Werewolf in Alaska (Wild About You #5)(16)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

“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 br**sts 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.”

Chapter 11

Whoa. Rachel hadn’t been born yesterday, and she recognized a sexual gauntlet when it had been thrown down. Jake had just served notice that he had testosterone and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

After all those nights of watching him skinny-dipping, she was more than primed for whatever he cared to dish out. Desire gripped her tight, warming her skin and dampening her panties. She wanted him bad.

Sure, he wasn’t quite who she’d imagined during those nights of spying on his nak*d-swimming routine. He had another, rather unusual, side to him. But she could ignore that aspect, because at this moment in time he was the built-for-sin man she’d admired through her binoculars. Bring it on, big boy.

She was more than willing to abandon the meal and have a close encounter right here on the deck, or up against the railing, or spinning on one of the swivel chairs surrounding the table. Nobody else was around except a few geese on the lake and the occasional fish leaping out of the water. They wouldn’t mind.

Jake’s gaze met hers and he swore softly. But instead of grabbing her and ripping her clothes off as she’d fantasized he might, he took a deep breath. “That’s some imagination you have.”

Her pulse raced. “You can read my mind?”

“Don’t have to. It’s all there in your eyes.” He groaned. “God, Rachel. I can’t . . . we can’t do this.”

“But you want me.” If his expression hadn’t told her so, the fit of his jeans would have.

“Yes. And that’s a problem.” He turned away. “I’ll get the rest of the food. Help yourself to a steak.” He disappeared into the house.

During the brief time Jake was gone, Rachel had a moment to decompress and think about what had just happened. She’d read enough in Duncan MacDowell’s book to know that for Weres, sex wasn’t the same as mating. She and Jake could have sex without making a lifetime commitment, and that seemed to be what he was morally against.

Yet he’d said wanting her was a problem for him. She’d have to ask him to explain, because she didn’t understand. She also wondered how long he’d been nurturing this case of lust. There was that telltale note of hers tucked inside a book with her picture in it. How ironic if he’d wanted her as long as she’d wanted him.

By the time he returned with the potatoes and carrots, she’d made up her mind. “There’s no way around it, Jake. You have to level with me.”

“I know.” He took the chair opposite hers but didn’t pick up his fork. “I decided the same thing while I was in the kitchen. Ultimately, I started the whole thing when I bought your carving. That was my first mistake.”

“Mistake?” She stared at him. “Are you kidding me? You inspired me to give up on becoming a vet so I could devote myself to my art. I don’t just owe you my life. I owe you my career!”

“No, you don’t. Someone else would have bought that carving. Then you would have them to thank. And we wouldn’t be in the middle of this big mess.”

“I don’t agree with that logic. Hearing your positive comments about the carving was as important as the sale, maybe more important. I was meant to be in that store when you walked in. You have no idea what a boost your comments gave me. In fact, I wrote you a note to that effect. You probably don’t remember, though.” She was a devil to mention it, but she couldn’t resist.

A dull red stain crept up the back of his neck. “I seem to remember a note.”

She didn’t push it. She didn’t want to embarrass him by pointing out his sentimentality. “I’m just saying that sale was a significant event that helped encourage me to become a full-time carver.”

“There would have been different inspirations. You’re very talented. You would have made it with or without that moment in Ted’s store. Now, eat your food before it gets cold.”

“You sound like my mother.”

He smiled. “No cook wants food to sit around after they’ve fixed it. Dig in.”

“But you promised to tell me everything.”

“I will.” He cut into his steak. “Between bites. It’s a long story, so I need to keep up my strength. And so do you.”

“Okay.” She sliced into her steak, which was grilled exactly as she liked it. She couldn’t resist glancing over at Jake’s, which was the same shade of pale pink inside. She thought that might be on purpose. “Now, start talking.”

He did, pausing sporadically to eat. He told her about his father, the actual wolf she’d photographed and immortalized in wood. He mentioned that his parents had died in a skiing accident but didn’t dwell on that part of the story. He did admit, though, that after buying her carving, he’d become fascinated with her and had fallen into the habit of late-night runs over to her place.

Which explained why he’d kept her note. She finished her last bite and put down her fork. “Are you saying that we wasted three years when we could have been . . .” She trailed off, not sure what the relationship might have developed into.

He shook his head as he finished chewing and swallowed. “No, we couldn’t, not without me becoming a hypocrite.”

“How’s that?”

“Think about it. The obvious way to halt Were-human mating is to end Were-human sexual encounters. If a Were never has sex with a human, he or she won’t be tempted to consider mating with one.”

“So you’ve never had sex with a human?”