Beneath a Rising Moon
Page 5
spring, and it had caught many a tourist by surprise. Not
that Ripple Creek was anywhere near as popular with
humans as nearby Aspen—but then, most of the wolf packs
who lived here didn’t want it to be.
Her pack was the exception. Her father even headed
the “bring Ripple Creek into the twenty-first century”
committee.
A smile touched her lips, but just as quickly faded.
She’d have to watch her step around her parents today,
or the shit really would hit the fan.
She thrust her hands into her coat pockets and made
her way toward the diner. Her parents lived above it—as
had she, until her mother’s incessant nagging that she
find a mate and settle down had grown beyond the joke it
had originally started out to be.
Sav certainly didn’t cop half the flack she got—but
then, Sav had what her mother considered a worthwhile
career. She, on the other hand, was simply another
waitress in the diner. Which was a job she actually enjoyed
doing and had no intentions of leaving.
A bell chimed softly as she pushed open the door. The
rich aroma of omelettes and coffee filled the air, stirring
her hunger even though she’d already eaten.
“Morning, Cub,” her father called from the kitchen.
She snagged an apron from under the counter, tying
it around her waist as she pushed through the double
swing-doors into the kitchen.
“Morning, old one.” She dropped a kiss on his leathery
cheek.
He swatted her with his spatula, green eyes twinkling
good humoredly. “Enough of the old, thank you very
much.”
She grinned and pulled herself up on the nearest
bench. “Where’s Mother?”
“Still at the hospital.”
“No word from the doctors on Savannah’s progress?”
His mask of cheerfulness slipped a little. He sighed
and thrust a hand through his thinning blonde hair. “They
said her vital signs were a lot stronger. It’s just a matter
of waiting now.”
Waiting was the one thing she wouldn’t be doing. “Her
thoughts are stronger, Dad. I don’t think waking is that
far off.”
He lightly squeezed her arm. “Thanks. I’ll tell Mother
that.”
“Need anything done in here before I start setting
tables?”
“I did it all last night. Couldn’t sleep. You want an
omelette?”
When she nodded, he slapped one onto a nearby plate
and began making another. She shifted her leg and
grabbed a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer
underneath the bench, then dug in.
They ate in silence. When they’d both finished, she
collected the dishes, throwing them into the dishwasher
before pouring them both a coffee.
“Your mother wants to know if you’ll come for dinner
tonight,” he said.
She stared at him for a second, her heart feeling like
it was about to race out of her chest. “Is this a request or
a demand?”
He grimaced. “You know your mother.”
A demand. By the moon’s light, what on earth was
she going to do now? “I—” She hesitated, but knew it was
better to tell a half truth than a straight out lie. “I was
planning to go out later tonight, but I can come over if
dinner is early enough.”
He nodded and raised his eyebrow. Curious, but not
overly so. “Anywhere in particular?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re reshowing
Charade at the Playbox. Thought I might catch that.” She’d
actually caught it two nights ago, but he didn’t know that.
Her dad snorted. “How many times will that make it?”
She grinned. “Only fourteen.”
He shook his head. “You’re never going to catch a mate
if you keep spending your time down at that old movie
theater lusting after ancient actors.”
“Well, until I meet a man with Cary Grant’s looks,
charm and style, that’s exactly what I intend to keep
doing.”
“We’re never going to get grandkiddies, that’s for sure,”
he muttered. He slapped her leg, amusement dancing in
his eyes. “Go set the tables before I get inclined to lecture
on the virtues of finding a good man.”
Grin widening, she slipped off the bench, planted
another kiss on his cheek, and headed off to work.
The morning rush came and went. Arianne, a fellow
waitress and long-time friend, swept in at eleven, all color
and energy and smiles.
“Such a wonderful day,” she all but trilled, shucking
off her coat and grabbing an apron.
“Got lucky last night, did we?” Neva commented dryly.
Ari grinned. “No, but I’m intending to tonight. Hooked
myself a fine specimen last night.”
“And you didn’t dance? Good grief, girl, are you sick?”
“Nope. He was with another mate at the time, and it’s
not polite to steal, you know.”
“Since when has that stopped you?”
Amusement twinkled in Ari’s dark green eyes. “Since
his mate was double my size.”
Neva snorted softly. “Good enough reason, I suppose.”
“Generally. You filled the salt shakers yet?”
Neva shook her head, and the two of them got to work.
Lunch was busier than normal, thanks to the rising influx
of fly-fishermen wanting to take advantage of the early
season warmth. At one, when there was a brief slowdown
in customer traffic, Neva grabbed a soda and leaned wearily
against the counter. Lack of sleep was beginning to tell.
Thank God it was Monday, and the diner was closed
tonight.
Then she remembered what she had to do, and a shiver
ran down her spine.
Ari joined her near the fridge, leaning her forehead
against the cool glass. “Man, I’m hot.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t wait for tonight, huh?”
Mischief danced in Ari’s eyes. “Well, now that you
mentioned it.” She hesitated as the doorbell chimed.
“Maybe we should put the ‘Closed’ sign up. Otherwise, I
don’t think we’re going to get out of here today.”
Neva smiled as she glanced toward the door—and felt
her smile freeze on her face. It wasn’t just any old customer
who’d entered. It was Duncan Sinclair.
Ari’s soft gasp of admiration seemed a hundred miles
away. Neva could only stare at him, her mind whirling
with a thousand different thoughts and fears.
What on earth was he doing here? Was it just chance
that brought him here or something more?
He adjusted a small brown-wrapped box tucked
beneath his arm and took off his dark glasses, his gaze
skating across the crowded room. No, she thought, knees
weak, heart straining with fear. It wasn’t chance, but
something more sinister.
“Now there’s a honey I wouldn’t mind wrapping my
legs around,” Ari whispered. “Moons, what a delicious
bod.”
&n
bsp; He certainly had that, Neva thought with a chill. She’d
thought him dangerously handsome last night, but now,
when he was wearing dark jeans that hugged his legs with
such thigh-defining tightness, and a black sweater that
fitted his lean body and seemed to show every ripple of
muscle, the impression of a dark angel was doubled.
Tripled.
His gaze collided with hers, and something trembled
deep inside. Whether it was fear or anticipation, she wasn’t
sure.
Which of the free tables are yours? His mind voice was
brusque, unemotional. A tight beam only the two of them
could hear—thankfully, given her dad was next door in
the kitchen.
Booth second from the end. She kept her tones as
clipped as his.
“God,” Ari continued. “Hope he chooses one of my
booths.”
“Thought you had a date tonight?” she said, hoping
Ari was too intent drooling over Duncan to notice the slight
tremor in her voice.
“Are you crazy? That honey gives me the slightest
indication of interest, and I’m a puddle at his feet.”
Neva watched him stride to the booth and had to admit,
if only to herself, that if he’d shown the slightest bit of
interest in her, she would have puddled right alongside
Ari.
But he wouldn’t. She knew that without a doubt.
Whatever his reasons for coming here, it had nothing to
do with interest or pleasure—at least not for her, anyway.
Why the hell was he here? She’d promised the nights,
not the days. What was he up to? And why did she feel
with such sick certainty that his appearance here boded
her no good?
He slipped into the booth she’d indicated, and Ari
sighed. “Typical. The best looking man I’ve ever seen walks
in here, and he sits at one of your tables.” She hesitated,
visibly brightening. “Can we swap?”
She would have liked to, but there was something in
his ebony gaze that suggested retribution if she tried.
“Sorry. No can do.”
“That’s right, be greedy. Keep the hunk all to yourself.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t?”
“Beside the point.” Ari waved a dismissing hand and
slapped a menu into her hands. “Go get him, tiger.”
Neva took a quick drink of soda, then made her way
around the counter and walked toward him. He watched
every step, his dark gaze as impassive as his thoughts. By
the time she’d reached the halfway point, her stomach
was tumbling worse than a clothes dryer, and she was
seriously regretting her quick drink of soda.
“Care for a menu, sir?” she asked, forcing a cheerful
smile to her lips.
I think we both know what I came here for. He took
the menu from her trembling hands and casually opened
it.
It felt like he’d clubbed her in the stomach. She stared
at him for a second, knuckles white as she gripped her
notepad for dear life. What the hell are you talking about?
Aloud, she said, “The specials today are spicy chicken
burgers with chips and salad, or minestrone soup with a
small platter of homemade breads.”
I told you to wait for me last night.
So? You also said you’d take the time to pleasure me
more fully, and that didn’t exactly happen now, did it?
Though there was not the slightest flicker in his
shuttered eyes, she knew her barb had hit home. His anger
boiled around her, a distant touch of thunder only she
could hear.
You agreed to mate with me. You had no right to leave.
He studied the menu for a moment, then ordered the
chicken burger and fries.
And you have no right to come here chasing me. “Would
you like a coffee with that, sir?”
I have every right. “Black, thanks.”
She wrote it down, mouth dry. What do you mean?
It’s one of the more obscure rules of the dance. If a
female who has agreed to a mating does not fulfil her
promises, then the male has every right to pursue her and
make her. He hesitated, his gaze snaring hers with deadly
intent. No matter where she might be.
Oh God. She took a deep breath and released it slowly.
Surely he wouldn’t. Not here in the diner. Even he couldn’t
be that wild. That uncaring. But as she returned his gaze,
a tremor of fear began deep inside. She may have studied
this man, but she didn’t know him. Didn’t have a clue as
to just what he was capable of doing.
I agreed to the nights. I intend to uphold that bargain.
Not last night you didn’t.
We mated. If you could call what happened between
them the second time mating.
You ran. I was far from finished, believe me.
The trembling was beginning to work its way down
her legs. Her knees felt fluid. She so desperately wanted
to tell him she was finished, that she’d had enough of his
stupid dance and magnificent but uncaring body. But
she’d couldn’t. She was snared by the very net she’d
thrown, and she had no choice in this now.
But she had a horrible suspicion she’d better find
Savannah’s attacker fast, before this man destroyed her.
Tell me what you want. Aloud, she added, “Anything
else with that, sir?”
His smile was slow and sexy and sizzled heat across
every nerve ending. “Oh yes,” he said softly. “But we’ll
discuss that a little later.” When the diner isn’t as full.
She flipped closed her notebook and all but ran back
to the counter. Where she stood, back to him, taking deep
breaths as she tried to control the shaking. She couldn’t
go into the kitchen like this. Her dad would know
something was wrong and be out here in an instant
searching for the troublemaker.
Ari came around the counter. “He has that sort of effect
on me, too,” she said, voice sympathetic, “And I haven’t
been anywhere near him.”
“I’ll be fine once I catch by breath,” she said. Which
certainly wasn’t a lie.
“So what does he smell like?”
“Like a warm whisky on a cold night,” she said without
thinking.
Ari chuckled softly. “You have got the hots for him
real bad, don’t you? Shame your old man is next door.
You could’ve dragged our sexy stranger into the storeroom
and had a quick dance with him.”
That was certainly a possibility anyway, if the heated
promise in his eyes was anything to go by.
“Of course, you’d have to dust yourself off with bicarb
afterward,” Ari continued blithely.
Neva blinked and looked at her. “What?”
“Bicarb absorbs smells, does it not?”
“Yeah—so?”
“So, you don’t want your straightlaced parents
knowing you’ve actually gone out and enjoyed yourself,
do you?” She winked saucily. “Works a treat, believe me.
Been doing it for years.”
Neva laughed sof
tly and pushed away from the
counter. “You’re incorrigible.”
“But a hell of a lot more satisfied than you’ll ever be if
you don’t start pulling your act into the twenty-first
century.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Your
dad may be the head of the Future’s Committee, but both
your parents are still acting like they were brought up in
the fifteenth century.”
“Okay for you to say,” she said dryly. “You don’t have
to live with their fifteenth century ideals.”
“Neither do you. You moved out two years ago,
remember?”
Moving out was easy. Ignoring the twenty-six years
spent under their roof, absorbing their influences and
ideals, was not. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to ignore
them.
“I’m trying, Ari, believe me.”
“Not hard enough if you let that delicious stranger
slip through your fingers.”
She forced a smile and walked into the kitchen,
handing her dad Duncan’s order. When it was ready eight
minutes later, she grabbed the plate and his coffee, took
a deep breath, and walked over.
“Here you go, sir,” she said, placing his plate in front
of him.
“Thank you.” He let his hand slide across hers as he
reached for his cutlery.
It felt like flame caressing her skin, and she jumped.
The coffee cup she still held tumbled sideways, splashing
heated brown liquid all over the table and him.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” she said, horrified. “Are you all
right? Are you burned?”
His raised eyebrow suggested he didn’t believe the
sincerity of her words. “No. Just clean up the table, and
me, and it’ll be fine.”
She pulled the towel from the side of her apron and
mopped up the worst of the spill. Ari tossed her another
towel, and she finished it. Luckily, the burger had
somehow avoided being drenched. She didn’t fancy going
back into the kitchen right now. “What about the parcel?”
She flicked her cloth in the direction of the brown wrapped
box.
“It’s fine,” he said softly. “But you did still miss a bit.”
She frowned. “No, I haven—” Her voice faded as he
shifted, revealing the dots of coffee on his sweater and
groin.
Surely you don’t expect me— The thought froze as she
met his gaze. He would. And he did.
She took another deep breath, then quickly dabbed