Curves for the cage, p.1
Curves for the Cage, page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
Acclaim for Zoey Thames
Look for these titles from Zoey Thames
Title Page
Copyright Warning
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Coming Soon
Also by Zoey Thames
More Romance from Etopia Press
Excerpt for Curves for Fighters
~ Acclaim for Zoey Thames ~
For Curves for Fighters
“The passion felt real and the twists were unexpected. I found their relationship fun and intense. And the combined chemistry between these men and Ruth was hot.”
–Manic Readers
Look for these titles from Zoey Thames
Now Available
Quick & Sexy Wolves
Curves for Three (Book One)
Curves for Fighters (Book Two)
Curves for Shifters (Book Three)
Curves for the Cage (Book Four)
Coming Soon
Curves for Cowboys (Book Five)
Curves for the Cage
Quick & Sexy Wolves Book Four
Zoey Thames
Etopia Press
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
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Warwick, RI 02889
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Curves for the Cage
Copyright © 2017 by Zoey Thames
ISBN: 978-1-944138-81-3
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: January 2017
~ Dedication ~
For Kyle and Sharon and their dog Ponzo
CHAPTER ONE
Dixie Campbell’s night had been going just peachy until Pierre Bouchard opened his mouth and insulted her boots.
As a Mirage Confidential chauffeur, she’d been dispatched to pick Mr. Bouchard, a billionaire online transport entrepreneur, and the MMA fighter he was sponsoring and take them to the MGM Grand casino. A big Mixed Martial Arts cage-fighting tournament was happening this weekend in Las Vegas. Mr. Bouchard would be requiring Mirage services the entire weekend of the tournament. She would even get her own room at the casino so she’d be on hand to drive him whenever necessary.
And Pierre Bouchard was a gorgeous chunk of man-candy. His dark, designer suit was filled out by a body she could tell was well muscled and would be delightfully hard as steel if a girl were to run her tongue down the ridges of his abs. Not that she had been thinking anything like that. And if a stray, horny thought had flashed into her brain, that only meant she really needed to get laid.
But it certainly didn’t help that Bouchard had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, with a chiseled jaw and a short, stylish beard. He was classically handsome. Her nipples tightened right along with her core when an unexpected fantasy of the man naked and hard and parting her thighs suddenly shoved its way into her mind. Complete yumgasm. She normally wasn’t given to fantasizing about the wealthy and powerful clients she drove around, but damn, this man had presence. Even more than usual for an alpha werewolf.
All her excitement soured when Bouchard, fresh off his private jet, frowned as he looked her over and asked, “Are pink cowboy boots part of the standard Mirage chauffeur uniform?”
She’d been asked the question plenty of times, but always by someone who seemed charmed by the contrast of her pink cowgirl boots and her dark chauffeur uniform. Mr. Bouchard seemed offended by them. What a great way to start off a working weekend with a client. She could already tell it would be a long one.
Despite his boot-hate, she gave him a bright smile. “Just for me, sir. I like to show a little bit of Vegas flair for visitors.”
He snorted. It was the first time she’d ever had a werewolf snort at her like a horse.
Yes, indeedy. It was quickly shaping up to be a very long weekend.
Because it was standard practice for Mirage drivers to review company portfolios on clients, she knew Pierre Bouchard was an alpha wolf for a new pack in Seattle. The pack was a small one he’d started less than two years prior, but was growing fast. The billionaire alpha wolf had made his fortune creating the popular Social2Drive app and service, competing in the online taxi and app business. Even though it amused her that Bouchard still relied on high-end transportation services like Mirage Confidential instead of his own company taxi service, she knew he was a controversial figure. After that boot comment, she only hoped he was a good tipper to make the weekend worth it. She had a feeling she’d be biting her tongue quite often.
Before either of them could say another word, a very large man moved toward them carrying several huge suitcases, garment bags, and laptop cases. He had to be at least six foot six and sported shoulders wider than a refrigerator. In fact, he was big enough to be a refrigerator dressed in a nice suit. His arm muscles bulged, but the weight of all the things he carried didn’t seem to bother him. His hair was so short it was nearly shaved, and his eyes were quite a pretty shade of blue. She noticed right away that his nose had been broken several times by the slightly crooked look. While he certainly wasn’t unpleasant to stare at, he was no Pierre Bouchard-level handsome. Although he did tower over the other man.
When the big man looked at her, he gave her the sweetest smile. “I like her boots, Pierre.” His voice was a deep rumble with the slightest hint of a Southern accent. Northern Alabama maybe? Tennessee? “It’s different. I always appreciate different.”
Bouchard glanced his way and actually seemed amused. “Mackey, if I’d have known you had a thing for boots, I’d have bought myself a pair years ago.”
“Never too late,” Mackey said, laughing and nudging Pierre. A little nudge from the big guy nearly had the billionaire stumbling off balance.
Dixie felt an instant liking for the big guy who was clearly not a bodyguard and had to be the MMA fighter that Bouchard sponsored. Anyone who liked her boots earned points right off the starting line. Also, he had the body of a god. A big man like that had to have a cock as long as her forearm, right? A cock that got so hard it could pound nails. Or was she forgetting the line between fantasy and reality again?
Screw reality. Fantasy was always more fun anyway.
It took a second for her to shake away her lust-dazed and rambling thoughts. When she did, she realized she still had a job to do and she’d better get on it.
She hurried toward the big man Bouchard had called Mackey. “Here, sir. Let me help with those.”
Mackey smiled gently as he looked down at her. God, he was big. Standing near him was like staring up at some kind of mythical creature…like a frost giant who bench-pressed boulders or something.
He kept the bags out of her reach. “No, ma’am. I truly appreciate the offer, but they are heavy and I don’t mind. Keeps me in shape.”
“Don’t tire yourself out, Mackey,” Bouchard cut in. “You have a bunch of fights to win. Let the help do their job. It’s what we’re paying for.”
Mackey glanced his way and frowned. “Now you just settle down, Pierre. You know a gentleman is always a gentleman, even when he’s rich and in Vegas.”
She grinned up at him, as warm butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. “He’s right though. It is part of my job.”
“Don’t worry yourself about that. We always pack more than we need anyhow. And by ‘we,’ I mean Pierre. Just show me where to put them.”
Pierre’s expression darkened into a frown. “Excuse me for wanting to look good for your victory.” He glanced at his Rolex. “We should get to the casino soon. We only have a couple more hours to weigh in.”
Dixie led the way to the limo and opened the trunk. Mackey dutifully followed along behind her and loaded the luggage into the limo.
He held out a huge hand to her when he was done. “Name’s Mackey Mackay. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Her brief hesitation was only because his hand was bigger than both of hers, even when placed side by side. But then she cursed herself for
“Pleased to meet you as well,” she replied, unable to help her smile, which was a hundred percent real smile, not one of the necessary “professional” ones she’d been flashing at Bouchard earlier. “Mackey Mackay? That has a nice ring to it.”
He chuckled. The sound was like standing next to the rumbling engine of a semi. “Mama thought it would be easier to spell. I always told her, ‘Mama, I’m big, but I ain’t stupid.’ Then she’d whap me for saying ‘ain’t.’”
That surprised a laugh out of her. She always found men who had a sense of humor to be endlessly sexy…and judging from the bulges beneath his suit, this man had enough muscle to compete in any of those bodybuilding contests.
Which was a whole new level of sexy.
Bouchard cleared his throat dramatically. Crap, the client with the checkbook was waiting. She quickly shut the trunk and hurried around to open the limo door for him. But after she opened and held it while standing at formal attention, he only looked her over again. He paused for so long she began to wonder what his issue was now.
“You’re bigger than our last driver,” Pierre Bouchard said in a clipped voice. He kept his gaze meeting her gaze, but she knew what he was talking about. She was curvy, and her chest was one of the curviest parts of her.
She could have been offended, outraged, hurt, but she only turned the wattage on her smile all the higher. If this jerk thought to shame her about her body just because she came from a long line of bigger, curvier women, he was in for one hell of a surprise. She’d heard it all before. To her, it was water off a duck’s back. And it had been that way, ever since the day in her high school senior year when she’d decided she would never give other people the power to hurt her with words again.
So it was easy to put some return sass in her voice to go along with her smile. “I’m more beautiful than your last driver too, but let’s not hurt her feelings by mentioning it, shall we?”
The big fighter laughed. He slapped Pierre on the back, causing the man to stumble a step. “That’s what you get for being rude. She has a fighter’s spirit. We’re lucky.”
“Perhaps she should get in the ring instead of you. She can wear her boots,” Pierre quipped, smirking at Mackey.
Mackey shrugged at her apologetically. “Travel makes him cranky.” He climbed into the limo, which tilted noticeably on its springs.
Pierre turned to look at her, his gaze narrowing. “I must warn you, Miss…”
“Dixie Campbell. I’m pleased to serve you, sir.”
“Indeed. Dixie, is it?” He glanced at Mackey inside the limo. When he looked at the other man, the expression on his face softened, a warm smile just barely showing on those full lips of his. In that moment, he looked like a regular, movie-star-handsome, nice guy human being. But his look soured again when he turned back to her and he practically growled, “I’m going to warn you…Dixie. I’m hard to please.”
“Well, Mirage Confidential excels at pleasing the hard to please.”
His smirk deepened. “Spare me the marketing shtick. I get enough as it is. Just remember what I said. And get us there on time.” He climbed into the limo.
She shut the door, careful not to slam it. Careful to keep the smile on her face.
She was especially careful not to wish it was already Monday, the tournament over, and the obnoxious Mr. Pierre Bouchard on his way back to Seattle after leaving her a generous tip for all she’d had to endure.
Those kinds of wishes would only get her into trouble. And trouble was exactly what she didn’t need.
CHAPTER TWO
Pierre grabbed a crystal glass and poured himself some of the Dom Pérignon as soon as he had himself settled in the limousine. He needed the alcohol to steady his nerves. Right now, he was a nervous wreck about the tournament and…other things.
He couldn’t afford to appear weak. Ever. Showing nerves would be a sure sign of weakness in an alpha and a leader. So he was grateful for the calming effect of the Dom Pérignon. Mirage Confidential always provided the very best for their clients, ensuring everything was high-end and perfect. Both were reasons he was happy to pay their premium prices.
Thinking about the limo company had him thinking about their chauffeur again. He could easily close his eyes and call to mind Dixie Campbell, her pink boots, flawless skin, heart-shaped face, and the oh-so-tempting way her breasts filled out her uniform. He shook his head, driving off the thoughts of her before they could distract him even more.
He hadn’t meant to be such a dick to the lady. So far, it had been one hell of a long day, ending with a tiring flight. So yes, Mackey was right. He was cranky. Besides, he was worried about the tournament and that always made him snappish.
As always, he was far more worried than Mackey seemed to be, which annoyed him to no end. So he’d been in no mood for Dixie Campbell and her look-at-me pink cowboy boots. After he’d noticed her responding to Mackey’s easy charm and his in-perfect-shape body, Pierre had been a little jealous.
Hell, why lie about it? He’d been a lot jealous. While he had no trouble courting women or men when he wished, he didn’t like it when the ladies or the fellas zeroed in on his lover. He was a bit of the jealous type, he could admit it.
Mackey belonged to him.
The two of them had been lovers for almost three years now, ever since Pierre had found Mackey fighting in a local street-level werewolf brawl-tournament for chump change wagers. He’d brought Mackey out of that life and into the big time. Now Mackey Mackay was a star, fighting other werewolves and shifters in MMA battles that everyone—humans, shifters, demigods, you name it—loved to watch on pay-per-view.
At first the whole thing was a side project for him, something he found enjoyable when he was sick of the problems with Social2Drive and all the changing regulations with online transportation services. But soon enough he’d found himself falling for the heavy weight fighter and his easy Southern charm. The man was a real gentleman…and that always melted Pierre’s heart. Probably because Pierre knew that he himself was such a bastard much of the time.
He had to be. To run a company and run a pack, you had to be a bastard.
But Mackey was his shelter from all of that. He was kind. Caring. Gentle. And seeing the public fall in love with him had made Pierre feel good. In some strange way, it was almost as if the public also loved Pierre by adoring Mackey. Maybe because he’d brought Mackey out of obscurity and into the world and made people happy. It was foolish, feel-good nonsense…but that didn’t mean he didn’t think that way sometimes.
Pierre took another sip of champagne and tried to regain his focus. None of that mattered right now anyway. Besides, the upcoming tournament wasn’t the only reason for his nerves. It was his wolf.
His inner wolf had responded to Miss Dixie Campbell and responded hard. So much so, that it had taken every bit of self-control he possessed to keep from sweeping up the curvy chauffeur in his arms and carrying her off with him somewhere more private. That disturbed him. Not only was this the exact worst time for his wolf to react the way it would to a mate, but she had been hired to drive them for the entire weekend. So that meant he’d be dealing with his reaction to her on top of all the stress of seeing Mackey compete. His wolf already thought of Mackey as his mate. So what kind of craziness was this?
One thing was certain, it was craziness he did not need right now. Mackey was his mate. End of story. Mackey would win this tournament, then they could return to Seattle, and he never had to think about Dixie and her obnoxious disregard for uniform codes ever again.
“You should be kinder to people,” Mackey chided gently. “Especially people just trying to do their jobs.”
“I’ll make sure to tell her I’m sorry with a fat tip after you win this tournament.”
The other man shook his head, frowning. “What’s wrong? You’re usually not like this. I mean, we both know sometimes you have to act all alpha, but that comment about her was way out of line.”
