Melted By The Lion: A Paranormal Lion Shifter Romance by Amira Rain Page A

table. “Thank you, Gerald. And, no, you didn’t interrupt at all. I was actually just leaving. I’ll take my breakfast to go.”
    Trevor took the lid off the tray and began piling fried eggs, bacon, and tomato slices on a piece of toast; Gerald dipped his head in a nod, then asked me if he and Sophie could make me any breakfast.
    Recalling Jeannie telling me that Gerald and Sophie tended to feel underused on days when Trevor wasn’t hosting a social dinner at the mansion, which was most days, I told Gerald that a ham-and-cheese omelet would be wonderful. He smiled and said he’d have it ready in just a few minutes, then exited the kitchen through the swinging door. In the short amount of time it had taken me to make my request and Gerald to respond, Trevor had finished making his toast sandwich, had taken a few gulps of coffee, and had left the kitchen without so much as a hasty bye in my direction.
    After warming my coffee with an extra splash from the pot, I began drinking it, though that was difficult, since I seemed to be developing a lump in my throat. And after a few sips, the feel of warm liquid rolling down my cheek told me that my tears weren’t quite done for the morning. Almost as soon as I’d started back up again, I wiped my eyes with a paper napkin, then balled it up and hurled it across the counter to Trevor’s maps on the table. If he wanted things to be perfectly businesslike between us, that was fine. But I’d never agree to have a baby with a man who wouldn’t kiss me.
     
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    By late afternoon, I’d already made my first friend in town. Her name was Bridget, and she was beautiful, with chocolate brown, almond-shaped eyes, jet black curly hair, and flawless, creamy skin the color of coffee with milk. She’d been thawed about four months earlier, to have a baby with Aaron, Trevor’s top lieutenant and right-hand man. But despite the fact that Bridget hadn’t become pregnant yet, she and Aaron had already gotten married. They’d not only quickly meshed on a physical level, Bridget had told me with a little wink, but they’d also fallen deeply in love, and pretty immediately, too. Now they were just waiting for a baby to add to that love and make their happiness complete. Bridget’s life sounded like a dream to me.
    After I’d taken a bike ride into town, I’d met her outside the ceramics shop, and she’d introduced herself and then asked if I’d like her to show me around town. I’d gladly accepted, and after she’d treated me to lunch and dessert at one of Beaumont City’s three restaurants, we’d browsed in a few boutiques, toured the library, and had gotten manicures and pedicures at the town’s beauty salon. Having found an envelope in my bedroom labeled Pocket Money , containing bills printed with the lion crest of the new nation of Louisiana, I’d said I’d treat us to our salon visit, but I ended up only paying for Bridget’s. Upon learning who I was, the owner of the salon, a pleasantly plump older woman named Donna, smiled and said all services for a “guest of Commander Beaumont’s” were on the house and always would be.
    She’d seemed to struggle for a second before saying the word guest , as if she hadn’t been quite sure how to describe me. I didn’t blame her. With her not knowing what had already transpired between Trevor and me, or hadn’t, “girlfriend” would have seemed a bit presumptuous; “possible bed-mate” would have just been pure awkwardness; “possible future baby’s mother” would have sounded just plain clunky and wrong. And if I had slept with Trevor, which Donna obviously had no way of knowing, “friend” might have come off as disrespectful or belittling to a woman involved in an intimate relationship. Guest worked just fine for me. Though, of course, a truer description would have been “business associate of Commander Beaumont.”
    The two young women who’d done our nails had welcomed me