Werewolf in the North Woods Read online

  He asked the question so earnestly that she had to smile. “It’s definitely over-the-top, but if you’re asking me whether you should modify it, my vote is to leave well enough alone.”

  “So you think it makes me look dignified and scholarly, then.”

  “No, I think it makes you look like a geek.”

  “Damn. I was going for dignified and scholarly.”

  “Personally, Roarke, I think the geeky look works for you. You should keep it.”

  “Why?”

  “You honestly don’t know?”

  “If I knew I wouldn’t be asking you about this. I loved the Indiana Jones movies as a kid, and so I decided to model myself after him. I wasn’t willing to give up my Ferrari, and I still love a good game of touch football, but I wanted people at NYU to take me seriously. So I decided it would help if I looked more like a professor than a rich playboy.”

  She folded her arms and studied the man in front of her. His dark blond hair was rumpled from wind and rain, and he was sporting a five-o’clock shadow on his extremely square jaw. His shoulders filled out the tan windbreaker, and carrying that huge backpack made him look like some sort of Superman figure.

  “If you walked into a classroom looking like this, then—”

  “I would never do that.”

  “That’s fortunate, because if you did, all the women in the class would swoon, after which they’d spend the entire class period with their chins propped on their fists, gazing at you.”

  His cheeks reddened. “No, they wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, they would. You’re a hunk, Dr. Wallace. You may want to be admired for your brains, but your body is to die for. Take it from someone who’s been jonesing for you ever since we met at the Rotary luncheon.”

  “When I was wearing my professor uniform.”

  “I’m old enough to be able to look past that, but the clothes help disguise your hotness from an eighteen-year-old college freshman.”

  “Ah, it wouldn’t matter. To those girls, I’m an old guy. They’re interested in the football player sitting next to them in the lecture hall.”

  Abby shrugged. “So don’t take my word for it. Try ditching the vest and wearing a white shirt open at the collar. See what happens. I predict the female population of your class won’t take a single note. They’ll be too busy staring at you.”

  Roarke massaged the back of his neck. “I’m not sure you’re right, but that would be bad. Anthropology’s a fascinating subject and I want them to learn all they can while they’re in my class.”

  “Then take my advice and stick with the plaid vest.”

  “All right, I will.” He glanced at his watch again. “We still have another hour of daylight, and I think the scent is getting stronger. Are you okay to push on?”

  “You bet.”

  “Okay, but let me know when you’re ready to stop for the day.”

  “Sure.” Like she would admit to being tired. She’d hike till she dropped. Then she’d drag herself to her feet and hike some more.

  But he’d given her another topic of conversation as she followed him through the woods. “You drive a Ferrari?”

  “I have a weakness for fast cars. I toyed with the idea of becoming a race car driver, but I don’t think that kind of high-profile work is a good idea for my kind.”

  She smiled to herself. “You’d only be high-profile if you won a lot of races.”

  “Which I would.”

  “Obviously self-confidence wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I just know what I’m good at. Driving is one of those things. Flying is another one.”

  “You can fly?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Well, I’m no engineer, but I would think the aerodynamics of that would be tricky. I know Pegasus is supposed to be able to fly, too, but somehow a flying wolf just doesn’t—”

  “In an airplane, Abby.”

  “Oh.”

  “I grow fur, not wings and feathers.”

  “Whew. Thanks for straightening that out for me. I was picturing a squadron of werewolves. It was rather frightening.”

  His shoulders shook, and eventually she figured out he was laughing.

  “Oh, man.” He turned back to her, still chuckling. “I didn’t realize educating a human about werewolves could be so entertaining.”

  “Does that mean you’re having fun?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “Makes sense. You’re a teacher, and this is a subject you happen to have down cold.”

  “And you’re smart and eager to learn, so that’s always a bonus.” He gazed at her. “But I’ll bet you’re not having fun. You look like hell.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Sorry, but you look like someone pulled you through a knothole backward.”

  She was too exhausted to take offense. “At least I should smell yummy—to you, anyway.”

  “That’s a given, but you need to rest. We’ll find a place and make camp. There was a clearing back a ways. We can head for that.” He started to move around her, obviously ready to lead the way as they retraced their steps.

  “No, wait. You wanted to keep going after the Sasquatch pair stopped, so we could make up some distance.” But she didn’t put much energy into the protest because camping sounded like heaven.

  “I did, but if doing that pushes you until you collapse, I’ll have to give up the chase and carry you back to Earl.”

  She managed a weak smile. “Nah, just leave me beside the trail like they do in war movies.”

  “The heroes in war movies never left anyone beside the trail.”

  “And you’re a hero.”

  “Let’s put it this way—I’m not the villain who leaves a friend behind.”

  “So we’re friends?” If they were, she liked that. She’d never had a werewolf for a friend before.

  “I thought we were.”

  “Yeah, I suppose we are. That kiss took us past the acquaintance stage, but we can’t be lovers for a whole bunch of reasons.”

  He glanced away and his jaw tightened, as if he’d rather she hadn’t reminded him. “Right.”

  “So that leaves us with being friends. And friends don’t let friends camp out in the open if there’s a cave nearby.”

  He brightened. “There is?”

  “I think so. When we crossed over that little stream where we refilled our water bottles, I recognized the area. I marked the way to the cave with a few cairns, if they’re still there.”

  “How far back is the cave?”

  “You could make it in ten minutes. I’ll probably need more like fifteen.”

  As if on cue, rain began to fall.

  Roarke glanced up at the gray sky visible through the tree branches. “I’ve never been a fan of setting up a tent in the rain. The cave sounds great. Lead on, hiker girl.”

  She turned around and started back. Although they were going in the opposite direction from the Sasquatch pair, they wouldn’t lose too much time, and moving forward in the rain didn’t sound like a great idea.

  “I’m glad you know about the cave,” Roarke said. “The rain’s coming down harder and we’d be miserable out in the open.”

  “The cave could be occupied by a wild animal, of course.”

  “I know. I’ll check it out.” He said it so nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t the least bit worried about what he’d encounter in the cave.

  And he wouldn’t be, she realized. No matter how human he looked right now, he was capable of becoming a wild animal himself. The blond wolf she’d seen wouldn’t be intimidated by anything that might live in this forest.

  Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen many animals on this hike. A couple of squirrels, a rabbit, and several birds, but that was about it. True, the larger animals had mostly left the area as Portland had grown. Grandpa Earl said he hadn’t found bear tracks in years. But Abby usually spotted a deer or two when she went hiking.

  She’d never gone hiking with a werew
olf, though. Maybe Roarke had something to do with the lack of critters romping around. Maybe they could sense him. Maybe they could even smell him.

  Now she was curious. “Roarke, do you smell like a wolf?”

  He laughed. “No. Why?”

  “I usually see deer when I’m out on Grandpa Earl’s land. I haven’t seen any today.”

  “You’re on the right track. I don’t smell like a wolf, but I smell like a werewolf.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Yep. But deer don’t stick around when they smell a werewolf, either. Ever since we left the trail, the wind’s been at our back, carrying my scent to whatever’s ahead of us.”

  “Like the Sasquatch?”

  “They don’t have a good sense of smell.”

  “Aha! That’s why they stink so bad. If they didn’t, they’d never be able to pick up each other’s scent.”

  “You could be right about that.” He was silent for a moment. “Abby . . .”

  “What?”

  “Do you find my scent . . . unpleasant?”

  “No, I love it.” Whoops. Better dial back the enthusiasm. “I mean, it’s nice.”

  “I liked your first answer.” His voice carried a suggestively husky overtone.

  She decided to ignore it. “So, do you wear some kind of cologne or aftershave? Because if I knew the brand, I could buy some for my brother for Christmas.”

  “Sorry. I don’t wear any.”

  “Then it must be the soap you use that has a woodsy fragrance.”

  “I use unscented soap.”

  “Oh.” Then it was just Roarke. She’d never thought much about how a guy smelled before, and most of the men she’d dated used cologne or aftershave. “So you don’t like fragrances?”

  “Just the real ones. Anything artificial drives me nuts. Perfumes of any kind irritate my nose and interfere with my ability to catch important scents.”

  Like mine. Apparently she and Roarke had an olfactory match going on. There was something primitive and exciting about that—a little too primitive and exciting. The more they discussed this, the more she tuned in and turned on.

  Too bad about that. They’d decided to forego the pleasure, and even if they hadn’t, they were condomless. She could just cool her jets and forget about being naked on a bed of moss with sweet-smelling Roarke hovering over her. It wasn’t going to happen.

  Chapter 10

  A few minutes later, Roarke stood at the mouth of the cave. He pulled back the branches of a bush growing at the entrance to reveal an opening about five feet high and six or seven feet wide.

  “Do you think anything’s in there?” Abby leaned down to peer into the murky depths.

  “Nothing very big, or these branches would be broken.”

  “Some small things can still bite.”

  “I know. I’ll take a look.” He set his pack down and pulled a flashlight out of a side pocket. Flicking it on, he crouched down and edged into the cave. This reconnaissance would have been so much easier in wolf form.

  But he didn’t want to shift in front of Abby. His reluctance made no sense whatsoever, but he couldn’t seem to talk himself into doing it. She’d seen him shift, so he shouldn’t care if she saw him do it again. Yet he did.

  Shifting was a private event, even among Weres. For one thing, the Were had to get naked first, which set up a certain vulnerability. During the shift, a Were was extremely vulnerable. There was no protection from an outside threat in that state between human and werewolf.

  Roarke didn’t consider Abby a threat, but he wasn’t ready to put himself completely at her mercy, either. He’d rather exercise some control over their time together. Besides, once he shifted, they wouldn’t be able to communicate, at least not the way they could when he was in human form.

  So he suffered the handicap of being a biped as he duck-walked into the cave. Using his flashlight, he verified that no animal big or small, warm-blooded or coldblooded, was curled up in a corner somewhere. The cave smelled musty, but he couldn’t pick up any evidence that a creature had lived here recently.

  The ceiling rose to almost seven feet toward the back of the cave and he was able to stand. The floor was dry and plenty big enough for a couple of sleeping bags and the camp stove. They wouldn’t need to set up the tents, although he immediately understood that would eliminate one of the barriers between them.

  The thought of such an intimate sleeping arrangement went straight to his groin. Maybe he’d be better off out in the rain. Damn it, that was stupid. They could cohabit in this cave without having sex. She was appealing, but not so appealing that he’d lose control.

  Before he left, he swept his flashlight beam over the gray walls. Something low on the wall caused him to squat down and study it more closely. He grinned. Somebody had been in here playing Hangman with a piece of chalk. They’d gone through a ton of games, too.

  He wondered if Abby and her brother were responsible for the faint chalk lines on the cave wall. He had chalk in his pack. A tournament might be the perfect distraction from more dangerous games.

  Making his way back outside, he discovered the rain was beating down even harder. “Nothing’s in there.”

  “Good.”

  “But I found some graffiti.”

  She looked outraged. “Spray paint?”

  “Nope. Chalk. Hangman.”

  “It’s still there? Cool! Can I borrow your flashlight?”

  He handed it to her and she slipped past the branches and into the cave. Hoisting his backpack, he followed her. Question answered. She’d been one of the people with the chalk.

  But somebody else had been in the cave playing that game with her, and he had the unsettling thought that it might not have been her brother. It could have been a boyfriend. They might have spent the night in this cave playing Hangman and having sex. He didn’t like that, and he didn’t like not liking it. Her romantic past had nothing to do with him.

  He found her kneeling in front of the row of Hangman games.

  “We had such fun that night,” she said. “I’ll have to tell him it’s all still here.”

  “By all means.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Who polished off your porridge, Mr. Grouchy-pants?”

  “What did I say? I didn’t say anything.” He leaned his backpack against the cave wall and started pulling out supplies. First he turned on a small battery-operated lantern so they could see what they were doing.

  “It wasn’t what you said, but the stuffy way you said it.”

  “Maybe I have more important things to think about than some kids’ game you played with your boyfriend.” He slammed pots and pans on the stone floor of the cave.

  “My boy–” She sucked in a breath. “Roarke Wallace, you’re jealous!”

  “Why would I be jealous? I have no claim on you.” He fumbled with the camp stove. “We need to get this going so we can eat.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Thanks. Good to know how you feel.”

  “You have no idea how I feel.” Switching off the flashlight, she stood and walked over to where he was crouched as he assembled the camp stove. “But I’m beginning to get an inkling of how you feel.”

  “Hungry. I feel hungry. You said you’d handle dinner.”

  “What are you hungry for, Roarke?”

  You. But he’d bite his tongue off before he’d say that. She was in this cave soaking up memories of another man, another night. He’d leave her to that.

  He put the stove together and reached for one of the fuel canisters. “Once I get this together, you can start working on the food.”

  “I’m not in the habit of cooking for a surly man.”

  “I’m not surly. I’m just—”

  “You most certainly are surly. And by the way, I’d consider it a great favor if you’d stand up and face me while we’re arguing.”

  “We’re not arguing. We’re discussing dinner.”

  “The hell we are
! I’m not cooking a damned thing until you stand up and admit that something’s bothering you.”

  He felt like an ass, because he had no right to behave this way. So she’d had another man in this cave with her. So what? So what if they’d stripped naked in here and screwed all night long? What was that to him? He needed to lose the attitude, and fast.

  She stood before him, tapping the toe of her hiking boot.

  Reluctantly he rose to his feet and gazed at her. He owed her an apology. “I’m sorry. Your relationships with other men are none of my business. If you were in here playing Hangman or playing Hide the Salami, it’s all the same to me.”

  She began to laugh. “Hide the Salami? Did you really say that? Tell me you didn’t say that.”

  “Abby, I’m trying to tell you that my reaction to knowing that you had another man in this cave is—”

  “I was thirteen.”

  “Thirteen? You were out here alone with a guy at thirteen? Isn’t that a little young to be having sex?”

  “I wasn’t having sex. I was camping out with my big brother, Pete, who was fifteen. We used to go on overnight camping trips during summer vacations. I can’t say for sure if Pete got into the whole fantasy angle, but I’d pretend we were on an archeological expedition like Indiana Jones.”

  “You were here with your brother.”

  “Uh-huh. He was a lot more fun back then, but he’s all serious now that he’s an accountant. I’m going to take a few pictures of the Hangman games, to remind him of those days. I love that they’re still here.”

  Roarke blew out a breath. He wasn’t sure how he’d dig himself out of this hole. He’d made it pretty deep.

  “So you thought I’d spent the night in this cave with a boyfriend.” She continued to study him with a speculative gleam in her eyes.

  “I made a mistake and jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  “So you did. But that’s not the part that fascinates me.”

  He groaned. “Could we forget about it? I don’t know what came over me that made me act like that.”

  “Don’t you?”

  He looked into her eyes, shadowy in the light from the lantern. “If I do, I don’t want to admit it.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “There’s nowhere to get. Whatever this . . . feeling is between us, we need to ignore it.”