Werewolf in Alaska: A Wild About You Novel (9 page)

Sometime during the drive around the lake, as she finished off the second candy bar and tossed the wrapper onto the passenger seat, she remembered that Jake was the guy who had been her first customer. That sale had jump-started her career. She was grateful for that, but bastards could do good things without realizing they were doing them. She thought Jake fit in that category.

Jake wasn’t her concern, anyway. She was focused on the wolf and how she would get him away from Jake and into her truck. If Jake was tired of taking care of the wolf, then her job would be easy. Well, maybe not if she approached him in a belligerent way.

Any hope that he wouldn’t be there, which would excuse his lack of concern for the wolf, vanished as she pulled up beside his truck, which was parked beside his cabin. He was there, all right, and likely had been inside his comfy home during the whole sorry drama. Meanwhile his pet wolf had feared for his life. Apparently Jake didn’t give a damn.

By the time she tromped up his front steps, she was spitting nails. He had a noble animal under his care, and he wasn’t paying the least attention. She hoped he was prepared to turn the wolf over to someone else, because she was ready.

She knocked on the screen door and got no response. The interior door was closed, so she opened the screen and pounded on the wooden door. Still no answer. She wasn’t about to leave without having a conversation with Mr. Jake Hunter, so she banged louder.

“I know you’re in there, Jake!” she called. “And I’m not leaving until you open the door! I want to talk about your wolf!” She’d raised her fist to pound again when the door swung open.

Jake stood there in a pair of sweats and nothing else. As always, he looked amazing. If she hadn’t been so enraged about his behavior, she might have enjoyed the sight.

Apparently he’d had some accident recently, though, because a series of red welts marked his left side. And his nose was bruised. Maybe he’d been in a fight.

She looked into his green eyes, so like the eyes of the wolf. When she’d gazed into his eyes three years ago, they’d been warm and full of interest. Now they were like chips of green glass, cold and hard.

He said nothing. Not
hello
, or
come in
, or even
what do you want?
He just stared at her as if hoping she’d take the hint and leave.

Well, that wasn’t happening. Mr. I Have a Great Body and I Know It was going to answer her questions. “A wolf let himself into your house a little while ago. Where is he?”

Jake’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes, you do! You’re keeping a wolf, either full-blooded or a hybrid, on your property.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Look, I’m not going to report you for it, so you don’t have to lie. Reporting you is the last thing I want to do. I’m not worried about what would happen to you, but I don’t want that wolf confiscated, or transported somewhere. Polecat Lake is his home, and he deserves to stay here.”

Jake met that speech with more stony silence.

“Just tell me this. Are you planning to turn him over to a zoo or a sanctuary? That’s the only thing I can figure out, since you were so hot to get rid of my carving. If you’re giving up custody of the wolf, then you probably didn’t want the carving that looks exactly like him, either.”

He studied her for a moment longer. Then he sighed. “Ted Haggerty always said you have an incredible imagination. He must be right if you imagined that you saw a wolf waltz into my house. There’s no wolf here. There never has been a wolf here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to do.” He started to close the door.

“Don’t you dare dismiss me!” She stepped over the threshold. Let him throw her bodily out if he had the guts to do it. “The wolf is not a figment of my imagination, and you damned well know it. Where is he?”

With a shrug that made all those yummy muscles flex, Jake stepped back. “Go ahead. Look around. Maybe this
wolf
”—he used air quotes to emphasize his mocking tone—“crept into my house without my knowledge. Maybe he’s hiding under the bed. Search the place if that will make you happy.”

“See? You know he likes to hide under the bed!” She was determined not to be distracted by all that bare skin. And where had he picked up those welts, anyway?

“Any frightened creature dives under a bed.”

“If you think I won’t look there because I don’t want to seem crazy, forget it.” She stormed past him. God, but he smelled good.

One quick glance around his combination living and dining room, which looked similar to hers in both layout and furnishings, convinced her that a large black wolf wasn’t there. She noticed that the kitchen had a pocket door like hers, so she walked in there, thinking she might find a water dish and a food bowl on the floor. He wouldn’t have had time to hide every bit of evidence.

The kitchen yielded nothing of interest. No food or water bowls. No dirty dishes in the sink. Either the guy was neat or he ate out a lot.

With one last survey to make sure she hadn’t missed any telltale signs of a wolf in residence, she left the kitchen and started for his bedroom. He came walking out of it, pulling on a plain white T-shirt.

She appreciated his decision to put on more clothes. After all the times she’d ogled his naked body through her binoculars, she had difficulty ignoring the up-close-and-personal view. This visit was about wolf welfare, not her infatuation with Jake’s physique.

“I want to look in your bedroom.”

He stepped aside and swept an arm in that direction.

“Thank you.” Keeping her mind on her mission, she walked in. The bed, of course, was sinfully enormous. It was probably one of those super kings, which a man of his size needed.

A comforter in shades of green covered the thick mattress. He’d stacked four pillows against the rustic wooden headboard. An image of him sprawled naked on that magnificent bed popped into her rebellious brain and wouldn’t leave.

“Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care,” she muttered, hoping she could make it be true. Dropping to her knees, she peeked under the bed. Empty. Damn it! She’d wanted to catch him in the lie.

Pushing herself upright again, she turned to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her. “Did you let him out again? I sure hope not, because he’s wounded, or did you miss that little fact?”

“Sorry, but I haven’t seen a wolf around here, wounded or otherwise.”

She hated the way his direct gaze affected her, making her doubt what she’d seen with her own two eyes. “He’s big and black, with green eyes. He fought a grizzly last night, I’m pretty sure to save me, and the bear raked her claws down his side.”

“A wolf attacked a bear to save you? That sounds like something out of the tabloids. Are you sure that’s what happened?”

“Of course I’m sure! I kept him overnight because I was worried the wounds would get infected. But I let him out tonight, and he came around the lake and opened your slider. I saw him do it.”

“How could you possibly see such a thing?”

“I watched through my binoculars.”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “Are you in the habit of watching my place?”

Dear God, now she was blushing. She felt the heat in her cheeks and glanced away. “No, not really.” She wasn’t good at lying when she was face-to-face with someone. “But tonight I was worried about the wolf.”

“Now I’ll tell you what really happened.”

“Oh, because you know?” She retrieved her indignation and pulled it around her like a cloak. She didn’t have to wonder where he got that bruise on his nose. Somebody had probably punched him for being so damned arrogant.

“The explanation is pretty obvious. You became very attached to this wolf, which supposedly saved you.”

“Yes, I did, and it absolutely saved me!”

“Whatever. Anyway, after you let him go, he headed into the hills, like any self-respecting wolf would do. But you desperately wanted to see him again, so when a cloud overhead created a shadow on my deck, you convinced yourself the wolf was here in my house.”

“That’s not right.” But the wolf was no longer in his house, so she’d have a hard time contradicting his story. She’d told Lionel to go home, so she was the only one who’d watched the wolf go through the slider. And she was famous in Polecat for her active imagination.

“You can continue to think what you like.” He pushed himself away from the doorframe. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

“Why did you give Ted that carving?”

He looked straight at her. “Got tired of it.”

Ouch. Well, she’d asked him after all. She couldn’t complain if she didn’t like the answer. “You could have sold it for a lot of money.”

“Didn’t want the hassle. Are we done here?”

“Yes.” She’d taken about all the insults she could handle for one evening. “We’re so done.”

“Good.” He walked into the living room and opened the front door.

She couldn’t get through it fast enough.

“Have a nice night,” he called after her.

Spinning around, she let go with a parting shot. “I know you’re connected to that wolf, and somehow I’m going to prove it.”

“No, you’re not. Good-bye, Rachel.” He closed the door.

She wanted to yell in frustration. But that wouldn’t accomplish anything and might startle any wild creatures nearby, including, perhaps, the wolf in question. Climbing into her truck, she pulled onto the two-lane road. Instead of going back the way she’d come, she drove slowly the other way and peered into the woods.

“Are you out there, wolf?” She tried to tune in to his mind, but all she got was static. After being the most real thing in her life for twenty-four hours, he seemed to have totally disappeared.

On his flight to San Francisco two days later, Jake vowed to put the incident with Rachel behind him. Talking about it might have helped, but he couldn’t confide in any of his Were friends. He’d built a reputation as a crusader against Were-human mating, so how could he admit that a human had tempted him so much he’d almost blown his cover?

Besides, it wouldn’t happen again. This trip away from Polecat and Rachel would allow him to refocus. Meeting with Giselle Landry, who shared his objections to Were-human mating, would help, too.

His plane touched down a few minutes past eight in the evening. As it taxied toward the gate, he called Giselle, even though their appointment wasn’t until the next morning. “Is it too late to meet for a drink?” He hoped not. He’d been alone with his thoughts far too much in the past forty-eight hours, and he needed to get his mind off his problems.

“It’s not too late.” She sounded frazzled. “But I should warn you I’m not good company right now.”

“Hey, if you’d rather not, that’s okay.” He tamped down his disappointment. “I’ll be at your office at ten tomorrow and we can talk then.”

“Actually, the idea of relaxing over a glass of vino sounds wonderful. I just can’t promise I won’t start whining.”

“You can whine all you want, Giselle. I’ll catch a cab to the Fairmont and meet you in the bar.”

“Meet me in the lobby instead, okay? I know a great little Were-owned place down by Fisherman’s Wharf.”

“Perfect.” Jake’s spirits lifted. Listening to Giselle’s troubles, whatever they might be, would take his mind off his own. He also looked forward to a night surrounded by his own kind. His preference for being a lone wolf had its drawbacks and probably made him more vulnerable to temptation of the Rachel variety.

“Okay,” Giselle said. “See you in about an hour.”

“If you’ll tell me what you’re driving, I can wait outside for you.”

“A Harley.”

He laughed. “Excellent.” Riding behind Giselle while she navigated San Francisco’s hills on her motorcycle sounded like exactly what he needed. “See you soon.” As he disconnected, he once again wondered if someday Giselle could be more than a friend. He made a promise to himself to keep his mind open to the possibility.

An hour later, he stood outside the Fairmont as the fog rolled in. Great night for a couple of werewolves. He scanned the area for a motorcycle, and here she came, materializing out of the mist. She’d gone with all black—jacket, pants, boots, and bike. He wouldn’t have known for sure it was her until he noticed a stray lock of dark red hair that had escaped from under her black helmet.

She spotted him and veered in his direction. “Hi there, Jake!” She put down a booted foot but left the motor running as she reached behind her and came up with a second helmet and goggles to match hers. “Put these on.”

“Thanks.” Knowing he’d be a passenger on her Harley, he’d worn jeans and a sweatshirt over his T-shirt. After putting on the helmet and goggles, he climbed onto the cushioned seat behind her.

“All set?” she called over her shoulder.

“Go for it.”

She took off with a roar, and he steadied himself by holding on to her waist. The ride sent a welcome surge of adrenaline through him. He tried to convince himself that touching Giselle had something to do with it, too.

But when he compared his reaction to Giselle with what he’d felt with Rachel . . . damn it! Was he doomed to constantly reference Rachel whenever he came in contact with another female? That would suck.

Well, even if he didn’t feel any sparks with Giselle, he loved riding on her motorcycle. She turned the streets of San Francisco into her own personal roller coaster, something she obviously relished doing. She’d mentioned having problems, so this wild race through the foggy night might be helping her release some tension, too.

Jake was almost sorry when they reached the harbor and she parked the Harley. “That was great,” he said as he climbed off.

“I took the long way. Hope you didn’t mind.”

“Nope. Loved it.” After taking off his goggles and helmet, he glanced at the bar she’d brought him to, a cozy-looking place with a wooden sign announcing it was the Den. He smiled. “Clever name. No one would guess.”

“No, they don’t.” She removed her helmet and shook out her wavy red hair. “They think it’s just another bar. But even so, humans don’t tend to stick around after they’ve wandered in. On some level they must realize these aren’t their peeps.”

“I appreciate you bringing me here. It’s exactly what I need right now. I’m pretty isolated in Polecat.”

She tucked her goggles inside her helmet and started toward the bar. “What about the Hunter pack?”

“It’s based in Idaho.”

“I guess I didn’t realize that. Most Weres live where their pack lives, so I naturally thought you—”

“I like Alaska better.” He opened the bar’s wooden door and held it for her.

“So you really are a lone wolf.”

“I suppose I am.” He hadn’t evaluated that in terms of taking a mate, either. As he followed Giselle into the dimly lit bar, he acknowledged that his isolation could pose a problem for most females. Werewolves were pack animals, and most of them preferred it that way.

A female often moved to her mate’s pack, but sometimes it worked the other way and a male switched locations. Jake hadn’t thought about it before, but how many Were females would willingly spend the rest of their lives as he did, distanced from any pack? He thought the spectacular setting created a decent trade-off, but would she? Maybe not.

The bar was fragrant with the scent of fine liquor, expensive cigars, and expertly prepared food. The Den’s humble exterior disguised a venue that would satisfy the most discerning customer. Jake realized he was starving.

Giselle was obviously known here. Customers called out greetings and she stopped to introduce Jake as they made their way to an empty table in a far corner. When they reached it, he held her chair.

“Thanks.” She gave him a smile. “Call me old-fashioned, but I love chivalrous gestures.”

“Me, too.” As he sat down opposite her, he wished to hell he found her wildly sexy. Objectively speaking, she was extremely attractive—tall, graceful, classic features, pretty hair. Logically he should want her, except he didn’t.

And unless he’d lost all perspective, she didn’t want him, either. She gazed at him with friendly interest but not a trace of smoldering lust. Well, good. If she’d shown any signs of being attracted, he’d have an awkward situation on his hands.

A waitress approached the table to take their order for drinks.

Jake glanced over at Giselle. “If you don’t mind, I’m ordering food. I know I asked you to meet me for a drink, but—”

“I’m ordering food, too.” She opened the menu and snapped it shut again before gazing up at the waitress. “Surf and turf for me.” She looked at Jake. “It’s outstanding here, and I haven’t stopped long enough to eat a decent meal in days.”

“Then let’s make that two.”

Giselle lifted her eyebrows. “Wine?”

“Let’s order a bottle of red. I’m ready to stay awhile, but if you need to get back, just say the word.”

“The Landry pack can do without me for a few hours.” She pulled a cell phone from a pocket of her leather jacket. “In fact, I’m turning this off.”

Jake checked the wine offerings.

“May I suggest the Paradigm Shift pinot noir?” the waitress said. “It’s local.”

“Sounds great.” Jake handed back the wine list. The evening had all the trappings of a romantic interlude, except that it lacked the necessary chemistry. Once the waitress had left, he turned to Giselle. “You’re now free to whine.”

She hesitated, as if debating whether to get into it. Then she groaned and covered her face with both hands. “It’s my big brother, although right now I feel years older than him.”

“So what’s he doing?” Jake felt a pang of envy that she had a brother to be upset with. He had no siblings and would have loved having them, but he was his parents’ only offspring. That fact made him doubly determined to carry on the legacy of his mother’s pack as best he could.

Giselle sighed and settled back in her chair. “Bryce is going crazy, apparently. He’s in line to be the next Landry alpha, but last week he ran off to Vegas and has no immediate plans to come back.”

“But he will eventually, right?”

“Who knows? He texts every day so we know he’s alive, but he’s not talking—not to me, or my parents, or Miranda, who’d agreed to become his mate within the next year. She’s announced that she’s free again, which only makes sense considering how he’s behaving.”

“What about his friends? Can’t they get through to him?”

Giselle shook her head. “He’s cut them off, too. The only clue I have is that he’d started reading Duncan MacDowell’s blog, because he mentioned it to me and wondered what I thought about Duncan’s ideas on Were-human mating.”

Jake cursed softly under his breath. The Scottish Were had organized WOOF—Werewolves Optimizing Our Future—the previous year to promote MacDowell’s belief that Were-human mating was inevitable and should be encouraged. He’d made serious inroads with that agenda during WereCon2012.

His popular blog continued to rally support for Were-human mating, and it looked as if he might have another well-placed convert. The heir apparent to the Landry pack would be a feather in Duncan’s cap.

“I’m sure hearing that doesn’t make you happy.”

“Nope.”

“I haven’t told my parents about my suspicions because they’d hit the roof if they thought Bryce might consider a human mate. I hope his Vegas adventure is nothing more than sowing some wild oats and he’ll come back ready to mate with Miranda and assume his responsibilities. But I don’t know if he will or not.”

“I’m sorry, Giselle. I wish there was something I could do.”

“If I thought you could talk him into coming home, I’d beg you to go down there. But he has a stubborn streak, and he’d dig in his heels if he thinks we’re coercing him in any way. I—” She paused as the waitress approached. “Good. We have wine.”

“I didn’t realize how much we might need that tonight.”

Giselle chuckled. “I realized it. I’m really glad you suggested this, Jake. I’ve wanted someone to talk to. You were at that conference. You saw how charismatic Duncan MacDowell is.”

“I did.” Jake tasted the wine and signaled the waitress to fill both glasses. “He got Kate Stillman to change her tune, after all, and I thought she was firmly in the Were-Were camp. Hell, I even like MacDowell, myself. It’s hard not to when he’s so sincere. Misguided, but sincere.”

“Well, let’s drink a toast to my wayward brother and the possibility that he’ll resist going over to Duncan’s side.”

Jake raised his glass. “To Bryce Landry. May he fulfill his destiny with Miranda, the Were mate he’s pledged to.”

“Hear, hear.” Giselle touched her glass to his and drank. Then she put it down and picked up the bottle on the table. “Paradigm Shift is her parents’ label. Among other things, the Randolph pack owns a winery in Napa, so naturally the Den will always recommend Were-made wine.”

“They should. It’s good wine.” Jake took another swallow.

“It is, and until last week, Miranda’s folks kept my folks well stocked with it. Understandably, the Randolph pack is being less generous with their wine. It’s all a mess, and sad, too. My parents get along great with her parents, or at least they used to. Now everyone’s tiptoeing around the subject of Bryce’s defection.”

Jake topped off their glasses. “If he comes back, can he fix this?”

“Probably. He can be a charmer.”

“So he could show up and convince everyone to forgive him?”

“Oh, yes. But he could also mate with a topless Vegas dancer simply to prove a point. When we were children he’d go along quietly for months, and then something would hit him wrong and he’d blow his stack in a rather spectacular fashion. I thought he’d outgrown that pattern, but apparently not.”

“I think we should blame it all on Duncan MacDowell.”

Giselle laughed. “Wish I could, but we all have free will, Jake.” She took another sip of her wine. “Let’s change the subject. I happen to know you didn’t fly all the way down here to talk about my brother. What’s up with WARM?”

“It’s growing.” He briefly described the trips he’d made and the network he’d created. After their food arrived, she encouraged him to elaborate, and he became so engrossed in his subject that he barely noticed what he was eating.

When the waitress came to clear their plates, he realized that he’d talked nonstop through the entire meal. “Sorry about that, Giselle. It’s a wonder I didn’t put you to sleep with that monologue.”

“I love listening to someone who’s passionate about a cause.”

“Yeah, for five minutes, maybe. After that it’s overkill.” He grinned at her. “I’m blaming Duncan MacDowell. The thought of that Were and all he stands for gets my blood pumping.”

“Well, it sounds like he has a worthy opponent in you.”

“Thanks for that. And now that I’ve bored you to death, can we stay for coffee so I can ask you what I came down here for?”

“Sure.” Giselle caught the waitress’s eye and ordered two coffees. Then she gazed across the table at Jake. “I’ll bet I know why you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t be hard to guess. I want you to head up the WARM organization here in San Francisco.”

“I can’t.”

He didn’t want to hear that. “Giselle, at least think about it.”

“I have.” She reached across and touched his arm as if in silent apology. “I knew that’s why you were coming down, so I’ve given it plenty of thought, but . . . I have several issues. One is that I’d have to resign from the council.”

“I know.” They’d served together on the council of the Worldwide Organization of Werewolves under Howard Wallace, the council’s first president. Although Jake had resigned, Giselle was still a member.

“I believe in WOW, Jake. I think I can do some good by being on the council.”

“I used to think that you could help balance the scales, but I’m not sure that’s possible. Considering that Howard’s two sons are mated with humans, we can guess how the organization is going to evolve.”