by Keri Arthur
and not just because of her promise to Savannah. His
touch affected her like no other, and she hungered for all
he had to give. She was a wolf after all, with a wolf’s desires
and urges—however repressed she might wish them to
be.
“Why?”
“Because I find myself craving to spend more time with
you.”
He shrugged nonchalantly, and his casualness hurt
her, though she had no idea why. What else did she really
expect from the man? This coldness was the very reason
she’d chosen him. “After that second excuse for a mating
last night? I find that hard to believe.”
He shrugged again. “I’ve an extremely high sex drive.
Sometimes it will not wait to pleasure my partner.”
“Some might call that selfishness.”
“Some do. What’s your answer?”
She bit her lip, studying him in indecision, even
though, in the end, she had no real choice. No matter
what she did now, she was going to lose.
Lord, how she wished she’d never started down this
crazy path. Wished she’d simply sat back and let the
rangers do their job. But she hadn’t, and it was too late
for regrets now.
“Only if you play the part of a suitor. At least give my
parents the illusion you really do care for me.”
He brushed a kiss across her lips. “How much of a
suitor do you want me to be?”
His touch moved down to her moistness and probed
gently. She bit her lip and fought the desire to press into
his caress.
“A newfound friend or a lover?”
“Friend,” she said, voice little more than a throaty
whisper. And hated herself for wanting him so.
“Done.” He placed both his hands on her waist and
set her onto her feet. “You’d better be getting dressed then,
because your parents will be probably be back soon.
She stared at him, aching, trembling, and totally
unable to believe he’d done it to her again.
“You’re a bastard, you know that?”
“Been called a lot worse than that in my life.” The
shutters were well down in his eyes, his face impassive. If
it wasn’t for the rather obvious bulge in his pants, she
would have thought him totally unaffected by their little
petting session.
Moons, how she wished she could read this man—
look beyond the wall he’d raised so effectively and see, or
feel, what he was really thinking.
“I’ll wait for you out back, if you’d like. Don’t forget to
bring your costume along when you come out.”
He walked away, stride long and oh-so-casual. Once
again she had to resist the urge to throw something at his
stiff, arrogant back.
But she couldn’t help thinking that bringing him to
dinner would at least get her mother off her back for a
while. He was certainly wolf enough to satisfy even her
mother’s high ideals when it came to a suitable mate—
even if he wasn’t man enough to satisfy her.
Four
Duncan thrust open the door and stalked across the
yard, breathing deep the sweet night air. It had taken a
supreme effort to get up and walk away from the warmth
and hunger in Neva’s eyes. He would have liked nothing
more than to give in to the desire that burned them both,
but he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to crack her defenses
and discover whom she worked for.
The quickest way to do that was to keep her off balance.
To play the caring lover one moment, the hard, uncaring
bastard the next—something many of his past lovers would
probably say wasn’t much of a stretch.
He stopped at the wire fence designating the end of
the property and stared almost blindly into the forest of
trees beyond.
At least he’d be able to sate his lust over the next few
days. The thought sent a surge of heat through his veins.
As much as he’d told himself earlier it was only to keep an
eye on her, he could not now deny his reasons were purely
selfish. She might be working for whoever was behind these
killings, but he wanted her. Wanted to see her warm smile,
wanted to hear the rich music of her laugh. Wanted to
make sweet love to her until she screamed his name to the
moon.
Foolish, perhaps, but a desire he could not deny. Not
when he’d spent all afternoon watching her. The way she’d
interacted with the diner’s customers and her friend had
only increased his fascination with her. She was nothing
like any of the women he’d known up until now, projecting
such an alluring mix of heated sexuality and sweet
innocence.
So what did she want so badly that she was willing to
destroy her self-esteem and her reputation? He knew how
strict families from the golden pack could be. Knew their
beliefs about the dance and mates. And while she’d
obviously flirted with the dance in the years since puberty,
she certainly wasn’t a regular participant—her innocence,
her shyness with the sexual act, told him that.
Was she doing it for money, or something else? Maybe
that was another direction in which he could push—
discover more about her wants and needs, and he might
just uncover a thread or two about their killer.
The door swung open behind him. He schooled his
features into blankness and turned around to face her.
She no longer wore the diner’s uniform but faded denims
and a soft white sweater that rolled around her neck and
emphasized the fullness of her breasts. The ache in his
groin increased tenfold, and he had to wonder how he was
going to get through the next few hours of having her so
close and not being able to give in to the need to touch
her.
She stopped several feet away, face impassive but
contempt obvious in her eyes. She threw the small box at
his chest. He caught it instinctively.
“I won’t wear that disgusting outfit anywhere.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You were wearing a whole lot
less last night, were you not?”
Heat crept through her cheeks. “Yes. But the night
was dark, and most of the others were wearing nothing at
all.”
“So?”
“So, chaps and a whip are not my idea of a costume,
and I refuse to wear them.”
“I can make you.”
She crossed her arms and regarded him stonily. “You
can try.”
He glanced down to hide his slight smile. So there were
limits beyond which even she would not step for her
employer, and of that he was fiercely glad.
“Then what will you wear?”
Her relief flitted briefly. “Has this dance a theme, or is
it just a costume party?”
“The theme is fantasies.” And he was certainly having
some erotic fantasies right now. With and without the
cashmere sweater that hugged the taut peaks of her breasts
so tantalizingly.
She regarded him f
or a second, then shook her head.
“What is the fascination you Sinclairs have with all things
sexual? There’s more to life than just mating, you know.”
“Is there?” he drawled. “It’s a shame I’ve never met
anyone who’s tempted me to discover that.”
His implied insult had her cheeks flaming again. “Is
there any particular reason you’re being such an arrogant
bastard, or does it just come naturally?”
“You know the reputation of the Sinclairs. You judge.”
She snorted softly, then looked over her shoulder as
lights swept across the darkness and the sound of a car
engine drew close. “That’s my parents,” she said, meeting
his gaze again. “Remember your promise.”
“If you remember yours.”
She swallowed, the pulse at her neck running faster
than a startled deer. “Friends,” she warned, stepping
forward and twining her fingers through his. “Not lovers.”
Though he nodded, he had no intention of following
her rules. By the end of the night, there would be no doubt
in her parents’ minds as to why he was whisking her away
for four days. Nor would they have any doubt of her
willingness.
One more crack in her shields. One more push closer
to that edge.
***
On the surface, dinner was a friendly, casual affair.
Neva’s parents played the charming hosts and Duncan
played the suave, likeable guest. But underneath, tension
slithered. In her mother’s case, it was simply annoyance
that she’d been given no warning, no time to prepare a
proper welcome for the man she already considered a
prospective son-in-law. Her father was harder to read—
like Neva, he had his shields fully up, so no one could see
what he was thinking. But his emotions leaked regardless,
and it was obvious he was well aware of Duncan’s
reputation. His distaste and anger were an emotive swirl
that singed her senses.
She didn’t eat much. Couldn’t, given the churning in
her stomach. Yet its cause wasn’t only nerves, but
Duncan’s very closeness. Her mom had insisted they sit
together, and every time he moved, his arm brushed hers,
sending lances of longing coursing through her. His actions
last night and again in the diner had worked her into a
feverish state, and her body responded to his every touch
with needy, excited anticipation.
And she was positive it was deliberate. She felt like a
cat stuck on a hot tin roof—heat burned every pore, but
there was nothing she could do to cure or retreat from the
situation.
“Why don’t you and Duncan head into the living room,”
her mother suggested, rising from the table once the meal
was finished. “We’ll bring in the coffee after we clean up.”
Neva nodded and without looking at Duncan rose and
led the way into the other room. Once out of the immediate
earshot of her parents, she swung around and faced him.
“Stop it,” she said fiercely, clenching her fists and
glaring up at him.
“Stop what?” He continued to advance on her.
She swallowed and backed away from the almost liquid
desire so evident in his dark eyes.
“Stop playing this game. We’re friends, nothing more,
remember?”
A cold smile teased his lips. He kept advancing. She
continued to back away.
“We’re not friends, but we are definitely lovers. What
is so wrong with letting your parents see that?”
Her back hit the wall, and he stopped. She stared up
at him, hating him and yet wanting him.
“We’re not lovers. I doubt you even know the meaning
of the damn word. We danced, that’s all.”
He slid his hand under her sweater, his fingers so cool
compared to her fevered skin. She tried to sidestep, but he
pressed his hard body against hers, singeing her senses
with his masculine odor, burning her mind with the flames
of his hunger. His gaze all but devoured her as he leaned
closer still.
“Don’t.” Her voice held very little force.
“Don’t what?” His warm breath stroked her lips and
sent a tingle of anticipation down her spine. “You want
me to kiss you, Neva. Say it.”
“No.”
His cold smile became almost teasing. If it wasn’t for
the hardness in his eyes, it might have tugged at her heart.
But he was still playing games, still playing her, for
whatever sick reason.
He leaned closer still, and his lips brushed hers as he
spoke. “One day you will, you know.”
A tremor ran through her. Moon forbid, he was right.
She did want his kiss. Want him. Footsteps echoed down
the hall. Her mother, coming closer. She thrust a hand
between them and tried to push him away. It was about
as effective as a fly pushing a boulder.
“Not until I get my kiss.”
“Damn you to—”
The rest of her words were lost as his mouth took
possession of hers. Had it been a harsh, demanding kiss,
she might have been able to fight him. But it wasn’t. It
was a tender and gentle caress that promised things he
would never deliver.
The footsteps stopped, then her mother cleared her
throat. Heat flamed Neva’s cheeks and she thrust both
her hands between them. But he would not be moved or
hurried.
She could only thank the moon it was her mother. Her
father would probably have demanded a wedding right
there and then—and given Duncan’s eccentric,
unpredictable behavior since they’d met, she wouldn’t have
put it past him to agree. If he was intent on ruining her
life, it would certainly be the ultimate act of bastardy.
He dropped a second kiss on her nose then stepped
away, his fingers twining through hers. “Sorry, Mrs. Grant.
Didn’t mean to get carried away.”
Her mother tittered like a teenager. “Please, call me
Nancy. And it’s all right. I’m not so old that I can’t remember
what young love is like.”
Young love. Neva almost choked on the words. If she
and Duncan shared anything it was an undeniably strong
sexual attraction. Once the moon had passed its zenith,
that would fade, leaving them nothing but dislike.
He pulled her down onto the sofa beside him and
wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His long, strong
fingers brushed the top of her breast and sent slithers of
anticipation across her skin.
Don’t you dare, she warned heatedly.
Dare what? This? His thumb pushed across one aching
nipple, and she jumped as if stung. Or this? He brushed
sweet kisses down her neck. Or—
Enough! She pulled away, her cheeks so hot she was
sure they were glowing. Thankfully, her mother had been
too busy pouring coffee to see what he was doing.
You are not a teenager, Neva. Stop worrying about what
your parents are thinking and start enjoying yourself a little.
Ari had said the same thing this afternoon—but neither
of them had to live with the fallout of such actions. I have
to return to this life once the moon phase is over. You could
at least be considerate enough to leave me something to
return home to. She lifted her gaze to his. Or is my total
destruction truly your aim over these next four days?
Her words shook him. Though there was no slip in the
mask that shuttered his face and eyes, she sensed the
quick thrust of surprise. And beneath it, just a slither of
loathing.
It was that emotion, more than anything, that alarmed
her. What had she ever done to this man that some small
part of him loathed her? And how could he still want her
so badly if he did loathe her?
“So, what are your plans?” her mom said, handing
them both a cup of coffee before sitting down. “And why
haven’t we met you before now?”
“I work with the Eagle County search and rescue team.
It’s hard to get back here with any sort of regularity.” He
shrugged.
She wondered if he were telling the truth. She hoped
he was, because her dad would undoubtedly check. But
then, this was all going to go to hell eventually anyway, so
it didn’t really matter.
And she certainly couldn’t picture him as the type
willing to sacrifice his life rescuing others.
“Doesn’t Mike Maher work search and rescue in that
district?” Her dad walked into the room and leaned a
shoulder against the wall, regarding Duncan with angry
eyes.
“Mike Maher retired eighteen months ago. Dave
Richards is in charge now. I’m his second.”
It was hard to tell if her dad bought the story or not,
as his expression and the tight blanket of anger that
surrounded him hadn’t changed. “So how did you two
meet?”
Playbox, she told him quickly.
He glanced at her, an odd smile touching his lips. “We
met at the Playbox. I was there watching To Catch a Thief
three months ago and literally ran into her. She wasn’t
too pleased about getting a lap full of popcorn, let me tell
you.”
Her mother laughed, and Neva relaxed just a little. At
least someone had bought the lie.
“And here I was,” her mom said, “telling her only last
week she’d never meet a nice man if she kept spending all
