Werewolf in the North Woods (Wild About You #2)(20)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

“I came upon the guy’s camp last night when I was out roaming the forest. I meant to tell you about him, but he soon became less important than . . . other things.” He sent her a heated glance.

“Speaking of those other things, what should I do with this?” She held up his damp handkerchief.

“I’ll take it. Carrying that in my pocket all day will keep your scent with me. I like that idea.”

She shook her head in bewilderment. “I suppose it’s a werewolf thing.”

“Yep. We’re all about enjoying the earthy scents.”

“Seems to me the less we’re reminded of sex today the more likely we’ll get to the business at hand.” She began collecting her clothes from the floor of the cave.

“You’re right, but if I have to put up with Donald, I’ll need to inject a little joy into my life. Especially if he pulls out that harmonica. A-yi-yi.”

“So you heard him play last night?”

“Yes, if you define the word play very loosely.” Roarke pulled on the sweats he’d worn the night before. “He has a tin ear, but he’s convinced the sound of a harmonica will bring Bigfoot running, or rather his mate if she’s pregnant. He read somewhere that her hormones make her crave harmonica music.”

“Is that true?”

“Not that I know of. There are tons of crackpot theories out there, and this is one of them. I don’t think his damned harmonica will do anything except annoy the hell out of you and me.”

“Then again, maybe his harmonica playing will effectively block out the sound of two people hav**g s*x.”

Roarke gazed at her and slowly began to smile. “On second thought, I love that stupid harmonica.”

Chapter 15

Roarke got dressed faster than Abby did, so he quickly hauled out his safety razor and managed a quick shave. He’d worried about scratching her this morning, but he was also thinking of the future. He still had much to explore when it came to Abby.

He’d promised himself to kiss all her freckles, and he hadn’t done that yet. She also had hidden riches to taste. He’d hate to irritate her sensitive thighs while he was savoring those riches.

By the time he’d finished with his shave, Abby had her clothes on and was putting her hair in a ponytail. The gesture reminded him of last night in the rain, when she’d worked shampoo into her hair and caused her br**sts to quiver with the motion.

He’d be wise not to spend too much time thinking about last night, or the hot wetness of her this morning, when she’d insisted she wasn’t willing to have sex with him. She’d been more than willing, and he’d known it. She couldn’t fool him when his excellent sense of smell gave him all the information he’d ever need about her readiness.

To think he’d expected Donald’s presence to slow them down. Hell, he’d very quickly realized he wanted to make Abby cry out during sex so that Donald would have no doubt Roarke was the alpha male around here. Even someone as geeky as Donald brought out Roarke’s need to mark his territory.

But he hadn’t gone into the cave with sex on his mind. He’d only meant to see if Abby was awake so he could let her know his plans regarding Donald. Then he’d walked in on a werewolf’s fantasy—a nak*d, voluptuous woman on her hands and knees, facing away from him on the stone floor of a dimly lit cave.

On top of that, her scrubbing action had made for some interesting hip movement, almost as if she were taunting him with her availability. Of course she hadn’t been. She didn’t understand the sexual subtleties of a werewolf’s mind, and probably wouldn’t have time enough to explore them.

But thinking about Abby on the cave floor still got him hot, even though he’d just had sex with her. She had no idea what a temptation she’d unwittingly presented this morning. He deserved credit for not taking her on the spot.

Sure, that action would have had serious consequences for both of them, but unexpectedly discovering her on all fours had awakened powerful instincts that he had trouble taming. He was already half in love with her, and that combined with lust could easily have trumped logic.

Somehow he’d controlled himself. But when she’d continued to stand there in all her nak*d glory, he’d decided to claim his consolation prize. As consolation prizes went, it was a pretty good one, and certainly a safer route than the action that had instantly flashed into his head when he’d first glimpsed her bare and very provocative backside.

“All righty.” Abby walked over as he was stowing his razor in his backpack. “I’m ready to meet The Donald.”

“Trust me, this guy is just Donald, not The Donald.”

She gave him a curious glance. “It just occurred to me that you, owner of a very pricey watch, might know The Donald.”

“I don’t, but my father does.”

She slowly nodded. “Out here in the woods it’s easy for me to forget that you come from a very wealthy family.”

“Does it matter?”

She gazed at him. “When two people are living for the moment, nothing like that matters, I guess.”

“Not really.” But it made him a little sad that she’d never meet his family. They’d like her . . . as a family friend, of course. They’d accepted Emma, but they wouldn’t be happy if both their sons went off the deep end and chose human mates.

He felt the need for a change in subject. “I’m thinking after we get the introductions out of the way, the next step is coffee and breakfast.”

She smiled at him. “Worked up an appetite, did you?”

“You could say that.”

“You shaved.” She touched his jaw. “Was that on my account?”

“As a matter of fact.” He cradled her face in both hands and tipped it up so he could examine her freckled skin. “I irritated your skin a little when I kissed you this morning. I feel bad about that.”

“No worries. I think you look kind of dashing with stubble.”

“Thanks, but stubble gets in the way of certain activities.”

“Like kissing?”

Leaning down, he brushed his mouth over hers. “Like that. And . . . other fun stuff.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

“Then imagine this.” He put his mouth close to her ear and told her in graphic detail what he had in mind for the next time they were alone and nak*d.

“Roarke!” She pulled away from him and pretended to look shocked, but her eyes grew dark and sparkly. “You, sir, are no gentleman.”

“I never claimed to be. I’m a werewolf, Abby. We have voracious sexual appetites.”

“That’s an understatement.” She fanned her pink cheeks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you of deliberately planting that idea in my head so I’d think about it all day.”

“Me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Will you think about it all day, Abby?”

“Probably.”

“Good.”

Abby stepped out of the cave into the pearl-colored light of an overcast morning. Mt. Hood, the most dominant feature of the area on a clear day, was still covered. But no moisture fell from the sky. She almost missed being pelted by raindrops. From now on, a rainy day would remind her of being here in the woods with Roarke.

“Ah, there you are!” A pudgy guy in a bright orange sweat suit jumped down from the rock he’d been sitting on and walked toward her. His fluorescent green ball cap carried the slogan Bigfoot Lives! across the crown.

She stepped forward and offered her hand. “I’m Abby Winchell. And you must be Donald Smurtz.”

“You’ve heard of me?” He pumped her hand enthusiastically. Behind thick lenses his eyes were a pale gray with surprisingly beautiful dark lashes.

“From Roarke.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you’d read some of my articles in Cryptozoology Today. I’m multipublished in that journal.”

“Sorry.” She extricated her hand from his grip. “I’m new to the study of Bigfoot. So you came up here all by yourself?”

“I did.” He puffed out his chest. “I thought of taking along my peeps on this quest, but then I told myself, Donald, my boy, strike out on your own.”

“Self-reliance is a good thing.” Abby glanced over at Roarke, who was standing to one side, arms folded, as he watched Donald’s performance.

The performance obviously wasn’t over. Donald lifted one finger toward the sky. “I said to myself, Be your own person, Donald Smurtz! Take that equipment you invented and prove that you’re an engineering phenom. Follow your heart!” Punching his fist into his chest, he promptly doubled over in a coughing fit.

Abby moved toward him. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. Probably got some fruit leather caught in my throat.”

“Let me help.” Abby moved into position and whacked him between the shoulder blades, but nothing popped out of his mouth. She pretended not to notice. “Better?”

“Much.” Donald took a deep breath. “That fruit leather can be wicked stuff if you get a piece crosswise in your windpipe.”

“I’m sure.”

Donald straightened and adjusted his ball cap. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

“For what?”

“Hel-lo. Marriage? Holy matrimony? The tie that binds?”

Roarke stepped forward and put his arm around Abby. “You’ll have to forgive my bride. She’s still not accustomed to thinking of herself as a married woman, probably because the rings I ordered never arrived. So no engagement ring for Abby and no wedding rings for either of us.”

She took note of how easily he created that story to explain the absence of rings. He was a smooth one, this Roarke Wallace. His story about not needing condoms better not have been just another smooth lie. If she turned up pregnant with shape-shifters, there would be hell to pay.

For the time being, though, the arrangement was pure heaven. For the first time in her life, she could enjoy spontaneous sex. She thought about what had happened recently in the cave and wondered if Donald had heard any of it.

He pulled the hem of his orange sweatshirt down over his rounded hips. “I just want to say, for the record, that I appreciate you two inviting me along on what was obviously intended as a private journey to find Bigfoot. I wouldn’t have dreamed of intruding, except Roarke insisted.”

“Donald has amazing equipment,” Roarke said.

Abby couldn’t resist. “So do you, dear.”

Roarke stared at her and actually blushed.

“Pardon us, Donald.” Abby smiled up at Roarke, who was definitely giving her the evil eye. “A little honeymoon humor.”

“Oh, sure, sure. Don’t mind me.”

Roarke cleared his throat. “Anyway, Donald, my brother’s an expert in surveillance, but I think he could learn a thing or two from you.”

Donald preened. “Have him give me a call. I’m always willing to share my techniques. Is your brother a Bigfoot aficionado, as well?”

“He dabbles,” Roarke said.

“Ah.” Donald rocked back on his heels. “I’m well acquainted with the weekend Bigfoot hobbyist, but they’re not like you and me, are they?”

“No.” Roarke gave Abby’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’re hard-core.”

“You and I are the kind of guys who will come up with the goods, get the confirming evidence, enlighten the unenlightened. After this, we might get some talk-show gigs, Roarke. I’m thinking Letterman.”

“You know what?” Abby stepped away from Roarke. “I think I’ll go grab the camp stove and some supplies so we can start the coffee. Roarke, would you like to help me with that?”

“Sure thing, Abby.”

She marched back to the cave and shoved her way through the bush guarding the entrance. Instead of holding it for him, she let it snap back and was pretty sure he got a shower. He mumbled something, but she didn’t try to figure out what it was.

She waited until they were both able to stand before whirling to face him. Although she was fuming, she kept her voice low so Donald wouldn’t hear. “He’s a total nutcase! What were you thinking, inviting him along?”

“He has equipment. You should see the dish he has. It’s small, but extremely powerful. Battery operated. He’s an engineer, so he very well could have built it himself. The guy’s probably some sort of genius.”

“I don’t care if he’s Albert Einstein! He’s the kind of guy who will find Bigfoot and broadcast his findings to the world. Did you hear him? He wants to get on Letterman !”

“I suppose he’d like to, but—”

“Exactly! After what you’ve told me, that should be the last thing you want for these fragile beings. I don’t get this at all!”

Roarke glanced at the cave’s entrance, as if to make sure Donald wasn’t coming through to check on them. “He’ll never see Bigfoot. I’ll make sure of that.”

“How? You describe these amazing listening devices, which he could be using right this minute to hear what we’re saying. You do realize that.”

Roarke pulled a wire out of his pocket. “I asked him to show me how it works, and while I was examining it, I unhooked this. I’ll put it back at some point, but I can always pretend I was fooling with it and didn’t realize this was an important part. Don’t worry. I’ll make up whatever I need to in order to protect us.”

She wished he wasn’t quite so good at doing that, but she’d deal with that issue later. “Okay, so if we need his equipment to help us track Bigfoot and his mate, how can you utilize his equipment and keep him from seeing those creatures?”

“You’re going to help me.”