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Chapter One
Locke
My business plan is right on schedule.
In fact, it was ahead of the timetable I’d set up while working on my business degree. One of my mentors, a professor who had decades of business success before deciding to teach what he’d learned while still earning the big bucks, had us do this plan for our first assignment. A lot of my classmates had joked and turned in something they would never be able to achieve or that showed so little forethought, I was stunned.
The professor didn’t grade this; he merely made notes as we each presented our plan to the class. But from that day forward, he gave extra attention to the few of us who had taken his suggestions seriously. We were invited to his corner office to see what we could aspire to, taken on various other field trips he thought would inspire us, invited to his home for discussions, and, the cherry on top, given internships the following summer.
I learned more from that man in the one class and three internships than from anyone else. Enough that when the other two students he had so favored and I were offered positions with the company upon graduation, I turned it down. Because I believed I could do better, and my business plan did not include working for anyone else.
And he knew it. Stephen Judd, professor and business genius, shook my hand and told me I’d made the right decision. He went from mentor to friend, and we got together at least twice a month for a drink at the club he’d gotten me a membership to far earlier than most. It was a hefty annual fee on top of the buy-in but worth every penny for the networking.
We had a lot in common, Stephen and I. He also worked very long days, had founded his company at a young age, and had no relationship beyond the occasional one-night stand. A bear has to let off steam every so often. There was no mating in my business plan. If a person wants to do something, they should plan to do it well, and my college self couldn’t not see how I could achieve my business goals and be the kind of mate someone deserved.
But my bear had other plans, and as time went on and I did earn and settle into a corner office in the building opposite Stephen’s, the voice inside me became consistently louder and more insistent that there was a fated mate for us out there. The buzz of static made it hard to focus on my goals. One of the things I’d always made time for was sleep in my huge and comfortable bed—which my bear decided I should not be able to enjoy.
But sleep was overrated…I could catch up when I died. Or one of those cute sayings people who didn’t get any sleep were wont to quote.
Somehow, I had developed the ability to nod off at my desk for brief cat naps—bear naps?—in the afternoon. They were the only thing keeping me from passing out at a less opportune moment like behind the wheel of my car or in the elevator. If this kept up, I’d have to hire a driver for the safety of the community.
“Sir?”
My eyes snapped open, and I turned my chair away from the view over the city to address my assistant. Although he couldn’t have seen me, he probably knew I’d been resting my eyes. But he’d never say a word, of course, being far too professional for that. “Yes?”
“Sir, you’ve received a letter.”
“A letter?” We got mountains of mail every day, but they almost never crossed my desk. Others handled them. “Who is it from?”
“Someone named Franklin at the Bearclaw Inn.” He approached and set the envelope down in front of me. “It looked important.”
I picked it up and flipped it over. “A wax seal? I didn’t even know they still made those.”
“I believe you make it yourself by melting…” He fell into silence, shrugging. “Anyway, I thought you might want to see it.”
He never brought me random mail and, even though I suspected it was just an ad of some sort, despite the heavy, expensive stationary, I reached for a letter opener from my desk drawer. “Thanks. You can go.”
He slipped silently out the door, perfect in his duties as always. Once he was gone, I slit the envelope open and pulled out a handwritten note. That was also surprising. People usually typed notes and even if they wrote, it was rarely if ever cursive.
Intriguing.
Unfolding the sheet of paper, I settled back to read.
Dear Mr. Locke,
I am pleased to invite you to the Bearclaw Inn for a very special stay, all expenses paid…
Locke was indeed my last name, but my friends called me that. I read on, the details about this offered free trip raising all kinds of red flags for me. I’d never heard of the place, and who would think I needed a free trip anyway? What did this Franklin guy want from me?
Chapter Two
Sheppard
Even though my training days were long over, I still came to the pool at the crack of dawn. Hell, if the gym stayed open twenty-four hours a day, I would be there in the wee small hours.
Especially since it had been months since I slept a full night. I didn’t know why. My mind wouldn’t stop, especially on the days that I decided not to get to the pool or even out of the house.
Leaving my home was a crapshoot for me. My small town knew who I was. Last week, I’d been invited to cut the ribbon on a new hardware store. The local celebrity athlete.
