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Chapter Two
Gina had been second-guessing herself all week. In the few moments she had between filming and public appearances. Not only had she agreed to go on a blind date with a shifter of all things, but she’d had to get on a plane and fly to San Francisco to do it. The only good thing about this entire craziness was Gerri Wilder’s genius idea that she use another name for the weekend. At first, the matchmaker had been dubious about her need for secrecy, but once she’d explained how many of her past relationships had been with men who wanted her because she was Gina Toriello, they’d decided the men would be dating Gina—because she’d been afraid she wouldn’t answer to anything else—Marianni.
The town car driver let her off in midafternoon outside the boutique hotel overlooking San Francisco Bay. A cocktail party this evening, followed by a formal event Saturday night. Apparently, her date was in town for a reunion. She’d argued that with Gerri Wilder for a moment. A reunion? Not the usual first date. But as the lady pointed out, maybe it was time to change things up. And a guy would be on his best behavior at his reunion, right?
For a moment, she considered leaping back into the plush leather seats and having the driver return her to the airport. Then she pushed past it.You’ve come a long way for this, Gina. Now, walk into that hotel and meet the shifter of your dreams. Or at least have an adventure.
In the marble-and-glass lobby, the concierge approached and gave a short bow. “Miss Marianni, I presume?” His formal suit, mannerisms, and the complete lack of anything made of fabric in the high-ceilinged area—even the seating was stone or steel—gave her a chill. Elegant, yes, but cold, without passion. What kind of shifters had built such a place? Everyone she knew sought warmth and comfort. It didn’t matter. She’d only be here for the weekend and would never choose it for a relaxing vacation, for certain.
But how did he know who she was? If he’d used her real name, maybe, but not her assumed one. Her confusion must have shown on her face because he drew her aside and spoke in a low voice. “I’m one of your biggest fans. When Ms. Wilder sent your information, I recognized your picture right away.”
“But you won’t…”
He slapped a hand on his chest. “Tell anyone? Of course not. We hold the privacy of our guests as paramount. We get many shifter celebrities here, and they often check in under other names for that reason. Still, it’s good when one person is aware of your identity.”
She tilted her head. “And why is that?”
“In case of emergency.” He turned and led her to a marble desk against the wall near the elevator before she had time to wonder what kind of hotel emergencies were likely to happen—or had happened to other “celebrity guests” under their roof. “Now, just sign here and Bob”—a man wearing a red bellhop cap and jacket who moved toward them at the speed of a turtle—“will get your luggage from the driver and escort you to the presidential suite.”
She took the stylus and tablet from him and several moments later, Gina and the turtle shifter soared toward the top of the building in a glass elevator. She squeezed her eyes shut. Ever since watchingWillie Wonka and the Chocolate Factoryas a kid, she’d been half convinced in her child-soul that these lifts could and would shoot through the roof into the heavens and, since she’d run screaming from her aunt’s den at that point, she’d never known what happened afterward.
“Are you all right, miss?” The slow drawl of the man sharing the elevator with her and her bags cut into her thoughts. “You look a little green.”
“I’m sorry.” She peeked at him, trying to forget the sky flying past outside. “I can’t help it.”
He winked at her, a ten-second droop and lift of his eye that took her a moment to interpret. “Don’t apologize. My wife was just that color the first time I met her. Very alluring.”
Oh dear Goddess! What if her date was with a turtle? Or two? A little giddy from the conversation with Juniper, she’d made a joke, one about needing two guys to handle her, when talking on the phone with Gerri Wilder. The woman had laughed, hadn’t she? Had she?Think!She’d been so nervous.
“S-so tell me, ummm, I didn’t get your name?” she said to the bellhop.
“Terrence, miss.” He tipped his head up and down and rubbed his chin on his shoulder in a very beak-like mannerism.
“Terrence, are there any other turtles in the building?”As in…are they my date?Or dates?
“Yes, miss. There are a number on staff. Here we are on the top floor.”
The elevator slowed and came to a stop, to her great relief. No rooftop explosion today. “I mean, any guests.”
“Not right now. We tend to prefer beachier vacations. Warm sands, you know.” The doors slid open to reveal a wide hallway as warm with its décor as the marble and glass below was cold. “Very romantic for…well, you understand.”
She did. Burying eggs in warm sand. The turtle shifters were among the very few who handled reproduction in their animal form. “Yes, beaches make lovely honeymoon spots.” And she’d say no more about that! Talking sex with egg-layers would not go well. She’d heard things about turtle sex.
“Your suite is right this way, if you’ll follow me?” He pushed the cart laden with her suitcase, garment bag, makeup bag, and shoe bag along a marble pathway running beside the diamond-patterned carpet. She stayed to the middle, four-inch heels sinking into the rose-and-charcoal depths. At five-ten, she had often worn flats as a teen to avoid being taller than her dates, but since her modeling career began, she’d refused to hide her height. Hopefully, her date for this weekend had the confidence to stand at her side.
She didn’t care if they were taller, just that they didn’t mind. Or, dare she hope, even liked her height. It was a test many had failed. One of the reasons she was usually without a boyfriend.
At the end of the hallway, Terrence approached a pair of double doors and flung them open. “Here you are,” he said, waiting until she entered before following with the cart. “I’ll put your things in the main bedroom.”
Main bedroom. Of course, she should have realized she wouldn’t be forced to spend the night with her date if they weren’t ready for that. In a suite like this one, there would be at least two bedrooms, probably more if the spiral staircase in the center of the room offered any indication.
She hadn’t considered the possibility of sleeping in the same bed when making her arrangements, focused on wrapping up her movie, a project that had run several days longer than planned and left her only enough time to throw a few things in a bag…okay, in several bags. With all the travel she faced in her career, she was a fast packer.
But she hadn’t had time to think herself out of the date itself until she arrived. And, now, she had.
“Terrence, I’m expecting another party. Do you know if he, if they have arrived?” There were still several hours before the cocktail party.
He emerged from the bedroom with the empty cart. “No, miss, and I’m the only bellhop who works this floor during the day. I’d say you’re the first to arrive.”
