy, fear, excitement, shame. My body tingled from his presence. Inappropriate physical sensations were playing havoc with my composure.

  “Well then,” I said lamely.

  I led him to the elevator and punched the button for the garage. The doors closed, and we were alone.

  The elevator rated for twelve persons felt cramped with me and him. It wasn’t just his bulk. He filled the small space with his presence. I couldn’t maintain elevator etiquette. I glanced at him, and nearly drowned in his eyes.

  I forced myself to speak. “I hope you have forgiven me for trespassing, Mr. Bruin.”

  “Bancroft. Or—” He hesitated, a hopeful look in his eyes. “My friends call me Bear.”

  “Bancroft.” I tested the sound of it. It fit him today, when he wore a designer suit. It didn’t match the man I saw two weeks ago. “Please call me Georgette.”

  “A lovely and rare name.”

  I laughed, glad
to be back to normal small talk. “My mother loves Regency romances.”

  The elevator chimed and the door opened.

  The driver was waiting in the reserved spot just outside the elevator. Although the driver immediately jumped out to assist us, Bancroft insisted on holding the limousine door for me, and then sedately allowed the driver to seat him on the other side.

  I had a standard spiel I used for tours. On the drive to the plant I usually talked about the company’s history and added a little local color if the visitor seemed interested. When I tried to tell Bancroft about the original inspiration that drove Perkins and McBride to join forces, he raised his hand.

  “All that’s in this folder, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Tell me about you instead.”

  I wanted to. He was a handsome man and I wanted to please him. A tiny voice inside me admitted that I wanted to please him in all sorts of ways. But this was business, not pleasure. And the company was relying on his investment.

  I’d been hit on before when giving personal tours. Deflecting the conversation from me to them usually worked. People loved to talk about themselves.

  “There’s not much to tell,” I said deprecatingly. “What about you, Bancroft? I noticed that, if you invest in Perkins McBride, it will be your first involvement in this industry. What attracted you to it?”

  “You.”

  I stiffened.

  Smoothly he added, “Should be telling me how it’s poised to take off and will double my return in five years.”

  I laughed. “I won’t make promises I can’t guarantee. I can tell you what our past history is and what we project to happen, but the future is unknown.”

  “Some things can be known.” He held my gaze when he said this.

  I managed to tear my eyes away when the limousine turned into the plant parking lot.

  With relief I pointed out the main buildings, and the rest of the plant tour continued as normal. He listened intently to me and the managers I introduced him to, and he asked cogent questions that brought out facts I hadn’t quite realized before. I was exhausted by the time we broke for lunch.