Page 38 of Bad Blood Panther

Caitlyn dissolved into giggles. “Is that what that was about? Girl, if what I heard was anything to go by, your technique is just fine.”

Jenny felt her face get red. “You can hear us? That is totally mortifying.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Lissa said. “Go by the big bathroom in the main cabin sometime when Jaz and Brody are going at it in the shower, if you want mortifying. They so need their own cabin.”

“Says the shower-sex queen,” Caitlyn said.

Lissa shrugged, mischief in her eyes. “Everybody has to be good at something.”

When the other two left to go to the restroom, Jenny tried Anthea. It wasn’t her scheduled day to call, but she had a weird prickling feeling along the back of her neck, and it was making her anxious.

The call went to voice mail. They were probably outside. Anthea and Brandon both loved the woods, and Anthea wasn’t one of those people who took her phone everywhere.

She was worrying for nothing—they were fine. She’d talk to Anthea tomorrow, like they’d planned.

She saw Lissa and Caitlyn returning, and she tucked her phone in her purse.

He mate had planned a special day for her. That’s what she needed to think about.

Finally, Lissa got a text from Xander.

Project drunken fantasy is a go.

“Oh, God,” Jenny said. “Drunken fantasy? Do I really want to see this?”

“Probably not,” Caitlyn said, giggling. “Because, you know, Xander. But I think it’s really sweet he’s going to all this trouble. Usually he only puts this much effort into pranking people.”

She paused, and then said softly, “I know Xander is…well…Xander, but he has such a good heart. And I think he really loves you.”

Jenny felt tears prickling at her eyes, and she blinked them away. “Thanks,” she said. She hoped so. She sure as hell loved him—she’d never stopped.

But he was still…Xander. Could she trust him with Brandon? Would he be a good father, and keep her son safe?

She had to tell him soon. Tonight. After he’d had the chance to spring his surprise, and they’d spent a nice afternoon together. She’d sit him down, and tell him everything.

When they drove into the compound, everything was deceptively normal-looking. Flynn sat on the front porch, feet up on the railing, drinking a beer and reading a gun magazine. Brody was kicked back in another chair, reading a novel.

Jasmin, in jaguar form, dozed in a patch of sun. And—

Tank and Sloan stood at the head of the path leading to the trailers—dressed in identical white tropical suits. Behind her, she heard snorts of smothered laughter from Caitlyn and Lissa.

Sloan nudged Tank.

“I’m not saying it,” Tank growled. “It’s stupid.”

From down by the trailer, Xander yelled, “Say it, Tank!”

Tank yelled back, “It’s stupid! Nobody’s watched that show in forty fucking years.”

“Jenny has,” Xander said. He added, “You no say the lines, you no get the special whiskey.”

Tank rolled his eyes. “The plane,” he growled, in a horrible French accent. “The plane.” Caitlyn and Lissa collapsed into giggles, leaning against the truck. Tank glared at them.

Sloan, biting his lips to keep from laughing, said, “I’m Mr. Roarke. Welcome to Fantasy Island.”

A grin slowly spread across Jenny’s face. She’d always loved the old show Fantasy Island, even though it was totally hokey. And Xander had made a fantasy just for her.

She followed Tank down the path, and stopped dead.