Werewolf in Denver Read online

  “I’m right on your heels, lass.”

  His Scottish brogue delivered directly into her ear was quite a turn-on, too. “Good. That’s good. Let’s go on, then.”

  He released her. “How much farther?”

  “Not much.” Immediately she missed his warmth. Pointing the flashlight at the ground, she started walking along the tire tracks again. As a mental trick to fight off the cold, she relived their accidental embrace, and soon parts of her became quite toasty.

  What a concept. She’d never tried keeping warm in the snow by thinking about sex, but it worked like a charm, at least for her. Duncan wouldn’t be fantasizing about sex with her, though. He wouldn’t want to fraternize with the opposition, and he’d also been extremely vocal on his blog about his preference for human females.

  Remembering his enthusiasm for Were-human sex cooled her off again, but fortunately they were almost there. She’d never have found the driveway without the mailbox to mark the spot, but she was able to see its vague outline through the snow. Waving the flashlight to signal to Duncan, she turned right.

  Once they were off the road, the snow was considerably deeper. She winced at the thought of Duncan navigating without boots, but it couldn’t be helped. At least he was behind her and could step in her footprints.

  A pale glow straight ahead indicated that the dusk-to-dawn spotlight mounted on a pole near the cabin was working. Kate had known they’d have electricity because the Stewarts chose to leave their heat on low all winter rather than drain the pipes. Bob had told her all about it while he was helping her with the flat tire. Available electricity had been the other reason she’d decided their cabin would make a good safe haven until a tow truck arrived.

  The cabin itself was completely dark. No smoke rose from the chimney and no vehicle sat by the side of the house where the Stewarts usually parked their rental. Edith and Bob didn’t seem to be in residence at the moment, which was what she’d expected.

  The place was small but sturdy looking—a log-cabin structure that blended into its setting. The covered front porch held two rocking chairs all summer, but it was empty now. Double-hung windows on either side of the front door looked out on the porch.

  Kate had never gone in, but from the outer dimensions she’d always assumed it was a one-bedroom, one-bath layout. Climbing the porch steps, she trained the flashlight on the door in case the lock might be the kind that would open with a credit card. But sure enough, the Stewarts had installed a dead bolt in addition to the lock on the doorknob.

  Stomping his feet, Duncan came up the steps to stand beside her. “Looks like I’ll have to use the tire iron.”

  “Yep, and the sooner the better. I’ll bet your feet are frozen.”

  “They’ve been warmer.”

  She walked over to the window on the left. “Guess it doesn’t matter which one. With the blinds down, I can’t tell what sort of furniture’s on the other side.”

  “But it might matter where I hit it. Use the torch to find out where the lock is, if you can.”

  “Sure.” Now that she knew what he meant, she liked hearing him refer to it as a torch. The word went with his castle persona and his brogue. He was an intriguing Were, and that could be a problem this weekend. She wasn’t supposed to be intrigued with the leader of WOOF.

  After shining the light around the window casement, she reported that the window seemed to be of traditional design, with the lock in the center, where the two parts of the window met.

  “Then I’ll try to break it close to that lock. Stand back.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice. Duncan unbuttoned his coat and held the tire iron over his shoulder. Judging from his spread-legged stance, he planned to put everything he had behind the swing.

  “And cover your eyes,” he added.

  “What about your eyes?”

  “Oh. Good point.” Lowering the tire iron, he reached inside his topcoat and pulled out a pair of shades. “They’re not exactly safety goggles, but they’re better than nothing.” He put them on.

  “Now you look like a hit man for the mob.” She made a joke of it, but he’d taken on a dark and excitingly dangerous air as the shades combined with the scruff on his jaw to produce a breathtaking effect. This was a Duncan MacDowell she’d be hard-pressed to resist if he chose to try seducing her. Good thing he liked humans better than Weres.

  “I feel like a hit man for the mob standing here in the dark ready to swing a tire iron at a complete stranger’s window. Are your eyes closed?”

  They weren’t, because she’d been staring at him in total fascination. “Yes.” She quickly squeezed them shut and waited to hear the sound of shattering glass. One second, two, and then came the mighty crash.

  She opened her eyes. “Good Lord, you’ve destroyed the entire bottom pane!”

  “Didn’t mean to, but I don’t know how to break glass gently. You have to put your back into it if you want the job done right. At least it was safety glass. No sharp edges.” He laid the tire iron on the snowy porch. “Warm air’s coming out. Did they leave the furnace on?”

  “Yes, on low. That way they don’t have to drain the pipes every winter. You know, that hole’s almost big enough for me to crawl through without unlocking the window.”

  “Aye, but I won’t have you doing that, lass.” Reaching inside, he pushed up the honeycomb shade before flipping open the lock. Then he eased the window slowly upward as small pieces of glass rained down on the windowsill and the porch.

  “We’ll need to get this fixed tomorrow or the place will be an open invitation to thieves,” she said.

  “Let’s hope that thieves won’t be out in this kind of weather. I’m also hoping we can find something to temporarily block the cold air from coming in the house.” After opening the window completely, he brushed away the bits of glass from the sill. “Let me have the torch.”

  She handed it to him, and he crouched down to play the beam over the inside of the cabin. “Looks like a kitchen, and no furniture right next to the window.” He handed the flashlight back to her. “Just shine it on the opening while I get inside. Then I’ll unlock the door for you.”

  “You seem to know your way around a break-in, Duncan.” Briefly she thought about the hacking incident, but this wasn’t the same kind of thing, and besides, she’d been the one who’d suggested breaking in.

  He was a big guy and had to maneuver to get through the window. Glass crunched under his shoe. Once he was inside, he stuck his hand back out. “Torch, please.”

  She gave it back to him and walked over to the door.

  Within seconds, the locks clicked and the door swung open. “Welcome to my castle, milady.”

  “See, now you’re even talking like royalty.” She walked into the house. Even with the heat on low, the place was ten times warmer than outside. “Wow, that feels nice.”

  “It does. Let’s get some light on the situation.” Walking back to the kitchen, he swung the flashlight beam over the walls and settled it on a dimmer switch. “Ah, there ’tis.” Crossing to it, he rotated the knob and an elegant little chandelier over the kitchen table slowly came to life. Each bulb was small and shaded, so the effect was romantic.

  “So the Stewarts like ambience. I had no idea.”

  “I’m afraid we just compromised their ambience.” Duncan gazed at the chandelier. “I can already tell they love this place, and now we’ve vandalized it. Not only will I pay to have the window fixed, but—”

  “No, I will pay.” She laid her purse on the table. Then she pulled off her damp hat and draped it on the back of a kitchen chair.

  “You ran this errand on my account, so I’ll pay.”

  “Duncan, you’re an invited guest.” She put her gloves on the back of the chair next to her hat. “I’m paying.”

  He laughed. “We’ll split the cost.”

  “No, I—”

  “Are you really going to stand here with the cold blowing in and argue this point?”


  “Well, when you put it that way, I guess not. We’ll discuss it later. But just know that I’m going to—”

  “Kate.”

  “Okay. Later.” She pressed her lips together to keep from adding anything more.

  “In any case, I think they deserve some compensation for us barging into their home uninvited.”

  “I agree, but because I’ve met them, I don’t think they’ll be upset. We haven’t ruined anything that can’t be replaced.” But she felt a twinge of guilt, all the same. The kitchen was charming with its tile countertops, rustic walnut table and chairs, and open shelving for a collection of dishes that looked as if they’d been made by local artisans.

  “First order of business is to cover up that window and clean up the broken glass.”

  She shook her head. “No, first order of business is thawing out your feet. We should probably start by putting them in some lukewarm water so the shock’s not too great. Then I’ll cover the window.”

  “Sorry, but I’m not dipping my toes in warm water until that window’s sealed up to my satisfaction.” He started opening cupboards. “I don’t want to waste any more electricity than we have to, and some snow is blowing in.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” She spied a turkey roaster in one of the cupboards he’d opened and shut again. Walking over, she pulled it out. “Sit down and take off your shoes before you get frostbite.”

  “Not yet. Aha. Here’s a box of rubbish bags. Now all we need is tape.”

  “My grandmother will be furious if you end up injured and I could have prevented it.” Maybe the thought of an elderly female pack alpha on the warpath would make him more tractable.

  “Milady Kate.”

  His commanding tone would have raised her hackles if he hadn’t combined it with that cute title. But she’d be damned if she’d fall in with his game and call him milord, which carried overtones of subservience, in her opinion. Holding the turkey roaster, she stood and faced him. “Yes, Duncan?”

  “As you well know, because you sent me a Sniff to that effect, my ancestors fought the British in all kinds of weather while they were naked and painted blue. Don’t make a fuss over me. I’m a wee bit tougher than you’d be giving me credit for.”

  She gazed at him standing there in his open topcoat with his feet braced apart as he held the box of garbage bags. His dark hair was damp and tousled and his collar was still turned up. He’d removed his shades and no longer looked like a mob assassin, but the beard made her think of a dashing highwayman about to kidnap the woman he fancied.

  When that image was combined with a sexy brogue, a girl could find herself wanting to be kidnapped…and ravished in the bargain.

  “I won’t get frostbite, lass. We weren’t out there long enough. In the second place, I would never allow your grandmother to be angry with you on my account. You spent your valuable time driving to the airport to meet my flight, and you’ve done your best to assure my survival in a blizzard.” He smiled.

  Oh, boy. That smile should be registered as a lethal weapon. Dazzled by its magnificence, she felt determination seep away, leaving her ready to surrender without a fight. No wonder Angela Sapworthy couldn’t shut up about him.

  “You’ve acquitted yourself well,” he continued, “though it pains me to say it, considering that you’re the driving force behind the Howler movement.”

  She blinked as if rousing herself from a trance. The Howlers! They were counting on her to stand firm against this leader of the Woofers, and yet she was allowing herself to be captivated by his Scottish charm. Shame on her!

  “Thanks for reminding me of that.” She plopped the turkey roaster on the kitchen table. “You can make use of this when you’re ready. I’ll find some tape for that window.”

  “Excellent. The job will go faster with two people.” He took off his gloves, scarf, and coat and laid them over the back of another kitchen chair.

  “You’re right, though it pains me to say it, seeing as how you’re the driving force behind the Woofers.” Focus was definitely going to be a challenge when she was in the presence of this Scotsman. By removing his coat and scarf, he’d provided a more comprehensive view of his broad shoulders, massive chest, and narrow hips.

  He winked at her. “That I am.”

  Surely he wasn’t flirting with her. At least not on purpose, since she was not his species preference. Maybe flirting was his default setting. She began opening drawers in hopes one would contain tape. “FYI, somebody hacked into the Furthebest Web site today. It was down for hours.”

  “I hope you’re not implying that the Woofers had anything to do with that.”

  “I’m not accusing anyone of anything.” She found a roll of gray duct tape. “But I find it odd that this happened today as everyone’s gathering for the conference.” She held up the tape. “This should do the job.”

  “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.” H
e 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.