Make Me Howl (21 page)

But a glance at Jazzy, her head so near Chase’s as they murmured together after she’d just been angry enough with him to squash him like a bug, gave Bella a second thought. Why should she hold so tightly to her anger? For the safety of what’s been for so long? The comfort?

She had to either let him sit or make him stand there and watch all evening like a medieval man servant. And as enjoyable as having her own personal come-when-I-beckon-slave sounded, she couldn’t do it. After making him stand a moment longer, she grudgingly nodded.

He sat near her. Too near. “Have you ordered?” His tone was as smoky as the air around them.

“Not yet. I think I’m having the steak salad. What do you like to eat here?”

Spencer chuckled. “I have what most sane people have at a steak house. A steak.”

“And ordering a salad at a steak house means I’m not sane?” Bella tipped her head as she silently dared him to answer.

He shrugged. “At least it has steak in it, so maybe you aren’t too far gone.”

A waitress, casually dressed in jeans and a pink t-shirt that said,
Pete’s Texas Steak House—50 Years of Damn Good Food
stopped by their table with a pad in her hands. “You ready to order?”

“Steak salad for me,” Bella answered before someone could try to order for her.

The other three at the table groaned, then Jazzy cleared her throat. “I want the rib- eye, rare. Forget her salad and give her a steak.”

“Leave my order as I gave it to you.” Bella instructed the waitress.

“I want a rare rib-eye, too,” Chase said. “And I really think you’d enjoy the steak more than the salad, Bella.”

“No. But thank you,” she answered, not a little irritated.

Spencer nodded. “Make it three rare rib-eyes. Actually, make it—”

“No!” Bella kept her voice even as she grabbed Spencer’s hand in a tight grip. “I don’t want my order changed. I. Want. My. Salad.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I was going to say, make it medium rare.”

Heat flashed through her entire body. Why hadn’t she kept quiet? She loosened her hold on his hand. “Sorry.”

“And forget her salad. Give her a steak.”

The waitress chuckled. “Want anything to drink? Or just water?”

The three steak eaters ordered beer. Bella wanted water, but after her trouble ordering the salad, decided against it. “I’ll take a beer, too.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

Jazzy spoke to Chase in a low tone, making Bella wonder if she was threatening him if he mentioned being mates again. She probably whispered so she wouldn’t have witnesses.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me as a dinner partner.” Spencer put his hand on the back of her chair.

“Think they’d notice if we moved to a different table?”

“Maybe they’d notice—” he answered seriously, then softened the words with a slight grin—”when they left to go home, found they had an extra car and needed someone to drive it for them.”

She watched his mouth. As he spoke, the corners of his lips had a way of quirking, as if he were making fun of himself. Or his words.

She’d just taken a sip of her beer when the waitress came back with a heavy tray. With an expert maneuver, she kicked out a stand next to their table, set down the tray and started unloading. In front of Jazzy, Chase and Spencer, she set platters of steaming steak, running with red juices, and a mound of French fries. In front of Bella she set a huge white bowl of salad greens, with a rib-eye steak, running with red juices, sitting on top. The waitress grinned conspiratorially. “I thought this might satisfy everyone.”

With a groan, Bella couldn’t help but agree. It looked, and smelled, like heaven.

“I can take it back for the normal steak salad, if you’d rather.” The woman widened her eyes as she waited for Bella’s answer.

“This will be fine.” Bella picked up her fork and steak knife and cut into the meat. Spearing a bite, she put it into her mouth then closed her eyes in order to enjoy the flavors from the blend of spices and mesquite smoke.

Now that was good.

No one spoke while they tore into their steaks, forgetting all about the French fries and lettuce.

Bella was the first to set her knife and fork aside and lean back in her chair. Next time, maybe she would order just a rib-eye. In just a few moments, Jazzy had finished off her steak, and was quickly followed by Chase and, finally, by Spencer.

Chase put his arm along the back of Jazzy’s chair and whispered something to her. At her nod, he looked at Bella. “Would you mind giving Spencer a ride home? Jazzy and I…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Bella fully understood. They wanted to be together. And alone.

“But I don’t have my car,” Bella gently teased.

“You can drive mine.” Jazzy reached into her purse then tossed her keys across the table to Bella. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when Chase stood, grabbed the check with one hand and Jazzy with the other and headed for the exit. “I’ll take care of this.”

At least Spencer looked a little embarrassed when they had gone. “If you don’t want to drive all the way to my house, I can call a cab.”

Her heart sped up. “I don’t mind driving you, but you’ll have to give me directions. I have no idea where you live.”

“Does the term
BFE
mean anything to you?” he asked, his tone dry.

“Yes, but I can’t imagine a dazzling urbanite like you living there.”

“You’ll find dazzling urbanites in every chink and pothole in Texas.” He lowered one eyebrow then stopped her heart with the world’s sexiest smile.

She took a moment to remember how to breathe. “Well, if you’re ready.”

He stood and held her chair as she got up. When they reached the exit, he opened the door for her and when they reached Jazzy’s car, he took her keys and unlocked it then opened the door for her again.

She watched him as he circled to get into the passenger’s seat, amazed at what she’d discovered. He was the rarest of men. Good looking with impeccable manners.

And sexy as they come.

Starting the car, she slowly drove to the edge of the parking lot then shot him a glance. “Which way?”

In the small confines of the Z, it shouldn’t have surprised her when he caught and held her gaze. But it did. For some reason, men were often intimidated by a woman in her position. After a long moment, he tipped his head to the right without breaking their connection. “East.”

The ride took forever—and was over much too soon. Once they were away from the city lights, the quarter moon’s glow drenched the landscape. Too bad they couldn’t go on, riding forever with the radio playing softly in the background.

When they finally reached his home, so close to his other family members’ homes, she knew herself for a traitor. No matter what this man had said about her sister, she couldn’t hate him. She pulled to a stop in his driveway.

“Would you like to come in for a nightcap?”

Tell him you’ve got to get home,
her mind instructed. “I’d love to.”

His nod and slight wink kept her in her seat as he got out.

What am I doing? I’m vulnerable enough as it is. If I go into his house, I could really fall under his spell. I’ll tell him I’m leaving as soon as he opens my door.

But when the door opened, he took her hand and every thought and protest evaporated. He helped her out and led her up the brick sidewalk to his door, made of leaded glass.

She waited while he unlocked, then held it for her. The small entryway had oaken floors, a rug of dusty earth tones and a bench that looked as if it were made from smoothed, varnished branches from a tree. Southwestern art, quilts and hand-carved wooden bowls with inlays of turquoise filled the living room. With just the flick of a switch, a fire blazed in his fireplace.

“Well, that saves you from having to carry out ashes.”

“Big brother said it was cheating to have a fire without having to do the work. But I figure living in Texas, I should take a little extra advantage of the nearby gas wells.” His chuckle came from low in his chest. “And it leaves time for more enjoyable things.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and in just a moment, returned with two glasses of wine. “I hope you like Burgundy.”

Surprised, she nodded. “I do, but how did you know? Most women I know prefer white zin.”

He responded with a roll of his eyes. “Please. Might as well drink RC Soda.”

She took the glass he held out to her then glanced at the curved sofa.

“Let’s sit by the fire.” He tossed a pair of cushions from a built-in wood box to the floor then pulled her down so she sat in front of him, her back to his chest.

The fire was warm, but the real heat in the room came from him. His breath stirred the hair at her nape, tickling ever so slightly. She wanted to let herself go. Lean into him. But she knew if she did, if she relaxed even a bit, she’d belong to him, whether he realized it or not.

Remembering the Burgundy, she lifted the glass and took a long sip. From the corner of her eye, she saw he drank, too. When he set his glass on the floor, he leaned into her.

She glanced over her shoulder. His bottom lip was moist, and without stopping to think, she licked it with the tip of her tongue.

His gaze kindled. As if he could no longer be restrained, he pulled her into the circle of his arms, covering her mouth with his. His tongue stroked hers, and without breaking the kiss, he captured her glass and set it down.

Her heart thrilled in her chest, beating double time and causing her head to swim. As he deepened the kiss, she pulled him with her to the floor, where she could at last wrap both arms around him. Press her chest into his. Feel the weight of him as he cocked his knee across her thighs.

Lifting his head, he breathed an obscenity. Admiring the way the fire gilded a small scar that ran down his cheek, she traced it with her index finger. “I like it here, by the fire.” She dropped her hand to his chest, where she unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, then the next. She ran a finger down the exposed skin. “Where would you like to go?”

Humor sparked in his eyes when he realized what she’d done. “To my bedroom.”

She unbuttoned the next pair of buttons then lifted her head to kiss his neck, just below his ear. “Is there a fireplace in your bedroom?” She pulled his shirttail from his jeans then reached for the buttons closing his fly.

His “uh-huh” sounded a lot like a groan, but sent an electric charge through her.

She slid her hands inside his jeans. “And can you make it burn as easily as you did this one?”

He gasped as she touched him then kissed her again. With gentle fingers, he pulled her sweater over her head and off her arms. Just a flick of his fingers, and he unlatched her bra and pushed it aside, exposing her breasts. He held her gaze as he bent low over her, then closing his eyes, covered her nipple, gently sucking it into his mouth.

Pleasure pulsed through her, making her short of breath and ready to beg for more. She slid her fingers into his hair, hoping to hold him there.

But rather than obey her silent request, he raised his head and gazed at her, his eyes at half mast. Slowly he lowered the zipper on her jeans then pushed them, along with her panties, down her thighs. His touch had a fiery gentleness she’d never before known.

She tried to think, tried to remember something, anything, before she lost herself completely. What had they been talking about? The bedroom? The fire? There was something…

With a swift move, he tossed her jeans away and moved over her, fitting himself to her. She wrapped her legs around his and lifted her hips to meet him. As he entered her, she gasped a long, slow breath.

They moved together in a primal rhythm, her mind catching fire. How had she survived her entire life without him? So many years wasted. So many nights empty.

This man, whom she’d hated so fiercely, morphed in her heart.

He moved against her, as if trying to put himself so far inside she could never remove him from her soul. If she could speak, if she could think, she’d tell him he was already there. She’d never, no matter what, be able to erase him from her heart. Or her mind.

He came with a final thrust, and lifting his head he arched his back and voiced a cry that wrenched her heart and sounded very nearly like a howl.

Following immediately behind him, she did the same.

Chapter Ten

I readjusted my seat atop one of the stools Doc had in his lab, but I couldn’t get comfortable with my butt on that cold metal disc. Why were aluminum seats ever invented? And why would anyone with a living, feeling backside allow one of the cold monsters in a place where they might have to sit?

So unwanted visitors wouldn’t hang around? Or so when a coworker took a break, they’d remember to go back to work when the “in pain” signals hit the brain?

Doc flicked on a light, not unlike ones I’d seen used in old black and whites for interrogating bad guys. Then he reached in his pocket, pulled out a small bag, which he unzipped and removed two vials of blood.

“Ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “Did you have that in your pocket at dinner?”

“Of course not. Something might have happened to it in my pocket.” He shook his head then warmed me with a quick glance. “I might have gotten attacked by a woman gone wild.”