Werewolf in Denver

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I do.”

  She glanced up in surprise. “Really? I got the impression from discussions online that you like to play the field, keep your options open.”

  “Don’t believe everything you see online. When I become involved, it’s strictly exclusive. And I expect the same from her. You can’t get to know someone unless you agree to see only each other.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You’re not just saying that because you read it in my book, are you?”

  “No.” He propped a hip against the counter and settled in to what was becoming a cozy domestic scene. After the long plane ride and the drama of their escape from the storm, he was beginning to relax at last. “I was glad to read it in your book, though.”

  “So you liked at least that part.” She went back to stirring the chili.

  “I liked nearly all of it. The sexual tips are…informative.”

  She laughed. “They’re what made it a best seller. I did a lot of research for that section. Even though Weres are taught about sex once they reach puberty, not everyone approaches the subject with imagination.”

  He wondered if the research was personal or academic but chose not to ask and risk veering off into territory that could get them both in trouble. “That’s one of the reasons I advocate dating humans. We can enrich our sexual knowledge by tapping into human imagination.”

  “But how can humans be of any help when they’re limited in their sexual exploration by the threat of pregnancy or disease?”

  “Aye, they are, and that’s why they have to get more imaginative.”

  She looked at him with a challenge in her blue eyes. “Okay, name one area in which humans have added to your sexual knowledge.”

  “Sex toys.”

  With a wave of her hand, she dismissed his answer. “Weres don’t need sex toys.”

  “We may not need them, but why not enjoy them? Why not enhance the experience a little now and then?” He shouldn’t be talking about such a loaded topic, but sex toys were a perfect example of how Weres could benefit from interspecies dating and, eventually, mating, too. At least he didn’t have any with him so he wouldn’t be tempted to demonstrate.

  “They’re just substitutes for the real thing. They’re artificial and…unnecessary.”

  If he had a couple of items here and the freedom to make love to her, he’d change her mind in no time, but that wasn’t the case, so he had to make the argument intellectually. “You run a dating site for Weres. I can’t believe that everyone on your site is successful in finding a partner right away.”

  “Maybe not right away, but soon enough, I think. There’s nothing wrong with being celibate now and then.” She turned off the heat under the chili. “It’s ready. Do you want to take Edith at her word and open a bottle of their wine?”

  He always enjoyed a bit of wine with his food. “Might as well. We’ll put it on our tab.”

  “She said there’s a cabinet in the living room. I’ll dish the chili if you’ll search out the wine.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He found the wine cabinet with no trouble. Crouching down, he chose a bottle of red from the small supply and located the corkscrew.

  But as he started to close the cabinet, he wondered if drinking it might soften Kate’s resolve concerning him. He should probably keep his mouth shut because he wouldn’t mind a bit if it did. But his conscience prompted him to glance toward the kitchen. “Aren’t you worried that wine will lower your resistance?”

  “I’ll take the chance. When dinner is a can of chili, you need something to elevate the quality of the meal, don’t you think?”

  “Aye, I most certainly do.” On the way back to the kitchen table, he rotated the dimmer switch. “Mood lighting helps, too.”

  “Definitely.” She gestured toward the two steaming bowls on the table. “I picked her prettiest stoneware, too.”

  “Then you might as well see if they have any crystal goblets somewhere.” He twisted the corkscrew in and opened the wine.

  “These will have to do, I’m afraid.” She set a plain wineglass at each of their places.

  “That they will.” He filled each one to the top and put the open bottle in the middle of the table. Then he pulled back one of the chairs and held it for her. “Please be seated, milady.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.” She took her seat with a smoothness that was very Were-like.

  Because he’d shared more meals with human females recently, he’d forgotten how fluid a Were could be in her movements. A few humans he’d dated had come close to that kind of grace, but had never quite matched it.

  This close to her, he became more aware of her scent, one he’d reacted to from the moment he’d walked into the baggage claim area. He’d been telling himself for the past few years that human females had a more exotic scent, and that might be true. But Kate’s aroma excited in him a more primitive response than he’d had to any woman he’d dated.

  Fighting the urge to lean down and nuzzle the side of her neck, he let go of her chair and walked around the table to his place on the opposite side. Once he was seated, he raised his glass. “To cooperation.”

  “If you mean what I think you mean, I can’t drink to that.”

  Stubborn female. But he liked her loyalty and spunk. “Then you propose a toast.”

  She lifted her glass. “To standards.”

  “What sort of standards?”

  “Werewolf standards, of course.” She gazed at him. “You are a Were, after all, and I assume you have standards, so what’s wrong with that?”

  “It sounds ominously close to a HOWL pledge, and I don’t want to find out later that you’ve told the Sniffer world I took the HOWL pledge. So how about this—to greater understanding.”

  She shook her head. “That sounds like a WOOF pledge that could turn into a Sniffer post about me being in favor of greater understanding between humans and werewolves. No, thanks.”

  He looked into her eyes. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

  “I trust you as much as you trust me, Woofer.”

  “Then let’s drink to the blizzard.”

  “The blizzard? Why?”

  “Because, lass, in spite of all we’ve been through, and in spite of our mutual mistrust and lack of agreement on most things, I wouldn’t miss being snowbound with you for anything.”

  Her lips curved in a wicked little smile. “Same here.” She lifted her glass and touched it to his. “To the blizzard.”

  He held her gaze as they both drank. He could be wrong, and God knew she was an unpredictable female, but he had the feeling she’d begun to reconsider how they’d spend the rest of the evening.

  Picking up his spoon, he began eating the chili. “Not bad.”

  “Anything tastes good when you’re really hungry.”

  He allowed that concept to sink in as they both ate some more. Then he picked up his wineglass, took a sip, and broached a subject dear to his heart. “Speaking of celibacy…”

  “Were we?”

  “You brought it up a while ago, and here we are eating canned chili and relishing every bite. I’m just making a natural connection between celibacy and hunger.” He took another drink of his wine before returning his attention to his chili.

  “I guess you could say they’re related.”

  He put down his spoon again and looked across the table. She glanced up. Her eyes were luminous in the soft light of the chandelier. He imagined her in wolf form, blond and sleek, and discovered to his surprise that he longed to see her that way. He’d thought the days of Were sex were over for him and that he didn’t miss the concept. Not true.

  His body tightened as his mind raced ahead of his words. “Would you agree that if you go without sex for a while, you enjoy it more when you finally have some?”

  “I suppose.”

  “So how long has it been, lass?”

  “You first.” She held his gaze.

  “Six months.” He picked up his glass and took a fortifying
swallow of wine. He didn’t often reveal that sort of information. Most male Weres would think he was crazy to stay out of the game for six months.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Organizing WOOF, writing my book, blogging.” And he’d been preoccupied with her since early summer. He could admit it to himself now, although he hadn’t realized it before. “Your turn.”

  “A year.”

  His blood heated. No wonder she’d kissed him so enthusiastically. “That’s a long time.”

  “My excuses are like yours—organizing HOWL, writing my book, blogging. And then there’s Furthebest.”

  “Which should provide an endless supply of single Weres for your pleasure.”

  She shook her head. “You might think so, but I’ve been too busy to take advantage of my own dating site.”

  “Now, that’s just wrong.” He paused, hoping she was with him on this. “You’re not busy with those things right now.”

  Surrender glowed in her eyes for a moment, and then she shook her head and smiled. “You’re good at this, Duncan.”

  Damn it, she’d ruined the mood he’d worked so hard to create. “At what?”

  “Building an argument, tightening the noose, making others see things your way. No wonder you’re the champion of the WOOF movement.”

  He made one last try, although he knew he’d lost the round. “This has nothing to do with being a Woofer or a Howler. I just think—”

  “I know exactly what you think. You’ve made it very clear that, despite our differences, we’re alike in one way. We’re both sexually deprived and would be fools not to take advantage of this golden opportunity to experience what would be an outstanding romp after a long layoff—especially long in my case.”

  “Is that such a bad conclusion?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” She drained her wineglass. “I need to consider this from all angles.”

  He groaned. “You’re torturing me.”

  “Maybe so, but according to you, postponing sex makes it sweeter when you finally have it.”

  “Aye! But that’s why we should—”

  “Draw out the suspense even more? I completely agree. The rewards will be even greater, assuming we get together in the end.” Kate stood. “I’m going to grab some of that wood from the back porch so we can build a fire.”

  Duncan pushed back his chair. With the frustration rolling through him, he could probably light it with the tip of his finger.

  Chapter 5

  Sniffer Update: @newshound—Cabin score: Kate leads Duncan 2–1 in zinger Sniffs. Woofers bet on Duncan. Howlers cheer Kate. #winnertakesall

  Kate longed to succumb to Duncan’s charms more than he would ever know, but no self-respecting female Were would give in that fast, especially knowing that Duncan was used to easy conquests. If she wanted to stand out in his mind, and no matter how this turned out, she wanted that much notoriety, then she couldn’t make a seduction easy for him.

  She reserved the right not to give in at all, in fact. Whether she was strong enough to resist his virile Were self was another matter. She’d take it one supercharged moment at a time.

  He insisted on helping her bring in the wood from the back porch. They both put their shoes and snow gear back on. The door leading to the porch opened off the bedroom, and they had to turn on a light in there to keep from stumbling against the furniture. Kate had expected the bedroom decor to be similar to the rest of the cabin—tasteful with a Western motif.

  She hadn’t been prepared for a setup that bordered on sinful decadence. Edith could have at least hinted that the bedroom was a tad…erotic. She might have mentioned that the canopy bed was draped in red velvet curtains tied back with gold cords and fancy tassels.

  Oh, and she could have made a casual reference to the zillion pillows stacked against the headboard in a manner that made Kate want to dive in, scatter the pillows, and roll around on the fluffy gold comforter, preferably with a certain sexy Scottish Were.

  Full disclosure on Edith’s part would have included the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling that cast rainbows throughout the room, and the thick pile of the fake-fur rug at the foot of the bed, which would also make a nice landing area for a coupling couple. Kate was convinced that she didn’t know the Stewarts at all. In fact, she’d never look at Bob and Edith quite the same way again.

  “Now, there’s a bed that belongs in a castle.” Duncan paused beside it and leaned under the canopy as if to check out the interior. Then he let out a low whistle. “That’s certainly a nice feature.”

  “What?” Kate poked her head in from the opposite side and her furry hat brushed against the curtains. “You mean the rosy glow?”

  “Look up.”

  She did, and there they were, both rosy, and both reflected in a gilt-edged mirror framed by the top rails of the canopy. Her breath caught. Now she might not be able to face Bob and Edith at all. And they’d always seemed so…stodgy.

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’ve already had my say, and this bonnie bed adds an exclamation mark to the end of my statement. Ever watched yourself in a mirror, lass?”

  “No, can’t say that I have. But I’m assuming you’ve tried it.”

  “Sadly, I have not.”

  She expected him to add that here was another opportunity that might never come again, but he didn’t. He probably knew that she was already thinking it and didn’t need to be reminded. His silence on the matter was more potent than if he’d carried on about having sex beneath a mirror.

  She ducked out again and pulled on her gloves. “Let’s get the wood.” Turning up the collar of her red leather coat, she walked over to the back door and unlocked it. When she opened it, the wind tore it from her grasp. If Duncan hadn’t rushed over to block the swinging door, it would have banged into the wall. Gusts of frigid air and swirling snow enveloped Kate and made her wonder what the hell she’d been thinking when she’d suggested bringing in a load of firewood during a blizzard.

  She put her hand on the door. “Let’s lock up and forget the wood!”

  “Nay, we’ll have a fire. Hold on to the door. I’m letting go.”

  She used both hands this time.

  Lowering his head, Duncan walked into the teeth of the storm. “Put your weight against it to hold it closed, and open it when I call out.”

  She did as she was told because Duncan, bless his lust-warmed heart, was out there gathering wood for the fire she’d requested. She couldn’t deny his gallantry, even if she suspected his motives.

  Soon she heard his command to open the door. She gripped the knob with both hands this time as he came through with his arms full of sweet-smelling cedar and his topcoat and dark hair covered with snow once again. She tried not to think of what his wet shoes and socks had felt like when he had to put them back on. He was sacrificing his physical comfort for her, no doubt in the hope it would win him points. It did.

  Throwing her weight against the door, she shoved it closed and locked it.

  “Well-done.” Duncan turned and walked back into the living room with his armload of wood. He didn’t even glance at the velvet-draped bed.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d dismissed it from his mind. But she knew better. He was a strategist, and she felt reasonably sure that his goal was to get her into that bed. His current tactic was pretending that he didn’t particularly care if he did or not.

  The bed and the mirror were added temptations she hadn’t counted on. Duncan himself was potent enough without adding embellishments like that. At some point she might have to throw up her hands and accept the inevitable outcome.

  But not yet, by God. She, too, ignored the bed as she started out of the room. But then she allowed curiosity to guide her through a door leading to the bathroom. After seeing the bed, she wasn’t surprised at the black Jacuzzi, or even the European bidet. Black towels, thick and sensuously soft, hung on heated towel racks, although the he
at wasn’t on at the moment.

  “Kate?” Duncan called out to her as he walked back into the bedroom. “You’ll never guess what I found tucked away on the bookshelf.”

  She turned from the bathroom doorway. “X-rated movies?”

  “Aye! How did you know?”

  “It goes with my new image of the Stewarts.” She gestured to the bathroom. “They’re very sensual people. I wouldn’t be surprised at much of anything we found now.”

  “Nor would I.” A smile was in his eyes as he held her gaze. “Nor would I.”

  “You’re thinking they have sex toys stashed in a drawer, aren’t you?”

  His smile reached his sculpted mouth. “Yes, but we won’t be looking for them, lass. I’m not above having my way with you in that fantasy bed, but I draw the line at borrowing vibrators.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “That was a two-part statement. Which part are you glad about? If it’s the first half, then—”

  “The second half. About not borrowing vibrators.”

  “Too bad.” He winked at her. “If you want to come back into the living room, I’ve lit your fire.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “So I’ve been told.” In silent invitation, he swept an arm toward the door into the living room.

  She walked in and discovered that he’d refilled their wineglasses and set them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She’d halfway expected that he’d have one of the X-rated movies on the flat screen, but it was dark. Maybe he was saving that for later.

  “Thank you for the fire.” She took off her coat, gloves, and hat.

  “I enjoy pleasing you.”

  She didn’t miss the underlying message in that statement, either. After walking into the kitchen and laying her things over a chair, she sat down to unlace her boots.

  “Need some help with that?”

  “Thanks. I’ve got it.” She paid attention to the damp laces this time so she didn’t knot them again. “You’ve completely abandoned the idea of taking the high road, haven’t you?”