Werewolf in Seattle: A Wild About You Novel (7 page)

She glanced back at him. “Something that shouldn’t be going on. You have a lovely mouth, and I was curious,
but kissing someone I hope to do business with isn’t a very bright idea, especially when I’m no good at it.”

“How can you be no good at it? Haven’t you ever… ” He saw the answer in her eyes. “But I don’t understand. You’re beautiful.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“Surely you’ve had Weres who were interested in you.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never encouraged that kind of thing. I never… trusted anyone enough.”

Although he still had trouble imagining that she was virginal at this stage in her life, his gut told him that no one could fake the kind of reaction she’d had to his kiss. “Does that mean that you trusted me a little, since you allowed me to kiss you?” He would hardly call it a kiss, but she might think it was, given her apparent innocence.

“I suppose I would tend to trust someone Geraldine trusted, but that doesn’t mean we should be kissing.” She gently pulled away from his grasp. “Come along, Colin. If you’re not starving, I am.”

Fascinated by this unexpected revelation, he followed her back to their temporary picnic site. He was still attracted to her, and she was attracted to him, although she might not realize how much if she’d never allowed herself to feel passion.

The last time he’d been with a virgin, he’d been a fumbling fool, only somewhat more knowledgeable than the female Were he’d had sex with. They’d made a hash of it. But that had been more than fifteen years ago.

He couldn’t imagine that someone as full of life as Luna clearly was could be happy embracing celibacy. Judging from her response to him, her virginal state was a source of embarrassment to her.

If she’d allow him to, he could help her over that hurdle. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he believed it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

Thoroughly put out with herself, Luna concentrated on organizing their food. She still had Colin’s sweatshirt, and she draped it carefully over a branch of the giant driftwood. Then she began randomly pulling out the food that Janet had packed for them.

Using every available flat place on the wood, she laid out plates, napkins, forks, and wrapped sandwiches. All the while she silently cursed her gigantic stupidity. Her stupidity was so big it would reach to the moon and back, with stupidity left over.

Apparently cotton was stuffed in her skull where her brains were supposed to be. Otherwise she had no explanation for why she’d stood there like a complete idiot and let Colin kiss her. Even a clueless virgin could guess what he’d had in mind when he’d leaned toward her with that soft expression in his dreamy blue eyes.

But had she ducked away? No, she had not! She’d let it happen, and then had been so amazed at the gentle contact with his mouth that she’d reacted like… Well, she hadn’t reacted at
all
, had she? When he’d pressed forward, she could have pressed back and pretended to
know what she was doing. She’d seen it a million times in movies.

“I think we should finish up the martinis,” Colin said as he came up beside her. “Would you like some more?”

“No, thank you.” Getting drunk would put the finishing touch on her imbecilic image. Instead of dazzling him with her business savvy, she’d paraded her lack of sexual experience in front of him.

From what she’d observed, males tended to fixate on that kind of information. Instead of thinking of her as a competent person in charge of a business venture, he’d think of her as a virgin waiting for Prince Charming to show up.

Way to go, Luna!

“Mind if I have one of those sandwiches?” He crouched beside her, his martini in one hand.

The tantalizing scent of him stalled her thought process for a second. Then she realized she was blocking access to the food she’d piled on the driftwood.

She stood, careful not to bump into him, and moved away. “Please, help yourself. As you can see, everything’s there. There’s a container of potato salad still in the basket, and a spoon.” She should have fixed him a plate, but her hands were shaking so much that she might have dumped his meal in the sand.

Worst of all, no matter how foolish she’d been, she wanted him to kiss her again. His warmth called to her, blotting out her usually excellent sense of self-preservation. His kiss was so very different from her first one, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the velvet press of his lips, the sweet scent of his breath, the careful restraint she sensed in that light, butterfly touch.

Setting his glass in the sand, he loaded a plate, stood, and offered it to her. “Take this one. I can fix another for myself.”

“You take that, please. You’re the guest. I’ll fix one for myself.”

“All right, if you say so.” Carrying his food and martini, he returned to the level spot on the driftwood where he’d sat originally.

Luna grabbed a plate, plopped a sandwich on it, and ignored the potato salad. All the food would taste like sawdust, anyway, as she contemplated her self-imposed downfall. Reclaiming her spot on the driftwood, she unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite.

“This plan you have to turn Whittier House into an inn. Have you mentioned it to the rest of the staff?”

She finished chewing her bite of sandwich and swallowed before answering, which gave her time to develop extreme paranoia about why he was asking. “Everyone knows except Hector.”

“And what do they think of it?”

She gazed at him and could sense nothing but a sincere desire to explore the subject. Maybe she hadn’t ruined her chances, after all, which would be a miracle. “They liked the idea, but I would expect you to interview each of them about it. That’s only right.”

“An inn would be more work than providing for one eccentric older woman.”

Luna nodded. “We’ve talked about that. There would be more work, but Dulcie and Sybil would make tips over and above their normal salary, and Janet could hire some help in the kitchen, which would give her more time to create signature dishes.” And watch her flat-screen TV, but Luna wasn’t going to mention that.

“Mm.” Colin took a mouthful of potato salad. When he’d eaten that, he laid down his fork. “I can see how Janet would be a draw. This food is very good, and it’s only picnic fare.”

“Janet takes pride in her work.” Luna warmed to her
subject. She happened to think the staff at Whittier House was top-notch. “It doesn’t matter to her if she’s fixing a sandwich or a seven-course dinner; she always makes everything special.”

“I admire that.” He dug his fork into the potato salad again and paused. “Why haven’t you told Hector about your plan?”

“I’m afraid he would hate it. He loves the seclusion of this island. Creating an inn for Weres would change that. And… ” She hesitated to say the rest, but surely Colin would pick up on it eventually, if he hadn’t already. “I don’t think Hector likes me very much.”

“He’s wary of you.”

She blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“He thinks you’re hiding something.”

A shiver of alarm traveled up her spine. “Does he?”

“That’s what he told me this afternoon. Is he right?”

She could deny it, but if they had even the slightest chance of being business partners, telling flat-out lies wasn’t a great idea. “Is there any of the martini mix left in the shaker?”

The corners of his mouth tilted up. “A wee bit.”

She picked up her glass from the sand and held it out. “Fill me up, Scottie.”

Colin groaned. “Do you have any idea how long my countrymen have had to deal with jokes about
Star Trek
Scottie?”

“A long time?”

“It’s been an eternity.”

“Then I promise never to make another
beam me up
joke in your presence, Your… How am I supposed to refer to you, anyway?”

“I told you.” He emptied the martini shaker into her glass. “Colin is fine.”

“Yes, but if we’re going to capitalize on your Scottish
heritage and the obvious Scottish ambiance of Whittier House, then I will be billing this place as the exclusive vacation spot owned by His Supreme High Lairdness, or something to that effect.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “That’s not quite correct.”

“Then what is correct?”

“Colin MacDowell, Laird of Glenbarra.”

“That’s it? No more flourishes?” She liked this change of subject, which directed the conversation away from her secrets and put the focus on Colin.

“You could add
The Most Honored
in front of my name, although I shudder every time I hear that. Too stuffy.”

“But it would suggest elegance, which is what I’d be going for.”

“Then be sure to spell
honour
with a
u
, which is how we do it in Scotland.”

“That’s a great idea.” She shouldn’t start counting her chickens about this inn project, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “I should adopt Scottish spellings for anything printed in connection with the inn. It helps set the tone I was mentioning to you earlier.”

“Right.” He tackled his food again. “The tone that keeps guests from breaking up the furniture.”

“They won’t do that, I promise. I’m very protective of the beautiful things in that house. They meant a lot to Geraldine, and I would want to preserve them for her sake. And for yours, of course.”

“I believe you.” He put down his fork. “I also believe in Hector’s instincts. What aren’t you telling me, Luna?”

Anxiety turned her stomach into a rock tumbler. He’d circled back to the topic, after all. “Everyone has secrets.”

“I suppose so. Apart from me, that is. My life is an
open book. I could probably do with a few more secrets. Maybe I should borrow some of yours.”

“I doubt my secrets would work for you.” No one would look at Colin and peg him for a virgin.

“I can’t help thinking your secrets have something to do with your being celibate all these years.”

There was no help for it. She’d have to give him another piece of the puzzle and hope it didn’t cause more problems for her. “It does, in a way. When I said I’d been on my own a long time, that’s because I literally had no home.”

“There were no packs to take you in?”

She drank more of her martini, seeking courage. “My father, Byron Reynaud, was connected to the Trevelyan pack, but my parents split up before I was born.”

“Split up?” He frowned. “I don’t understand how that could happen if your mother was pregnant with you.”

“She didn’t want to stay here with my father. Pregnancy doesn’t mean you have to be chained to someone for life.” Now she wished fervently that her mother hadn’t bolted. Maybe both her mother and father would be alive today if Sophie had stayed in Seattle.

“But a Were male can’t impregnate a female unless she’s pledged to be his mate for life.”

“Really? Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure. We’re all taught that when we go through puberty. It’s one of the basic pieces of information that we—” He paused to gaze at her. “You weren’t taught anything, were you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Don’t tell me you went through your first change alone.”

She nodded. “I thought I was dying.”

“That’s terrible! No Were should have to go through that by themselves. Where was your mother?”

“She died when I was eight.”

“Oh, Luna.” His blue eyes filled with compassion.

Luna couldn’t decide whether this new information about being mated was good news or bad. On the one hand, it meant her parents were destined for each other, which made her feel special as the child of that union. On the other hand, it meant her mother had abandoned her mate.

“So your mother left Seattle?”

Luna took a deep breath. “That’s right. She caught a train. My father raced to the train station to try and stop her from leaving, but he had a car accident on the way… and died.”

“God.”

“I didn’t find out about that until I came up here and asked if anyone knew Byron Reynaud.”

He groaned in dismay. “I’m sorry, Luna.”

“So am I. I never knew him, but when I came to Seattle I’d counted on finding him more than I’d realized.” She stared out toward the water. “I’m sure my mother never heard what happened to him. She didn’t give any indication that he was dead, only that she’d loved him, but she didn’t belong here.” Luna hadn’t understood that as a child, but she got it now. Her mother wouldn’t have fit into the Were world.

“What about her pack?”

She didn’t have one. She was human.
And that was the one secret Luna planned to keep forever. She’d never heard of anyone else being half-Were. What if they treated her like a freak? Being exposed as half-Were might destroy any chance she had of being accepted anywhere.

“Never mind,” Colin said. “I can imagine what happened. She’d gone against the natural order by leaving her mate, so she wasn’t welcome in her own pack, either.”
He shook his head. “What a tragedy. For her, for your father, and mostly for you.”

Luna said nothing. By not contradicting him, she was guilty of a lie of omission, but considering the stakes, she felt justified. If Colin could leave it at that, she’d be extremely relieved.

“But you’re using the name Reynaud,” he said. “Hasn’t anyone suspected that you’re Byron Reynaud’s daughter?”

“In the first place, I don’t think anyone knew my mother was pregnant except maybe my father, and he died when she left. In the second place, when I first arrived in Seattle and contacted pack members, I told them that I was a distant cousin of Byron’s and I’d been told to look him up if I came to town.”

“Turns out you were right to be cautious.” He set his plate aside. “But what about Byron’s parents? You could have grandparents in the area.”

“I do.” She’d made a few more discreet inquiries about Byron’s family and had discovered that Edwina and Jacques Reynaud, who lived in a wealthy neighborhood in Seattle, were her father’s parents.

He cradled his martini glass between his large hands. “I’m not the one to say, but it’s possible they would welcome you. It’s not your fault that your mother left and caused so much pain. You’re the child of their lost son, their only tie to him.”