The Billionaire Shifter's Second Chance (Billionaire Shifters Club Book 3) Read online

  The Billionaire Shifter’s Second Chance

  Diana Seere

  Contents

  Copyright © 2016 by Diana Seere

  The Billionaire Shifter’s Second Chance (Billionaire Shifters Club #3)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  The Billionaire Shifters Club Series

  About the Author

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Cover design by Diana Seere

  Cover photos from depositphotos.com

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  The Billionaire Shifter’s Second Chance (Billionaire Shifters Club #3)

  By Diana Seere

  A wildland firefighter--and mountain lion shifter--Edward is the youngest of the Stanton siblings, and hasn't touched a woman in a decade, not since his late fiancee was killed in a violent tragedy.

  But when he meets the sweet, adorable Molly Sloan, a friend of his new sister-in-law, Lilah... his determination to remain celibate begins to unravel.

  Something about Molly is irresistible. Something about her makes him forget the past... and hear the Beat. But Edward will have to fight for her -- forces are gathering to use her in ways that might separate them forever.

  Chapter 1

  “Why are you so twitchy?” Sophia asked.

  The art exhibit for their brother’s paintings was quite lovely, but Edward Stanton was beginning to deeply regret being a supportive sibling. Leaving his home in Montana, where the air smelled like freedom and people didn’t glare—because there were so few actual people—and coming to this festering hellhole called Boston gave him good reason to twitch.

  His sister’s words made him groan inwardly though. If he told her the truth, she would belittle him. If he lied, she would smell it on him.

  Of course she would. She was a bear shifter, with a nose most vintners would kill to possess. Sophia could smell emotions. She could sniff out subterfuge and intrigue, sex and anger. He was certain she could smell lottery ticket winners if she tried.

  Not that a billionaire heiress would need such a skill.

  Edward steeled himself, wishing he could hide scent the way he had trained himself to hide emotion. Even shifters had limits, sadly.

  “I’m tired. The jet seats weren’t comfortable,” he lied. A powerful hum from some sort of heating-and-cooling system kicked in, making his back teeth rattle. How much longer must he stay to be polite? The city was full of too many unexpected vibrations and jolts, sounds like jeers and mockery. His head began to throb, a steady beat taking over.

  Sophia rolled her eyes and took a small pastry from a tray as a server passed by, stuffing it in her mouth. “You are the worst liar ever. Didn’t you learn a thing from Derry? You would never guess you’re brothers.”

  Half brothers, he thought. Of the five Stanton children, Edward was the only one without a full sibling. He was also the only mountain lion shifter. He needed to roam. Desired space.

  Craved land.

  Downtown Boston, at an art gallery packed into a gentrified district where people lived in apartments the size of thumbnails, was the absolute opposite of what he wanted right now.

  But they were here to support Derry in his art, and by God, he would fake his way through this.

  Even if Derry just ditched them to reunite with his human mate, the limo speeding them off to Derry’s loft, leaving his cheerleading squad stuck in this gallery, eating overcooked rumaki and pretending to enjoy the other exhibits.

  “I know you hate the city,” Sophia said, her voice dropping into a compassionate whisper. “But that was years ago, a random tragedy. We can help you. It’s sweet of you to come here for Derry.”

  Edward’s body went cold. He didn’t want to talk about the past. And he certainly did not want to talk about the last time he was in Boston.

  “Super sweet!” Molly, his sister-in-law’s friend, approached him and Sophia, her bright blue eyes overly friendly, cheeks flushed with excitement or wine. Or both.

  His body responded to her presence, skin heating up, muscles expanding at an almost-unfair speed designed to make him ready for…

  For something he’d given up a decade ago.

  He’d met Molly recently at his brother’s wedding in Montana, where he lived and worked as a wildland firefighter, instantly spellbound by the bubbly brunette. So spellbound, in fact, he’d tripped over his tongue and made an awkward fool of himself.

  Her unexpected presence here made his blood pump through him with a ferocious need he hid, reining in emotions he knew Sophia would sniff out in seconds if he allowed it.

  He would not.

  “Molly!” Sophia cooed, eyes darting between Edward and the woman. “How are you?” Moving slightly, his sister made it abundantly clear that she knew about the private biochemical process taking place inside the skin bag called Edward.

  He gave her a withering glare.

  “I’m good. Great food here!” Molly snatched a shrimp appetizer from a caterer’s tray and popped it in her mouth, talking around the morsel. “I think it’s even better than the Platinum Club catering,” she said in a conspirator’s whisper. “Don’t tell Eva,” she added, winking at Edward.

  Unable to help himself, Edward’s mouth spread into an impulsive smile, eyes crawling down from her face to the voluptuous swell of Molly’s breasts, her V-neck sweater showing creamy skin his hands itched to touch, the aquamarine cashmere of her sweater highlighting those bright blue eyes. He tensed yet could not stop his journey, following her curves to a nipped waist, wide hips that curled down, her long, elegant skirt covering her legs.

  A flash of that skirt around her waist, his hands roaming up tender thighs widening for him, made his throat go dry, his blood pump faster.

  And lower.

  Now he remembered why he had avoided Molly at the ranch.

  She did this to him.

  He felt his pulse in his eyelids, in the tips of his ears. Hell, he was starting to think he could feel the beating in each individual hair in his beard.

  Impossible.

  “Is something wrong?” Sophia asked, attention focused on Molly’s inner elbow. Surgical tape held a cotton ball in place.

  Edward tensed, instantly worried. The idea that her beautiful body was somehow injured or ill triggered a physical ache inside him, his senses sharpening.

  “That?” Molly laughed, pulling her sleeve down. “I just gave blo
od earlier today.”

  “How humanitarian of you,” Edward said, instantly hating himself for his stilted tone, the words spoken from a place of relief. Blood donation. Of course. She gave off a dizzying vibration that called to him, making rational thought difficult.

  It was as if he began to think with his body. His bones.

  But only when he watched her.

  Molly laughed. “They beg me. Something about my special blood. Every six weeks, like clockwork, I give. They use it for research. Maybe they’ll find a cure for cancer because of me. I figure it’s my version of volunteering, you know?” Molly grabbed another appetizer off a tray as a caterer walked past. “Probably why I’m so hungry. Boy, these hors d’oeuvres are delicious.”

  “Good to know you enjoy the food,” said an imperious woman, her strong, nasal tone making Edward’s ears hurt. The diversion from his overt ogling of Molly’s body, though, was welcome. He was being a total cad.

  “Jane Lethbridge,” she said, reaching to shake Sophia’s hand. The woman did not introduce herself to him, though her eyes combed over them both, a flash of approval as she noted Sophia’s height. “Dr. Jane Lethbridge. You, my dear, must be McDermott Stanton’s sister. His twin, I believe?”

  “Indeed.” The air between the two women crackled.

  “There can be no doubt. I must thank you for your family’s donation. Most generous.”

  “Donation?” Sophia said with a blasé air that made Edward’s lips twitch. This was one of many reasons why Edward hated the city. In the country, people asked for help.

  Here? They asked for dollars.

  “For the exhibit.” Lethbridge’s eyes narrowed, and Edward took an instant dislike to her. She reminded him too much of some of the business associates their brother Gavin brought to the family’s ranch. Eager to impress and ruthless enough to get rid of anyone in their way.

  Dr. Lethbridge seemed to find it important to flatter Sophia.

  “The Stanton family has been most generous. I would like to personally talk about ongoing projects, branded with the Stanton family name as sponsors, of course. Imagine a Stanton museum!” Lethbridge’s eyes lit up. Edward swore they turned green as she smiled at Sophia.

  The color of money.

  Molly frowned, giving Edward a sympathetic look. “Then, if you’re thanking the Stanton family, you really should—”

  Lethbridge pivoted, just enough to edge Molly out of the foursome, creating a space where Sophia could be the focus of her attention. Edward was an afterthought.

  “Oh. Dear. I don’t need to be told what I should do.” The professor’s voice acquired a loud affect, her tone pitched with intent to be heard. A few students around the group began to titter.

  Edward watched Molly’s nostrils flare, her eyes narrow, her chin tip down with anger.

  “Look, it’s just that I work at the Platinum Club, and if you’re thanking the Stantons for their generosity, you might want to thank all of them. I’ve met them all, and you’re—”

  Lethbridge shot her a Who are you? look that was so condescending Edward’s hands curled into fists.

  He hated the city, but he was beginning to hate this woman more.

  “I’m quite familiar with the Plat myself, dearie, and I’ve met all the Stantons. I can spot them a mile away,” she said with a sniff as Molly’s face went blank, her eyes taking everything in. Lethbridge glanced at Edward with a quick raise of the eyebrows, then looked away, clearly deeming him unimportant.

  Sophia gave Edward an amused look over the professor’s head, eyes widening with an impish quality that typically put him on notice.

  Now he relished it.

  “Really?” Edward said, spine straightening, hating himself for playing these stupid mind games he avoided like the plague, yet feeling protective of Molly. “You consider yourself a professional Stanton spotter? Is your PhD in Stantonology?”

  Sophia began to laugh, muffling it into a cough. Molly’s expression settled on a bemused hurt that made Edward’s heart—and fists—clench.

  “Go on,” Lethbridge said to Molly, shooing her like an errant bug. “This is a private conversation. You work for the Plat? Go find a tray and make yourself useful.”

  Lethbridge turned to him, one eye narrowing, and said, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Her eyes explored his face and body much like he himself just looked at Molly.

  “You are correct,” he said coldly, then looked at Molly. “Stay.”

  The word made her square her shoulders and shoot the professor a defiant look.

  Turning to Sophia, Lethbridge pulled away from Edward, clasping her arm like a life preserver. “Derry was so generous, and I am thrilled that he and Jessica so obviously made up. How can I find a way to make a partnership with the Stanton family become mutually beneficial?”

  Molly stood, shaking like a leaf, one hundred emotions flitting across her perky, outraged face. Edward was torn. Calm, calculated, and irritated, but torn. On the one hand, Lethbridge was a nuisance, a social climber with a tone-deaf sense of the immediate situation. Walking away was the best approach.

  Shorthand: she wasn’t worth it.

  On the other hand, he held a deeply old-fashioned belief in honor and respect. He didn’t care that she failed to recognize him as a Stanton.

  Her treatment of Molly, however, was atrocious.

  “Mutually beneficial?” he heard Sophia mimic. “In other words, you think our foundation should reward you for the way you’ve handled yourself at this event?”

  A cool, placid anger began making its way from his core into his limbs, the feeling snaking up from where his tail rested in shifter form, crawling into his brain and connecting to his tongue.

  The double meaning sailed over the professor’s head. It always did for people too wrapped up in themselves to see the humanity in others.

  “Absolutely,” she purred, eyes flitting to him and Molly, her look clear.

  You’re not important enough to be here.

  Lethbridge turned back to Sophia and said, “Is this man bothering you?” She did a double take, her eyes flashing with a sudden sexuality that nearly disarmed him.

  Sophia gave Edward a look he knew well. It was the expression on her face when she went in for the kill. Typically reserved for him and their brother Derry, it was a treat to see her use it on the professor.

  “Actually, he’s been bothering me most of my life, Dr. Lethbridge.” Sophia’s voice acquired an increasingly frozen tone until the utterance of the professor’s name came out like a seven-foot icicle breaking off from a tall building, sailing through the air, once a beautiful, glittering sight.

  But now a lethal weapon.

  “Excuse me?”

  Edward watched with satisfaction as Lethbridge squirmed. Most of his attention was focused on the pulse that beat in his hand, desperate to touch Molly, who looked at the professor like a bull about to charge a waving red flag. Oddly enough, she rubbed her palm as if it bothered her.

  “My brother, Edward Stanton. Edward, may I introduce you to Dr. Jane Lethbridge?” Sophia could barely keep the laughter out of her voice.

  “Another Stanton?” Lethbridge edged closer to him, her body language obscenely obvious as she turned away from Sophia, all her attention hyperfocused on him, her tongue poking between her lips to lick, eyes widening. She was an anthropologist’s dream.

  The sexual rituals of faculty searching for donors.

  “How wonderful,” Lethbridge said, reaching for his hand. “If only the world contained more Stanton men. How have I never made your acquaintance? I’ve met Gavin, McDermott, and Asher.”

  The thought of this unctuous woman making Asher’s acquaintance twisted Edward’s stomach. But if she was familiar with the Platinum Club, perhaps they really did know each other.

  Edward had never been in the club.

  And had no plans to visit, ever.

  Lethbridge’s eyes flicked over Molly again, her face screwed into a look of u
nmitigated disgust, sending nonverbal signals that said, Go away.

  Without thinking, he reached for Molly, his palm connecting with her elbow, the feeling profound and unrestrained at the same time, an impossible paradox. She felt it, jolting, her eyes meeting his as she looked up, and his hand spread across the soft curve of her shoulder, wending down to her waist, unable to stop, the silky flow of fabric molding to curves beckoning for more.

  Looking at Lethbridge, his pulse pinpointing to every inch of skin that touched Molly, he gave the professor a cold glare, imitating his older brother Asher. “Pleased to meet you.”

  His voice said he was anything but.

  “The Stanton family certainly has no shortage of attractive, accomplished men,” Lethbridge gushed, her hand on Edward’s arm, eyes bright and scheming. Sophia looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. “If you’re half as interesting as your brother and sister, then we are blessed, aren’t we?”

  Edward shook her hand off his arm. The professor’s smile faltered. Not once did she look at, or acknowledge, Molly, whose furious face had comically turned to pure schadenfreude as she clearly enjoyed watching the professor squirm.

  “I believe you misspoke. You said ‘interesting’ when you were thinking ‘rich,’” he noted.

  Halfway through a sip of wine, Lethbridge began to choke.

  “Oh my. My… uh, my,” Lethbridge uttered, her brow deepening with a scowl, confusion plain on her typically composed face. Her eyes tracked his hand, watching as he tightened his grip on Molly, who turned her cheek toward him.

  He liked what he touched.

  Liked it very, very much. Molly’s soft swell of flesh at her waist the perfect amount for his hand, her body moving closer to his by instinct, the scent of her a light floral essence mixed with spices and some exotic tea. Touching her was more than he’d imagined, yet desperately inadequate. He needed thousands of touches like this.

  She smelled like all the carefree possibilities in the world, sweet and divine, and he wanted to drink from her forever.