Laura’s plan to go swimming after lunch the next day was thwarted by a photo session at the pool.

A dozen nearly naked men were being oiled and posed, while Juan Lopez snapped orders and complained about the lighting.

“No, no! They squint, they get wrinkles! Get a shade over there!”

His mousy assistant leapt forward to scramble up on one of the tables with a gigantic white sunshade, and nearly unbalanced onto the heap of men.

Mr. Canada, a brilliant red maple leaf swimbrief barely covering his intimate parts, broke out of the crowd to catch the edge of the shade before it hit someone, and then he paused to flex his muscles while Juan snapped a dozen extra shots, white teeth gleaming in his tanned face.

Laura was not sure her eyes could roll any harder.

Instead of joining the appreciative gawkers along the deck railing to watch the photoshoot, she wandered in through the empty bar and up the steps to the dining level. She wasn’t particularly hungry — though Tex had assured her there was no remaining poison anywhere near the kitchen, she continued to eye food with some suspicion. But having the buffet to herself was a luxury that was hard to turn down after several days of having to hold her own with her elbows to get a plate of food.

She wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the brief respite from crowds.

She recognized Tex at once, more by the shape of his shoulder muscles under the staff shirt even than by the distinctive (ridiculous, she reminded herself) cowboy hat. He was filling his tray along with a collection of other staff-uniformed figures that could have given the over-groomed Mr. Shifter flock a run for their money.

She recognized Graham, the landscaper that she had witnessed frightening off a shrieking assistant with a pair of giant clippers, and Breck, the waiter who had served her the poisoned latte, as well as the lifeguard, Bastian, and another staff member whose name Laura didn’t know, an exhausted-looking native man who was muddy to the knees and juggling a toolbox along with his heaping tray of food.

“Goddamn air conditioning unit for the hotel is on its last legs,” he was complaining. “There’s only so long I can hold it together with duct tape and bailing wire. Breck, you’ve got to take a look at it for me.”

“If we all survive the next week, we’ll have enough to get a new one,” Bastian said encouragingly.

Laura was struck by the observation that he spoke as if the resort belonged to them, as if they were invested in its success. She had worked in hospitality, and she knew that it was more common for staff to be a distant subclass to the ownership. Certainly, she had never felt any kind of loyalty for her employers.

Tex turned then, and Laura’s full attention was caught by the way he moved, as if he instinctively knew she was behind him, and he couldn’t wait to see her. A smile was already blooming on his face, widening into a full grin at the sight of her.

Grateful that a blush wouldn’t show on her dark skin, Laura strode forward boldly with her tray in hand.

The rest of the staff turned to see what Tex was looking at, and gave her long, appraising looks.

What would they see? she wondered. A plump black woman in Jenny’s conservative sundress, wearing low wedge sandals? Did they believe her lawyer facade, or could they see the lies across her face?

Tex was just staring, a big smile and a slight flush on his face, so Breck stepped in. “Would you join us, Miss Smith? We’ll be dining in the staff room while we have a chance, and you are welcome to join us.”

To her surprise, the rest of the staff chimed encouragement. Even the gruff landscaper grunted and nodded at her in a fashion Laura guessed was meant to be inviting and not as terrifying as it came off.

Laura agreed, feeling uncharacteristically shy as she piled cold shrimp and fruit onto her plate. She snagged a roll so fresh it was still warm, and even indulged in a rich slice of chocolate cake.

Out of sight over the railing, there was a wild cheer and appreciative hoots from the pool deck as the Mr. Shifters were cycled through their paces.

The staff room proved to be a very small room off the back of the restaurant, a round conference table in the center with a handful of chairs around it. Open windows looking out into greenery and a ceiling fan kept it from being stuffy. Tex held a chair for Laura, and she took it gingerly.

She expected to be the center of their attention, but they all concentrated on their own trays of food and carried on easily, as if she were one of their own.

“Did you have to use the pink duct tape, Travis?” Breck asked the repairman.

“It lacks dignity,” Travis replied dryly. “But it holds it together, so I’ll use it.”

“We’re going to have to get a different distributor,” Bastian said, shaking his head. “They messed up a bunch of the orders this time!”

“I think Breck ordered the pink on purpose,” the landscaper said gruffly, and Laura nearly choked on her shrimp when he winked at her.

“As much as I appreciate the entire visual spectrum,” Breck said severely, “I believe that duct tape should be like the force. Plain silver, dark on one side, light on the other. And it should hold the universe together.”

“Geek,” Bastian said, but he clearly got the reference, so Laura thought it said as much about him as it did about Breck.

They talked a little about where they were from, the invitation for Laura to join them on the table, but not full of pressure. Breck was from the midwest, Bastian was from the east coast. She was surprised to find that Travis was from a tiny town in Alaska that Laura couldn’t pronounce. “Texas is cute,” he said with a grin at Tex.

Tex had been gazing at Laura as he ate, and paused to glare back in good nature. Laura got the feeling that this was an old joke between them.

“What made you move to Costa Rica?” she asked Travis.

“After twenty Alaskan winters, you have to ask that?” he teased her easily. “I came for a winter job, but this place — Shifting Sands particularly, not just this country — gets under your skin.”

Laura nodded. After only a few days, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She didn’t think it was just Tex. She felt like this place fit her, like she clicked into a place that had been open just for her. There was something in the scent and the breeze and the way the sun hit her that felt like coming home. When she thought about fleeing further, it left an empty aching feeling, even when she fantasized about bringing Tex with her and finding another tropical place.

Her wolf, unexpectedly, agreed with her. This is our home, she told her firmly. Here, with him.

She glanced at Tex, who was trying not to be obvious about watching her while he ate.

“They’re wrapping up the photoshoot.” Scarlet stood in the doorway, and Laura was surprised to see that she was holding her own tray of food. Scarlet felt supernatural, in a resort already full of non-human shifters, and Laura felt that it was reassuringly common of her to be eating. There was even a slice of the same chocolate cake that Laura had snagged on her tray.

The rest of the staff grumbled as they shoveled the rest of their food down as quickly as they could. Scarlet took the seat next to Laura and put down a small pile of flyers, passing one out to each of the staff. “I’d appreciate your feedback,” she said, and Laura thought it sounded sincere. To her surprise, Scarlet put one in front of her.

“Looks good to me,” Tex said, after a cursory look.

“Smashing,” Breck agreed.

“It’s glossy,” Travis said, with questionable helpfulness.

The landscaper, Graham, shrugged and grunted.

Scarlet’s eyes turned to her and Laura shivered at the weight of her gaze. It felt like a moment of judgement. She glanced at the flyer critically. It would be easiest to say that it was fine, and maybe compliment the gorgeous photographs that Scarlet had chosen.

But Laura had tasted the challenge in Scarlet’s look. She read the carefully coded advertising through. A place like Shifting Sands couldn’t be outright about catering to shifters — some countries gave them privileges, but more treated them like second-class citizens, others actively hunted them, and a few countries, like the US, continued to pretend they were a fairy tale. The brochure was clear that their guest-list was exclusive, and only alluded to the fact that it was based on being a shifter if you read between the lines. The photograph with romping jaguars on the beach was a good clue, but it was the sort of thing that might have been just a reference to the wild jungle on the rest of the island. The flyer was all neatly deniable if it should get picked up by the wrong person.

“The kerning in the section headers is a little off. You might want to pick a different font for that,” Laura said hesitantly. “And use the same one over here. You don’t want to have more than two fonts in the whole thing if you can help it, one fancy, and one plain. Find a synonym for luxury or luxurious — you use it too many times in a row.”

“You have some design experience,” Scarlet said approvingly.

“I worked in an advertising agency for a while,” Laura said. It was one of the few jobs she’d had more than a few weeks.

“They’re going to be hitting the beaches soon,” Bastian grumbled, draining his cup and standing.

“And the restaurant,” Breck agreed with a sigh as he swallowed the last of his sandwich.

“And the bar,” Tex said longingly.

Laura stood with him, glancing at the food still left on her plate, but Scarlet said to her, “There’s no need for you to rush off. Please join me to finish your lunch.” Despite the ‘please’, it was more of a command than a request.

“Of - of course,” Laura said, sitting back down. She felt automatically defensive; this was too much like being in a principal’s office, and she was waiting for expulsion if she said the wrong thing.

Tex hovered for a moment, clearly not sure if she needed saving or not. “I’ll be working until late,” he said hesitantly. “If you need anything, I’ll be at the bar.”

“Go on, cowboy,” Laura told him with bravado. “I’ll let you know if anyone tries to poison me.”

His crooked smile suggested that he wasn’t sure if that was a joking matter, a sentiment that Laura could agree with.

After a moment of hesitation, he bent down and put a swift kiss on her cheek. Laura only just resisted the temptation to turn and catch it on her lips. The scent of him, that close, was musky and intoxicating. Laura felt her breath catch and her heart hammer in her chest.

She watched him walk out with her appreciation for his ass tempered by the fact that Scarlet was watching both of them.

“I’d love to hear any other ideas about the resort you might have,” Scarlet said, once the door had clicked behind Tex and they were alone.

Laura took another bite of mango to delay her response, savoring the fresh tang of the fruit as if it were her last. It could be. “Have you thought about allowing non-shifters in?”

Scarlet raised an eyebrow at her, but nodded at her to continue as she took a nibble of her sandwich.

“I understand you’ve done that for the Mr. Shifter’s competition on a temporary basis, just for the event, but you might get good business if you continued to allow shifters and their guests, whether those guests are shifters or not.”

“An interesting prospect,” Scarlet said, clearly considering the idea. It surprised Laura until she recalled that Scarlet thought she was Jenny; people listened to Jenny. “You are a shifter, are you not?”

“I am,” Laura said automatically, then hesitated to remember that she had filled out her application stating that she wasn’t. She was Jenny, she reminded herself. The good sister. “My father was, too, but not my mother.”

“Or your sister.”

Laura tried not to panic. Out of habit, she reached carefully for the nearest possible weapon, in this case a fork, and curled her fingers around it. She ignored Scarlet’s words and said, as mildly as possible, “This is also the kind of place a shifter might like to have a wedding, if they could invite their human friends, too. Or kids.”

“No kids,” Scarlet said firmly, putting her sandwich down. “Laura, you don’t need to have any fear here.”

Hearing her real name from Scarlet’s lips made Laura want to bolt, but she wasn’t stupid enough to outright attack her with the fork now clenched in her hand. Whatever shifter animal Scarlet had within her, Laura doubted that four skinny, one-inch tines would even slow her down.

I could protect you, her wolf told her, but she wasn’t as sure as she usually was.

“Just imagine the gorgeous beach-side ceremony, and the sunset photos you could get afterwards,” she babbled.

“Tex told me about your trouble.”

Laura’s fear transformed to fury. He’d told Scarlet? He’d jeopardized her cover by blabbing to this woman about her deepest secrets? Just like everyone else, he thought he could make better decisions for herself than she could. How dare he.

Scarlet continued, either oblivious to Laura’s anger or assuming it was just a symptom of her fright. “I’m doubtful that your former, unsavory associates could have followed you here. We’ve been booked in full with a waitlist for weeks now, and your visit was only just confirmed a few days prior to your arrival. I’d like to talk about the possibility that someone may have had designs on your sister and see if we can figure out any details about who this could be and how to catch them.

With effort, Laura unclenched her jaw. “I appreciate your help in this matter,” she said, aware that it sounded as icy and insincere are she felt. “I don’t know anyone who didn’t like my sister, and I don’t know anything about her work.”

Scarlet gave her a long, thoughtful look, but didn’t question her. “You are, of course, welcome to stay here as long as you wish, and your safety is one of our first priorities. I can arrange a room with Tex as soon as -”

“No!”

There was a moment of silence, and Scarlet cleared her throat. “Forgive me,” she said formally. “I presumed that because he was your mate…”

“Being a mate apparently doesn’t mean he isn’t a class A jackass and I will have nothing more to do with him,” Laura said without thinking. “A mate isn’t a mandate.”

“Very well,” Scarlet said neutrally, after a heartbeat. “Your invitation to remain at Shifting Sands stands regardless of that. I will expect civility. You can come by my office and have a look at my standard contract at any time. It’s room and board with profit share instead of tips, and you would be expected to pull your weight; no one is too good for laundry duty or cleaning when it’s needed.”

Laura wondered if she imagined the skepticism in her voice, but it only hardened her resolve.

Don’t fall for cowboys, she told herself. You knew better.

She always knew better and fell anyway.