Werecats and Werelocks (Collection) (11 page)

Oh, of all the fucktards ... “Yeah, Sam. That's exactly right. I cooked so I could win you over. If you'll recall our conversations, and we've had many between all those
loose
moments, I fucking hate to cook. And nail you? Like keep you forever?” Her voice became raw with that. Raw and tinged with flabbergasted.

"You got it."

Fury tingled along her spine, ripe and hot. “Oh, dude. You so have it wrong. I wouldn't keep you forever if somebody offered me ownership of Lord and Taylor's to do it. You're too involved in making that money you think I want so badly, buddy. I was keeping my end of the bargain. I said I'd cook and I did."

"Among other things,” he drawled with sarcasm.

Narrowing her eyes, Frankie took a step backward, the angry rush of words that came to mind thwarted only by how insulted she was. He actually thought she'd done this because he was the answer to her mating problem? The fucking nerve. “You know something, Sam? You're not good enough to mate with me. Not by a long shot. In fact, I'd rather mate with Harry, you self-absorbed, arrogant, cranky shit!"

Whirling around on her heel, she grabbed the coat and a bag of her things Renaldo had given him and headed for the door, opening then slamming it with a force she didn't know she had in her.

Just who the fuck did Sam Carsters think he was accusing her of trying to nab her a millionaire? Kicking at the slushy snow, her anger fueled her pace out of his swanky neighborhood. The air chilled her to the bone, but she'd be fucked and feathered if she'd go back to his house ever again.

And to think she'd actually liked him—a lot. She'd even gone so far as to wish they'd met in the lobby of his building. That the attraction she felt for him would have still been there without the urgent circumstances. Yeah, maybe then she might have focused a bunch of energy on working him, as he'd called it, but not in the way he seemed to think. She would have liked to show Sam what it was to enjoy life, appreciate the things he had and lighten the hell up.

Now she just wanted him to rot in that place called hell because he'd made her feel cheap and tawdry.

The motherfucker.

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"So how's Wiggles?” Glynice asked, breezing into Sam's office to drop the last of his calls on his desk before rushing home to her family for the holiday.

Sam didn't look up. He couldn't.

"Are you still grudging about the damned cat? It's been almost two weeks since I found her, Sam. Get over it already. That hairy little thing's made you smile more in two weeks than in the twenty years I've known you. Your father would be so sad to see you like this, Sam. Here in the office on Christmas Eve. He loved Christmas and so did your mother, and they sure didn't work on it. They went home to
you
."

She leaned down over his desk and popped him under the chin. “Now go home to your cat and stop hanging around here. It's Christmas Eve, for God's sake. And you know, the invitation always stands to come to my house for Christmas dinner—if you have a death wish, that is,” she cackled.

When Sam didn't move, Glynice plunked a hand over the papers on his desk. “Hurry up and get moving. Your cat's waiting. Go home to it.” She chuckled and patted him on the head before whisking out the office door.

If only he could...

"She's been like this for two days? Damn, I'm sorry, Frankie."

Renaldo raised an arrogant eyebrow at him and flipped his palm at Sam dismissively. “No thanks to you, from what I'm told."

"We had a fight."

"I heard."

The set of Sam's mouth was grim. “It was bad."

"You were a total shit."

"I can be like that sometimes."

"Ya think?"

Sam nodded and crouched down to bring himself face level with the ottoman. “I think. It's instinct for me to look for the crappy in people. I think my secretary pegged me right when she said I work too much. I seem to have forgotten what it is not to be so judgmental."

Renaldo smacked his lips. “Well, Mr. Greenbacks, way-to-go."

Sam gazed into Frankie's eyes.

Her cat ones.

When she'd arrived at Renaldo's two nights ago, first she'd cried, then she'd called her parents and then, because she wasn't mating anymore, she'd shifted.

She'd shifted and she couldn't shift back.

Sam ran a finger under her chin, but Frankie lifted her head and averted her eyes to the far wall. For all the misery he'd caused her by accusing her of being some mate stalking gold digger, she should spew the tuna she'd had for lunch all over his immaculate navy suit and red tie. She knew how to summon a good yark. Instead, she opted to be cool—distant. Do what cats do best. Ignore the living shit out of you.

"So what happens now?” Sam looked to Renaldo, the worry in his eyes was clear as she peeked at him, but she wouldn't be swayed.

"Did I get here before you, hot stuff? If there was something I could have done, I'd have done it by now, but I'm late. I have a Christmas Eve party to attend.” He pulled on a pink scarf and brushed a hand over his spiky hair. “And if I were you? I'd hang my head in shame, buddy. If you knew the first thing about Frankie, you'd know she comes from some serious cash. Old money, by the way. Not the new stuff you mouthy lawyers use as a reason to avoid entanglements and as excuses to be assholes."

Sam's sigh was aggravated, but contrition lingered on his strong face. “Look, I said I was sorry."

Renaldo's head bobbed up and down. “Uh-huh. You sure did. Good on you, bully. Now you go about being a dumb ass. You wear it soooo well. Me? I'm going to my party. I totally don't want to miss the artichoke dip this year. Jay makes the most fabulous artichoke dip.” He brushed a hand over Frankie's head and blew her a kiss, exiting his apartment door.

Sam sat down on his haunches on the floor in front of her. “So like I said, I'm sorry. I overreacted."

No. I'd hardly call accusing me of being a gold digger overreacting. It was a simple deduction
.

"I have a lot of money."

Dude, no way? Me too
.

"Women usually want to date me because of it."

Was that what we did? Date? How come I ended up doing all the cooking? When one dates doesn't that usually involve some wining and dining? I think I've been shafted
.

"It tends to make a guy cautious."

Or paranoid delusional
.

"And being a criminal defense attorney, I always look for the worst possible motive, and not just in the criminals I defend."

Shut. Up. Really? I so had the wool pulled over my eyes
. Her spine began to tingle, so she rolled onto her back to stretch, lazily reaching upward to the ceiling with her front paws. Then she yawned—wide. Frankie rolled back over.

"I'm a shit."

Indeed
. She'd nod her wee cat head in agreement if that were possible.

He took to stroking her back, smoothing the long hair of her coat with a hand that was gentle. Like the Sam before he'd called her some money grubbing tramp. “And now you're stuck again because I was a shithead."

Observant
.

Sam kneaded the spot just above her tail with his knuckles. God, that was good ... “I turned the lights on the Christmas tree before I left."

Festive
.

Sam rose and paced in front of the ottoman. “So I came here to tell you something."

Niiiice. What haven't we covered? Money hungry? Check. Loose? Check. Really, what's left?
But he'd caught her attention. Frankie took her time sitting up on her haunches, reaching her paws in front of her and rolling her head, then settling her feet beneath her in bored repose.

He stopped pacing and looked her square in the eye, his perfect hair glistening from the snow and his eyes sincere. “I can't stop thinking about you, Frankie. Not since you arrived and not since you left. You're the first woman I've wanted to get to know better in a very long time."

Like she'd stopped thinking about him? Not that she wouldn't have her tongue cut out before admitting it, though.

His hard face softened in the light of Renaldo's over-the-top Christmas light extravaganza. Running a hand through his hair, Sam shook his head, his grin wry. Words were his thing. He used them to slice people to ribbons all the time, but it was obvious to Frankie, in a personal setting, he sucked big, fat man hooters at expressing himself. “I think I miss you. I think I miss having you to come home to. In fact, I know I do. Look, I came here to apologize and see if you'd give me another chance. Maybe we could start over and do this the right way. Spend more time together."

Which might be awkward in social settings, seeing as I'm a cat and you're a human. Somehow, that would paint a very bizarre picture at say, a lawyer's convention, no? Me on a leash...

"But now you're stuck again and that's because of me."

Um, yeah. Fucktard
.

Kneeling in front of her again, Sam scooped her up in his arms and scratched her ears. “Can I just say this is weird? I know you're in there, but I'm apologizing to a cat."

And driving me insane with those hands
. Frankie couldn't help it, she arched into his palm, an unbidden purr erupting from her mouth. Gawd, he was so hawt. Which didn't contradict the fact that he was still a shit—a hawt one, but still a shit. The tingle she'd experienced in her spine earlier returned full force, tugging at her insides.

Sam searched her green eyes, intently, insistently. “Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

Her fur rippled. Well, it meant
something
. When he stroked her chin, it was all over but the cryin'. Just like that, in a tangle of shedding fur and crunching limbs, she was transformed to her human form once again.

Naked, but transformed.

Sam closed his eyes and gulped. Her eyes followed the up and down motion of his Adam's apple. “I don't know if I'll ever get used to that."

Frankie cocked an eyebrow at him, leaning away from the grip he'd taken on her hip. “Who said you'll have the opportunity?"

"Know what I say?"

She shook her head, fighting a chuckle, trying to ignore how good it felt to be in his arms again. “No, what do you say?"

"I say you need me. You haven't shifted in two days, yet I'm here twenty minutes and look. You're all human."

Frankie rolled her eyes at him. “Very knight in shining armor of you to point that out."

Sam cupped her chin, stroking her jaw with his thumb, making her body curl into his without will. “Seriously, Frankie. I was an asshole. I'm sorry."

"You really were."

He nodded his head in a somber motion, but his eyes glittered. “I really was. How can I make it up to you?"

She draped her arms around his neck and smiled. “I believe you mentioned doing this right. Doing this right could entail pecan-encrusted salmon during a fine dining experience. Dating me all right and proper. Movies, maybe the occasional concert. I'm a Barry Manilow fan, FYI. It means leaving the office at a reasonable hour to do it too. It means delegating so you can. Because if nothing else, I enjoy life, Sam. Especially seeing as the possibility of it being reduced to a cat litter box is so real. Now, if you're up to that, I might consider it."

He chuckled in her ear, sending a skitter of electricity along her spine. “Done. Anything else?"

Her nipples brushed against the fine silk of his suit. “No, I think we've covered the basics for now, Scrooge."

"About that..."

"About what?"

"The Scrooge thing."

Her smile was warm and she was curious, but she didn't want to pressure him to talk about something that had so obviously pissed him off. She had a feeling they had plenty of time. “Wow, you're all about the sharing tonight, huh?"

"My family is gone. My parents, that is. I think I have some distant relatives somewhere in Europe, but that's it. I never had a reason to celebrate Christmas after they died. But I like Christmas. Really. I was just picking a fight to pick a fight. You were turning me into someone I didn't understand and I reacted."

"Ohhhh, no. That was all you. I can't make you do anything.
You
were turning into someone you don't understand because you
way
like me. And I guess, for someone like you, who's always buried in some legal case, that can be a sort of overwhelming experience. I'll let it slide this time due to uncharted territory."

Sam's eyes held hers. “I can't help who I am and who I am is a man who defends pricks sometimes. I think that bled over into my personal life and I sorta got crazy."

"Ya think?"

He nuzzled her neck, trailing his fingers between her breasts with seductive passes. “I think. So you wanna kiss and make up or something?"

"Or something,” she muttered as his lips found hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth with delicious silky-smooth strokes.

"I thought we were getting to know each other better,” he muttered, pulling off his jacket and fumbling with the tie around his neck.

Frankie curved a leg around his waist, molding herself to the delicious, rigid line between his legs. “I thought so too, but my hormones say differently."

The grumble from his chest, now bare, made her tingle from head to toe. “The hormone thing. That must be what made you shift back. My hormones specifically, huh?"

"Don't get over-confident, mister.” Her smile was sly.

Sliding out of his trousers and kicking off his shoes, Sam hauled the lower half of her body to his, letting his cock caress her folds. “I'm just sayin'...” he offered before he hiked her legs up around his waist and walked her back to the ottoman. Setting her on it, he slid down her body, planting kisses on her overheated flesh as he went. He cupped her breasts together, taking turns at laving each nipple to a fine, rigid point.

Frankie leaned back on her elbows, spreading her legs wide to allow him access to her cunt. Sam obliged, dragging his fingers through the wet, slick surface, stroking her clit to an aching nub, reaching for her mouth again and plunging his tongue into it to stroke the dark recesses.