License to Shift (5 page)

J
ulie's first thought was, “That's a strange car alarm.” It sounded just like birds tweeting loudly outside her window. Then she cracked her eyes, realized she was up in the loft of her father's cabin, and that it really was birds out there making that racket. Well. Guess she'd been living too long in the city if she couldn't recognize the sound of real birds.

She rubbed her eyes and stretched, feeling achy in every part of her body. Last night, she'd dropped like a rock into bed only to spend the night fighting erotic dreams. She didn't even want to acknowledge the identity of the man who had done such delicious things to her, but it was hard to deny the wet hunger she felt now.

Nothing that some coffee and a cold shower wouldn't fix, she thought as she pushed out of bed. She found a pair of pink cat slippers and a matching bathrobe, all left behind from high school and about two sizes too small. She'd always tended toward large, and years of office work had done nothing to make her slim. Downstairs, coffee was an exercise in fumbling, but she managed, and soon the scent of caffeine was filling the room. But it wasn't ready yet, so she stepped to the window and looked out.

The world was still wet, but drying quickly. In truth, everything looked washed clean, and so she opened the front door and stepped out to enjoy the beautiful morning. She never got air this clean in Chicago. Even her apartment windows were sealed shut to keep out the smog.

She moved forward, only to be startled by a dark shape to her right. She spun toward it, her heart beating in her throat. Then her shock ratcheted up even further when she saw what it was. Or
who
it was.

“Mark! What the hell?”

He was crouched in the corner, his eyes burning golden in the…she would have said morning sunshine, but he was in shadow. And yet his eyes were so clear to her. He was looking at her with that intensity that was as frightening as it was thrilling. And then his nose twitched and he opened his mouth. It took him two tries before sound came out, but eventually he croaked out a word.

“Coffee?”

“Uh…yeah. God, Mark, what are you doing here?”

He didn't answer, and she already recognized the state he was in. It was the same version of him that had answered the door naked, and it wasn't that he was half asleep. Crouched as he was, he looked like a wild animal. His clothing was plastered to his skin, and his hair was slicked straight down. As if he'd been siting just like that all night long, through the rain until the morning dried everything on his body. Without him moving an inch.

His nose twitched again, and she was grateful she'd made a full pot.

“I'll get the coffee.” She started to move back to the kitchen but stopped long enough to look again at him. Whispers of the night's eroticism filled her mind, showing her exactly what she'd dreamed about. A man who was more animal than human. More elemental than reason. More thrilling in his raw power than anything in the civilized world. She cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable with the lust pounding through her blood. “You're freaking me out, you know,” she said. It wasn't true. She was freaking herself out, but she couldn't admit that to either of them just yet.

He didn't respond, so she went for the coffee. Two mugs, poured and sweetened with shaking hands, and then she carried them carefully outside. Except when she stepped back onto the porch, he wasn't there.

“Mark?”

She looked frantically around, disappointment blooming inside her belly. What the hell? Had she dreamed him? Was she going insane?

She moved to the porch railing, setting the extra mug down. Then she sipped her own drink, letting the heat burn her tongue and hopefully wake her brain cells. A sip. Another. Five more before she decided she'd gone insane.

Then he appeared on her opposite side, stepping up onto the porch in near silence. She didn't see him until he reached for the mug on the railing.

She squeaked in alarm and jumped back. And when her heart steadied to twice its normal rate, she blinked hard and stared. Yup. He was still there and still looked like rumpled man in a handsome bad-boy kind of way. Even his morning beard looked sexy, and the lust-crazed part of her brain wondered where on her body she'd like to feel a beard burn.

“I thought I'd imagined you,” she said. She'd certainly dreamed about him.

His gaze never left her even as he drank his coffee. He was gulping it down, and she wondered if he'd just burned his throat.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again.

He pulled the mug away enough to speak. “Perimeter check.” His voice had that gravelly texture to it that hit her happy button on a visceral level. He should do morning radio.

She blinked. Of course. That's where he'd been when she went to get coffee. “And it was quiet all night, wasn't it?”

He shook his head.

It took her a moment to understand what he was saying.
It hadn't been quiet?
But she hadn't heard a thing. She hadn't even known he was there. Her gaze strayed to the woods around her. What sort of evil creature had been out there? And was he just making it up to freak her out?

“I scared it away,” he said.

“I didn't hear a thing.”

“I smelled it. Before it made the property line.” He looked out at the woods and growled. Yes, an honest-to-goodness growl. “It's fast. Couldn't catch it.”

Well, he was clearly pissed about that. Affront to his manhood and all that, which actually made her smile. This whole thing was bizarre, and she had no idea if this was all in his head or not. But either way, he believed it. He'd stayed out here in the rain all night long just to protect her. She had to be grateful for that. Not to mention being filled with all sorts of inappropriate feelings about being cherished.

But that was crazy talk. It had to be. Mark was the definition of flaky: über-Neanderthal one moment, über-rational the next. It was all part of his here again, gone again pattern, and she wasn't getting sucked in. But she also couldn't leave him sitting out here.

“Come inside, Mark. It's cold out here.” It might be the height of summer, but early morning after a rainstorm could be downright chilly.

His gaze traveled out to the woods, clearly worried.

“What's the plan, Mark? You going to sit here day and night protecting me? Don't you think you'll collapse or something?”

“You're leaving today.” He spoke the words in his clipped way, but she thought she heard a plaintive note underneath. As if he didn't want her to leave, but couldn't express it normally. Lord, when he was in this state, it was like dissecting the words of a toddler.

“Come inside,” she said firmly. “I need to call the hospital about my dad. You need to warm up. Why don't you call Carl?”

Mark's eyes widened at her words, then he looked up at the sky. “It's morning now. Carl will be awake.” He rubbed a hand over his face as he inhaled deeply. “Caffeine's kicking in.”

She nodded. “Do you want me to call Carl for you?”

“No.” He straightened and pulled out his phone. “I'll text him. You call the hospital.”

She smiled and held open the front door for him. “There's more coffee if you want.”

“I definitely want. Though how your father can drink that swill is beyond me.”

“He's a man of plebian tastes.”

She said the word as a test. Would he understand the word “plebian”? It was a kind of measure of how much brain function he had just then. Apparently not enough because he frowned at her, then looked away, a flush staining his cheeks.

“Right,” he said, his voice flat. Still in Neanderthal mode.

She stepped inside, leaving the door open. He was staring hard at his phone, working the buttons slowly, but eventually picking up speed. What was he doing? How
sane
was he? Was she safe?

That last was the question that lingered in her thoughts. Given what she'd already seen of Mark, she guessed he was some form of bipolar, which meant that he could go nuts on her at any point. She ought to be grateful he'd gone into protective mode instead of aggressive. Which meant task one would be to get away from him.

But she didn't feel threatened. Logic told her that she couldn't trust that. But it also pointed out that Carl seemed to trust him completely. Wouldn't he know if she was in danger? Wouldn't he say something if his friend was off the rails?

She watched Mark labor over his text message. He was certainly not fast with the thing, but to be fair, neither was she. And he had larger thumbs than she did. Made it harder to text with ease.

Sighing at the chaos in her own brain, she finished off her mug of coffee and set about filling her stomach. Her father had to have
something
in here. But what she'd seen last night had been dismally thin.

She found some bread that hadn't gone moldy and decided on her favorite breakfast of champions: peanut butter and jelly. She made one for herself, another for Mark. She also found her cell phone and called her sister for the update. Dad was doing fine. They'd find out today if could go home. She chatted while eating, keeping half an eye on the tense man on her front porch. For most of her call, he stood poised on the front step, but just before she hung up, he abruptly spun around and loped around the side of the house.

Probably another perimeter check or something. She finished with her sister and her own sandwich, then went out to her car to grab her suitcase. She'd been so tired yesterday, she hadn't bothered fighting the rain to bring it in. But now it was morning and she needed to take a shower, not to mention setting up her stuff here. If Dad was discharged today, he'd be coming to this cabin—he'd insisted—so there was no point in her going back to the hospital. She'd do more good stocking his refrigerator and doing his laundry. God only knew when he'd last washed his sheets.

She'd just pulled on shorts and a tee when she heard Mark come into the cabin. She couldn't deny the tightening in her gut at the sound of his heavy footfalls, but was it excitement or fear? What was the prudent course of action?

Annoyed with the whirling in her thoughts, she headed for her bathroom to brush her teeth and delay seeing him for another few minutes. But it didn't help. All she did was churn through the same questions while her anxiety climbed another notch. Was she safe? Was he right, and there was really something dangerous out there? Why was she so attracted to him? Would he flip out on her?

She rinsed. Spit. Grabbed a dry towel and cleaned off. Then looked in the mirror and choked on her scream.

He stood right behind her. Large. His eyes intense and a little wild. And his whole body dwarfed her by many inches on all sides.

“Mark?” she managed in a quavering voice.

“You're trying to make yourself afraid of me,” he said, his voice low and dark.

It was on her lips to deny it, but the way he was looking at her made her hold back the words. He wasn't angry. He was hurt. “You confuse me,” she said honestly.

“I'd never hurt you.”

She swallowed. The way he said it, she believed him. But what was happening here was beyond weird. “I don't know what you're thinking. I can't read you and—”

He stepped closer, blocking her in on all sides. Her words ended on a squeak of alarm, but the rest of her heated at his nearness. She didn't even have room to turn to face him. Then he leaned forward, his hands gripping the counter on either side of her. And his head bent down slowly to press lightly against the side of her head while the heat of his body seeped into her backside.

“I thought about you,” he said softly. “All night, I thought about when we were teens. About what we did and how I wanted you.” He swallowed. “And how I blew it.” He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. “I'm sorry, Julie. I was an ass.”

“I already forgave you yesterday. And long ago.”

She felt his body pressing against her, hot and hard. Not just his muscles, but the thickness between her butt cheeks. Their clothes did not mask his erection, and she was both terrified and aroused by the feel of him right there.

“I know I'm crazy,” he said against her temple. “I know I frighten you.”

She wanted to deny it, but couldn't.

His eyes remained closed as he spoke, and so she watched the tight muscles of his face and felt the slow, steady pressure of his body against hers. “I'm dying, Julie. Literally. I won't see the New Year. Probably won't make it to October.”

She jolted. “What?” The idea that this vital man would be gone in a few months was completely alien to her. He was too strong, too much
here
for him to ever be gone. It made no sense. She started to twist to look at him, but his hands shifted to grip her hips and hold her in place.

“Don't move. Let me explain.”

She stilled and waited, but he didn't speak. Eventually, she huffed out a breath.

“You're supposed to be explaining.”

He chuckled, sounding so casual that she felt whiplash again. He was laughing off his death as if it were a minor technicality. “Turns out there isn't much to explain. The…disease doesn't matter. We've tried everything.”

“Like…chemo and stuff?”

“Stuff,” he said as he pressed his lips against her forehead. He didn't even seem to know he was doing it. He just rolled his head lightly and pressed his lips against her. “I've known for years. Fought it for years. Eventually, it just wins and all I'm left with is regrets.” He swallowed. “I'm sorry I hurt you back then.”

She leaned her head back. She didn't want to. The situation was too weird. But his shoulder was so broad it just worked for her to settle against the shelf of his collarbone. And she felt
safe
. Insane to feel that way, but she did. “You're forgiven already. Geez, let it rest.”