by Tami Lund
Right?
Except she wasn’t his species, and he couldn’t mate with her even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.
What he did want, though, was to spend time with her. As much as he possibly could.
He woke early the next morning, before her alarm was set to go off, just as dawn was breaking over the horizon. When he hugged her to him, with the intention of slipping out of bed and getting dressed and heading home, she scraped her nails down his chest to his dick, wrapped her hands around that eager appendage and guided him toward her opening. He’d barely had enough sense about him to remember to put on a condom before pushing into her. He had to leave, yet he wanted to seek the Summerlands with her one more damn time. The desire was so strong it could almost be classified as need.
“Can I come back after work again?” he asked, ignoring the fact he sounded like an over-eager pup hoping for a treat.
“I’d like that. And I really will cook this time.”
“Just don’t prepare something that might run the risk of burning. In case we’re unable to stop ourselves again. Which I’m pretty sure is likely to happen.”
She laughed and swatted his ass when he rolled out of bed. Damn. He could get used to this.
* * * *
The day dragged. Time seemed to move at half the rate it normally did. By the time he showed up on her doorstep at six o’clock, he was ravenous, and not for food. When she opened the door, he pressed her against the wall and took her right there, in that tiny entry, with the paper-thin door the only barrier between them and anyone who happened to be out in the hall. He had no doubt her neighbors heard her scream when she climaxed, but he didn’t give a hot damn. He only wanted to do it again. He loved making her come, loved making her smile, loved that sated look on her face when she languished on the couch or against the wall or in the bed, looking utterly and completely satisfied.
Two days turned into four, and then a week. On Friday morning, when he returned to his house to shower before heading to the hotel, he packed a duffle bag with clothing and his toiletry kit, and tossed it into the passenger seat when he climbed into his vehicle and went to work. He had no intention of stopping back at his house again until Monday.
On Saturday afternoon, they went television shopping. He’d already arranged for the cable to be turned on in her apartment, so once they found the right one—and he convinced her spending that much money would not break his bank—and returned to her home, they were able to watch movies that very evening. They ate pizza, drank beer, and curled up on the couch, naked. It was the perfect date.
On Wednesday, he sent her a text message before shutting down his computer and leaving the hotel.
I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.
He didn’t like the way their relationship was progressing. He didn’t want her to think he was only in it for one thing. Not that there was anything wrong with the sex—not by a long shot—he wasn’t using her, and he needed her to know that.
And yeah, he shouldn’t be thinking relationship associated with Rachel, but it was happening, whether it was right or not. He might as well enjoy it while it lasted.
He had to be careful, though. He couldn’t risk running into someone from his pack when he took her out. He’d been shirking his duties as pack master for the last week and a half, but he figured Matt would let him know if something needed his attention. Sooner or later, he would have to return to his own house, to take care of his own life, his pack. But damn it, for the past year and a half he’d dedicated every second of his time to that pack, to helping them get over his parents’ deaths and adjusting to having a new pack master. Hell, he hadn’t even been able to grieve properly, because he’d had to put on a stoic front for the rest of them, so they believed he was capable of the new task nature had thrown at him.
He deserved this. He deserved a break. Everybody did, once in a while.
He finally settled on a sushi restaurant on the other side of town. It was an hour’s drive from her apartment, but it would be worth it, because he would be able to relax and enjoy himself, without looking up every time the door opened, fearing someone from the pack had just entered the restaurant. Shifters, generally speaking, were not big fans of sushi, and the few who were would choose a place closer to where the pack lived. It was perfect.
And it really was. They had an enjoyable evening, flirting and laughing, sharing stories about their childhoods. Although he’d had to carefully word his and omit things like his first shift, and Rachel’s stories had tugged at his heart strings, as she spoke of moving from foster family to foster family, and the times in between when her birth mother attempted to clean up and therefore was awarded custody of her daughter. And then the woman would fall off the wagon and do something stupid like go on a bender and leave a ten-year-old home alone for days at a time.
He hated that she had suffered so much. A pack would never allow something like that to happen to one of their own. Even if the pup’s parents died or left the pack or did something as stupid as her mother had and gotten addicted to drugs, someone would have taken the pup in. Whether the pack master himself or someone else within the pack, the pup would not have suffered the way Rachel had. It was one of the differences between humans and shifters he disagreed with. But while it should have made him rethink his determination to encourage his pack to associate more with the humans living around them, it didn’t. It made him want to do it even more. Maybe their pack-like practices would rub off on the humans who entered their lives.
The call came while they were in the Escalade, heading back to Rachel’s apartment, after stuffing themselves to near bursting with freshly prepared sushi and Japanese beer. Damn, humans made good beer.
Matt’s name flashed on the touch screen in the dash. Josh glanced at Rachel and then pressed TALK. “Hey man. I’m in the car with Rachel.” He said it deliberately, so Matt wouldn’t say anything she shouldn’t hear.
“Pick up the goddamn phone.” Matt sounded pissed. Josh pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed the button to switch the call to the phone. Rachel didn’t seem fazed, although she looked concerned, probably based on the anger in Matt’s voice.
“What’s up?”
“Where the fuck are you?”
He glanced at Rachel again. “On our way back from dinner. Why?”
“Do you even live here anymore? When’s the last time you slept in your own goddamn bed?”
“Did you call to give me a lecture, or did you have another purpose?”
“You need to get home. Now.”
“Why? What’s going on, Matt?”
A scream forced its way through the cell phone lines.
“What the hell was that?”
“You need to come home, Josh. It’s Kim—she’s whelping.”
Kim. Kim Hendrix was a thirty-two-year-old member of his pack. She was mated to Gus, and they had two pups. Kim’s last whelping had been difficult, and the midwife had advised her not to attempt to have any more pups. Josh recalled his mother had attended the whelping, and when she arrived home that evening, she’d sunk into a chair in the entertainment room, had gratefully accepted a stiff drink from her mate, and said, “When the midwife told her no more, she started crying, saying she wanted a litter. I hope she listens. She nearly died tonight.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. And it’s better. She’s here, at your house.”
“Why is she at my house?” Rachel gave him a questioning look, and he shook his head.
“Beats me. Showed up with Gus and her mother and the pups in tow. Carmen has already asked about you at least half a dozen times.”
Carmen was Kim’s mother, a spitfire of a female shifter who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Nor was she afraid to do so to anyone who would listen. If she noticed his absence, half the pack would realize it before the evening was through. He was the pack master. Even though he wasn’t a midwife and couldn’t do a damn thing with regard to the whelping itself, if one of his
pack was in danger or suffering in any way, he should be there.
“Okay, I’m on my way. I have to drop Rachel off first.” He mentally calculated the amount of time it would take to get Rachel back to her place, and then head over to his own mansion, which wasn’t anywhere near where she lived. “It’ll be about an hour and forty minutes.”
“Need I remind you that you are the pack master? I can’t believe you’re planning to take the time to get a piece before heading over here.”
Josh grit his teeth and squeezed the steering wheel. It was a mark of how much he’d ignored his duties lately that Matt was calling him out like this. “That’s not it. We’re an hour from her apartment, and then it’s another forty minutes from there to my place. It’s back tracking, but I don’t have a choice.”
“Where are you?”
“The west side. We went to this sushi place in Plymouth. I’m probably ten miles away at this point.”
“Why the hell did you go all the way there—and for sushi? Never mind. You’re only twenty-five minutes from here.”
“Yeah, I know.” He didn’t say what they were both thinking. He had a human in the vehicle with him. He couldn’t take a human to his home, which was the center of the pack... Could he?
He heard another scream in the background.
“It’s not good, man. She’s been here for a few hours already.”
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
“Why don’t you pay attention to your pack once in a while?”
Matt was right. He had been shirking his duties. He’d told himself he deserved the break, but the reality was he was being selfish. And pack masters couldn’t be selfish. At least not to the extremes Josh had been for the last week and a half. He should have figured out some sort of balance. He should have...
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Wait—what about Rachel?”
“She’s coming with me.”
Chapter 6
He lived in a mansion. An honest-to-goodness mansion. The kind that probably took an entire army of maids to keep clean.
It was surrounded by woods, and the driveway from the main road was a mile and a half long. He told her there was a lake behind the house. A private lake, surrounded by forty acres of private land. The size of an entire neighborhood, all reserved for one family.
“How many people live here?” she asked while she sat in the passenger seat and stared at the whitewashed monstrosity.
“Just me right now, although Matt stays here often enough that he has his own room.”
Her entire apartment building wasn’t this large.
“It’s beautiful.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s pretentious.” He reached over, grabbed her hands and squeezed them. “Listen, Rachel, I’m sorry to have to drag you into this. It’s just that—that—I’m—shit, I don’t know how to explain this.” He let go of one of her hands and raked his through his hair, sending it into sexy disarray.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ll stay out of the way, until you can take me home.” The fears that he was a mafia boss had become more pronounced the closer they had drawn to his home. He’d given her precious few details about the strange call he’d gotten. Only that someone in his family was in trouble, and he needed to get there sooner rather than later.
“She’s not really family, not in the human, I mean, technical sense of the word. We aren’t related. But she’s—she’s—I’m like the, um, leader of an association,” he’d finished so quickly she’d known he was lying. Or at least not telling her the entire truth. She supposed she couldn’t be too hard on him. She was lying to him as well.
And to herself.
This entire affair had started with her need to preserve her life, to seduce him so The Prick could do whatever underhanded thing he’d meant to do to overthrow Josh and become the leader of their association. When one night hadn’t worked for him, he’d forced her to continue the affair.
Which was turning out to be no hardship at all. Hell, if she even comprehended the concept of it, she’d probably say she was falling for the guy. Which sucked, because eventually, they’d have to part ways. How the hell could she carry on a long-term, meaningful relationship with him, given the way it started? She couldn’t live with herself.
Not to mention the guilt she felt over helping his enemy overthrow him. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d considered telling him the truth, so he could go back to his association or mafia family and ensure The Prick didn’t take over. As little as she knew about either Josh or The Prick, she’d already determined Josh was the better leader. Nicer, more considerate, more loving. Less likely to threaten someone with death if they didn’t help him get his way.
Which was why she’d kept her mouth shut. She was not only afraid of The Prick, she was afraid of Josh’s reaction. She doubted very much he would thank her for her honesty. More likely, he’d toss her out on her ass and never speak to her again. And she was just selfish enough to not want that to happen. Not yet, anyway. Not until she had to give him up.
“It’s okay. Whatever you need to do,” she assured him again.
He cupped her face, but did not make a move to kiss her. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, and she wanted to cry. Or scream. Both, actually.
No, I don’t deserve you.
Even if he was some sort of mafia boss, she was certain her own crimes far outweighed his.
They walked up the wide sandstone steps to the double front door, which opened just as Josh reached for it. “Hey, Rachel, nice to see you again,” Matt said, his gaze on Josh. “It’s bad,” he added, presumably for Josh’s benefit.
“Shit. Will you take her to—” he hesitated, then said, “the entertainment room.” He looked at Rachel. “There are a ton of movies. My parents were big fans. Since I know your taste, I know you’ll find something you like.” He offered a crooked smile, and Rachel had to squeeze her hands into fists to keep from grabbing him and kissing him. He had barely touched her since he’d parked his vehicle in the circle drive in front of the mansion. She assumed he didn’t want to broadcast their relationship, which should have been okay by her, since it wasn’t going anywhere anyway.
Much to her own disappointment.
* * * *
She’d watched an action flick and lamented watching it alone, because she knew Josh would have loved it. Although considering it was in his own library, she assumed he’d probably seen it. She’d perused the extensive collection of discs, and found she wasn’t in the mood to watch another movie. For over two hours she’d been alone in this room.
It was, admittedly, a comfortable room in which to while away her time. A movie screen covered one entire wall, and a huge wraparound couch with cup holders hidden under the armrests faced the screen. Behind the couch was a fully stocked bar. She’d unearthed a bag of trail mix and helped herself. The sushi had been delicious, but that had been several hours ago.
She glanced at the large clock designed with Roman numerals hanging behind the bar. She had to go to work in the morning, and it was getting quite late.
Oh, and she was bored.
She had no better excuse than that one, when she finally decided to venture out of the room to which she’d been relegated.
The entertainment room was on the second floor and warranted a wing all to itself. She assumed the bedrooms were in the wing opposite from where she was. She had no idea where Josh was in this massive dwelling, nor what he had been up to for the past two and a half hours.
The sound of her footsteps was lost in the thick carpeting in the hallway. She wandered down the corridor, admiring the paintings on the walls, the knick-knacks on display in curio cabinets, the portraits of Josh at various stages of his childhood. The man had been lucky; he’d never gone through that awkward, ugly, pre-teen stage like Rachel and the rest of humanity had.
She didn’t hear any sounds other than the background hum of the air conditioning unit until she rea
ched the top of the wide staircase leading to the first level. Standing still, she strained to listen, and finally concluded that someone was most definitely in pain. What happened? Had someone been shot? Was that why Josh had to rush home without dropping her off first? Every scene from every mafia movie she’d ever watched flitted through her mind, and she was so lost in her own imagination, she did not hear the child until she tugged on Rachel’s skirt.
“Oh. Hello there,” Rachel said politely. The little girl couldn’t be more than four years old. She had wavy dark hair and eyes that were too big for her tiny, heart-shaped face. She wore a T-shirt and a pair of blue shorts and held a children’s book in her hand. “Are you—is Josh a dad?” she blurted, unable to catch herself.
The little girl cocked her head and regarded Rachel. “No,” she said simply. “What are you doing here?”
Relief coursed through her system, which was silly, because what they had together was not long term, so she should not care whether he had a ready-made family. Yet a small part of her was also grateful her forced assignment hadn’t been to keep him away from this cherub of a child. She would have hated herself if that was the case. More so than she already did.
“Um, I’m waiting for Josh to get done with whatever business he’s taking care of, so he can take me home.”
“My mommy’s whelping.”
Whelping? Like a cat or dog? The title of the book indicated it was about animals, so maybe the child had absorbed a tad too much.
“You mean having a baby? Really? Your mom is having a baby—here?” She recalled Josh’s side of the phone call he’d taken after they left the restaurant. “Why is she at my house?” he’d asked. Was Josh about to become a father?
The little girl nodded.
“Oh. Well, congratulations on becoming a big sister.”
