by Jane Jamison
“Caitlyn didn’t act like she expected her to jump in. But then, right now, who cares?”
Her dance moves were getting better, and the dancers were doing their best to help her out. Fortunately for Heather, it wasn’t one of the more difficult routines that DJ knew the girls could do. The dance was easy to pick up, combining simple line steps with strategically done bumps and grinds.
“I hope like hell she has something on under that short skirt.”
Brandon was right. DJ eased even closer to the stage, and, trying not to appear too obvious, he leaned against the bar and lifted his gaze. Although her skirt barely covered her butt, he couldn’t get a glimpse of anything under it. Relieved, he stepped back from the bar to have a better view of the dance.
“If I’d known Heather was part of the show, I would’ve brought my camera. Damn, but she is one hot lady.”
The man she’d spoken to pushed another customer out of the way to get to DJ’s side. He resisted the urge to stomp on the guy’s foot. “How do you know Heather?”
The man tossed him a haughty look. “I do a lot of business with her father.”
Hadn’t Heather said she was a guest of the Cumming family? Had he just assumed that she was from out of town since she was staying at their ranch? Or had she told him as much? He studied the man, noting the expensive quality of his clothing. Although casually dressed in a plain white shirt and jeans, the snakeskin boots were a dead giveaway. The man had money.
“Is that so? What business are you in?” DJ frowned when Heather did a twirl then gaped at them when she saw them talking.
“I’m in real estate. Primarily land development.” The man gave him a quick glance, and DJ could almost hear his unspoken derision as he took in DJ’s plain clothes and worn boots. “Name’s Duke Simpton.”
The snotty tone of his voice did nothing to help the way DJ felt about him. He arched an eyebrow and ignored the hand the man offered. He couldn’t shake the strange vibe he got from the guy. “DJ Banning.”
“How do you know Heather?” Duke scanned the room, sniffed, then made a disgusting face. “This isn’t Heather’s usual kind of place. Mine, either, but I went along with it.”
“She’s a friend. So you don’t know Heather very well, right? Because she seems to like Saddles pretty damn good, if you ask me. I’m guessing you’re more her father’s friend.” DJ’s inner wolf scratched at the surface. If he’d had the chance, he would’ve clawed Duke’s throat out just because he made him uneasy. Who the hell named their kid Duke, anyway?
Heather put her back to the audience and made a semicircle, sticking out her butt along with the other girls. Hoots and whistles erupted around him, but even as alluring as her dance was, his attention centered on Duke.
“No, Heather and I go way back. In fact, we’re very close.”
That did it. The idea of this scumbag touching their Heather anyplace, even if it was just her hand, made DJ’s stomach do a sickening flip-flop. DJ pivoted to face Duke. “Just how close?”
The song was winding down, and, from the corner of his eye, he could see Heather watching them. She executed the last step like a pro then stood still as the crowd clapped and cheered while the other girls took a bow.
“Not that it’s any business of yours, but we’re very close. About as close as Heather’s ever gotten to any man, if you know what I mean. Of course, as a gentleman, I won’t get into details. Especially with the likes of you.”
I’d like to stuff old Duke’s shit-eating grin down his throat. “The likes of me?”
“Yes. You know, bar garbage.”
DJ threw back his arm and struck out before the thought to do so had even crossed his mind. Surprisingly, Duke countered his punch with a forearm block then came back with a right hook. DJ’s wolf leapt to life, his vision coloring as the amber filled his eyes. Brandon and Rick were at his side as pack members always were for each other, and he reached out to clutch Duke by the throat.
Cries of alarm erupted around them as the crowd saw the fight and hurried to give them space. Heather, her face white as the color drained from it, plopped onto her bottom then slid off the bar.
“DJ, let him go.”
He had to give it to Duke. He wasn’t backing down even as his face grew red. Instead, he locked his hands and brought his arms up, breaking DJ’s hold on him. DJ lunged at him but never reached him as Brandon and Rick each grabbed an arm and held him back. Duke, his hand at his throat, started toward him, but Heather jumped in between them and pushed him away.
“What’s wrong with you two?” She whipped her attention between them.
“DJ, cool it. Your eyes, man.”
But DJ didn’t care about Brandon’s warning. He was lucky he hadn’t shifted all the way. If he had, everyone in the bar would know werewolves existed, including Heather.
“Down, DJ, right now, or I’m hauling your ass out of here.” Rick faced DJ, putting himself in front to block his view of Duke.
DJ growled and dodged back and forth to get a look at Duke. The more Heather kept talking to the jerk, the happier Duke got. The churning in DJ’s stomach morphed into a ball of pain.
Why is she talking to that asshole?
Heather, her hands on Duke’s chest, turned toward him, her face scrunched with anger. Without a word, she spun Duke around and shoved him toward the exit.
DJ struggled against his brothers, but they were too strong for him. Brandon and Rick slammed him against the bar, pinning his back to it.
“Little brother, change back. Now.”
Heather and Duke were lost in the crowd. He focused on Brandon’s dark eyes and concentrated, forcing his wolf inside to go back into his cage. As soon as he did, his vision changed, the amber draining away.
“I’m okay now. Let me go.”
A silent agreement passed between Brandon and Rick. They released him at the same time.
DJ pushed away from the bar and shook off the remnants of the partial shift. “Did you see that guy?”
“Yeah, I did. Remember? I was the one who headed for her first to make sure she was all right.”
“Who was he, DJ?” Rick motioned to the waitress behind the bar to get them a drink.
“His name is Duke Simpton.”
“Shit. I’ve heard of him.” Brandon gritted his teeth before going on. “He’s done deals with John Cumming before. In fact, I think he’s pretty tight with the old man.”
“Which means he’s probably heard about the sale of the ranch.” Rick handed DJ one of the shot glasses the waitress set on top of the bar at Brandon’s urging. “Drink.”
DJ chugged the whiskey then let out another growl. At least this one sounded more human than the last one. “He said he and Heather go way back.”
Brandon downed his drink then set his shot glass on the bar. “What does that mean?”
“He more or less said that he and Heather have gotten together.” The whiskey didn’t help get rid of the hard ball in his stomach, but it did make it more bearable.
“Together that way? Naw. He had to be fucking with you.” Rick’s expression was no doubt a match for his own. “She wouldn’t get with someone like him. Right?”
“I don’t know. Either way, I wanted to cram that smirk down his throat and pull out his heart.”
Brandon ordered another round. “Drink up, guys. We’re lucky the boss wasn’t around to see you throw the first punch.”
DJ took the drink and slammed it back. “Yeah. But I still would’ve tried to knock him on his ass.”
* * * *
Heather threw the paperwork regarding the sale of the ranch onto the coffee table. She hated even reading the information, but the bidding had a deadline of only a few days away so she had to get acquainted with the procedures and her role.
Why had her father done this to her? Wasn’t it bad enough that he was selling the only place she’d ever thought of as home? Supposedly, she’d have a say in who ended up purchasing the land, but she doubted she’d
have much of an input. Once the highest bid came in—more than likely by a friend of her father’s—then she’d have no choice but to take that offer. Although the provision that she could base her decision on how the land was to be used after the sale was part of the guidelines, she doubted her father would expect her to utilize it to reject the highest bidder.
She flopped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. After getting Duke out of the club and into his car—alone—last night, she’d ignored his calls and had spent the day trying to put her finger on what was bothering her so much.
Was it that DJ had thrown a punch at Duke? She didn’t think so. In fact, after her initial shock wore away, she found herself thrilled by DJ’s move. She was glad that he hadn’t hit Duke, but the fact that he’d tried made her tingle with excitement.
Was it because Duke was such a slimeball? But she’d known that already. Why would it bother her now?
She sighed and closed her eyes, reliving what had happened at Saddles. Dancing on the bar was the only way she could keep Brandon and Duke from talking. It had been a desperate move, but it had worked. What she hadn’t counted on was DJ getting into the mix.
What had they talked about? Duke had stayed uncharacteristically mum about it, and, after trying for several minutes while avoiding his not-so-subtle advances, she’d given up and shoved him toward his car. Duke staying quiet was cause for concern.
Yet she still didn’t think that was the problem. She squinted, as though closing her eyes as hard as she could might help her remember.
She could see DJ. He’d gotten upset at something Duke had said, but that wasn’t all that surprising. His body had gone rigid, yet he’d looked like he was loose enough to leap into the air and land on top of Duke. Like the way a mountain lion or a wolf might do.
He’d drawn back his lips into a snarl. Yet although his snarl held a quality that was more animalistic than most men’s, she didn’t think that was it, either. He’d had an angry expression and his eyes had glowed.
Stunned, she sat up and opened her eyes. Why hadn’t she remembered? DJ’s eyes had glowed, but not from the overhead lights or from his fury. They’d appeared to have changed color, transforming from light green to an amber color. But that was impossible, right? People couldn’t change their real eye color.
Several knocks on the door had her jumping to her feet. She started toward it then stopped.
Please don’t let it be Duke. Or just as bad, my father.
But the knocking didn’t stop. She stalked over to the door, leaned against it, and, not for the first time, wished the door had a peep hole. The only way to find out who was behind the door was to either ask who it was or open it and find out. Maybe if she asked and kept the door shut, she could fake an illness and not have to face Duke or her father.
“Who is it?” She coughed, adding to the possible subterfuge. Damn, am I getting too good at lying?
“Heather, it’s Brandon Banning.”
She hoped he hadn’t heard her quick gasp. Stepping back, she stared at the door and wished she had a two-way mirror so she could see him without him seeing her.
What’s he doing here? And how did he know where to find me?
She’d purposefully stayed at her family’s townhouse in Passion instead of at the ranch so she wouldn’t run into one or more of the Banning brothers. Not that she’d mind running into them any other time, but not with the sale of the ranch looming over her head.
“Heather? Are you okay?”
“Y–yeah. I’m okay.” Did she really want to play the sick card?
“Good. Then can I talk to you?”
Did he want to talk about the ranch? If so, she’d better say no. She’d already given him an inside scoop. “What about?”
“I was worried about you and that guy you left with. DJ and Rick are worried, too. Besides, I have a gift for you.”
But why would he give me a gift?
“Heather, please open the door.”
She did, opening it just wide enough to peek around the edge. Brandon, looking as sexy as ever, held a bouquet of white roses. His dark eyes lit up, and his smile got bigger.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” He lifted the roses along with a bottle of wine she hadn’t noticed before. “Can I come inside?”
She couldn’t ask him to leave. Not when he’d brought her flowers and wine. Besides, her body was screaming for her to let him inside. “Give me a second.”
Closing the door, she whirled around to check her appearance in the mirror on the adjacent wall. She tracked her fingers through her hair, trying to tame it into submission.
“You don’t have to worry about how you look. You’re gorgeous just as you are.”
The man knew how to make a woman feel good. Throwing back her shoulders to make “the girls” stand up at attention, she opened the door and waved him inside. “I’m sorry. Please. Come in.”
His large body filled the doorway, and then he was inside, pacing over to the couch. Her heart leapt to her throat.
The papers!
She lunged in front of him, waving her hands like a maniac. He gaped at her but didn’t resist when she grabbed one arm and tugged him back toward the door. “You need to leave.”
“What?” He jerked out of her grasp and confronted her. “You just let me in. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I, uh, forgot about this thing I have to do. I’m sorry, but, please, get out.” She flung open the door, knowing full well how idiotic she sounded.
He frowned then narrowed his eyes. “Is there something you don’t want me to see? I don’t care if your place is a mess, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She jumped on the lifeline he’d given her and hung on for dear life. “Uh, yeah. That’s it.” She puffed out a breath of air and made a what was I thinking expression. “I can’t have you seeing this mess. So, maybe you can come back another time. Even if it’s only a few minutes from now, that would be great.”
“How about if I promise to stand here facing the door until you say it’s okay to look?”
He was doing his best to accommodate her, and she felt like a heel for wanting him to leave. But she’d feel even worse if he saw the paperwork and knew she was in on the sale.
“Heather, I’m already here. Go on and I’ll wait.”
She bit her lower lip and recognized that she’d better take what she could get. “Okay. But no peeking. Promise?”
“On my word as a former Boy Scout and leader of my pack.”
“What?”
“Never mind. It’s a joke between DJ and me.”
“Oh.” She pointed at him, giving him a stern look. “Stay put.”
He nodded, and she took off, dashing for the couch. Grabbing her briefcase that lay next to the coffee table, she gathered the paperwork and shoved it into an outside pocket. After giving a quick scan around the rest of the living room, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves.
“Okay. All clear.”
He made a show of turning around slowly then scanning the area. “That didn’t take long. But ‘all clear’? It sounds like you’re trying to hide the evidence.”
* * * *
Brandon knew as soon as he’d said the words that he’d screwed up. Her expression went from guarded to surprised, with a bit of irritation thrown in.
“Evidence of what?”
Shit. Way to go.
“Here.” He offered her the flowers and the wine. “Maybe we could share a glass?”
She accepted the flowers and wine, taking both to the next room. He followed her, entering a large kitchen that made his entire condo, the one he shared with his brothers to save money, look like a cardboard box below the train tracks. The kitchen, like the large living room, was filled with expensive items. Although he couldn’t cook to save his life, he could recognize a professional-quality oven—two of them—and a massive stove as well as a refrigerator that he finally figured out was hidden as part of the woodwork.
Heather found a crystal vase in one of the cabinets located under the huge granite island with two sinks then pulled out a drawer and gave him the wine opener. He was relieved that he’d bought a decent bottle of wine instead of the cheap stuff he and his brothers bought for themselves.
He did the honor of pulling out the cork while she found two goblets—crystal again—and placed them in front of him. He poured a liberal amount of wine into both glasses. She inhaled sharply as her gaze settled on a point behind him, and she scurried around him to quickly wipe a number off the dry-erase message board.
What the hell? What did she erase? A boyfriend’s phone number?
Somehow he kept the growl behind his teeth and maintained his easy demeanor.
Smiling, she came back to scoop up the wine and lead him back into the living room. She settled on the couch and put her glass on the impressive marble coffee table.
“This is quite a place.” He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t resist searching around him. Why couldn’t he shake the impression that she was hiding something? If he looked hard enough, would he find something he didn’t want to see? Like a man’s sock or tie? He shook away the suspicion.
“Thanks.” She took a sip. “Nice wine.”
“Thanks.” Damn. Can it get more awkward between us?
“So you must be a really good friend of the Cumming family. I mean, first they let you stay at the ranch, and now here? Pretty nice.”
“Uh, yeah. I am. We’re very close. How did you know I was here, anyway?”
“I knew they had a townhome in this area, so I asked a friend to help me find out where.”
She tossed him a skeptical look then glanced away. Why was she so suspicious of him? He wasn’t the one hurrying to hide things.
“That still doesn’t tell me how you knew I was here instead of at the ranch.”
Was she guarded, or was he imagining it? “I’m not sure. I just took a guess, thinking that maybe you hadn’t wanted to drive all the way back to the ranch last night. You or Duke, that is.”
