by Sierra Dafoe
Giving her a skeptical glance, Tori moved toward the phone. As her hand closed on the receiver, Lu grabbed her wrist. “Tell him I’m not here. Tell him I’m dead.” Tori just raised an eyebrow, and Lu let go. “Tell him I’ve changed my mind.”
Tori picked up the phone. Lu sidled away, gnawing at a thumbnail.
“Hello? Yes. Yes, she is. No, I don’t think she can come to the phone at the moment. Can she… Oh. Certainly, that’d be… Good. Sure. You know where… Okay, then.” She hung up.
“What? What’d he say?”
Tori looked at her, a speculative light in her gray eyes. Then she started toward the kitchen without replying. Lu shrieked, “Tori!”
“What? Is it all right if I make coffee? And you’re the one who didn’t want to talk to him, remember?”
“I… Fine. Make your damn coffee.” Huffing, Lu dropped to a seat.
Tori affected a rather haughty look. “Thank you.” As she disappeared into the kitchen she added casually, “Oh, and you might want to take Persia’s suggestion. He’s on his way over.”
“What?”
As Lu fled toward the bathroom, frantically tugging off her clothes, she heard Persia murmur, “Wow. I didn’t think she could move that fast.”
* * *
Lu, wrapped in an oversized beach towel, her hair dripping, froze when the doorbell rang eighteen minutes later. She shot one panicked look at Persia who uncurled herself lazily from the couch to answer the door, and dashed into her room. Slamming the bedroom door shut behind her, Lu leaned against it, panting.
This is ridiculous! Get a grip, Lu -- he’s not interested in you, okay? Your voice. He’s just interested in your voice. That’s all. It’s okay.
She didn’t stop to question why that thought should relieve her, but it did. Slowly her thundering heartbeat eased, catching only once or twice as she heard the muffled tones of his rich tenor voice from the kitchen. Tossing on the first clean clothes that came to hand, she padded through the living room toweling her hair.
Tori looked up from the stove where she was scrambling eggs. Persia sat at the table, her plump little calves wrapped around her chair leg and her chin resting on her folded hands as she stared up at Sean with those huge sapphire eyes. Sean himself was fetching plates from the cabinet under Tori’s direction. A white paper bakery bag sat in the middle of the table.
“Y’know, it’s a lovely day out, ladies,” Sean said, reaching for the drawn window shade. “Why don’t I --”
“No!” Three voices shouted in unison. He dropped his hand, taken aback.
Tori gazed disconcerted at Lu, leaving her to fumble for an explanation. “It’s… Tori. She has an eye condition. Very sensitive to sunlight.”
“Ah. I’m sorry.”
Tori nodded. “Don’t mention it. A minor annoyance, that’s all.” She grimaced, and stirred the eggs.
“And good morning.” Sean turned toward Lu with a grin. “Croissant?” He opened the white bag, rustling through it as he arranged fluffy fresh-baked croissants on a tray. “We’ve got almond, strawberry jam, chocolate…” Quick as lightning, Persia’s hand darted out and snagged the chocolate one. Sean blinked at her, bemused, as she gazed up at him, doe-eyed, and nibbled daintily at the pastry. “Okay, so no chocolate. Apple?”
“Fine.” Lu poured herself a cup of coffee, ignoring Tori’s sidelong glance. She was quite proud of herself actually; her hand didn’t tremble as she tilted the coffee pot -- not much, anyway; her voice was steady, almost cool, even…
“Is this okay?” Sean asked rather nervously. “I mean, that I dropped by?”
“Sure.” Lu shrugged nonchalantly, and took a bite of the croissant he handed her.
It was Tori who got them through breakfast, graciously offering Sean a seat and plying him with questions. Where did he live (Lu already knew that), what did he do for work (he built sailboats and managed apartment buildings), what did he think of the show last night. On that last, Sean managed to choke on a bit of croissant that went down the wrong way during his enthusiastic praises. Persia preened, looking smug, while Tori thumped Sean solidly between the shoulder blades.
At last Tori rose, stretching gracefully. “Well, kiddies, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some stuff I have to do. Persia?”
Persia spread butter on a second croissant and blithely ignored her. Under the table, Lu kicked Persia’s shins sharply. “Ow! Fine. Fine, I’m going.” Sean stood as she rose and stalked to the doorway. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she purred over her shoulder.
With a smirk, she followed Tori out of the room. Sean raised an eyebrow playfully. “And what might that be?”
“What? What Persia wouldn’t do? I’ve yet to find out.” Lu started gathering the dishes and plunked them in the sink.
“Look, Lu, I really didn’t mean… I mean, I hope you don’t mind my coming over like this.”
Lu shrugged as she turned on the faucet. “I don’t mind.”
“Good.” Sean reached for a dishtowel and started drying plates as she washed them. Despite her resolve, her heart thudded painfully every time his hand brushed against hers, or their thighs momentarily pressed against each other. It didn’t help any that her cheeks were flaming.
She couldn’t for the life of her grasp why he was still there. He seemed uncomfortable, his gaze fixed on his hands as he dried the dishes. Finally, he turned to her, his eyes dark with some emotion she couldn’t read. “Lu. See, the thing is, I…”
“Miaow!”
Lu whipped around, water dripping from her wet hands, and glared at the fluffy white cat hunkered on the table. “Damn it, P -- uh, pussycat! Scat!”
The cat blinked its crystal-blue eyes at her. Then it began sniffing the leftover croissants.
“Hey, you didn’t mention you had a cat.” Sean grinned and stretched out his hand to scratch behind its ears. It leaned into his caress, purring, and blinked up at Lu with a fatuous smirk. Lu gave it the dirtiest look she could muster.
“It’s not mine. I hate cats.”
It started licking the pastries. “Now, now,” Sean said as he lifted the plate out of its reach. The cat meowed indignantly. “You’re already fat enough, pretty.” He reached out to caress it again, but the cat, with a snotty expression, swiped at his hand. “Hey!”
“Git!” Lu flicked her hands at it, sending a spray of dishwater in its direction. The cat hissed, leaped from the table, and disappeared.
Sucking his scratches, Sean muttered, “I can almost see your point.”
“Yeah. So, you were saying?”
“Oh. Right. I just feel bad about last night. I… Well, you see…”
Despite all her resolutions, Lu felt her heart sink. “That’s okay. We don’t have to get together. I’m kinda busy these days, anyway.” She scrubbed at the glass in her hands rather harder than she’d meant to. The glass shattered.
“Jesus and Mary! Are you all right?” Sean leaped to her side, pulling her hand from the sink, turning it over to inspect the small gash on her palm. “I’d better bandage that.”
“No, it’s okay.” Pulling her hand from his grasp, she wrapped a paper towel over the cut, adding irritably as he reached for her again, “I said leave it, Sean!”
“I’m sorry.” He checked, dropping his hands awkwardly to his sides, and then shoving them deep into his pockets. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Probably not. We’re not exactly early risers, around here.” Sean glanced dubiously from her to the wall clock. It was almost eleven. “Thanks for the croissants, though.” She held out her hand.
“Yeah. Look, can I at least make up for my untimely intrusion? With some dinner, maybe?”
Lu shook her head quickly as he stepped closer. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, but I want to. I…” He broke off, glancing over Lu’s shoulder. “Our chaperone’s back.”
Outraged, Lu glared at the cat. It sat on a chair, licking one white, furry paw, and almost
seemed to smirk. Defiantly, she turned back to Sean. “Fine. I’d be delighted.”
“Really?” He sounded so surprised that Lu wondered if she’d been meant to say no. Probably. He was just being polite, after all. She glowered at the cat as he continued, “How about tonight? I know a great little Thai place…”
“Sounds great.” Lu bit off the words. Oh, what she was going to do to that fat little conniving…
Sean glanced at her, obviously puzzled by her tone, but he nodded. “All right, then. Say eight o’clock?”
“Sure.” With an effort, she controlled her seething.
He grinned, a little uncertainly. “Good. I’ll just… see myself out.” It was almost a question, and Lu nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay, then.” Moving toward the door, he brushed against her lightly in passing, and in that brief second of contact, Lu’s defenses crumbled. Her body yearned toward him; hips, belly, breasts all responding in a heartbeat to his nearness, his warmth…
Shit! And she’d agreed to have dinner with him? Was she nuts?
“And take care of that hand!” The front door clicked shut, and Lu spun toward the table. “Persia!”
Persia was sitting there, the plate of croissants once again in front of her, scattering crumbs as she pulled the strawberry jam one in two. “Ew. I don’t like this kind. It looks like blood. I’d better save it for… Hey Tori!” She looked up, smirking as Tori glided into the kitchen, and thrust the croissant at her, the jam dripping out in crimson drops. “Want a bite?” she asked, smiling maliciously. Tori shuddered, going even paler than usual, and moved quickly to pour a cup of coffee.
“So?” she asked. “How did it go?”
“How did what go?”
“She said yes,” Persia announced smugly.
“Damn it, Persia!”
“He’s got great hands, I’ll say that for him.” Persia picked up the almond croissant and sniffed at it.
“Yeah,” Lu replied sourly. “Think you coulda leaned on him a little harder?”
“Hey, at least you know he knows how to pet a pussy.”
“Great,” Lu groaned, “that is just what I needed to hear.” Slumping to a seat, she thunked her forehead against the tabletop in time with her swears. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. What’m I gonna do?”
“Nail him. He’s fucking dreamy.”
“Per!” Lifting her head, Lu glared at her. “Don’t you understand? I can’t! I can’t go out to dinner with him! I’ll die. He’s… and I’m… and he’s…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Persia toyed with the croissant, flipping it over and studying it before tearing off a tiny piece. “He’s not interested. You told us.” Lu glared at her.
Tori leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee. Her tired eyes twinkled at Lu over the rim of her mug. “Lu, whether you like it or not, you’re being wooed.”
“I am not being wooed!”
“Fresh baked croissants? That’s some serious wooing,” Persia agreed as she reached for the last one. Tori smacked her hand sharply. “Hey!”
“Don’t be such a pig, Per. They’re not yours.” Tori turned her stern gaze on Lu. “And make no mistake, Lu -- you are going tonight.”
Lu gulped.
Chapter Six
Great, so a guy finally takes me on a date -- a real date. A date that isn’t just about getting me into bed. And what am I busy thinking about?
Sean glanced at her, puzzled. “Is something wrong?”
Hurriedly, Lu dragged her gaze up to his face. “No, nothing’s wrong. Why?”
“You keep staring at my hand. I swear, every bite I take…”
“I’m sorry, I just…” Keep picturing it squeezing your cock. She fumbled for an excuse. “I just can’t seem to get the hang of chopsticks.” Which was true -- she had a sneaking suspicion there was rice in her bra from her fumbling attempts.
Why in hell had she let Persia dress her? The front of this dress was scooped so low it was a wonder her tits didn’t just tumble out onto the table. And the damn garter belt kept twisting around her thighs -- how the hell did women wear these things?
Lu grimaced. She could still hear Persia’s horrified shriek as she’d stripped. Then Persia had run for the Nair while Tori had grinned and asked, all innocence, if it was full moon again already.
Damn them anyway. She should have ripped them both a new asshole for looking so fucking gleeful as they’d exfoliated and depilated, plucked and pruned and poufed… Now there was nothing to do but suffer through.
Not that she was suffering, exactly. Especially not when Sean slid around to her side of the booth and picked up her chopsticks. “Here. Like this,” he said, curling her fingers around the smooth pieces of wood. His hands covering hers were warm and firm, callused on the tips from playing guitar, the muscles nicely built up from bridging chords and building boats and beating off…
Lu swore as another scoop of rice went tumbling back to her plate. Sean laughed. “They do have forks, you know.” And before she could protest, he called the waitress over and got her plain old American silverware.
Even better, he stayed on the bench next to her, simply sliding his plate over to her side of the table. Then he fed her a bite of sushi, which was nothing at all like what she’d expected, and seemed to wake all her taste buds up at once. But as she bent toward him to take it, he recoiled slightly, and Lu felt her hopes crumble.
See? He really isn’t interested in me, damn it!
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and sat back abruptly, her shoulders hunching.
“No, it’s not you. Well, it is, sort of…” His words trailed off, and Sean let out an exasperated breath -- directed not at her, Lu knew instinctively. At himself? “All right. Fine. Don’t be offended, but…”
“But what?”
“It’s your perfume. It’s…”
“A little strong?”
Sean chuckled ruefully. “You could say that. You smell like a cat house.”
“You have no idea,” Lu murmured, “how right you are.”
Sean glanced at her, puzzled, then reached for a napkin. “Here.” He dipped it in his water glass. “Let me just…” Tilting Lu’s head, he wiped down her neck.
Lu blushed, feeling the steady trickle of moisture between her thighs moving quickly toward flood status. Turning her chin, Sean attended to the other side of her neck, his face just inches from hers. His eyes captured her attention again -- cobalt blue, deep-water ocean blue. She could drown in those eyes; happily go under without a single whimper…
“Better?” she asked as he leaned forward, sniffing judiciously.
“Better,” he agreed. “At least you smell a little more like you.”
“Ha! Sticky and sweaty and…”
“Musky and earthy…” Sean grinned.
Damn! Why did he have to be so nice? So friendly? So utterly sexy? She was fucking going to kill Persia. And Tori.
Shoving her plate back, Lu rose abruptly.
“What? Lu, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I… Nothing. Look, can we get out of here?”
“Sure, if you want.” Lu watched, chewing her lip and clenching the silk throw that Tori had tossed around her shoulders tight across her chest as he paid the check. He held the door for her, which only made Lu grind her teeth harder.
Damn it, why had she let them talk her into this? It was like being on a diet with somebody waving chocolate bon-bons in your face -- it just wasn’t fair! Sean was quiet as they walked from the restaurant -- offended, no doubt. She would be, too, if she were him. Jeez, here he was, just trying to be nice. Was it his fault she’d happily jump him right here on the sidewalk?
That thought, unfortunately, just made it worse. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d like to do given half a chance. Wrap her hands around that thick, gorgeous cock. Rub it the way she’d watched him do till he’d groan, his balls aching with need… Would he pull her down on top of him? Shove that glorious shaft up into h
er? God! She’d ride him six ways to Sunday and back. Hell, in this dress she wouldn’t even have to bother taking her clothes off, they could just…
Lu stopped short in the middle of the street and screamed, “Fuuuuuck!”
Sean, predictably, stared at her in shock.
Good one, Lu. Exactly how to impress a guy. “Shit,” she muttered. “I’m sorry. It’s --”
“No, I really should have --”
“I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate --”
“Lu…”
“It’s just that I never know what to do, or to say, and I really, really --”
He grabbed her arms, turned her toward him. “Lu!”
“What?”
He gazed down at her, the expression in his eyes oddly intense. “Lu, I’m sorry. I wasn’t being totally honest last night. I…”
Ah, jeez, this is where he trots out that lame shit about just being friends…
“Lu, I really like you.”
“What?” She blinked. “My voice. You like my voice.”
“Yeah. I do. But I also like you.” He looked aside, embarrassed.
“So it was just an excuse. My voice.”
“Ye -- no! No, I meant it, I’d… You can’t imagine what it’d be like, hearing you sing one of my songs. You can’t imagine what it’d do to me… Probably something very much like what you’re doing right now, just standing there,” he added wryly. “Lu…”
“You… you like me?”
“Sure and didn’t I just say that?” His eyes twinkled with amusement. Then amusement changed into something that was both warmer and more piercing. “Now the only question is, do you like me?”
No matter how rock-steady a man might be on his feet, he’s going to sway a bit when a five-foot-ten werewolf throws herself into his arms.
* * *
They practically fell through the door of Sean’s apartment, their mouths still locked together as he fumbled for the latch. “Just… In here… It’s not much, but…”
Thump!
They fell onto the bed in a heap, wriggling to unbutton buttons, unhook hooks, unsnap snaps… Clothing snarled, snagged, fought them every inch of the way, and Sean was cursing by the time he got his jeans off. Then he raised himself on one arm, looking down at her as she lay beside him. “Ah, Lu. I don’t get it. I don’t do this, you know…”
