White Wolf 2: The Call of a Soul (11 page)

She couldn’t reconcile the responsible, community-oriented Mr. Dorland with a man of deep, dark secrets. How had Mike found out about his birth mother? Why had he asked Shuman for sanctuary? Even more important, why had the tribe refused? Her temples throbbed. She wrung the mop. Swiped up, down, ran the sponge edge into the tile creases.

Had he really said, “
Love you
”? Claimed her as his mate?

Could sheer, piercing, all-encompassing desire cause hallucinations? Could years of dreams and fantasies cause a body to lose all sanity? Did she have the strength to resist him? Did she even want to? No, no, and no.

Melanie leaned against the wall. Fall’s dampness had seeped into the plastered-over ancient bricks, but the clammy chill didn’t help to cool her fevered skin. Even if he had actually said those two words, nothing lasting could ever happen between them. Her father had killed his, and his mother detested the White family for that very reason.

Besides, Mama had only just begun to heal. Eighteen months sober and holding down a cashier’s job at the casino. Mama was determined to get back to normal, and if she heard even a rumor about Melanie seeing Mike, well, that could send her back to Jack Daniels in a heartbeat.

She had no choice. None at all. A relationship, even a temporary one, with Mike wasn’t an option. Heck, but she’d give anything, anything at all for one, one more measly chance to make love to him.

Don’t go there.

Gritting her teeth, she gathered her tools and supplies, went to the back bathroom, and cleaned up and put away everything. With every move, images of their lovemaking peppered her brain. She grew giddy and had to hold on to the sink to support her weak knees. What she would’ve given to touch his penis.

The telephone rang the minute she sat down behind the desk. Melanie checked the LCD: Jim Balden. Doc G. was dead-on about Whisper. She smiled. Poor Dr. Fitzwilliam would never hear the end of this. She picked up the receiver. “Glancing Animal Clinic. Hi, Mr. Balden.”

“Melanie White, that you?”

She blinked. It was Mr. Augustus Balden and not his son, Jim, who’d taken over running of the stud farm. “Yes, Mr. Balden, it’s Melanie White. Is everything okay?”

“’Pends on what you call okay. Whisper’s not in her stable, and I can’t find Jim. Can’t find anyone.” Mr. Balden’s wavering voice held a hint of panic.

Everyone knew Mr. Balden had started having “memory problems” a while back. In a town like Chabegawn, no one used the word
Alzheimer’s
. Just like Mike’s mother hadn’t had a nervous breakdown, she’d had “an emotional time” that happened to last several years.

Melanie made a quick decision. “I’ll have Doc G. come up right away. Is there anyone with you at the farm, Mr. Balden?”

“Told you, durn it. Can’t find a soul.”

“Stay on the phone, Mr. Balden. I’ll call Doc G. right now. Don’t hang up, okay?”

“Where did everyone go?”

The phone clattered, and she heard the sound of shuffling feet.
Damn
. “Mr. Balden! Mr. Balden!”

Nothing.

She hung up and tried to dial the Balden main phone line, but it went straight to voice mail.

So she rang Doc G.’s cell.

“Great minds. I was just about to call you—”

“Doc G., Mr. Balden just called. He says Whisper’s gone and that he can’t find anyone at the farm. I tried to get him to stay on the line, but he must’ve dropped the phone and wandered off.”

“What? Did you try calling back?”

“Yes. It went straight to voice mail.”

“Okay. Close up. I’ll be there in a flash.”

Melanie knew Doc G.’s truck was stocked and fully supplied, so she checked his vet bag and added a couple of extra tranquilizer doses. Never hurt to be prepared.

Hurrying to the small alcove adjacent to the back bathroom, she heard the
pop
of the back door and called out, “I’m getting my stuff. Be out in a second.”

She grabbed her coat, shrugged it on, jogged to the kitchen, and screeched to a stop. Mike and Doc G. crowded the hallway.

“Mike’s going to drive you home. I’m heading up to the Baldens’.”

“I’m not late for the bus. No need for Mike to go out of his way.” She wished the words hadn’t come out so gruff and panicked.

“I’m staying at the cabin. It’s not out of my way at all.” Mike crossed his arms, and he shot her a try-and-get-out-of-that-one glare.

Melanie refused to meet his stare. She leveled her chin. “I’ll never sleep until I know everything’s okay. Let me come with you, Doc G. You may need help.”

For a heartbeat, she had hopes he’d agree to her suggestion. Then he shook his head. “You’re on the breakfast shift. Get some well-needed rest. I’ll call you once I know what’s going on if it’s not too late. Ten to one Mr. Balden’s Alzheimer’s worsened. You two—out. I need to make a move.”

“I didn’t realize Mr. Balden had Alzheimer’s,” Mike said once they were both respectively belted into the passenger and driver’s seats of the pickup. He turned the key.

“It started happening a while back. That’s when Jim came back and took over running the Ranch B.”

“I thought there was a big rift between father and son. Wasn’t Jim working on a Kentucky farm?”

“I think so. It wasn’t so much a rift as that Jim had his heart set on being a trainer. He gave up a lot and took on a whole bunch of problems when he agreed to come back and run the ranch. I hope old Mr. Balden didn’t wander off too far. He’s a nice man. Real old-fashioned and stern, but he treats his animals well.”

“What kind of problems?”

“I don’t know all the details, but it had something to do with Whisper losing the Triple Crown.” She blew out a long sigh and massaged the back of her neck. “My guess is that Mr. Balden bet everything he owned.”

“I’m sure a lot of people in town did the same thing.” Mike shot her a glance. “Busy evening?”

“Not really.” She worried her bottom lip.

He reached across and captured her hand. “Spit it out.”

“What?”

“You’re dying to ask me something. Go ahead.” He gave her fingers a little squeeze.

“Why’d you come back to Chabegawn?” Melanie held her breath. She hadn’t meant to ask the question, but curiosity always did get the better of her.

He brought her knuckles to his lips and suckled one.

If knees could go weak while a body sat, hers did.

“I thought you’d never ask. To claim you. And because Mom was given a clean bill of health five months ago.”

Melanie decided to ignore the first reason. For now. “But she only moved back to town last week.”

“It’s taken a long time for her to get back to normal. Drake and I didn’t want her to have to face everyone on her own. Hell, we didn’t even want her to come back here. But she insisted. So I scouted things out five months back.”

Her lips pursed. If his mother hadn’t wanted to come back to Chabegawn… “You came back five months ago?”

“Yeah. I stayed at the cabin.”

Lord no. Suck me up in a funnel tornado and take me to the land of Oz.

She tried to tug her hand out of his. Squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for a miracle. The silence dragged on until the sound of her shallow inhales thundered in her ears. “You saw me.”

“I saw my mate. Crying her heart out and sobbing my name.”

“Did you make love to me out of pity?”

“How could you even think that? There’s only one way to erase that notion from your brain, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.” Mike’s sex-promise growl made her shiver.

Arousal and mortification warred for supremacy.

“I love the way you blush. It’s sexier than hell.” His tongue skated over the soft underside of her wrist.

“Stop that.” She finally managed to yank her hand away. A shiny patch made the blue-green vein seem to visibly throb.

“Would you’ve gone to vet school if you’d had the chance?”

His abrupt change of subject made her dizzy. He had seen her at her worst. Mate. The cabin. Vet school? Irritation prickled her skin in a wave, starting from the too-tight ponytail and riding down to the toes flexing in her shoes.

“I don’t do ‘could’ve, would’ve’ anymore. Gave that up a long time ago.”

Exhaustion hit Melanie in a tidal wave. She was put out and annoyed. Nothing seemed to be within her control, and she hadn’t been paying attention to where they were. She ground her teeth. “This is the way to your cabin.”

“Yep.”

“Damn it, Mike. I’m tired and hungry, and I don’t want to be here.” Not to mention chagrined, excited, and overwhelmed.

“There’s chili in the slow cooker, crusty French bread, and I bought diet ginger ale.”

That last one got her attention. How in heck did he know? She scowled at him, secretly pleased and scared at the same time. The butterflies in her stomach had developed into a swarming mass that warmed her from the inside out.

“Your friend, Brinda, mentioned that’s your favorite drink.”

Since when had Brinda turned traitor?

“You asked her?” Melanie cleared her throat in the hopes the squeak in her voice would go away.

“Doc G. and I were in her section.” Mike shrugged. “I wasn’t obvious. Promise.”

Melanie folded her arms. If he could be aggressive, so could she. “What did Doc G. want to speak to you about anyway?”

“He’s on the board of the county SPCA, and they’re looking to add another member, one with a business background. He wanted to know if I’d be interested in the position.”

“Oh?” All her fighting oomph dissolved. “Are you going to do it?”

“Depends. Mostly on you. We need to talk. And you know it, babe.”

“You can’t just kidnap me like this.” She hugged her purse to her chest and didn’t make a move to exit the pickup when he pulled up the hand brake.

“I have.” He was out of the truck and had opened the passenger door before she could utter a word. “You can leave after dinner if you want.”

“You ate already, remember? At the Caboose with Doc G.” Melanie squealed when he snapped open her belt and scooped her, purse and all, into his arms. He radiated heat, and the warmth cocooned even her cold nose. She stiffened every muscle, but maintaining the tension proved impossible. He smelled so wonderful, and the man-spice of him went straight to her head. How could a scent be so intoxicating?

Her lips tingled when they brushed the skin exposed by the open neck of the top of his checkered shirt. His splayed fingers firmed around her thigh, and the safety of his hold couldn’t be resisted. She gave up and relaxed, sinking deeper and closer into his embrace.

Mike kicked the cabin door open, and the fragrance of chili peppers, onions, garlic, tomato, and beans had her salivating. Her stomach grumbled.

“I think you’re starving, babe.”

When he called her babe, she couldn’t help it—all her defenses went into massive meltdown. Mike toed a kitchen chair back and set her on the wooden seat. “It’s cold in here. I’ll start a fire, and then we’ll eat.”

She should so not be here. She should insist he take her home. She should not be secretly glad he’d taken control.

The popping and crackling of the fire jolted Melanie from her guilt-ridden musings. Mike pulled her to stand and made quick work of divesting her of the coat. She had worn her best black jeans and a scoop-necked top Susie said flattered her figure. A fierce burn blossomed in her cheeks at his intense perusal.

“You look good enough to eat.” His voice had gone all husky, and the rolling reverberation had her vaginal walls clenching. “Do you like all the fixings on your chili?”

For a few moments, she just stood there, imagining him with all the fixings—sour cream or maybe whipped cream—wouldn’t that be paradise?

“You’re giving me that sexy I-want-to-lick look, Melanie, and I need to feed you first. So, focus. All the fixings?”

She swallowed and nodded and watched him assemble a serving-size bowl of chili, piled with cheese, jalapenos, and chopped tomatoes, from a steaming cast-iron pot. A French stick lay on a wooden cutting board. He cut the loaf and piled the thick slices on a plate.

Surprised when he carried the plate and the bowl to the coffee table in front of the fireplace, she frowned. Then he came back and lifted her high against his chest.

Oh what the hay. She deserved another night. One more time to memorize everything, and if he wanted to be Mr. Macho wolf, that worked fine for her. Melanie gasped when he sat on the sofa and arranged her sideways on his lap. The fabric of her worn jeans did little to conceal the evidence of his rigid arousal jutting into her bottom.

Mike sighed, and his warm breath tickled her bare throat. “Good. So good to have you right where you belong.”

“Mike—”

“Don’t.” He nuzzled her neck. “Give me—give us this time, this place. No outsiders, no outside world. Just us. Here in this cabin.”

The devil himself couldn’t have offered a better temptation. And she didn’t want to resist. No, siree.

“Okay,” she whispered, and their noses bumped, their lips brushed. How could two noses and four lips cause such a conflagration? A wildfire lit from little toes to the roots of her hair.

He licked her throat and then looked into her eyes, his face so near she could see that flecks of green and gold rimmed the silver halo. “Food first.”

Melanie didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she folded them when Mike reached for a slice of bread. With sure, deft movements, he dunked the bread in the bowl of chili, scooping a heaping combo of meat, beans, sauce, and fixings into the center of the slice.

“Open,” he ordered, his voice low and all gravel.

“It’ll spill—umpfh.” Melanie hastily bit down on the food filling her mouth and glared at him. Sure enough, the rich reddish brown juices plopped onto her skin right above the black cotton neckline. She choked when he dipped down and lapped the warm liquid. That rough tongue of his lingered, and his mouth made little sucking noises. Melanie chewed furiously and cuffed his shoulder. He looked up, and Lordy, he wore a bad-boy grin that had her belly doing jigs.

She pointed to her mouth and shaped a glass.

“My bad. Forgot the ginger ale.”

Melanie’s eyes near popped out of her head when he flicked the can open, took a swig, and then set his lips to hers. He couldn’t mean…? Oh wow, he did, dribbling a slow stream of warm, spicy liquid into her mouth. Then his tongue slid inside and did an amazing twirl around hers.