She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I’ve already had my say, and this bonnie bed adds an exclamation mark to the end of my statement. Ever watched yourself in a mirror, lass?”
“No, can’t say that I have. But I’m assuming you’ve tried it.”
“Sadly, I have not.”
She expected him to add that here was another opportunity that might never come again, but he didn’t. He probably knew that she was already thinking it and didn’t need to be reminded. His silence on the matter was more potent than if he’d carried on about hav**g s*x beneath a mirror.
She ducked out again and pulled on her gloves. “Let’s get the wood.” Turning up the collar of her red leather coat, she walked over to the back door and unlocked it. When she opened it, the wind tore it from her grasp. If Duncan hadn’t rushed over to block the swinging door, it would have banged into the wall. Gusts of frigid air and swirling snow enveloped Kate and made her wonder what the hell she’d been thinking when she’d suggested bringing in a load of firewood during a blizzard.
She put her hand on the door. “Let’s lock up and forget the wood!”
“Nay, we’ll have a fire. Hold on to the door. I’m letting go.”
She used both hands this time.
Lowering his head, Duncan walked into the teeth of the storm. “Put your weight against it to hold it closed, and open it when I call out.”
She did as she was told because Duncan, bless his lust-warmed heart, was out there gathering wood for the fire she’d requested. She couldn’t deny his gallantry, even if she suspected his motives.
Soon she heard his command to open the door. She gripped the knob with both hands this time as he came through with his arms full of sweet-smelling cedar and his topcoat and dark hair covered with snow once again. She tried not to think of what his wet shoes and socks had felt like when he had to put them back on. He was sacrificing his physical comfort for her, no doubt in the hope it would win him points. It did.
Throwing her weight against the door, she shoved it closed and locked it.
“Well-done.” Duncan turned and walked back into the living room with his armload of wood. He didn’t even glance at the velvet-draped bed.
If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d dismissed it from his mind. But she knew better. He was a strategist, and she felt reasonably sure that his goal was to get her into that bed. His current tactic was pretending that he didn’t particularly care if he did or not.
The bed and the mirror were added temptations she hadn’t counted on. Duncan himself was potent enough without adding embellishments like that. At some point she might have to throw up her hands and accept the inevitable outcome.
But not yet, by God. She, too, ignored the bed as she started out of the room. But then she allowed curiosity to guide her through a door leading to the bathroom. After seeing the bed, she wasn’t surprised at the black Jacuzzi, or even the European bidet. Black towels, thick and sensuously soft, hung on heated towel racks, although the heat wasn’t on at the moment.
“Kate?” Duncan called out to her as he walked back into the bedroom. “You’ll never guess what I found tucked away on the bookshelf.”
She turned from the bathroom doorway. “X-rated movies?”
“Aye! How did you know?”
“It goes with my new image of the Stewarts.” She gestured to the bathroom. “They’re very sensual people. I wouldn’t be surprised at much of anything we found now.”
“Nor would I.” A smile was in his eyes as he held her gaze. “Nor would I.”
“You’re thinking they have sex toys stashed in a drawer, aren’t you?”
His smile reached his sculpted mouth. “Yes, but we won’t be looking for them, lass. I’m not above having my way with you in that fantasy bed, but I draw the line at borrowing vibrators.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“That was a two-part statement. Which part are you glad about? If it’s the first half, then—”
“The second half. About not borrowing vibrators.”
“Too bad.” He winked at her. “If you want to come back into the living room, I’ve lit your fire.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “You’re incorrigible.”
“So I’ve been told.” In silent invitation, he swept an arm toward the door into the living room.
She walked in and discovered that he’d refilled their wineglasses and set them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She’d halfway expected that he’d have one of the X-rated movies on the flat screen, but it was dark. Maybe he was saving that for later.
“Thank you for the fire.” She took off her coat, gloves, and hat.
“I enjoy pleasing you.”
She didn’t miss the underlying message in that statement, either. After walking into the kitchen and laying her things over a chair, she sat down to unlace her boots.
“Need some help with that?”
“Thanks. I’ve got it.” She paid attention to the damp laces this time so she didn’t knot them again. “You’ve completely abandoned the idea of taking the high road, haven’t you?”
“Completely.” He sounded unrepentant about it, too. “You’re free to battle your conscience if you want to, but mine is clear. We didn’t choose to be marooned here together in a cozy cabin with a mirrored bed, and the whole setup has a sense of inevitability to it.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” She pulled off the first boot. And she’d been guilty of having that same view minutes ago.
“Here’s another way. I also see this night as a chance to find a meeting place, a middle ground, perhaps, between our two warring factions.”
“Now, that’s delusional.” She pulled off the second boot and glanced over at him. He stood with his back to the fire, his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks and his powerful shoulders caressed by the flickering light of the flames. He reminded her of a Celtic god who had touched down on earth to bestow his magnificent gifts on a mere mortal.
“Why is it delusional?” His brogue might be the sexiest thing about him, but it topped a long list.
She took off her socks and draped them over the back of the chair, too. “Because there is no middle ground. You’re either in favor of Weres mating with humans or you’re not.”
He regarded her quietly for a moment. “Or to state it another way, you’re either moving forward into the future or you’re stuck in the past.”
“Or, to state it another way, you’re either recklessly endangering your species or you’re protecting it from harm and potential extinction.” She stood. “Where’s your middle ground now, Duncan?”
“Good question.” Amazingly, he didn’t seem angry at all. “It might be located on that king-sized mattress in there.”
“Does it all come down to sex, then?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he nodded. “It might, at that. It’s a concept to be considered. But I’d rather expand on it and include love. The sexual urge is as old as humans and werewolves. So is the urge to connect on a deeper level that goes beyond physical desire. Weres have always wanted a connection with humans. And humans connect with Weres all the time in business, friendship, and sex. They just don’t know it.” He chuckled. “Damn, I should write this blather down. It’s somewhat brilliant.”
She couldn’t help laughing. They were poles apart in their philosophy, but he was the most entertaining Were she’d encountered in a long time. An unwelcome thought came to her. Would he be half as interesting if they agreed on everything?
Surely that couldn’t be part of his appeal. When she finally found her soul mate, he would share her beliefs, and that would be one of the many bonds connecting them. Yet in cruising through the profiles on Furthebest.com, she’d found dozens of Weres who shared her beliefs.
She’d told herself that time constraints had prevented her from contacting any of them. But if she’d been motivated to connect with a like-minded Were, she would have found the time. Could it be that if they agreed with her, she was bored? She hoped not.
“Are you coming over to sit by the fire, then?” Anticipation glowed in his eyes.
She fought the pull of his sexuality. Instinct told her that once she joined him on that sofa, the battle to keep him at arm’s length would be over. A warm fire, a glass of wine, soft upholstery, and a hard Were—difficult to resist a combination like that.
“Maybe we should post on Sniffer again, first.” She turned back to the kitchen table, picked up her phone, and hit the power button.
“Aye, perhaps we should.” His tone was indulgent, as if he knew she was only delaying the inevitable. “Would you mind bringing my phone over?”
“Sure.” As she reached for his phone, she glanced at her screen and grinned. “Angela Sapworthy says the cabin score is two–one, my favor.”
“How did she come to that conclusion?”
“I guess because I posted two zingers and you only posted one.” She carried his phone into the living room, rounded the sofa, and handed it to him.
He gave her a pained look. “I didn’t plan on anyone keeping score.”
“You should have. Don’t you suppose they’re making bets on whether we strangle each other before the night is over?”
Understanding sharpened his gaze. “You’re right, lass, and that’s exactly what we want them to be doing. Our cover story is pretending that we’ve been fighting ever since we first laid eyes on each other.”
“But I thought you were all about love and cooperation?” She perched on the sofa.
“I am, but we’re not ready for that, yet. Your Howlers are making that transition difficult if not downright impossible.”
“Good! That’s our mission!” She tapped quickly on her phone’s keyboard. “And the score is now three–one, so you’d better step up the pace, Woofer.”
Duncan had never met such an infuriating and sexually exciting female in his life. Nothing was simple with her, and that aroused him in ways that he hadn’t believed possible. He wanted her surrender, naturally. He was desperate for it, in fact. Yet by God, the battle was almost as sweet as he imagined her surrender would be.
Powering up his phone, he remained standing by the fire as he waited for Sniffer to load.
She tapped away on yet another post. “Four–one,” she announced in a triumphant voice.
That note of triumph charged up his libido. It had done so all summer, apparently, and now he was reaping the result of months of online foreplay.
Consulting his screen, he read the first of her two posts. Duncan MacDowell enjoys looking into mirrors. #egotoobigforcabin
She was bloody cheeky. Perversely, that was what he enjoyed about her. She was already posting another Sniff as he turned his attention to the next one: Duncan MacDowell expects everyone to sing the same song—his, of course. #preferHOWLing
And a third popped up. Addendum to previous Sniff. His song out of tune, but what can you expect when he can only WOOF? #harmonioushowler
With a grim smile, Duncan responded. Kate Stillman is laced up way too tight. Tends to get tied in knots. #1loosewoofer
He didn’t stop with one Sniff, though. If Angela Sapworthy was keeping score, he needed to win one for the Woofers. So he typed out Kate Stillman should see an optometrist. She and the Howlers have tunnel vision. #far sightedwoofer
Kate was reeling off more Sniffs, too. He ignored hers and kept typing. Another post, and another, and another. His eyes ached from staring at the tiny keys and the small screen.
“Enough!”
He looked up.
Kate had flopped back onto the sofa and closed her eyes. “This is insane. We should quit before we both end up with terminal carpal tunnel.”
The sight of her lying against the sofa cushions with her arms flung out stirred him more than a little, but he didn’t trust her not to be using exhaustion as a tactic. “You’re just saying that because you want to quit while you’re ahead.”
She opened her eyes, and there was a definite gleam there. “Am I ahead?”
“I think that’s an excellent guess considering that you’re trying to talk me into quitting.”
Mischief danced in those blue eyes. “Okay, I’m one ahead of you. I didn’t expect you to catch up so fast, or to keep going this long. Aren’t you supposed to be jet-lagged?”
“I am jet-lagged, which makes my performance in this contest that much more impressive.”
“Braggart.”
“Sneak. You thought I’d take pity on you because you’re too tired to go on. Well, I’m posting one more Sniff to tie it up. If you really want to quit, then don’t post again. Because if you do, I will.”
“How much battery do you have left?”
“None of your bloody business.” But her question made him think her phone was about to die. He glanced at his and realized that his was also in bad shape. “What do you say, milady? Will you allow me to tie the game so we can give up this crazy enterprise, drink some wine, and enjoy the fire?”
She pursed her lips. “Depends on what you plan to say.”
How he wanted to toss the phone aside, go over there, and kiss that saucy mouth of hers. “Tell you what. I’ll show it to you before I send it. How’s that?”
“All right.”
He composed what he hoped was his final Sniff of the night, because he would dearly love to stop doing this and move on to other things, like kissing her until neither of them could think straight. Kate Stillman is mis guided, but she’s a worthy opponent. #tiredoftyping
“Let me see it.” She held out her hand.