An Alpha's Thunder (Water Bear Shifters 3) Read online

  Ben leaned back in his seat. “I’m not sure I understand. What’s the benefit of us moving up there? I mean, sure, we’ll be closer. But why do we need to actually be up there at this point? What are we going to do?”

  Lance shrugged. “I felt the same way. But Neal is worried that when the scientists do make a move, they’re going to make it fast. The more bears that are already up there and in a position to help, the better. I’m not sold on the idea, and I would be interested to hear input from everyone. I’m not excited about leaving warm, sunny San Diego, for one thing. But Alaska is beautiful, albeit cold. And the chance to work on a rescue crew in Kodiak would be pretty sweet. That’s where all the most elite rescue swimmers go, you know.”

  “When do we have to decide?” Ben asked.

  “There’s not a deadline, per se. But the sooner we put in for a transfer, the better chance we have of being the crew that gets to go to Kodiak. Ace can pull some strings with some of the higher ups, but nothing’s guaranteed.”

  “I’m all for it,” Brett chimed in. “As long as Aubrey is okay with it, that is. But I have a feeling she’d be up for the adventure. I’m sure there’s some interesting work to do up there as a marine biologist that would be a big change of pace from the type of work she does here.”

  Lance nodded. Aubrey was Brett’s fiancé, so it was no surprise that Brett would only go if she did. The same went for Ace and his fiancé, Jade. “Ace, you probably need to ask your girl, too, right?” Lance asked.

  “I’m in, too,” Ace said. “I’ve already asked Jade, and she’s on board with it. I’m getting tired of the surfer scene here, anyway. I’d love to be a little more out in the wilderness, which Alaska would allow for. And, besides all that, I do think it’s a good idea to get closer to the scientists. Maybe it’s more in my head than anything, but I just feel like being closer to them gets us one step closer to avenging the fallen pandas. I’m ready to show those scientists that they messed up when they killed off our clans.”

  Ace slammed the table for emphasis, and Lance nodded. “Fair enough. Ben?”

  Ben shrugged. “I’m not a huge fan of being cold, but I’m a bear. I’ll adjust. And I think Ace is right. Being closer to the scientists might be good for our morale. I’ve been feeling pretty helpless being all the way over here in California when we know our enemies are hiding in Alaska somewhere.”

  Lance nodded. “Sounds like everyone’s on board, then. I’m okay with that, since it’s what the rest of the group wants. I don’t have any strong ties to San Diego.”

  Ben laughed. “Yeah, neither do I, buddy. You and I are both free men, with no girl to have to ask for permission to move.”

  Lance laughed, but he couldn’t miss the pang of worry that passed through his mind as Ben spoke. Caroline’s face flashed across his vision, and his heart sank. He knew that if he went through with moving to Alaska, his chances with her were done for sure. She had a huge following here, and she wasn’t likely to leave that for a guy she’d just met. Lance sighed, and told himself to get over it. He was being ridiculous, obsessing over a girl he barely knew, and who probably had no interest in him. What had gotten into him? He should be angry at her for using his face on the paintings. Instead, he found himself trying his hardest to keep from thinking about her constantly.

  Who could blame him, though? She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. An image of her in that strapless black cocktail dress flashed across his mind. He let himself remember for just a moment the way her curves had filled out the dress. Then he forced himself back to the present. He had to concentrate on this meeting, or the guys were going to start suspecting that something was up with him.

  “Sounds like it’s settled, then,” Lance said. “Ace, can you get the ball rolling on a transfer request? Talk to your inside connection and see if you can pull some strings to make it happen. “

  “Will do,” Ace said. “And I’ll let you guys know if I hear anything else from Alaska. Lance, you do the same.”

  “Yup, sure thing,” Lance said. “Anyone else have any items of concern right now?”

  “My only item of concern is I’m stressed out from this long week of work,” Brett said. “Anyone up for hitting the bar and grabbing a beer with me?”

  “Now you’re talking,” Ben said. “Let’s go chill out for a bit. I could use a breather after all the storms and rescues we’ve had.”

  Lance sighed inwardly, but agreed to go grab a drink with the guys. He was feeling moody, and part of him wanted to just stay home and continue his search for any kind of contact information for Caroline. But he told himself to stop being ridiculous. He had already searched high and low for a phone number, and had come up short. Another few hours of searching were unlikely to reveal anything new. Besides, it was looking like he was leaving San Diego, anyway. No sense in continuing to chase a farfetched chance at a romance when he might be moving away soon.

  His bear growled within him, disagreeing strongly with his determination to forget about Caroline. Lance pushed down the beast’s insistent rumbling and grabbed his keys and wallet.

  “First round’s on me,” he said, heading for the front door. No matter how much his bear tried to steer him back to Caroline, he would focus on his crew tonight. Their safety and well-being was much more important than some silly crush.

  Even if that silly crush was on the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

  Chapter Four

  “Here’s your mail,” Samantha said, tossing a pile of white envelopes onto the kitchen counter. “I’m going to Jake’s for the weekend, so I won’t see you until Monday night. Have a good weekend.”

  “Thanks, you too,” Caroline answered, giving Samantha a small wave. Inwardly, she was doing a happy dance. She loved it when she had the apartment to herself for the weekend. And after the stress of the last week, she could use some solitude.

  Her publicist told her that the calls had been nonstop about Lance, the man who had shown up at the art show looking like the identical twin of the man in her paintings. Her publicist begged her to make some sort of public statement, but Caroline refused. She didn’t see the need for it. She had already told everyone the truth—that the man in her paintings was a figment of her imagination. She had no further comment to make beyond that. No matter what she said, she knew everyone was going to draw their own conclusions about how she knew Lance.

  Caroline had Googled Lance several times over the course of the week. He hadn’t given her his last name, but the snoopy reporters who were always calling had found it for her. Caroline had no idea how they’d found out so much information about him, and she didn’t want to know. Their ability to find out details about anyone and everyone creeped her out.

  A Google search of Lance Bowman didn’t turn up a whole lot of exciting information. He worked for the Coast Guard, which only added to the suspicious appearance of the situation. Caroline had to admit that it sounded pretty shady to tell people that you had accidentally painted a carbon copy of a Coast Guard rescue crew member in a painting of a Coast Guard rescue crew. The only other information about Lance was a public record of a condo purchase he had made a few years ago. Other than that, he seemed to be something of a mystery. Caroline didn’t find any Facebook or other social media accounts for him, and she couldn’t for the life of her find anything that would lead her to who his family might be.

  Caroline sighed and rubbed her forehead with her palm. She was acting like some sort of high schooler who wanted to stalk her crush on the internet or something. Why did she really care who Lance Bowman was? Yes, he looked exactly like her dream man. And yes, she had accidentally painted him into her latest art exhibit. But other than that, they had no connection. She didn’t know who he was, and she had no reason to believe that he was a man worth pursuing.

  Well, okay, that last part wasn’t entirely true. She was pretty fascinated by the fact that he worked as a flight technician on a Coast Guard rescue crew. He probably knew the ocean st
orms even better than she did. She doubted that he loved them more than her, but he surely understood their power in a way that she never would. And they both made their living based on the sea—him by rescuing people from its grasp, and her by introducing people to its raw beauty in her paintings.

  Caroline laughed out loud. What was she doing, sitting here trying to convince herself that a total stranger might be worth pursuing. She would likely never meet him again. In fact, it was probably better that she never met him again. These nosy news reporters would jump on any chance to claim that they had broken a story about how Caroline had a secret lover whom she’d used in her paintings. Caroline shook her head in a mixture of amusement and annoyance as she went to her counter to open her mail. She loved painting, and she was thankful for the success she’d had as an artist. She wasn’t going to deny that being a starving artist wasn’t as sexy as it was made out to be. She very much preferred being an artist who could afford to buy food and pay the light bill. But the constant attention that came along with even a low level of fame had grown wearisome to Caroline. Sometimes she dreamed of packing up her few belongings and just disappearing to start over somewhere far away. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d attempted that. Sometimes a fresh start was just what you needed.

  Caroline let out an exasperated breath and started flipping through her mail. She wasn’t sure that she was ready to leave the ocean here in San Diego just yet. She knew the beaches here so well. They had become a sort of friend to her, especially the one closest to her house. She knew every nook and cranny of that beach, even with her eyes closed.

  The mail, as usual, was an assortment of bills and credit card offers. Caroline was about to toss it aside onto the counter again when she flipped to the last envelope and paused with interest. It was a plain white envelope the size of a greeting card. An old name and address of hers was written neatly in blue ink, but there was no return address. A yellow forwarding label from the postal service contained her new address, which was how the letter had made it here. Caroline raised her eyes in surprise. The original address the sender had used was so old that any forwarding order would have long expired. There must have been some odd glitch at the post office that caused the letter to get forwarded anyway. Caroline frowned and flipped the envelope over, but there was nothing written on the other side, either. The postmark was from just over a week ago, in San Diego. It looked like a personal letter of some sort, which made Caroline wary. She guarded her personal information religiously, and would not be pleased if her home address somehow leaked out. Hopefully, since the letter had originally been sent to an old address, her current address was still private.

  She tore open the envelope to find a simple card with an elegant, colorful paisley design on the front. Furrowing her brow, she opened it to find the entire inside filled with neatly written script in the same handwriting that had been used on the envelope. Her eyes quickly scanned down to find the signature, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name “Lance Bowman” signed in perfect cursive at the end of the note. All of a sudden, she forgot the long list of reasons she had come up with for why she would never be interested in Lance. How had he found this address? She’d had quite a few people stalking her over the years, but they had only been able to find the phone number for her publicist. They had never managed to get her address, and had been forced to settle for showing up at all of her art exhibits to try to convince her to date them. But in the span of a week, Lance had found an old address and sent her a card. She should feel creeped out and scared, but instead she felt flattered and impressed. Who was this guy, exactly? Caroline’s hands shook slightly with excitement as she read what Lance had written to her.

  Dear Caroline, Forgive me for sending you this letter unsolicited. I tried to call you, but your publicist is quite the stubborn watchdog.

  Caroline laughed. Her publicist was worth her weight in gold. Caroline never had to worry about taking phone calls she didn’t want to take.

  I searched high and low for another phone number or your address, the letter continued. You’re not an easy woman to find. I finally found this address buried deep within a public record from almost a decade ago. I have no idea whether it’s even correct, but it’s my last hope of contacting you before your next art show, which might be months away. I had to try. I know this might sound crazy to you, but I feel like destiny is trying to bring us together. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you painted a man who looks just like me, or that I ended up at the show when I’m not even that interested in art. (Sorry, it’s true. I’m not much of an art buff. Although I did like your work). I apologize for running off so quickly after the show. I was shocked and confused, and, in all honesty, I was overwhelmed by how suddenly I felt strongly attracted to you. You’re beautiful, and you possess a certain peaceful, happy quality that few people do. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve tried, believe me. I told myself it was ridiculous to think so much about a woman who doesn’t even know me. But then I realized that you do know me. You painted me, after all. Even if unintentional, that must be the hands of destiny at work, don’t you think? Please, give me a chance to get to know you better. I think there could be something special between us. I’m running out of room on this card, so I’ll stop rambling now. But I hope I’ll be hearing from you soon.

  The card ended with Lance’s signature and his phone number and email address scrawled beneath it in tiny, neat type. Caroline reread the card two times, then set it down and stared out the kitchen window. The day was sunny and hot, and an orange tree took up most of the view from where Caroline stood. Its branches bobbed slightly in the breeze, the bright orange spheres of fruit shimmering in the sunshine.

  She felt her heart pounding in her chest. She looked around nervously, as though someone might be watching and know that she was flustered by the letter she had just received. She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to call Lance and tell him that of course she would love to get to know him better. She wanted a chance to explain in no uncertain terms that she had definitely not been modeling her painting after him. She wanted a chance to see if the butterflies she had felt when she saw him at the art exhibition would still be there if she saw him again under less stimulating circumstances.

  But Caroline knew that life didn’t always give you what you wanted. So she slowly folded the card shut and placed it back into the envelope. Before she could change her mind, she walked over to the corner of the living room where a small computer desk stood. Beneath the desk was a shredder, and Caroline placed the card in the shredder. She bit her lip to hold back the frustrated emotions coursing through her as she watched the beautiful card disappear into the hungry, noisy mouth of the shredder.

  She knew better than to think that she had a chance to have a real relationship with Lance. The minute anyone saw them together, rumors would be flying about how she was dating the “model” she had used for her Coast Guard paintings. Caroline had quickly learned from observing other artists around her that the only thing worse than having everyone up in your business was having everyone up in your business when you were dating. Everyone loved a good love story, and the local newspapers would start hounding you, trying to get pictures or a quote that they could turn into an “exclusive” story about your relationship to sell more papers. This constant scrutiny would place great strain on the relationship, until it started to fall apart. And the only thing people loved more than a love story was a love story gone bad. Caroline didn’t want to be in the spotlight for anything, especially not her love life.

  She was perfectly happy in her reclusive little world. Sure, it got lonely at times. But loneliness was better than having your personal life splashed across the pages of the newspaper. Caroline had decided long ago that she would only date someone she was sure things were going to work out with, and that she would take extraordinary steps to keep the relationship secret for as long as possible. She had no guarantee that things would work out with Lance. She didn’t r
eally know anything about him, other than what he looked like. And she definitely wouldn’t be able to keep a relationship with him a secret.

  Caroline stared at the top of the shredder, where Lance’s card had been only moments before. She wiped her hands off on her pants determinedly and turned on her heel. If he really thought that they were destined to be together, then let destiny figure out a way to bring them together. Caroline wasn’t going to go messing with the perfect solitude she’d worked so hard to achieve.

  Chapter Five

  “You’re a disgrace,” Caroline’s mother yelled at her, getting so close to Caroline’s face that little splatters of her mother’s saliva landed on her skin. “What makes you think you’re so special, that you get to throw away the years and years of premium education your father and I have paid for? Art is not something highly educated people do. It’s not what we raised you to do. Pick a university, and a real major, and get yourself a real career.”

  “Art is a real career,” Caroline said, crossing her arms. “And it’s the career I’ve chosen.”

  Caroline’s mother turned beet red with rage. “Get out. I don’t want to see your face again until you’ve come to your senses and chosen a respectable career path. And don’t expect any more financial support from me. I will not be the financier of these pipe dreams. You’re a disgrace.”

  A loud clap of thunder sounded, and Caroline woke with a start, beads of sweat forming on her face and neck. She sat up slowly in the darkness of her room, breathing rapidly and telling herself to calm down. It was only a dream. A nightmare, really, but there was no need to get technical.