“Be glad to.” Abby walked toward him, bringing her delicious scent with her.
She’d opted for a navy Lycra sweat suit. Its dark color was a stark contrast to her bright hair, which she’d pulled into a ponytail. But mostly Roarke noticed how the stretchy material hugged her body, making him aware of every tantalizing curve.
“Grandpa Earl is so excited,” she said in a low voice. “Having someone with your background agree to go on this expedition is a dream come true for him. I wish he could go instead of me, but he’s just not up to it.”
“I wish he could go, too.” For many reasons that he wasn’t going to share with her.
“But of course that wouldn’t work, both because of his arthritis and because . . . he doesn’t know about . . . you know.” She moved closer and spoke in a soft whisper. “Are you bringing clothes?”
The jolt of excitement that shot through him stirred him in places that needed to stay calm, very calm. What in hell was she implying with that question? “Yeah, I am.” His voice had taken on the husky tone of arousal and he couldn’t seem to do much about that. “Why?”
She edged close enough that they were almost touching. “I figured out that you can probably search better in wolf form, so all this camping gear isn’t necessary for you, but I understand why you’re playing along.”
Oh. She wasn’t thinking they’d run nak*d through the woods together. She was thinking he’d spend most of the next couple of days wearing his fur coat. “This will be a normal camping trip,” he said. “Or as normal as possible, considering what we’re looking for.”
“But what about—”
“Hey, you two!” Earl came out of the back carrying his pack. “Quit gabbing and get ready to go!”
“The man’s right.” Roarke stepped away from Abby, which slightly reduced his urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless.
Getting on with the program should help. Once they left the store and were striding through the forest, each of them intent on their purpose for being there, he’d be better able to tuck away this inconvenient attraction.
Then Abby leaned over to take something from one of the lower shelves and the action presented him with a perfect view of her round, firm bottom. He coughed to cover the groan that rose from his throat. What was it about this woman that affected him so?
Yet he knew, and he didn’t want to know. From the first time he’d caught her scent, he’d understood on some level that he was in trouble. He would not complicate his life the way his brother had by falling for a human female. But that was exactly what his body was telling him to do.
Chapter 7
Abby was more familiar with the trails than Roarke, although it had been a while since she’d hiked them. Still, she offered to lead the way for the first couple of hours. Out of pride she kept up a good pace, which didn’t leave her much energy for conversation.
Roarke didn’t seem inclined to talk, either, so they moved along in silence through the misty rain. Toward the end of the second hour, she was forced to admit that she was woefully out of shape. Her legs hurt and an ache had developed between her shoulder blades from carrying the pack, although hers was half the size of Roarke’s. If he hadn’t volunteered to take more than his share, she’d have been toast.
About the time she was questioning whether she’d made a mistake in coming on this trip, Roarke suggested a food break.
“Sounds good.” Thank God. Grandpa Earl had packed turkey sandwiches once he’d realized neither of them had eaten lunch, and she was carrying them. That would eliminate one thing from her pack. It might not make a huge difference, but she’d take any lightening of the load, no matter how small.
She didn’t plan to let Roarke know that, though. After blackmailing him to take her along, she couldn’t very well complain that she couldn’t handle the hike. Unfortunately for her, the trail had been relatively level up to this point, but soon it would grow steeper.
Glancing around, she noticed a somewhat dry spot under a large fir. “Let’s go over there.”
Roarke followed her under the tree and slid his pack from his shoulders. The rugged look of his tan windbreaker and worn jeans had banished the nerdy professor entirely. In his place stood a guy who would make any woman’s heart beat faster. Abby had tried to be nonchalant about the transformation, but damn, he was serious eye candy. She could imagine that if he walked into a classroom looking like this, his female students would be too distracted to learn anything.
Fishing inside his backpack, he pulled out a small tarp before spreading it on the ground. “I think you have the sandwiches.”
“Yep.” She lowered her pack to the ground and clenched her jaw to keep from sighing in relief.
“How are you doing?”
“Great!” She unzipped her pack and pulled out the sandwiches. “How are you doing?” She handed him a sandwich before taking a seat on the tarp.
“Okay, but I’m used to this. I’m out in the field a lot with my work. Earl didn’t think you’d been hiking or camping lately, so I wondered if the pack is bothering you.”
“Not at all.”
He smiled. “Your eyes just flickered.”
“A bug flew in my face.”
“It’s too rainy for bugs. Is your back getting sore?”
She decided to admit to the crick between her shoulder blades but not the ache in her legs. “A little.”
“I can take some of your stuff in my pack.”
“No way. You’re already loaded, starting with Grandpa Earl’s camera.” She ticked off the other items. “Sleeping bag, tent, the mini camp stove, fuel canisters, cookware, and all the food except for our sandwiches. Once we eat these, I won’t be carrying anything except my clothes, my sleeping bag, and my tent.”
“Which is a lot if you’re not used to it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue the point.
“Seriously, Roarke. Don’t baby me.”
He gave a slow nod. “All right.” Respect flashed in his gaze before he turned his attention to his sandwich. Unwrapping it, he took a bite. “Mmm.” He chewed and swallowed. “Food always tastes better out in the woods.” He took another bite.
“It does.” Or it would, if she had the energy and inclination to lift her sandwich. Instead she found herself dreamily focused on his beautiful mouth.
The line of his upper lip dipped into a classic Cupid’s bow that she longed to trace with her finger . . . or better yet, her tongue. After that she’d explore the small crease in the middle of his full lower lip. Yesterday’s kiss had been too brief. Roarke’s mouth invited a woman to taste it slowly, savoring every part of the experience.
“Are you going to eat that?”
She blinked and hoped to hell he hadn’t caught her gawking at him. Then she realized he was focused on the sandwich still in her lap. “Yes.”
She dutifully started eating. She needed to keep up her strength and it gave her something to do with her mouth since she obviously wouldn’t be kissing Roarke anytime soon.
He appeared to be all business so far on this trip, which was as it should be. They each had a one-person tent and sleeping bag. Judging from the way her body felt after only a couple hours of hiking, she’d be in no condition to do more than crawl in and conk out, so the solo sleeping arrangements were just as well.
Roarke picked up his stainless-steel water bottle and took a drink. “One good thing, we don’t have to carry water on this trip. I love being able to refill my bottle from a stream. Water bottles get really heavy.”
“That’s probably why I’ve fallen out of the habit of taking long hikes.” That was her excuse for being so out of shape, and she was sticking to it. “In the desert you have to take so much water that it weighs you down.”
“But you like it there?”
“I do, although I’ve lived in the Phoenix area all my life and lately I’ve been thinking I should experience something else.” Right now she’d like to experience a full-body massage, which wouldn’t be happening, either. But prolonging this topic of conversation meant she wouldn’t have to get up yet. “How do you like New York?”
“The city or the state?”
“Both, I guess. I’ve never been there. You get a fair amount of snow in the winter, I would think.”
“We do. I don’t mind the snow.”
“You must live in the city if you’re a professor at NYU.” She was almost finished with her sandwich, so she slowed down to prolong the break.
Roarke didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, either. “Mostly I do live in the city,” he said, “except when I’m out in the field. But my normal routine is to stay in the city during the week and then head out to the family place on weekends. The city’s all hustle and bustle, but the country is relaxing. It’s a nice contrast.”
Of course. It all clicked into place. His family, which she assumed was wealthy given the extravagant watch he wore, had a place in the country. She’d already concluded that Roarke’s family tree included other werewolves like him.
The Gentrys were also wealthy and owned a place in the country. Maybe she was making too big a leap, but she had a hunch that some of the Gentrys were werewolves, too.
A chill traveled up her spine. In all these years, the Gentrys hadn’t been a problem to Grandpa Earl, but still . . . she’d feel so much better if he sold out and moved to Arizona.
Roarke gave her a questioning glance. “You’re quiet all of a sudden. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I was just wondering what it would be like to live where it snowed all winter.”
“Sorry, but your eyes flickered. Try again.”
So much for small talk. “I just wondered if any of the Gentrys are werewolves.”
He met that statement with stony silence. But he didn’t deny it.
A second chill shot up her spine. “So some of them are?”
“Abby, it’s better if we don’t discuss this.”
“Just answer me one thing. Is—is my grandfather in danger?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Werewolves avoid calling attention to ourselves. Harming your grandfather would be a very stupid move on Cameron’s part, and he’s not stupid.”
She thought of something else. “Don’t wolves live in packs?”
“Generally.”
“Do you?”
“You know what? We should probably get going. It’s late.”
“Your family is a pack, isn’t it? And so are the Gentrys. Are there more werewolf packs in other cities?”
“Abby . . .”
“There are, aren’t there? Are all the families wealthy, too?”
Roarke sighed and looked out over the damp forest. “I had some crazy idea that during this trip we might be able to have simple, normal conversations, but that’s ridiculous. Every conversation will wind back around to this subject, won’t it?”
“Well, excuse me all to hell, but how can it not? Show me the woman who could carry on a simple, normal conversation with a werewolf and I’ll show you Malibu Barbie!”
His mouth twitched, as if he might be trying not to laugh.
“I mean, really. I didn’t try to spy on you, but it happened, and now I can’t help thinking about it. You’ve told me not to ask questions, but if I were in your shoes—or in your paws—I’d want the person who knew the big secret to at least draw the correct conclusions.”
He gazed at her. “So you think I should give you more information about Weres?”
“I do. The cat’s out of the bag, the horse is out of the barn, and the werewolf’s out of the woods. I think at this point the more I know, the better chance I’ll have of avoiding disaster.”
“Or the more ammunition you’ll have to blackmail me.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not naturally a blackmail kind of person, Roarke. I did it this one time so you’d have to bring me along on your search. If you’re worried I’ll milk you and your rich werewolf family for the rest of my life, forget it. That’s not me.”
“I know, and I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Apology accepted. Besides, I don’t need more ammunition to blackmail you if I were so inclined, which I’m not. Those pictures say all there is to say. Anyone who’s met you would recognize you, and the news would be out.”
He seemed to consider that. “You have a point. The pictures are pretty damning.” He glanced at her. “You are so lucky it was me you saw and not someone who would have a . . . different response to the threat of exposure.”
“Are we talking about Cameron Gentry?”
“He’s not someone to mess with.”
“You said werewolves wouldn’t harm humans.”
“No, I said we don’t like to call attention to ourselves. But if a human learns about us, the potential for unwanted attention already exists and we have to initiate damage control in whatever way we see fit.”
She became aware that she was alone in the woods with a werewolf who saw her as a threat to his kind. She told herself not to panic. “Do you have a damage control plan for me?”
“Don’t look scared, Abby. I’ve promised you that you’ll be okay. This is my fault, my problem.” He balled up the sandwich wrapper and leaned over to tuck it in a pocket of his backpack.
“I still need information.” She put her wrapper in her backpack, too. “I think it’s ducky that you’ve sworn to protect me with your life, but unless you plan to hang around twenty-four-seven for the next fifty or sixty years, I’m not sure how you’d do that.”