Werewolf in Alaska

Chapter 10

Jake had been in tight spots before, but he’d always figured a way out of them. This fuck-up with Rachel could turn out to be the granddaddy of all exceptions. Although he did his best to project calm acceptance of an unfortunate situation, he was a mass of nerves.

On top of that, he was hungry—for food, mostly. But the minute he’d walked into his house and discovered it was filled with Rachel’s scent, he’d become hungry for something far more complicated, something a simple dinner wouldn’t take care of. Finding her propped up on his massive bed had tested his willpower more than anything had in years.

He needed to get her out of his bedroom, pronto, before he did something really stupid and seduced her. She might not be seducible, of course, but he had a gut-level feeling that she was. His instincts were sharply honed in that regard, and Rachel was giving off little sparks of interest in between her bursts of outrage. Her scent had changed subtly, too, ever since he’d confronted her.

Having her stay with him for the next few hours would be easier if he kept them both far, far from that bed while they worked on a solution to this gigantic problem. He took most of the responsibility for the mess they were in, but she sure as hell hadn’t helped.

Damned nosy woman. But he’d been afraid she’d grab the chance to poke around his place looking for the wolf. He should have anticipated that and locked his door. He couldn’t help admiring her tenacity and concern for another creature, though, even if she had landed them both in hot water.

Hands on her hips, she stood watching him. “Now what?”

“I could use some dinner. Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Hungry?”

She paused as if thinking about it. “A little.”

He turned from the doorway. “Then let me thaw a couple of steaks for us.”

“Um, you know, I’m really not that hungry, after all.”

He pivoted to face her again. “Would you rather have something else? I think there’re some chicken breasts in the freezer, or I could—”

“No, you go ahead. I’m more tired than hungry. You eat, and I’ll stretch out on your bed for a little while and rest.” She sat on the edge of the bed and untied her running shoes.

He gulped. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” She glanced up.

“Take anything off. I mean . . . don’t take a nap . . . on my bed.”

“I won’t mess it up, Jake. I admit I rearranged your pillow while I was reading, but I’ll put everything back the way I found it. Sheesh, I didn’t know you were such an anal neat freak. It’s not like I’ll get under the covers, if that’s what you’re worried about. Never mind. I’ll just . . . relax in the living room.”

“I’m not worried that you’ll mess up the bed.” If only she knew how much he wanted to mess it up with her. He switched back to the safer topic of food. “It’s just that I thought you were hungry, and suddenly you’re not. It’s kind of late, and you said you haven’t had dinner, so surely you want something to eat.”

She leaned down and fussed with the laces of her shoes. She made a big production out of it, almost as if she needed something else to concentrate on so that she didn’t have to look at him. “Maybe I’ll have something later.”

“Want me to grill your steak so you can have a steak sandwich when you’re ready?”

She finished with her shoes and stood. “Please don’t fire up the grill on my account. Go ahead and eat. I’ll have some of your fruit and nut cereal if I get hungry.”

So she’d checked out the contents of his cupboards while she was at it. But that wasn’t the most significant thing she’d said just now. He finally understood her reluctance to eat with him, and he was both horrified and amused. “You think I’m going to eat my steak raw, don’t you?”

Keeping her expression carefully neutral, she nodded. “But there’s nothing wrong with that,” she added quickly. “You should be allowed to eat whatever way you want in your own home.”

He couldn’t blame her for thinking such a thing. He’d devoured both raw steak and raw hamburger over at her place. She didn’t know that had been under duress. “I prefer my meat cooked,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “You do? But you’re a—”

“Shape-shifter. Maybe it’ll help to use that term instead of werewolf. I’m not, strictly speaking, a wolf at all. I can take that form, but I’d rather not eat once I’ve shifted. That is, unless I have no alternative.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks turned a soft pink, which made her quicksilver eyes even brighter. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know.”

“No need to apologize. I was grateful for any food, raw or cooked.” God, she was beautiful. He’d need a bigger vocabulary just to describe all the rich shades of brown in her shoulder-length hair. The last time he’d stood this close to her, he’d been half-crazy with pain, but now he was free to enjoy every second of close proximity.

He breathed in her almond scent, which had become like an aphrodisiac. How in hell would he make it through this night without doing something foolish? Maybe he was destined to act like a fool and pay the price.

“I knew you were famished,” she said. “I used it to trick you so I could keep you captive longer.” She hesitated. “Now I have to wonder. Would you have been better off if I’d simply left you alone?”

He hesitated to give her the answer, both because it might make her feel bad and because he really did want to limit her knowledge.

“You would have been better off.” Regret laced her words. “I can tell by your expression.”

“Shifting helps me heal.” He could say that much without causing more problems.

She groaned. “And I thought I was helping.”

“That’s all that counts.” He resisted the urge to cup her face as he said that. “You were nothing but kind to me during that twenty-four-hour period. I’ll never forget how caring you were.”

“You’d saved me from that bear, so of course I wanted to take care of you. I didn’t know I was doing it wrong.”

“You couldn’t know that.”

“I was so grateful to you. I’m still grateful, in spite of . . . well, everything.” She paused. “But how did you happen to show up in the nick of time?”

That was a topic he’d rather not discuss, either. “We can talk about it over dinner.” Maybe by then he’d have come up with a great cover story. “That is, if you’re willing to share a meal with me now that you know I have decent table manners.”

She smiled. “I am willing. More than willing. I’m starving, and I’d love a steak.”

“Good.” Fixing dinner would give him something to concentrate on besides his recurring fantasy of rolling around with her on that big bed. He headed for the kitchen. “How do you like your steak?” he called over his shoulder.

“Barely pink.”

“Got it.” He liked his steak rare, but after this touchy conversation, he’d cook his a little longer so it looked the same as hers. He might not be able to erase her image of him in wolf form tearing into the raw meat she’d offered him days ago, but he’d sure as hell like to.

As she followed him through the living room, a cell phone rang, and it wasn’t his.

“Don’t answer,” he said quickly.

“Sorry, but you don’t get to decide that.” She pulled her phone from the backpack she’d left sitting in his easy chair. “Hi, Ted. What’s up?”

Jake clenched his jaw. He should have known she wouldn’t accept a barked order. If he’d said please, she might have responded better. And now she was on the phone with Ted, and no telling what she’d say to him.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m at his cabin right now, but thanks for letting me know, anyway. I happened to be passing by and saw his truck was here, so I stopped.”

Jake shook his head in frustration. When he’d stopped at the general store on his way home to pick up his mail and let Ted know he was back early, Ted had mentioned that Rachel wanted some advice on hikes in the area. He’d known then that he might have trouble, and sure enough—she’d wanted to make certain he was really gone so she could case the joint, and the hiking thing had been a smoke screen.

“Yes, Jake’s been extremely helpful. He’s offered to take me out hiking tomorrow, in fact.”

Jake stared at her. What in God’s name was she doing telling Ted they were going on a hike together?

“Uh-huh. Should be a good day for it. Anyway, thanks for letting me know he was back. Talk to you soon. ’Bye.” She disconnected the call and tucked the phone into her pack.

“Would you care to explain that?”

She faced him, her expression unapologetic. “I made up a story for Ted that I needed hiking advice so I could find out how long you’d be gone.”

“So you could nose around. I realize that. But what’s the point of telling him we’re going hiking tomorrow?”

“Just planning ahead. In case you hadn’t noticed, we have a big issue to resolve.”

“Trust me, I noticed.”

She crossed her arms and gazed at him with those amazing silver-gray eyes. “What if we don’t get it figured out tonight?”

At the moment he didn’t want to figure out anything. He wanted to walk over there and haul her into his arms. “We have to.” Because the longer he was locked in this dance with her, the less control he’d have over his raging libido.

“And that”—she uncrossed her arms and pointed at him—“is exactly why we might get stuck. Too much pressure. We could freeze up.”

Or burn up. That seemed more likely. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Then great, we’ll ‘cancel’ the hike.” She used air quotes to make her point. “But if for some reason your magnificent brain stalls tonight, we don’t have to avoid everyone we know while we hole up in this cabin struggling to find an answer. We can leave on the hike I just mentioned to Ted. That might not be a bad way to clear our heads, anyway.”

“I hope it won’t come to that.”

A hint of vulnerability shadowed her expression. “Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?”

Yes, but not for the reason she thought. “Nobody likes to have problems, and you present one. It’s not your fault . . . well, some of it is. If you’d resisted the urge to come over here and investigate, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“I owed it to the wolf.”

“Who, it turns out, was me.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know that. And my debt is actually to you. When you put it that way, I guess if I help find a solution to our problem, that would be a way of me settling up with you.”

“I’ll accept that as a fair trade. And I hope for both our sakes we can come up with a workable plan.”

“As you said, we have to.”

“Right. And I don’t know about you, but I can’t think very well on an empty stomach. I’m going to start dinner.” He started toward the kitchen.

“Good idea.” She followed. “Can I help?”

He wondered if having her sweet body in the kitchen would help or hinder. Probably hinder. “Tell you what. How about if you set the table out on the deck? I’ll bet you know where all the utensils are.” He gave her a knowing glance as he opened the freezer door.

Instead of looking guilty, she laughed. “I do. I searched your kitchen for anything strange and only came up with a wolf’s-head bottle opener.”

“I bought that in Anchorage as an inside joke.” He took the wrapping off the steaks and put them on a plate in the microwave. “Speaking of the bottle opener, what would you say to opening a couple of bottles of Spruce Tip ale?”

“I can do that.” She went straight to the right drawer and took out the opener.

He took a couple of bottles from the door in the refrigerator and handed them to her. “Even though you’ve been through all the drawers and cupboards, I’m impressed that you remember where the bottle opener was.”

“Good memory.” She popped the top from a bottle and gave it back to him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It doesn’t mean I blurt out everything I remember, though. Just so you know.” After opening her bottle, she raised it in his direction. “Here’s to solutions.”

“I’ll drink to that.” The ale tasted good shared with Rachel. He thought about his dinner with Giselle. The air hadn’t crackled when he and Giselle were together, but it certainly crackled now.

Rachel opened the utensil drawer and gathered up what they’d need for the meal. “Are you sure you trust me to go out on the deck by myself? What if I try to escape?”

He’d been crouched in front of the bottom bin of the refrigerator while he chose a couple of potatoes to bake in the microwave after he’d thawed the steaks. He glanced up at her. “You wouldn’t get far.”

She met his gaze. “I might. I’m pretty fast.”

“Not as fast as I am.” Holding two potatoes in one hand, he stood.

“What, you have some sort of Were speed?”

“Something like that.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t try it, anyway. You’d just call that Were Council and I’d have Were police on my trail.”

“And then the entire Were community would be involved. I’d rather keep this to ourselves if we can.”

“Contain the damage?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m good with that. I won’t try to run away.” Her hands full of utensils, place mats, and napkins, she left the kitchen.

But shortly she was back to retrieve her bottle of ale. He put her to work scrubbing carrots and was mesmerized by the way her breasts shifted beneath her T-shirt as she did that chore. So he looked away, but he couldn’t block out her scent, her body heat, or her soft breathing. Everything about her called to him.

Because he was attuned to her breathing, he noticed that it picked up whenever he came close. That could be because she now knew he was a werewolf, but he thought it was more than that. She wanted him, too. That knowledge was good for his ego but bad for their chances of keeping the evening from getting out of hand.

After about ten minutes of effort, the potatoes were in the microwave and the carrots steaming away in a saucepan. They’d moved on to their second bottle of ale apiece, and Rachel carried those out to the deck while Jake brought the platter of steaks, a long-handled fork, and his basket of spices.

“You’re obviously used to cooking.” She set both bottles on the elevated patio table and climbed up onto one of four tall swivel chairs grouped around it.

“I like doing it.” He adjusted the heat on the gas grill. “When I take groups out on the trail, it’s a fun challenge to prepare them a decent meal in the middle of nowhere. It’s one of my selling points.”

“Do you ever . . . cook for other werewolves?”

“Sometimes.” He put on the steaks and came over to join her at the table. “Look, it’d be better if you don’t ask questions. As I said before, the less you know—”

“I disagree. What you want from me is loyalty and trustworthiness, right?”

What he really wanted from her was something he wasn’t supposed to have. He tipped his bottle and drank some ale before he answered the question. “Ignorance would be preferable.”

“Too late. I know you’re a werewolf and that there’s a werewolf council out there somewhere. You threatened me with werewolves who would hunt me down if I tried to run away from you. I’m envisioning an entire shadow community living alongside the human population. Am I right?”

“I’m taking the Fifth on that.”

She blew out an impatient breath. “Look, I’m pretty smart, Jake, and I’ll probably figure a lot of this out on my own.”

“You’re certainly free to do that, but I don’t have to supply any more details.”

She sipped her ale and gazed at the mountains in the half-light of an Alaskan summer evening. A breeze ruffled Polecat Lake, causing small ripples to lap against the shore.

Through all that, he could almost hear Rachel thinking. Almost. They’d had a mental connection for a brief time after he’d shifted into wolf form, but he wasn’t as psychic in human form.

He could certainly feel lust in the air, though. The aroma of grilled steak teased his nostrils. That smell, combined with the tang of the ale he’d consumed and the almond scent of a female he wanted, aroused him to a level he hadn’t reached in a long time. Considering the trouble he was in, he shouldn’t allow himself to enjoy this sensually rich moment with Rachel. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. She was potent.

At last she spoke again. “I’ve been thinking.”

“I’m sure.” He wondered if any of her thoughts had to do with the sexual tension building between them.

“I mean, does it matter whether I know a few details or a lot of details? In a case like this, there’s no such thing as a small leak.”

He had to admit she had a point.

She tilted her bottle, took a drink, and swallowed, her delicate throat moving seductively, making him long to nip that slender column. Then she looked over at him. “I’m just glad you’re not planning to have me rubbed out.”

He had a mouthful of ale when she said that. Because he didn’t want to spew it all over her, he choked instead. She left her chair to pound him on the back, which was of no help.

Finally he was able to breathe again.

“You okay, sport?” She resumed her seat and peered at him.

“Yeah.” He grinned and shook his head. “Rubbed out. Where do you come up with things like that?”

“I watch a lot of movies. I love the world of the imagination. And FYI, now that I know werewolves exist, I think it’s plain mean for you not to tell me all the juicy details. Like I said, a leak is a leak.”

“I’m only thinking that you can’t blab what you don’t know.”

“You say that like somebody’s going to put thumb screws on me and force me to talk. They’re not, Jake. We live a fairly isolated existence up here, and when I travel for work, I guarantee nobody will ask me what I know about werewolves. If I keep my mouth shut—and I will—the subject won’t come up.”

He studied her. “I want to believe that you can keep your mouth shut.” He shouldn’t be discussing her mouth, though, because it made him think of what fun he could have exploring it.

“I can absolutely do that. I understand the issues. I may understand them better than most because I have such an active imagination. But I have to ask, are werewolves planning to take over the world?”

“What?”

“It’s a fair question. In the movies, the nonhuman creatures usually take over the world and enslave the humans. Why wouldn’t werewolves want to do that?”

“Because it’s not our nature to be aggressive.” He almost added that Weres were lovers, not fighters, but thought better of it.

“But you’re organized enough to have a council, and apparently you look out for each other, even if you don’t always agree, like in the case of you and Duncan MacDowell. In his book, Duncan referred to extensive business interests. Do werewolves have a lot of money?”

Jake put down his empty bottle and stood. “I need to check the steak.”

She seemed undeterred by his attempt to change the subject. “Because if they have a lot of money, they might be planning an economic takeover. Or maybe they already control huge chunks of the economy. If that’s so, then—”

“Steaks are done. Let’s eat.”

“Don’t think you can stop me from asking questions by keeping my mouth busy with food.”

Naturally that comment made him think of another way he could keep her mouth busy. He loaded the steaks on a platter and set it on the table. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“I’m just warning you it won’t work.” Straightening in her chair, she eyed him with defiance.

Just his luck, he found her attitude extremely sexy. “Then I’ll have to use more creative ways to shut you up.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He allowed himself a very slow, very male perusal of her body. “Use your imagination.”