“Aye, but let’s go back to the other topic. Furthebest is your livelihood. My followers wouldn’t jeopardize that to make a point.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Kate, I know them. That’s playing dirty, and that’s not what we’re about.”
“You can’t deny that my dating site goes against everything the Woofers believe, so why would they want it to flourish?”
He pulled a garbage bag out of the box. “Is it flourishing?”
“Of course it is.” Maybe not as wildly as she’d like, but the site was gaining new subscribers every day. “And I’ve had wonderful comments about my book. Whether you want to admit it or not, plenty of us prefer Were-Were sex and mating.”
“I’ve read it.”
“You’ve read my book?” She was surprised and a little chagrined that he’d taken the time. She’d totally ignored his.
He nodded. “Sex and the Single Shifter is a damned clever title.”
“Is that your way of saying the title’s great but the book sucks?”
“No, it isn’t.” He blew out a breath. “Let’s tape up the window before the Stewarts have an electric bill to rival the one at the castle.”
“Okay. Temporary truce.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Are we fighting?”
“It can’t be helped, can it? As you conveniently mentioned not long ago, I’m the leader of the Howlers, which means I stand for maintaining our standards. You want to blast them to smithereens.”
“I could respond to that outrageous statement, but I won’t, because then we’ll never get the job done.” Crossing to the window, he pushed it back down slowly as bits of glass rained onto the sill. “If we’re going to be walking around this area, we should sweep up some of this first.”
She hated to admit that he might be thinking more clearly than she was at the moment. “I saw a brush and dustpan under the sink.” She handed him the tape. “I’ll get it.” On her way back to the counter she unzipped her leather jacket and pulled it off. She’d be able to maneuver better without it.
She’d worn her favorite black turtleneck sweater under her coat for this first meeting with Duncan. The sweater was soft and classy, so it gave her a boost of confidence every time she wore it.
Returning with the dustpan and brush, she thought she caught a glimpse of male appreciation in his gray eyes, but she might have been mistaken. She hunkered down and swept up the glass immediately in front of the window. “That should be good enough for now.” She laid the dustpan and brush to one side and stood. “We can do a better job later, when we mop up the water we’ve dripped on the floor.”
“Is that sweater angora?”
“Yes.” Knowing that he’d checked her out provided a measure of satisfaction. If he rattled her this much, she’d like to think she’d had some effect on him as a way of balancing the scales.
“Thought so. Do you want to hold or tape?”
“I’ll tape.”
“Nothing like a decisive female, I always say.” He handed her the roll of tape.
“For what?” She met his gaze.
“Everything.” He turned and stretched the plastic across the top of the window frame. “Whether it’s business or pleasure, I appreciate dealing with someone who knows her own mind.”
“Even if it’s different from yours?”
“Especially then. I don’t like shadowboxing. Thankfully, you don’t do that. Hey, this is going to blow at the bottom, so maybe you should tape that part while I hold the top.”
“Yep. But you’ll have to step back so I can get in there.” His shadowboxing statement had sounded like a compliment. Interesting.
Maintaining his hold on the bag, he walked his feet backward. “I must look like a perp in a cop show about to be frisked.”
“You watch those?”
“Aye. I love trying to solve the case.”
“Me, too.” Crouching down again, she sandwiched herself between his legs and the wall so she could tape the bag to the bottom of the window frame. The scent of wet wool and warm male surrounded her from behind, while cold, damp air blew in through the broken window.
“At least we have one thing in common.” His brogue had an undertone to it that hadn’t been there before.
“So it seems.” If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was getting turned on by working with her in such close quarters. For her part, she was hyperaware that his body hovered over hers. Without really wanting to, she found herself matching the rhythm of his breathing.
“So what’s your favorite show?” he asked.
“I love The Force. I have a little crush on the guy who plays Adam.” Now that she thought about it, Duncan reminded her of that tall, dark-haired actor, who was, of course, human. She’d never consider actually dating him, but he was great to watch on the screen.
“I’m looking forward to some American TV while I’m here.” Again, there was a husky quality in Duncan’s voice, as if he wanted to sound casual when he felt anything but.
“Stillman Lodge has a flat screen and cable in every room.”
“Nice.”
There was no mistaking the sexual vibration in that comment.
She picked up the heady scent of arousal. Technically he shouldn’t be attracted to her because she wasn’t his preferred type, yet it seemed that he wanted her.
The knowledge gave her a sense of power, but it also made her quiver inside. Against all odds, she wanted him, too, despite whom he was and what he stood for. He was her physical type, as evidenced by the fact he looked like the TV actor she liked. But it would be foolish to get involved. She could easily compromise her campaign for HOWL.
Moving faster, she taped each side of the window, but she couldn’t reach the top. “I need to stand up to finish. Watch out for your chin.”
“All clear.”
She stood slowly to make sure she didn’t clip his jaw with her head. Once she was upright, she found herself effectively caged between his outstretched arms. For the second time tonight she was being embraced by Duncan MacDowell.
Although breathing had become more difficult, she tried for nonchalance as she ripped off a piece of tape and smoothed it quickly against the window frame. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”
“Bloody inconvenient,” he murmured.
“I know.” She deliberately chose to misunderstand because she wasn’t ready to admit what was happening between them. Maybe if they ignored it, the tension would go away. “I didn’t intend for us to get stuck here, and I’m sorry.” She slapped on some more tape.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, lass.”
So he wasn’t going to let her sidestep the issue. She struggled to stay calm as she put on the last piece of tape. “You can let go now,” she said quietly.
“Not yet.”
“But we’re all finish—” She gasped and dropped the tape as he took her by the shoulders and turned her around.
“No, we’re not quite finished.” And his mouth came down on hers.
Chapter 3
Sniffer Update: @newshound—WereCon2012 attendees ask—where’s Duncan MacDowell? His flight came, but he’s AWOL. So is Kate Stillman! #intriguedeveloping
Duncan knew in advance he’d regret this kiss…eventually. But the moment his lips found Kate’s, he didn’t give a damn about anything except the velvety taste of her ripe mouth. He wanted this kiss, needed it with a desperation that drove him to pull her hard against his throbbing body.
She was every bit as delicious as he’d been imagining she would be, and besides, she was kissing him back. With a groan he shifted the angle and took the kiss deeper. He stroked his tongue against hers and felt her shiver in reaction.
God, but this was good. Of course it would be. She was such an expert in Were sex that she’d written a book about it. Reading her book on the plane had been a tactical error, but he couldn’t unread it, and many of her descriptions were burned into his brain.
As a result, her kiss drove him crazy. Wrapping his arms around the soft angora sweater, he envisioned pulling it over her head. He could have it off in a split second. And then…as he fell deeper into lustful scenarios, he imagined a soundtrack providing background music, as if they were in a movie. Oh, yes, wild music with a strong beat fit with this moment, this incredibly hot…
But for some reason she’d stopped kissing him and was squirming in his arms, and not in a sensuous way. “My phone. It’s my phone.”
Gradually he returned to the world of blizzards, political differences, and ringing cell phones. He was disappointed that her kiss hadn’t made him hear music, after all. But it had been one hell of a kiss, in spite of that detail.
She extricated herself without a lot of help from him, because he really hated to lose the connection with her warm body and that erotically soft sweater. But as the significance of the ringing phone penetrated his passion-drenched mind, he realized they should have called the resort the minute they’d finished taping the window. Someone might be worried about them.
Or maybe a towing company had a free truck available and was about to come and rescue them from the snowdrift. As he listened to the apologetic way Kate was talking on the phone she’d pulled out of her purse, he gathered it wasn’t a towing company. Someone, probably her grandmother, wanted to know why they hadn’t arrived yet.
In point of fact, they hadn’t been free to call until moments ago, when the immediate problems had been solved. He shouldn’t feel guilty that he’d delayed that call by less than five minutes. Yet if the phone hadn’t rung, the delay might have been longer.
Yes, much longer. Their recent discussion about condoms had reminded him that Weres could have sex whenever they chose to without worrying about birth control. The Were culture celebrated sexual pleasure and encouraged teenage Weres to explore and experiment.
Because their species was naturally disease-resistant, they didn’t have to worry about that issue, and no male Were could make a female pregnant unless he’d officially claimed her as his mate. Neither could he impregnate a human female who wasn’t his chosen mate, but explaining that to a woman would mean revealing his Were nature.
He couldn’t do that in today’s political climate. But when Weres could be open about their biology, then he would no longer have to pretend that he needed condoms when he had sex with a human female. Despite what he’d told Kate, he wasn’t totally enamored with condoms.
She was correct that sex without them was the most satisfying kind. And while he’d been kissing her, he’d yearned for that kind of satisfaction. He really shouldn’t have read her book on the plane. Very stupid move.
Running a hand over his face, he encountered the bristle of a day-old beard. He hoped he hadn’t given her razor burn. It wasn’t a nice thing to do, and in addition to that, he didn’t want anyone at the convention to know that he’d been kissing her.
Even for a Were given to spontaneous behavior, which he was, that kiss had been…possibly the most foolish thing he’d done in a long while. And that was saying something.
While she talked on the phone, he found the trash can and dumped the dustpan full of glass. Then he located the thermostat and turned the heat up a bit. They might not be here long, so he hated to use more than they had to, but now that he wasn’t holding Kate, he felt the chill.
Then he remembered his own phone, which he’d tucked into an inner pocket of his overcoat. The charger was in his suitcase, which was in her vehicle, so once he’d checked for messages, he needed to power it down.
None of the e-mails needed immediate attention except one from his brother, Colin, who’d stayed in Scotland with his mate, Luna. A year ago Colin might not have trusted Duncan to represent the MacDowell pack at this conference. They’d butted heads constantly on Duncan’s views on Were-human interaction.
But thanks to Colin’s love for his half-blood mate, he’d revised his opinions considerably. After all, a human-Were mating had produced Luna, the light of his life. Colin had even given Duncan permission to tell their story in Duncan’s book, Down with Dogma: Benefits of Were-Human Cooperation. So now all Colin wanted was reassurance that Duncan had arrived safely in Denver.
He sent a quick reply letting Colin know that all was well. It wasn’t, exactly, and his brother would shake his head in dismay if he knew that Duncan had allowed himself to get too friendly with Kate Stillman, whose rigid views directly opposed his campaign.
But Duncan believed he could contain that misstep. He’d apologize, back off, and control the damage. No one ever had to know besides him and Kate, and she certainly wouldn’t want word to spread, either.
Because she was still on the phone, he checked his Sniffer feed. Woofers who couldn’t attend the Denver conference had gathered at various locations for their own miniconferences. His followers were an enthusiastic bunch, but he hoped they wouldn’t stoop to sabotaging her Furthebest Web site.
Although he’d promised Kate that no Woofer would hack into her site in order to disrupt it, privately he couldn’t be sure. He’d never admit that to her, but she was smart enough to know that he couldn’t guarantee all his followers were law-abiding Weres. Any movement had a fringe element.
He sent out a quick Sniff saying he’d been temporarily delayed but should be at the conference site shortly. Then he turned off his phone, tucked it back inside his topcoat, and took a look around the cabin. No walls blocked the kitchen from the living area, which included an upholstered sofa and two overstuffed chairs, all covered in a Native American print.
The furniture had been arranged to face the far wall, which included bookshelves, a stone fireplace, and a flat-screen television tucked into a custom niche. He resisted the urge to pick up the remote from its holder on the bookshelf. He was an intruder, not an invited guest.