A Grizzly Kind Of Love (The Mating Game Book 3)

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Authors: Georgette St. Clair
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with paws the size of dinner plates and thick brown hair rippling over his massive body.
    Without thinking, Wynona shifted too, feeling her clothing explode off her as she dropped to all fours. She followed Zane as he raced over to the burning car, not sure what she could do to help but sure, somehow, that she should be by his side if there was danger.
    Zane grabbed the driver’s side door with his paws and, summoning his enormous shifter strength, pulled it off with a hideous screech of metal. Then he tore at the seatbelt, and carefully lifted the driver out as the flames from the engine leaped high in the air. Standing on his hind legs, he cradled the limp man in his arms, ran over to the ambulance, and set him down on the stretcher.
    Wynona trotted over to where Zane stood. The air stank of blood and gasoline and motor oil. She felt a pang of sadness when he looked down at the limp man and shook his head.
    The driver hadn’t survived.
    Zane shifted back to his human form, fur receding, snout shrinking, claws retracting. In a minute he stood there tall, stark naked and magnificent, with the vehicle flaming and crackling behind him.
    Wynona followed suit. She walked over to where her clothing had fallen off her and made the remains of her shirt into a kind of sarong, hiding her crotch, then stepped into her shoes, which fortunately had survived the shift. She wasn’t too terribly embarrassed, because shifters were used to being naked around people. Then she remembered that Zane was there and she was fat, so she sucked her stomach in and tried to cover herself with her hands.
    Zane walked over to his motorcycle, opened up the small chest that he had strapped on the back, and pulled out a spare outfit. He handed Wynona a T-shirt and stepped into his jeans. One of the police officers questioned them as they got dressed, but all Zane could tell him was that he and Wynona had heard the accident as they were driving.
    The police officer shook his head. “Well, appreciate the help. Too bad the guy didn’t make it. It was a hit and run. Hope they find the other driver.”
    She tipped her head back and scented the air. The dead guy was not the guy from the parking lot. Something felt off about the accident – just too coincidental and weird – but she couldn’t imagine what.
    Feeling uneasy, she climbed back onto the bike with Zane. Now she was hugging his bare skin, and she felt her nipples harden, pressing into his back. She could smell the musk of his arousal, and realized with mortification that he must be able to smell hers as well.
    It doesn’t mean anything. He’s a guy. They get turned on if the wind blows the wrong way.
    He drove her back home, where she slept poorly that night, dreaming that she scented Zane just outside her window. So close, but just too far away to touch.

Chapter Nine
     
    The next morning Gillian, who was usually highly unflappable, looked quite alarmed when Wynona told her what had happened.
    “Did you tell the police about the man from the parking lot?” she asked.
    “No, what would I tell them? Last night I thought I caught a faint whiff of some guy who eavesdropped on me almost a week ago and corrected my grammar? And then a little while later there was a car accident? I’m not even sure it was him I smelled.”
    “He corrected your grammar? You didn’t mention that part.”
    “Yes, he did,” Wynona said, shaking her head in annoyance. “More than once. In the span of a very short conversation.”
    “Well, your grammar is frequently quite atrocious,” Gillian mused. “He can’t be all bad.” Then she pursed her lips. “But someone tried to shoot at you the other day, and then there was a car accident right behind you.”
    “But how could those two things be connected? Honestly, I think that working with Zane and having to deal with the Shepherds just has me rattled in general,” Wynona said.
    As they spoke, a man walked through the door, good-looking enough, wearing a

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