Lover Beware

by Christine Feehan

  “That’s not my problem.”

  “I want to discuss something other than death and politics with you. I want to see your face when you’re not being a cop.”

  “I’m always a cop.”

  Perhaps. But she was a woman, too. And her heart was beating fast and hard right now, like his. It took all his control to keep from bending to taste that pretty, unsmiling mouth, but he knew how little she’d appreciate that. Her people might see. His mouth crooked up. “I guess tonight is out.”

  “Good guess,” she said dryly. But she didn’t snatch her hand away.

  “Tomorrow won’t work, either. As I said, my father returns then, and we’ll have a good deal to discuss. How about the next night? I can get tickets to a play, reservations for dinner.”

  She eased her hand away from his. “That’s Friday night, and I’m booked. A family party—Grandmother’s eightieth birthday.” She started back down the path, but had taken only a couple of steps when she paused, looking back at him. The tilt of her lips held challenge. “Ah…it’s formal, a big bash at my uncle Chan’s restaurant. Would you care to go with me?”

  Chapter 6

  LILY WASN’T SURE at what point she’d lost her mind. At six-oh-seven that Friday she slicked color over her lips and tried to figure that out.

  What had prompted her impulsive invitation to Rule? Hormones run amok? Her conversation with her mother earlier had put the idea in her head, but she hadn’t been serious. She certainly hadn’t intended to ask him. All of a sudden the idea had burst open in her mind like a flower gone from bud to bloom instantly, and she’d done it.

  Maybe it had been that brief, startling gentleness he’d shown. The way he’d stroked her cheek, the softness in his voice. For a moment, understanding had shimmered between them, fragile and precious.

  Or she’d thought it had.

  Lily shook her head, turned to open her closet, which was off the bathroom, and almost tripped over Worf. “No shedding or drooling allowed,” she told him firmly. “Sit.”

  Obediently he lowered his rear end, but continued to pant at her happily. She kept an eye on his lolling tongue as she reached for her dress.

  Never mind the reason. The fact was that she’d succumbed to impulse. A flash of lunacy, she supposed. And winced. Lunacy was not a comfortable word, considering the effect a full moon had on the man she would be with tonight.

  The moon would be full in three days. She’d checked.

  All in all, this hadn’t been a good day. She’d spent too much of it in court, for one thing, testifying against a scumbag with a lawyer bright enough to know his client’s only hope was to make Lily look crooked, incompetent, or both. He hadn’t succeeded, but it hadn’t made for a fun morning. That afternoon she’d argued with enough bureaucrats to drive a saint to violence. Finally the Department of Health had condescended to let her copy its list of lupi living in San Diego, complied back when the government was registering them.

  Rule’s name hadn’t been on the list. No surprise there. Neither was his father’s. But eighty-seven others were. She’d barely started checking the names and addresses against the phone book to see who was still around.

  Not everything had gone wrong today, she reminded herself. Neither her mother nor her grandmother had answered when, smitten by conscience, she’d called to let them know the name of her escort tonight. There was no point in hoping her family wouldn’t realize who Rule was. Shoot, her grandmother read People regularly, and the magazine had done a spread on the Nokolai prince only last March.

  Her mother was not going to appreciate the joke.

  So why was she humming? Lily froze with the dress draped over her arm. This was nuts. Anyone would think she was looking forward to the evening.

  Her dress. That was what had her humming, of course. She slid it from the hanger. Worf stood up, wagging his tail. “Sit,” she told him again.

  Her dress was ankle-length silk in a color that made her think of sapphires drenched in darkness, the color of the sky when dawn is barely a promise in the east. Lily had found it on sale a month ago and fallen in love. Even the sight of the price tag hadn’t deterred her.

  It was magnificent, she thought with sudden uncertainty as she surveyed herself in the mirror. A dream of a dress—sexy, feminine, sophisticated. Too sophisticated, maybe. She sure didn’t look like a cop. Rule was going to think she’d dressed for him. He would think tonight was…personal.

  He’d be right. Nerves snapped in her middle like a string of firecrackers.

  Maybe if she took her hair down she’d look more like herself.

  Lily had her hands in her hair, the first pin unpinned, when the phone rang. She stepped into her shoes on the way to the living room, the bobby pin still in her hand. She spared a glance at the clock as she picked up the phone.

  Six twenty-two. Rule would be here any minute. “Hello?”

  “You left a message on that infernal machine,” a light, high voice said in Chinese.

  “I am sorry, Grandmother, but when I couldn’t reach you I felt it better to use the machine than to say nothing.” Her grandmother did not approve of answering machines. She wasn’t too fond of telephones, television, or microwaves, either.

  “Your message said that you have invited Rule Turner to accompany you to my birthday celebration.”

  “Yes, Grandmother,” Lily replied, careful of both her courtesy and her accent. Her command of the tongue seldom pleased her grandmother.

  “He is lupus. A prince of one of their clans.”

  “Yes. I didn’t want you to be taken by surprise.”

  “I have not been surprised since the Mets won the pennant. Did you tell your mother about this man?”

  “I left her a message, the same as yours. I don’t know if—”

  “Good. Say nothing more to her.” She hung up.

  Lily shook her head. Phone conversations with her grandmother tended to end abruptly. Not that conversations in person were much different. She glanced at the clock. There might still be time to finish taking her hair down if she—

  The doorbell rang. Worf let out a deep woof and surged to his feet. Lily took a steadying breath, jabbed the bobby pin back in her hair, and turned to face the door.

  Battle stations.

  HE DROVE AN Explorer. That surprised her. It seemed so—well, so middle-class normal. Half the people in California drove some kind of SUV.

  “I ought to sell tickets,” Lily muttered as he slid into the driver’s seat beside her. Rule Turner was eye candy no matter what he wore, but in a tux the impact could wreck a woman’s breathing.

  “Pardon?” The knowing glint in his eyes suggested he’d heard her very well.

  “Never mind.” She found herself watching his hands as he started the engine and took them out into traffic. His fingers were long and slim. No scars, of course, nor any little nicks or scabs. Lupi healed such things. What was more surprising was how little hair there was on the backs of his hands. She’d always thought lupi were hairy. “Listen, I’m sorry about the way Worf acted. He’s usually friendly.”

  “He didn’t like my scent. The two of us will work things out,” he said as he guided the vehicle smoothly through traffic. “Once he accepts me as dominant, he won’t need to challenge me.”

  Nor did his beard seem especially heavy, though naturally he would have shaved…wouldn’t he? Did lupi need to shave? “You’re assuming you’re going to see my dog often enough to work on a relationship with him.”

  “That’s right. I am.”

  Her lips twitched. A sensible woman wouldn’t find his arrogance so appealing. And maybe it wouldn’t be, if she didn’t suspect he was amused by himself, too. “So, what did your father say? Am I cleared to go talk to your people tomorrow?”

  “He agreed to put it before the Council.”

  “What Council? I thought the Lupois’s word was law.”

  “You might think of the Council as an advisory body, the elders of the tribe. Or maybe
they’re more like church deacons. The Lupois doesn’t answer to the Council, but it pays to have their backing, particularly if he is considering breaking with tradition.”

  “I can’t wait much longer, Rule.”

  “I know. I have a suggestion. Why don’t we talk about something other than the investigation tonight?”

  “Such as?”

  “What do you usually talk about on a date?”

  “The usual—his work, his hobbies, his ex-wives.”

  He clucked his tongue. “Sexism rears its ugly head. Surely there are a few men who don’t just discuss themselves?”

  “Well, they mostly don’t want to talk about my work, unless I date a cop. And I don’t date cops.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Of course, I’d rather you didn’t date anyone except me.”

  Her mouth went dry. “You don’t have any right to say that. You’re moving too fast.”

  “I’m being honest. Why don’t you date cops?”

  “They’re lousy bets for anything long-term. Besides, it would be icky.”

  He grinned. “Icky?”

  “You know—the way it would feel to work with someone you’ve…someone who…never mind.”

  “Do you ‘never mind’ with every man you date?” He slowed for the turn. “I ask not to condemn, you understand, but in hope.”

  She shook her head. “There you go, jumping to conclusions. I was talking about kissing, not grappling under the covers. And how uncomfortable it would be to work with someone I’ve had carnal thoughts about, or who I know has had those thoughts about me.”

  “If you think that only the men you’ve dated have carnal thoughts about you, you’re far more naive than I would have believed.”

  The husky note in his voice turned the banter personal. Intimate. She licked her lips and tried to keep things light. “Of course not. According to studies, men have carnal thoughts every ten seconds or so. Women know this. We just prefer to ignore it.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the occasional random hard-on. I was talking about the way men react to you. You’re an intensely desirable woman, Lily.”

  Suddenly the air burned in her lungs, thick and sweet, and she was overwhelmingly conscious of her hands. Of the need to touch him—and the need to keep herself from doing any such thing. Lily looked down at her lap, smoothed the silk of her dress, and listened to her heartbeat pounding and pounding in her throat. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  After a moment he sighed. “And now I’ve made you uncomfortable. Too much honesty too soon. What do you do when you aren’t arresting lawbreakers?”

  “I like to run, hike, paddle around in the ocean. I’ve done some rock climbing. What do you do when you aren’t jet-setting around or turning hairy?”

  He chuckled. “Hairy or smooth, I like to run, hike, and paddle around in the ocean, too. Climbing, though, is better done with hands.”

  “That makes sense. Um…I should probably warn you about my family. My grandmother knows who you are. I’m not sure my mother does—I left a message with your name—but she’ll figure it out pretty quickly.”

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “Probably,” she said gloomily. “You’re certainly not Chinese. If you were a surgeon, that might not matter. Or a lawyer, as long as you worked for a prestigious firm. She’s very big on personal achievement. About my grandmother, though…” Her voice trailed off.

  “The one you call Tiger Lady?”

  “For heaven’s sake, don’t call her that tonight. The closest Chinese translation is, uh, not respectful.” She sighed. There was no way to explain Grandmother. One had to experience her. “Just treat her as if she were royalty.”

  HE WAS MAKING mistakes with her. Rule knew that, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He wanted to claim her, and he didn’t want to wait. But whenever he let his urgency slip out, she retreated.

  Lily wasn’t sure about him. That was only natural. Even if he hadn’t been what he was, she would have wanted time to know him, to know her own mind. He understood. He even agreed. But his blood was up, and the discipline of years was stretched taut just by being with her.

  It didn’t help to know she was as attracted as he, however she tried to hide it.

  Tonight’s date was about as safe as a first date could be, he thought wryly as they entered the restaurant. They were on her turf, surrounded by her family. He would rather have taken her someplace quiet and private, someplace where he could look at her as much as he liked. Touching would have been nice, too. But it eased something inside him to look at the curve of her throat or the slightly crooked incisor that only showed when she grinned. “You have a lot of relatives,” he murmured.

  The restaurant itself was less obviously oriental than he’d expected. The tables were round, white-draped, with western place settings. A few people sat at those tables, but most milled around—easily fifty in this room, he estimated, and there was at least one more section to the restaurant. All wore evening dress, with many of the men in tuxedos. He’d wondered about that. A tux had seemed excessive for a family birthday party. He’d worn it anyway; Lily had said the party was formal, and he admitted to possessing his share of vanity. He looked good in a tux.

  “I’m not related to everyone. Just most of them.” She slanted him an amused glance. “Grandmother is probably holding court on the terrace. We’d better find her and deliver this.” She lifted the small, elegantly wrapped box in her left hand. “It may take awhile. You do draw attention.”

  It took awhile. Rule was tense, hyperalert in the way typical of this time of the month, his balance a delicate thing. Scents and sounds assaulted him with every new person to meet and charm. Outside, unseen, the moon was yet unrisen, but he felt it sliding nearer the horizon with every pulse. The sensation was pleasant, but distracting.

  The discipline of years helped him stay focused on the room and the need to mask his feelings. He was helped by his curiosity about these people—Lily’s people—and by his awareness of the woman at his side. That, too, was a sweet distraction pulsing through him, making even the moon’s call less compelling.

  It didn’t take long for him to note a common theme in the comments of her relatives. The unspoken text emerged in jokes that weren’t quite funny, in sympathetic comments or the blanks left by avoiding one particular subject.

  Lily’s family didn’t approve of her job. They didn’t want her to be a cop.

  On their way to the terrace he met cousins, uncles, aunts, one of Lily’s sisters and her date, along with miscellaneous offspring, spouses, or significant others. And he met Lily’s mother.

  Julia Yu was a slim, elegant woman who towered over her daughter by nearly a foot. She had beautiful hands, very little chin, several pounds of hair piled in elaborate twists on top of her head, and Lily’s eyes. They opened wide when she saw his face.

  She recovered quickly, greeting Rule with a polite smile. She smelled faintly of herbal soap and hair spray. “I didn’t place your name at first, Mr. Turner, but your face is instantly recognizable. I’m so glad you could join us tonight.”

  “I’m delighted she asked me,” he said with perfect candor. Sharing Lily with all these people wasn’t his first choice, but he could learn a great deal about her from her family. Especially her mother, he thought, and smiled. “Please call me Rule. Your daughter has your eyes, doesn’t she? Lovely and full of mysteries. Her voice is rather like yours, too—lower than one would expect, and with the random music of a waterfall.”

  She blinked in surprise. “What a lovely compliment. Thank you. Lily also has something of her father’s stubbornness, I’m afraid, and an unfortunate sense of humor. I’m not sure where that comes from.” Something in the look she gave her daughter freighted her next words with hidden significance. “Have you introduced Mr. Turner to Grandmother yet, Lily?”

  “We’re making our way there now. I told her to expect him, of course.”

  “Ah.” A subtle change in her posture
told Rule some tension or worry had eased. “I won’t hold you up, then. I believe your father is on the terrace with Grandmother.”

  Rule wasn’t ready to abandon the conversation that quickly. Between Julia Yu’s courtesy and her curiosity about a man her daughter might be interested in, he was able to hold her in conversation for several minutes. By the time he and Lily moved away, he’d had the satisfaction of coaxing a smile of genuine pleasure from her.

  “You flirted with my mother,” Lily said.

  He wasn’t sure if she was upset or amused. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.”

  “You also flirted with two of my cousins, my sister, my great-aunt, and the wife of one of my brother’s business partners. With every woman you’ve met tonight, I think. Is this a lupus thing, or is it just you?”

  “It would be rude not to acknowledge a woman’s beauty.”

  Her eyes were puzzled. “I expected you to say it didn’t mean anything.”

  “That wouldn’t be true. I…” He struggled to explain what was too basic to be fitted comfortably into words. “When I compliment a woman, it always means something. Not that I intend to take her to bed, but that I appreciate her. That I know she’s a woman, and lovely.”

  “You meant everything you said, didn’t you? You told Mrs. Masters—who must be seventy—that her pearls made her skin glow. You looked at her as if you enjoyed looking at her, and you meant it.”

  “Of course.”

  She didn’t say anything more, but she took his hand. He felt absurdly pleased, as if he’d been awarded a great honor.

  The rear of the restaurant overlooked the beach. The sun was slipping down the western sky when they stepped onto the terrace, an incandescent ball flipping its light scattershot across the waves it would kiss in another thirty minutes. He couldn’t see the moon, but felt it hovering near the horizon to the east, a silvery song in his blood. The air was twenty degrees warmer than inside, and smelled wonderful. He breathed deeply of salt, sand, and ocean.

  Rule was suddenly reluctant to proceed to the people knotted up at the other end of the terrace. “I wish we could walk on the beach together.” Or run. He yearned to feel the sand beneath the pads of his paws while air screamed through his lungs as his muscles flexed and flung him along.