Squealing in horror, Claire finished the task herself and turned her back to the pandemonium in the gymnasium, only to find herself staring at a leering Jack.

  “You aged well, babe. Are you still single?” Jack asked, reaching for her.

  “No, she isn’t,” Kyle snarled, suddenly at their side. Snatching her hand, he dragged her quickly offstage, leaving Jill to rush along behind them.

  “Well, I’d say that’s a reunion no one will forget,” Jill gasped as they ran out of the school and hurried across the parking lot.

  Claire groaned and felt her already flushed face darken a bit more. She would really rather not think about what had just happened.

  “Did you see Magda’s face?” Jill added. “She was furious we stole her moment.”

  Claire groaned again, then sighed as they reached Kyle’s car and leaned weakly against the side of it.

  “Cheer up, Claire,” Jill said, rubbing her back. “This might have been the double date from hell, but Magda had it worse.”

  “Worse?” Claire asked with disbelief.

  “Well sure. First she finds out her fiancé’s been cheating on her from Kyle and that she’s dating my castoff, then Ted goes and asks me to see him again, then Brad Cruise says she’s a lousy kisser and drops her in the toilet, then her crowning moment as the Prom Queen revisited is spoiled when she’s dragged offstage. At least you got a standing ovation for your figure. You were a hit.”

  Claire groaned and dropped her head.

  “I don’t think that helped, Jill,” Kyle said archly. “Get in the car.”

  “No thanks. You two go on. I’ll wait for you at home,” Jill announced.

  “But—” Claire straightened abruptly, feeling as if she was being abandoned.

  “I have my car here and you two need to talk,” Jill said firmly as she moved off.

  Claire blew a breath out and glanced at Kyle. He didn’t say anything, but merely unlocked and opened the passenger door of his car for her to get in, then closed it behind her. Biting her lip, she watched him move around to the driver’s side to slide behind the wheel.

  A moment of silence filled the dark interior and then Kyle gave a short laugh.

  “What?” Claire asked warily.

  “I was just thinking that you were two-timing me tonight with my own sister.”

  Claire grimaced. “It was more like a double date where I was both Brad and Claire.”

  “This night would have gone much easier if you’d just told me what was going on,” Kyle pointed out.

  “I know.” Claire bowed her head.

  “But you didn’t trust me not to immediately rush you back to the lab and treat you like Thumper,” he said quietly.

  “No,” Claire said quickly. “I mean, not really. I was just afraid you’d think I was a freak, or that you’d…”

  “See you as an experimental subject rather than as yourself,” he finished quietly.

  Claire sighed, unable to deny it.

  “That would never happen, Claire,” Kyle said solemnly. “We’ve known each other too long for me to think of you as anything but the beautiful, intelligent young woman you are.”

  Claire felt tears well in her eyes, but forced them away, and quickly changed the subject to one she’d been wondering about all night. “You said you’d tell me why you didn’t ask me out when we were in high school,” she reminded him.

  Kyle grimaced, then admitted, “Actually, it’s because your father had a talk with me and asked me not to.”

  “My father?” Claire asked with surprise.

  Kyle nodded. “He said it was obvious the two of us liked each other and that we were very compatible and would probably make a good team, but he cautioned me that I might want to wait until we were both out of school to start up anything with you. That we already knew we liked each other, so if we found we had passion together, we might do something unfortunate and become pregnant, or marry impulsively and destroy the possibility of two promising careers. He also wanted you to gain some independence and learn you could stand on your own two feet rather than move from living with your parents to living with a husband.”

  “Daddy said that?” she asked with outrage. Claire couldn’t believe her own father had interfered in her love life that way. She was definitely going to have a chat with the man.

  “He was right, Claire,” Kyle said quietly. “It was better this way. You’ll have your master’s soon and I my doctorate. You experienced independence and know that if you aren’t happy, you can leave and take care of yourself. You’ve also dated other men and I’ve dated other women, so we’ll never wonder what we were missing out on.”

  Claire blinked. “That sounds rather long-term, Kyle.”

  “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” He smiled wryly, then took her hands and said, “Look, Claire, I’ve known you since you were a skinny little twelve-year-old brat with braces. More than long enough to know I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  “You love me?” Claire asked with pleased surprise.

  “Yes.”

  “I love you, too,” she said happily.

  Kyle leaned forward and kissed her and Claire felt her heart thrill at the passion that again exploded between them. They definitely had some chemistry going on there, which was good to know, she thought, and then felt Kyle’s hand slide beneath the jacket to find and cup one breast. Claire moaned and arched against him as his lips began to travel down her neck.

  “Oh Kyle,” she breathed, clutching at his shoulder with one hand as the other started doing a little traveling of its own.

  “Oh Claire,” he gasped, shifting around and trying to find a better position for them both without the stick shift and steering wheel to get in the way. They were both panting, half with excitement, half with frustration, when he reached past her and pulled the lever to let the upper part of her seat down.

  Claire gasped as she suddenly slammed backward in the front seat and then simply began to crawl backward, leading him into the backseat where the steering wheel and stick shift wouldn’t be a problem. Kyle growled and followed, tugging the sides of his jacket aside to leave her exposed to him as he joined her on the backseat. Then he paused, and glanced around, blinking at the sight of the already fogged window. He frowned and reluctantly offered, “We could go back to the house.”

  “Too far,” Claire muttered, reaching for him. She then paused and smiled wryly as she realized they were so eager for each other that they were about to make love in the back of a car like a pair of teenagers. Shaking her head, she said, “Daddy was right.”

  “Oh yeah,” Kyle admitted wryly, stretching himself so he lay half on her and half on the seat and then he kissed her again.

  Shuddering and moaning, she arched against him again, then gasped with excitement as his hand found and cupped the center of him. Moaning into his mouth, she shifted her hips upward into the touch, then reached to find him as well, smiling against his mouth as he groaned in response to her own hand covering him.

  He was already hard, but his erection was still growing and she blinked her eyes open in surprise as his more than healthy erection continued to grow under her hand. And grow. And grow.

  Dear God, she thought faintly, she’d hit the jackpot. The man was really well endowed.

  Kyle broke their kiss and moved his mouth to her ear to murmur, “Did I mention the destabilizer ray was still on when I ran into the experiment chamber to drag you out? I discovered the effect it’d had and my new abilities in the parking lot of the grocery store this afternoon when I went to get groceries.”

  Claire’s eyes widened at this news. “You mean you’re doing this? You’re shifting to make it bigger?”

  He nodded, then caught the lobe of her ear in his teeth and sucked lightly. “Anything for my lady’s pleasure.”

  “But Kyle,” she cried. “You shouldn’t be shifting. What about the possibility of destabilizing the cells further, to the point of breakdown?”

  Kyle straightened with a sigh. “I don’t really think that’s likely. Mostly I just didn’t want to have to share you with Jill anymore tonight,” he said, then added with a wry smile, “Getting you naked was also a consideration.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes on him. “Kyle, you may be able to fool Jill with that, but I’m as savvy on the experiment as you are. I know there is some worry that—”

  “Some small worry,” he acknowledged. “But very small, and you’re worth the risk.”

  “Oh, Kyle,” Claire breathed, pulling him back down toward her. “That’s just the sweetest thing ever.”

  Epilogue

  Five years later

  “I can’t believe Kyle agreed to babysit,” Jill said as they got out of the car.

  Claire laughed as she led the way around to the trunk to unload the goods they’d bought. “He knew I wanted a special dress for the graduation next week. I have to look good when I become Dr. Claire Lockhart.”

  Jill smiled faintly at her obvious pride in finally achieving her doctorate, but shook her head. “Still…”

  “Oh, come on,” Claire chided. “Kyle’s a great dad. He loves little Beth.”

  Jill snorted. “He loses little Beth every time he babysits and it drives him wild.”

  Claire laughed again, the laugh of a wife and mother who was happy and satisfied. It was five years since their high school reunion and her first date with Kyle Lockhart. Four years since she’d become Mrs. Claire Lockhart, and two years since they’d had their first child. Claire was now three months pregnant with their second child and already couldn’t wait for Beth’s little brother or sister to be born. She was hoping for a boy. Nothing would make her happier than giving Kyle a son to go with his daughter.

  “Kyle!” Claire yelled as she led Jill into the house. “We’re back!”

  A childish giggle answered her from the end of the hall and Claire started slowly forward, carefully scanning the floor as she moved toward the kitchen. She was nearly at the kitchen door when she stopped abruptly and shook her head.

  “You little dickens,” Claire chided. “Are you playing hide and seek with your daddy again?”

  The uneven bit of floor she’d noted gave another little giggle and suddenly shifted into a naked baby girl with curly strawberry blond hair and big blue eyes.

  “Claire!” Kyle came rushing down the stairs, his hair and clothes a tousled mess, his eyes slightly frantic and a diaper and pink dress in hand. “I can’t find Beth. She shed her clothes and is hiding on me again. She—”

  He paused, blinking abruptly as he noted the child standing, leaning against her mother’s knee.

  “Oh, Beth,” Kyle breathed with relief, hurrying forward to scoop her up into his arms. “Naughty girl, scaring Daddy like that.”

  When his daughter’s only response was to giggle, Kyle shook his head and bent to kiss Claire softly on the lips.

  “I love you,” he breathed by her ear before straightening.

  “And I love you,” Claire assured him.

  She watched with a soft smile as Kyle moved off down the hall, reprimanding their daughter as he went.

  Five years had passed since the day they’d both been exposed to the destabilizer. They’d managed to keep their secret and still see John Heathcliffe lose his position for his “attempt” to test the destabilizer on a human. And, so far—much to their relief since they’d passed their condition on to their child—there didn’t appear to be any terrible side effects to the exposure to the destabilizer. If anything, it tended to make life more than a little interesting.

  About the Author

  LYNSAY SANDS is the national bestselling author of the popular Argeneau vampire series, including A Quick Bite. Known for her humorous edge, Lynsay delights fans everywhere with stories of the unexpected.

  Visit her official website at www.lynsaysands.net.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  CHAOTIC

  Kelley Armstrong

  Dedication

  For Alexander and Marcus,

  who keep my life “chaotic”

  but in a good way.

  1

  “So what kind of stories do you cover?” he asked, bathing my face in champagne fumes. “Bat Boy Goes to College? Elvis Shrine Found on Mars?” He laughed without waiting for me to answer. “God, I can’t believe people actually buy those rags. Obviously, they must, or you wouldn’t have a job.”

  My standard line flew to my lips, something about tabloids functioning as a source of entertainment, not news, quirky pieces of fiction that people could read and chuckle over before facing the horrors of the daily paper. I choked it back and forced myself to smile up at him.

  “I did a Hell Spawn feature once,” I said, as brightly as I could manage. “That’s True News’s version of Bat Boy. I covered his graduation from kindergarten. He was so cute with a little mortarboard perched on his horns…”

  I crossed my fingers under my cocktail napkin and prayed for “the look,” the curl of the lip, the widening of the eyes as they frantically searched for an escape. Escape would be so easy—a crowded museum gala, everyone in evening wear—come on, Douglas, just excuse yourself to use the bathroom and conveniently forget where you left me…

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Hell Spawn’s kindergarten graduation? Now that’s a fun job. You know what the highlight of my workweek is? Nine holes of golf with the other AVPs.”

  See, now that was the problem with guys like Douglas—they weren’t evil. Boring, boorish and borderline obnoxious, but not so awful that you could justify abandoning them. So you were stuck hoping they’d be the ones to declare the date a dud, and beg off early.

  Dinner had been a mistake. I should have insisted we meet here, at the party, so if things didn’t go well, we’d have only been sentenced to a couple hours of each other’s company. But he invited me to dinner first, and even as I’d been thinking No! my mouth had done the right thing, the polite thing, and said, “Sure, dinner would be great.”

  I’d spent forty-five minutes at the table by myself, fending off sympathetic “you’ve been stood up” looks from the servers and watching my salad wither on the plate. Then Douglas had arrived…and I’d spent the next hour listening to him complain about the cause of his lateness, some corporate calamity too complex for my layperson’s brain to comprehend. It wasn’t until we were here at the opening of the museum’s new wing that he’d even gotten around to asking what I did for a living.

  “So what’s the weirdest story you’ve ever covered?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Oh, there would be plenty of contenders for that one. Just last week I had this UFO—”

  “What about celebrities?” he cut in. “Tabloids cover that, right? Celebrity gossip? What’s the best one of those stories you’ve done?”

  “Ummm, none. True News includes some celebrity stories, but I’m strictly the ‘weird tales’ girl, mainly paranormal, although—”

  “Paranormal? Like ghosts?” Again, he didn’t wait for me to answer. “Our frat house was supposed to be haunted. Frederick and I—your brother-in-law and I were frat brothers, but I guess your mother told you that. Anyway, one night…”

  My poor mother. Reduced to canvassing my sister’s husband’s college buddies for potential mates for her youngest child. She’d long since gone through every eligible bachelor she knew personally.

  “I don’t need you to find me dates, Mom,” I said the last time, as I’d said the hundred times before. “I’m not so bad at it myself.”

  “Dates, yes. Relationships, no. I swear, Hope, you go out of your way to find men you wouldn’t want to know for more than a weekend. Yes, I know, you’re only twenty-six, hardly an old maid, and I’m not saying you need to settle down, but you could really use some stability in your life, dear. I know you’ve had a rough go of it…”

  What do you expect? I wanted to say sometimes. You gave me a demon for a dad. Of course, that wasn’t fair. Mom didn’t know what my father was. I’d been born nine months after my parents separated, and grown up assuming, like everyone else, that I was my father’s “parting shot” before he’d run off with his nurse.

  Only at eighteen had I begun to suspect otherwise, when I’d realized that my feelings of being “different” were more than adolescent alienation.

  Douglas finished his haunted frat house story, then asked, “So what kind of education does a tabloid writer need? Obviously you don’t go to journalism school for that.”

  “Actually, I did.”

  He had the grace to flush. “Oh, uh…but you wouldn’t need to, right? I mean, it’s not real reporting or anything.”

  I searched his face for some sign of condescension. None. He was a jerk, but not a malicious one. Damn. Another excuse lost. I had a half-dozen girlfriends who wouldn’t need a justification for ending this date early, who’d just cut and run. So why couldn’t I? I was half-demon, for God’s sake. I could be as nasty as I wanted.

  I scanned the room. The gala was being held in the reception hall, which was also—as discreet signs everywhere reminded us—available for weddings, parties and corporate events. A jazz trio played in the corner beside a portable parquet dance floor that was small enough to be a solo stage, as if the organizers acknowledged this wasn’t a dancing crowd, but felt obligated to provide something. Most of the guests were big business, so the main event here was schmoozing, fostering contacts while basking in the feel-good glow of supporting the arts. Large-scale artifact replicas, such as statues and urns, dotted the room, reminding guests where they were and why…although the pieces seemed to be getting more use as coatracks and leaning posts.

  “The buffet table looks amazing,” I said. “Is that poached salmon?”

  “Wild, I hope, but you can’t be too careful these days. I had dinner with a client last week, and he’d been to a five-star restaurant in New York the week before, and they’d served farm-fed salmon. Do people just not read the papers? You might as well eat puffer fish, which reminds me of the time I was in Tokyo—”