Her fingers were gripping the fragile stem of the wineglass hard enough to snap it. She relaxed them slowly and met Maggie's gaze. "Are you serious, Maggie? Do you think he could do it?"
"I'm sure he could do it," the redhead assured her. "He's lived up there in the woods too long not to be damned good at wilderness travel. No..." She paused to fill a pair of glasses with foaming beer and slide them down the bar to waiting customers "It's not a matter of could he do it, but would he do it."
"He's never hired out before?" Joey frowned over the possibilities, defying her uncertainty. "How much do you think it would take to get him to do it? I still have money left, and I'm more than willing to pay whatever it takes."
Maggie chuckled, undaunted by Joey's implacable demeanor. "I have a feeling money wouldn't tempt him, kid. Fact is, he seems to have plenty of that already—I heard he inherited it from his old man." She hurried on before Joey could interrupt. "But you've got an advantage here. And I'm afraid this is the part you may not like."
Joey did not have to hear more. A shiver passed through her, beyond her physical control just as the dreams were beyond the authority of her rational mind.
"All I have to do," she said softly, "is play his game. Convince him I'll give him whatever he wants—in exchange for what I need."
There was a long silence.
"It sounds pretty awful, put that way," Maggie admitted at last. "I'm sorry I mentioned it. Bad idea." She hesitated. "Stringing him along like that—" She shook her head. "Frankly you don't strike me as the type. And I don't think I'd feel very safe trying that with him."
Lost in her own thoughts, Joey was hardly aware of Maggie's retreat. The idea had shocked her at first. But suddenly it seemed not only reasonable, but the answer to all her problems.
She could get Luke Gévaudan to guide her. She could use his pursuit of her and turn it around to get what she wanted. And in doing so, she could end this futile struggle against her own obsession with him. It all worked out very neatly.
Joey liked neat answers. The fact that playing this sort of game with Gévaudan might burn her didn't matter, her priorities were set. She was willing to use any reasonable means to reach her goal, and now that a real chance had been handed to her, she wasn't about to pass it up. Gévaudan wanted her, she would make him believe she was willing to give herself to him—for a price. He could stand to be taken down a peg or two, and in the end she'd repay him for his trouble, if not in the highly intimate way he expected.
Sometimes you had to play games to get what you wanted out of life. So she told herself, again and again until she began to believe it.
When she turned to Maggie once more, the redhead was busy rearranging bottles behind the bar. Joey slid off the stool and leaned over the counter. "Thanks, Maggie I think you've solved my problems."
Brushing hair out of her eyes, Maggie straightened "I did?" Her hazel eyes searched Joey's face and narrowed. "No. You're going to do it? I'm not so sure it was such a hot idea after all, Joey. Really. You know, there still may be another way..."
"Maggie," Joey smiled with a calm she didn't feel, "I've already made up my mind. You were right—I should have thought of it before. It's going to take care of everything."
"Now wait a minute." Maggie nearly frowned "You don't know anything about this guy. I don't, either. No one does, really. You'd be alone with him, Joey, and you don't know what you'd be getting into."
"Don't worry about me, Maggie. I know what I'm doing. And this is something I've just got to do—one way or another. And as for the mysterious, persistent Mr Gévaudan... " She allowed herself a tight grin. "Maybe he doesn't know what he's getting into."
She slid off the stool and slapped two bills on the countertop. "I really can take care of myself, Maggie. Don't worry, all right?" She started for the door, pausing to smile over her shoulder at the other woman. "And thanks, for everything."
"Me and my bright ideas," Maggie muttered just loud enough for Joey to hear. "You'd damn well better take care of yourself, kid, or you'll have me to answer to. Okay?"
"Okay," Joey replied, brushing by a rowdy band of drinkers as she left the tavern. Maggie's woeful expression seemed to chase after her as the door closed. She banished it, along with her own lingering doubts. She knew what she had to do, and once she'd made a plan, she stuck to it.
Joey's heart was pounding with anticipation as she set about putting her new plan into action. She did not attempt to examine that anticipation too closely. As she crossed the street and made for the lodge, she glanced up at the mountain peaks basking in the late-afternoon sun.
Soon, she promised them. Soon.
As Joey Randall emerged from the lodge into the crisp morning air, Luke could see immediately that something had changed.
It wasn't simply a matter of her hair, which now hung loose in silver-gold strands that fell to her waist. Or the way she walked—with greater confidence, hips swaying seductively. The subtle alterations in her appearance bespoke a fundamental difference, but they alone did not earn Luke's full attention. No—there was a definite, deliberate allure there now that hadn't been present before.
Luke straightened from his easygoing slouch against a lamppost opposite the lodge and watched her. She didn't see him yet, but her eyes were scanning the area in expectation. She already knew he would be there. She'd become very efficient at spotting him, he had to give her that—even if it didn't keep him away. With all the persistence of a predator, he tracked her and kept her in sight. Her resistance to him had increasingly become a very powerful motivation for his desire. That she was worth the effort he never doubted for an instant.
He admired her long-legged stride and uptilted chin as she crossed the street and felt his muscles tense in anticipation of pursuit. Soon, now, she'd see him and hurry off in the opposite direction.
For the second time she caught him completely off guard. He had only a moment to adjust to the unaccustomed sensation as she closed the space between them and stopped, regarding him with a familiar, direct stare.
"Good morning, Luke," she said.
Luke felt rather like a wolverine whose choice of breakfast had suddenly turned and wished it good hunting. He caught himself quickly.
"Good morning, Joey." He took a moment to look her over, from sun-topped head to boot-shod feet. Yes, there was definitely something different. "I'm glad to see we're on a first-name basis now."
Her curved lips, so often set in a severe frown of concentration, relaxed into a remarkably pleasant smile. "I suppose we've—known—each other long enough to justify the informality." Her gold-flecked eyes met his steadily.
"I'm delighted to hear it," Luke murmured. She was wearing the same loose-fitting shirt and jeans, but he could not miss the fact that she had left a number of buttons undone that revealed a pleasing amount of cleavage. And she stood with her arms relaxed at her sides, not folded like a barricade across her chest or bent with clenched fists, as if she expected to repel attack.
Though her gaze was still cool and direct, and her chin was lifted in that proud way she had, the smile could not be mistaken. It almost came as something of a shock when Luke realized she was not only being civil—she was actually encouraging him.
This revelation kept him silent for a moment, as he considered various possibilities in rapid succession. Either she had finally broken down before his persistence and many charms—though something about his acquaintance with her urged a cynical inner laugh at the assumption—or she wanted something.
Though he had known that might be a very real possibility, the idea chafed unexpectedly. He concentrated on keeping a frown of annoyance from his face.
Joey broke the silence. "Well, the fact is, I may be here a while longer, and there's no reason not to be friendly." For a moment Luke had the bizarre notion that she'd actually batted her eyes at him. As if she read his thoughts, she gave a rueful shrug. "I've had a lot on my mind, and I probably haven't been as neighborly as I should have. Some of t
he people here"—her almost-coy glance included him—"have been very helpful, and I don't want to seem ungrateful."
Feeling unaccustomedly off balance, Luke cleared his throat. "Not at all, Joey." He pushed away distracting speculation about her motives. With a deceptive shift he moved closer to her, she didn't step back, though a flicker in her eyes told him she was aware of him—very much aware of him. Physical reaction quickly overcame the last of his skepticism. Her warm scent rose up in waves to engulf and mesmerize him.
"Good," she whispered.
He watched her eyes move away from his, stray to his shoulders, his chest and back up to scan his face; for the barest instant her smile lapsed as her teeth caught at her lower lip. Luke hardly noticed it, all his attention was for the heat of her body, the smell of her, the rich sensuality she no longer struggled to hide. Whatever her motivations, he felt it clearly—she wanted him. The knowledge washed over him with the heady arousal of victory.
"In that case," Joey continued, cutting through his dazed admiration, "let's do as you once suggested and start over, shall we?" Suddenly her smile was broad and bright and very far from sensual. Luke felt a wall rise up between them almost as daunting as her earlier coolness.
"By all means," he answered. So she was trying a different tack with him—or so it seemed. He managed to keep the grim edge from his smile as he fell into step beside her.
She chattered about something inconsequential with a false vivacity that nettled him as he nodded in time to her comments. Joey Randall thought she might hold him at bay, behind a wall built of light words and the charm she'd withheld from him in the past. She hoped to string him along, keeping him at a safe distance, encouraging but never quite issuing an invitation. Other women had done it before, but none with any hope of success. Unfortunately those women hadn't been Joelle Randall.
Luke grinned, and Joey didn't seem to notice the promise implicit in the expression. She was different, this one, but she was still a woman. He had felt something unmistakable: Joey was playing a dangerous game—with him and with her own desire.
And he would let the contest play out to its inevitable conclusion.
As she entered the post office, glancing a smile back over her shoulder, he held the door open for her with a mocking bow.
Play your game, Joey, he thought as he watched her hungrily. You won't see the trap in time to escape it.
Joey felt that things were going very well indeed. And, surprisingly, Luke Gévaudan's company had not been as disagreeable as she'd expected. He could be quite charming when he wasn't playing the wolf out to snare the newest babe in town.
The only difficult part was the uneasy feeling that she actually liked the intensity of his regard. He seemed to have taken her increased friendliness at face value. If his pursuit was less ferocious, it was no less determined.
They sat now on a bench outside the tiny bank, where Joey had completed arrangements to withdraw funds for the coming week. Her money was not going to hold out forever—but with any luck, it wouldn't have to. She smiled sideways at Luke and tried not to stare at the firm line of his jaw, the peculiar color of his eyes. She felt herself squirming on the polished wood of the bench as last night's dream came back to her.
The dreams hadn't gone away, either. They had only grown more powerful, and more undeniable. If she hadn't had her goals in mind...
But she did. "Tell me more about growing up here, Luke. It must have been pretty lonely, with so few children your own age. I understand they don't even have enough kids now to justify a school, and they have to send them by bus all the way over to East Fork."
She gave him her full attention, which wasn't difficult, even her conversation was not without purpose. To draw him out, yes—to get him to trust her as well as desire her, to use whatever means necessary to set him up for her request. But she also found herself wanting to know about him—and why faces always turned to him when he passed, and people whispered about his "differences."
His face seemed relaxed, his pose was that strange combination of utter ease and complete alertness that she couldn't remember seeing in any other man she'd ever met. But again and again she sensed some part of him closed off, even as he did his best to charm her into his bed.
"I doubt it's ever easy being a kid, no matter where you grow up," he answered with a casual stretch. His eyes grew hooded and drifted away from hers, as if he found the topic tedious.
"But you had some higher education," she persisted after a moment. "Where did you go to college? I understand the university system up here is quite good." She tried a flirtatious toss of her head. "If you'll forgive me for being blunt, it's pretty obvious you've had exposure to a lot more"—she coughed delicately—"diversity than Lovell might ordinarily provide."
Luke's lip curled in a smile that almost seemed self-mocking. "I'll take that as a compliment, coming from a sophisticated lady from San Francisco." He offered nothing further, his whole manner turning aside further inquiry as he had done consistently throughout the day—evading each of her probing questions about himself and his past with good-natured facility.
"I don't think past life here in Lovell would be of much interest to you, Joey," he drawled, his amber-green eyes sliding back to hers. "The present is much more interesting."
She waited for his usual round of questions about her—which he seemed to ask with genuine curiosity—but none were forthcoming. Instead, he allowed his gaze to sweep across her face and over her open shirt-front. She controlled a desire to clasp it closed about her throat and reminded herself that this was what she had aimed for. Even so, his open stare still felt like a searing blast of heat that burned through her clothing and left her as naked as she had been in her dreams.
She hardly realized it when she slipped free of him just as his arm slid over her shoulder. She pretended not to see the brief narrowing of his eyes as he drew back again, making the movement part of a stretch and widening the space between them.
"It has certainly been a very enjoyable day, Joey," he said with sudden, scathing coldness. The abrupt withdrawal of his focused admiration was almost like a slap, though it saved Joey from a decision she was not yet prepared to face. Her body stiffened in reaction, and she nodded with an oblivious ease she was far from feeling.
"I've had a good time, too, Luke." She searched his shuttered eyes. "I'm glad we got a chance to talk, get to know each other a little better."
When he showed no signs of softening, she continued, "I was thinking—I don't have any plans for dinner tonight. Would you like to join me? Maybe you could tell me more about the upcoming moose migration." Her grin was as flirtatious and flattering as she could manage, but he merely gazed at her as if he saw through her unpracticed efforts.
His eyes were not on hers when he finally answered. "I have other plans." His gruff and unapologetic tone irked her, and she struggled to maintain her amiable demeanor. Damn the bastard! He couldn't have his way with her instantly, and he sulked!
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said with a softness that hid the sharp sarcasm she longed to hit him with. "What about tomorrow night? It's Thursday, and they always have a fancy meal at the lodge on Thursdays. I'd like you to be my guest." The insipid eagerness she gave the words almost made her choke, but at least she wasn't forced to simultaneously fend off his single-minded attentions.
She had become accustomed to the various expressions that played across his rough-hewn face: faint seductive smiles that never quite seemed to blossom into real warmth, a distant coolness when she asked a question he planned to evade, burning intensity when she knew he felt close to winning her. But she had seen this particular aspect only once or twice before... a truly cold and merciless ferocity, an intense and powerful satisfaction. It was the kind of expression she'd glimpsed when he observed the townsfolk who peered at him with silent suspicion and resentment. She shuddered.
But the strange ferocity vanished as quickly as it had come. "It so happens I will be free tomorrow night,
Joey," he murmured. The familiar seductive smile was back, resting on her with a warmth she knew instinctively to be as false as her own attempts at vapid flirtatiousness. "I won't be seeing you earlier, but I look forward to a very interesting meal." As if to reinforce his words, he bared his even white teeth in a grin, and before she could respond with insincere thanks, he had risen and stalked away.
Joey stared after him. Damn the man. If she didn't need him so badly, she'd have great pleasure in showing him just how possible it was for a woman to resist him. Unfortunately, the only resistance she could permit herself was against the echo of her dreams.
Tomorrow night, he'd have to believe he'd well and truly caught her—but not before she'd caught him first.
"Hello, Dr Collier Nice to see you again." Joey took his hand and gripped it with real warmth as he turned away from the door. "You're here for the weekly feast?"
"Wouldn't miss it," he assured her with a wink. "I understand it's Mexican tonight—and Mrs O'Brien never disappoints."
He looked over Joey's shoulder as others drifted into the common room and found seats at the tables set up for the occasion. "May I join you for dinner? I have to admit the prospect of a delicious meal in the company of a lovely young lady is most appealing." His faint English accent gave his words a very definite charm, and the hopeful expression on his face was very hard to resist.
Joey thought for a moment of the evening's purpose and reached a sudden decision. He'd been so damned arrogant yesterday—ever since she'd met him, in fact—that it would serve him right to find himself sharing her.
At least until she was ready to let him have her.
She consented graciously to the doctor's request and allowed him to seat her at the small table while the local girls who served as waitresses moved among the guests The room was rapidly filling, Joey scanned the faces but did not see Luke's among them. Somehow that didn't surprise her. He'd turn up eventually—like a bad penny. But a very, very valuable penny, she reminded herself.
PRINCE OF WOLVES Page 6
