Untitled (2 page)

   He smiled again, waving towards the oven. "I was just checking the oven."

   Nate could have kicked himself. That was a really dumb opening line in a seduction. There were so many other, better ways to start out.

   Hang on… Seduction? Hadn't he just told himself she was off-limits? He was sure he had. Obviously not all of him had been listening because seeing her again, even covered from head to toe in worn old jeans and a football sweater, his cock had sprung to life, demanding he do something about her. To her.

   He winced as his cock swelled. Wet and nearnaked had been nice, but now he was having fantasies about fucking the neat and wholesome girl-next-door! Oh, no. He shook his head gently. He'd
always
preferred his women tall and polished. Slick makeup, expensive hair, gym-toned bodies. And now he couldn't drag his eyes away from what was almost the opposite. There was something… different—no, special—about her.

   Nate tried to figure out what it was, but it kept eluding him. Gina was average height and comfortably slender with nice hips and breasts. His cock strained against his jocks and he hurriedly looked higher. Nothing notable there either. Her eyes were a pretty standard shade of hazel, her light brown hair shoulder length and tied back in a functional ponytail.

   "It works."

   "What does?" He had to hold in a groan. How long had he been standing there staring like some love

struck college boy?

   "The oven." Her voice sounded strained. Small wonder, after everything that had happened this afternoon.

   Nate put on his best professional voice, thanking the stars for all the years of practice at pretending to be something he wasn't—after all, who wanted to know they had a werewolf for a next-door neighbor?

   "Of course." He made a small note on his clipboard, "but it's part of the routine to check for cleanliness."

   And I passed?" Her single raised eyebrow was the only hint of displeasure.

   "Never thought you wouldn't," he assured her. "It's all just routine."

   He looked down at the paperwork again, hoping like hell she wouldn't notice the very suspicious bulge in his trousers. Even when she was looking at him like that, he wanted her. And, considering she had the same thoughtful gleam in her eyes that he imagined she'd have if she was considering how best to squash a spider, that was saying something. He was obviously quite desperate.

   When he turned back, he found she'd perched herself on the edge of the table, legs dangling, watching him. Damn. His randy imagination had instantly stripped her, suggesting how easily he could push her onto her back and take her right there. Right now. He could bury himself to the balls in her pussy and watch her eyes cloud as the orgasm took her.

   He shook his head again, and the image faded. She was still on the table and still fully clothed. Definitely not lying back on her elbows, legs enticingly spread to show a cunt wet with desire. It was a shame, really…

   Okay, that did it. He was going to ask her on a date, hopefully get invited back afterwards, and get her out of his system. Otherwise, the continual hardon was going to kill him. Either that, or he'd go mad as his brain kept slotting her into the starring role in each of his favorite fantasies.

   He'd just opened his mouth to speak when the front door swung open with a gust of icy air, and a short female barreled into the kitchen. At least he thought she was female. It was kind of hard to tell under all those clothes.

   Gina looked up and squealed in delight. "Megan. I'm so glad you're here!"

   "Gina-honey-I-just-heard-are-you-all-right-Mrs.Chapman-said-your-car's-been-written-off-you'renot-hurt-are-you?"

   The newcomer didn't pause for breath or an answer, but pulled Gina off the table and into a giant bear-hug. Small as her friend was, Gina was swamped, and she had to tug quite hard to get released.

   Gina smiled. "I'm fine, hon. Just a few little scratches and bruises"

   She wrote off her car? God! The way she'd behaved he'd assumed she'd just skidded off the road on the ice or something…Was that little bruise her only injury? Geez, she'd been lucky. He stared at her with newfound admiration.

   Nate cleared his throat, suddenly awkward, and waved away the invitation to join them for coffee.

   "How about I come back and finish this off

tomorrow?"

   Gina smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her face. "Would you mind? That'd be great."

   "Of course not. You should have said something earlier."

   "I did."

   "Yeah, but…" He grinned in embarrassment. "I didn't realize you meant you'd had a proper accident. You're so calm."

   Laughing, she led him to the door. "I always am. See you tomorrow, Mr. Moore."

   He grasped her hand in firm handshake. "Nate. I insist."

   "And I'm Gina." She giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound. "I feel so old when I get called Ms. Longmire."

   Nate grinned back. Tomorrow. He'd ask her out tomorrow.

Gina collapsed into the sofa with a sigh, burrowing down between the cushions and curling her legs up beside her. Thank goodness he was gone. Now there was no reason for her
not
to fall to pieces. Megan certainly wouldn't mind.

   Megan handed her a mug of hot chocolate. She wrapped her fingers around it appreciatively. She was still cold and huddled into the throw rug as Megan looked at her thoughtfully.

   "So, what happened?"

   Gina waved a hand vaguely. "Blew a tire. Ran off the road."

   "Are you sure?" Megan wandered around the room, casually straightening a crooked picture and realigning the magazines on the coffee table. She stood back, eying them critically before making a further tiny adjustment. "Because this isn't the first accident you've had."

   She was almost offhand about it, Gina marveled. Just throwing the statement out there like it was a perfectly reasonable proposition. She would have liked to shake her friend—didn't she realize that was exactly what she
didn't
need to hear right now. "Why would someone want to kill me?" she asked instead.

   Megan settled into the armchair opposite before answering. "Three accidents in a week would be suspicious on its own, but they all could have been deadly. Someone 'accidentally' pushes you off the footpath and into traffic; a pot plant falling from a balcony misses you by inches. Now this. It can't be a coincidence."

   Gina stared across at her and spoke slowly. "Maybe not, but why? No one has any reason."

   "Don't they?" Megan leaned forward, "What about Cain?"

   "Oh, but he wouldn't…" She couldn't finish the sentence.

   Megan raised her eyebrows. "Wouldn't what? Wouldn't want to? Wouldn't be able to? Don't try and tell me he doesn't have a motive.

   Gina felt the color draining from her face as Megan's words sunk in. He did have a motive, one she didn't want to consider.

   "But he's family," she pointed out.

   "So? He'll also be very rich family when you're dead."

   Gina chewed her lip in agitation. It was true. Under the terms of their mother's will, her half-brother Cain would inherit her share of their trust fund if Gina died before him. Their inheritance stayed in trust until they turned thirty—for Gina that was only a few days away. After that, it was up to her where she willed her money.

   She shook her head. "No. If nothing else, he wouldn't have the guts to do something like this."

   "What about Alan?" Megan's voice was a sibilant whisper, gliding across the room.

   Gina ignored the suggestion, standing up to switch on the lamps in a flurry of movement. Alan West was the local sheriff. He was also, unfortunately, her stepfather.

   "Well?" Megan prompted.

   Gina nodded reluctantly. "I guess he could. But he's the sheriff, for God's sake! He wouldn't…"

   Megan shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Who's going to believe any different if he says your death's an accident?"

   She was right again. He'd be the least likely suspect. The locals all thought he was wonderful—a generous man who looked out for his family and really cared about the local community. He'd only got the job two years previously, but it had been enough for him to insinuate himself into the town.

   Huh! If only they knew! He'd made her life a misery from the minute he'd married her mother, smarmily charming to everyone in public, but nasty the second they were alone. Even her mother, while not condemning Gina's dislike of her new stepfather, never believed just how vicious he could get. He never left a single bruise, but the mental scars had lasted for years.

   It had been a cruel fate that had had her multinational employer transfer her to their newest resort. The last place she wanted to be was close to her stepfather and weasel-like half-brother, but she couldn't refuse that sort of promotion. And the only town within commuting distance of the Oasis Retreat was Two Oaks, the same town where Alan West was sheriff.

   "So…?" Megan was fidgeting, impatient with the

long spell of quiet.

   "I guess." Gina lowered herself back onto the sofa. "But even if it is him, what do I do about it? I can't exactly report it to the sheriff, can I?" she scoffed.

   It was a feeble attempt at bravado, and she knew it. The whole thought of someone disliking her so much swamped her with memories of the past. It had seemed like a lifetime ago when she'd been so lacking in self-esteem she'd not even bothered applying for college and had jumped at the opportunity to take on a junior clerical role with the Oasis Group. Her stepfather had sneered at her too many times. He'd told her she was worthless, she had no ability, no potential, was ugly, that no one could possibly ever like someone like her…

   And now it all came back in a rush of fear and selfloathing. Once again, someone thought she was worthless—so worthless she could be killed and no one would even notice. No one would even care.

   Was she really that dull a person? Gina lowered her head, her face in her hands, and tried to concentrate on positive things. For the first time in years she couldn't think of any, and she was horrified by the tears that started to fall. Oh, God, and now Megan was going to think she was useless too.

   She felt someone settle onto the sofa beside her, and a pair of arms wrapped firmly around her shoulders. Megan. A hand started to stroke her neck… calming… soothing. She felt just like a little child again. Safe—and loved.

   Megan was so close she could feel her heart beating, its rhythm jarring against her own. She snuggled closer. Now she could feel the warm moisture of Megan's breath tickling the fine hairs at her nape.

   "You're not alone, honey," was breathed into her ear. "Not any more."

   "No." She wasn't alone.

   Megan's arm nudged her breast, her hand brushing softly over her nipple as she moved. Gina sighed, happy again, and relaxed. She barely even felt the careful stroking as Megan's fingers again brushed over her nipple, but she felt it pebbling in her bra.

   The fabric was rough against the sensitized skin, and she rubbed at it irritably, cursing her choice of clothing. The only reason she'd fished it out from the back of the drawer was the memory of Nate standing in her entry, dominating it, and staring through her blouse to the lace demi-bra that barely covered her. She hadn't worn this horrible old thing for years but had instinctively snatched it up and put it on under her sweater. It wasn't the slightest bit sexy—probably the reason she'd chosen it, she realised ruefully. It was less Nate she had to worry about than her own reaction to him.

* * * *

   A shadow loomed in the doorway to the bathroom, leaning negligently against the doorframe as he sniffed the air. "Been hunting, bro? I smell fresh blood."

   Hunting? He wished… Preferably catching today's woman of choice and bringing her home to play with. Maybe he'd even want to keep her.

   "I cut myself shaving, you idiot," he snarled, watching the shadow step further into the room. Once in the light, he was startlingly similar in looks to Nate, but considerably larger.

   Sebastian Moore grinned and ruffled his little brother's hair. "I know that, you goose. I was teasing."

   Nate snorted, and went back to rinsing the shaving cream from the sink.

   "Seriously though, are you going on the prowl tonight? We're all going for a run."

   'All' meant his brother, as well as his cousins Rafe and Rob. They'd grown up together, and it had been years since the old gang of four had regularly run wild in the forest. Not since they'd been pups, really.

   "You're two nights early, aren't you?" he growled, still unreasonably annoyed about the tiny cut.

   Sebastian smiled back placidly. "You know how crowded it gets in the forest at full moon. We thought we'd have an extra night out—just us."

   It was tempting—and it might even help him to forget about Gina Longmire for a few hours. His family were the alphas of the area, and the only ones who could change whenever they wanted. On fullmoon nights when all the betas changed, there were a lot more werewolves about. Sebastian was pack leader, so he had to be seen to be involved in the local werewolf community. Nate usually preferred to stay home and watch TV.

   He wiped his towel roughly over the basin and tossed it in the clothes hamper in the corner. "Yeah, I'll come with you."