Arthur, Keri - Beneath a Rising Moon.txt

by Beneath a Rising Moon (lit)

  five days.”

  She stared at him helplessly. Part of her did want this—

  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 for 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