“T
hank
you. I shouldn’t have said that,” she said. “You look great.” He did, in his black suit with his crisp white shirt and deep red tie. “You just look exhausted.”
He smiled at that. “I am exhausted.”
She gestured for him to sit down. “Are you sure you still want to go to this party? You look like you need a good night’s sleep.”
“And miss the chance to show off the most beautiful woman in West Pines?”
“Technically, I’m in Shady Forks,” she pointed out. “But t
hank
you.”
“I think you have them both covered.”
She smiled, then turned back to him. “Why are you so tired? What happened?”
She couldn’t help wondering if the thing that upset him was indeed what she’d been feeling today. She had to admit the strange vibe she’d felt today was different from the other days. That endless restlessness. This was more the feeling... well, that something just wasn’t right. She’d gone into town to buy the dress she was wearing, and she’d felt better while in town. But then she’d gotten back here, and things felt off again.
She really was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with the old farmhouse. First her uneasiness, then her uncontrollable desire for Jensen, and now just this lingering feeling of weirdness. Like a vaguely unpleasant smell that she couldn’t locate.
“I’m really worried about my granddad.”
She focused on his face, seeing the worry there.
“Is he sick?”
“I don’t know. I think maybe. He was up last night shooting at something that he claims was a wolf.”
His words gave her pause. “A wolf?”
“According to him, it was a huge, black wolf.”
More uneasiness rose up in her, making it hard for her to pull in a full breath.
“At first I worried that he might have shot our neighbor’s dog. They have an old Newfoundland. But when I walked around the yard this morning, searching for traces of blood, I didn’t find anything. Which, I must say, I’m happy about. But it makes me think my granddad is having hallucinations or something. He is almost eighty.”
“There was no blood?” she heard herself asking.
He frowned, shaking his head. “No.”
But that still didn’t ease her mind. Werewolf blood dried to powder in the sunlight, making it often impossible to track a werewolf. It also made it difficult to analyze the blood to get the DNA. Two ways werewolves had remained hidden to the human world.
“Did you see anything?” she asked.
He shook his head again. “That’s what’s making this all a bit hard. I really think he was having a hallucination. Maybe the onset of Alzheimer’s.”
But Elizabeth didn’t believe Jensen’s grandfather had hallucinated the creature. Or rather she feared he hadn’t.
But Brody couldn’t be here, could he? A black wolf. That was how Brody appeared in his shifted form. She glanced over to Jensen, realizing they’d both been quiet.
Jensen lounged on her sofa, eyes nearly closed, but from under his lashes, he seemed to be studying her.
What was he thinking? She couldn’t tell.
“What are you going to do?” she asked gently, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his hand.
He opened his eyes, offering her a sweet, tired smile.
“I don’t know. He’s stubborn, and he won’t let me take him to the hospital. I didn’t even suggest it. He’d be so livid—well, I just know he wouldn’t agree to go. And in truth, it’s the first time he’s acted so strangely.”
“Maybe—maybe he did see something.”
Jensen shrugged. “Maybe. But there are no wolves in this part of West Virginia. What could it be?”
She regarded him, getting the feeling he was asking her more than the question revealed. But it could be her own guilt.
“Did I mention to you how gorgeous you look?” he murmured again when she didn’t respond, looking at her from under dark lashes.
“Well, you could again,” she said with a smile. She picked out the fitted black dress with him in mind. Him and his reaction.
He leaned in and kissed her. Yep, that was the reaction she’d hoped for, and suddenly thoughts of possible werewolves fled her mind. Jensen had a way of making her forget a lot of things.
He tasted her slowly until she was curled against him, tasting him back with the same lazy thoroughness.
“We don’t have to go,” she told him again.
“We do,” he said with regretful smile. “You haven’t met Molly yet. She’d never forgive me.”
She smiled, loving the fact that he was so concerned with his receptionist’s feelings. But Jensen was that way. Just... good.
Again, she felt like a complete liar and fraud for being what she was. But she pushed the thought away. She did deserve this time with him. She did deserve a little taste of the life she once thought she’d have.
“Not to mention,” he added, straightening up, “my grandfather is going to be there, and I want to keep an eye on him.”
“Your grandfather will be there? Does he know—you’re bringing a date?”
“Actually, no. He will be thrilled.”
“I don’t know... ”
Jensen straightened even further. “What?”
“I’m just afraid that I’m not what your grandfather would want for you.”
His frown deepened for a fraction of a second, then he smiled. “Are you kidding? Granddad will love you.”
She raised an eyebrow to that.
“Oh, believe me. He will.”
She wasn’t convinced, so instead of meeting his gaze, she looked down at her hands.
Jensen reached forward and caught her chin, raising her face to his. He leaned forward and kissed her. Just a quick, sweet brush of his lips against hers.
“You are nervous about this, aren’t you?”
She nodded just slightly. “I’m not exactly the girl next door.”
She sensed, rather than saw, his stillness.
“Why would you think that I want that, anyway?” he finally asked.
She shrugged. She didn’t know what he wanted. Well, no, she did believe he wanted her, but she just knew he wouldn’t if he knew the whole truth.
“I don’t want the girl next door,” he said, his voice just a tad more adamant than it needed to be. “I want you. And I want to show up at this party with you on my arm.”
She smiled, although she was sure the gesture was rather lame.
“Besides,” he added, “I’ve already met your brothers. I have the scars to prove it. Now it’s your turn to meet my family.”
“Well, your grandfather can’t be any more scary than that.”
“See.”
Chapter 17
E
lizabeth seriously started to doubt her prediction as soon as they pulled up to the party. The inn where the party was being held was beautiful. An old Victorian with a huge veranda, nestled on the edge of a lake. It was truly gorgeous, and the kind of place that she had not stepped foot into for two hundred years. Her time with the pack had been spent at much less reputable establishments. And even during her time away from them, she hadn’t gone to such classy places.
Now she wondered if she’d avoided them because she didn’t know how to handle herself any longer. But she didn’t reveal her fears, at least not when Jensen came around to her side of the truck and helped her down.
“Nice, isn’t it?” he said as he followed her stare.
She nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
They started up the flagstone path to the veranda, and with each step she felt like weights were tied to her new high heels.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, even as she found it hard to pull in a breath. She didn’t know how to handle this. This wasn’t where she fit in any longer. She wanted to, but she could tell this was going to be a disaster.
Jensen held the door open for her; warmth and the smells of wonderfully prepared food, along with the sound of voices and laughter, bombarded her.
She stopped, feeling like she was so close to her old life. So close, yet so far, and so painfully inept. She stood there, unable to make her feet move.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
She didn’t respond immediately—it was as if too many memories she thought long dead were barraging her just as the sounds and smells had.
“Elizabeth?”
She blinked at him, seeing his green eyes first, then the worry there. She tried to focus on him, knowing her behavior was more than a little strange.
“I—umm—it’s—”
“Jensen!” A voice beside them caused both of them to look in that direction. A woman in her fifties with short, bright red hair and glasses several shades darker beamed at him.
“Molly,” Jensen greeted the older woman, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You look lovely.”
“As do you,” the woman said, hugging Jensen with a fondness evident in their brief embrace. “I’m so glad you came. And,” she turned her eyes to Elizabeth, “I’m so glad you brought a date.”
The older woman extended her hand.
“I’m Molly George, Jensen’s receptionist. And,” she lowered her voice, “his grandfather’s before him. But don’t tell anyone. It will give away my age.”
Elizabeth accepted her extended hand, just as a tall man, slightly balding with a very warm smile, appeared beside Molly.
“I think the fact that this is your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary hints at your age, darling.”
Molly elbowed the man, then smiled. “I could have gotten married at twelve, t
hank
you very much.”
“True,” the man agreed. “Jensen. I’m so glad you made it.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Jensen said. “Herb, this is Elizabeth.”
Jensen watched as Elizabeth smiled warmly at the Georges. She congratulated them on their anniversary and t
hank
ed them for the invitation via him.
Within seconds, her nervousness disappeared. Molly and Herb were absolutely charmed.
He gazed at her, studying her genuinely sweet smile and her elegance and her warmth, and he certainly understood why his friends were reacting the way they were. He was charmed by her, too. Besotted, really.
When Molly and Herb left to greet other guests, Jensen caught her hand, pulling her closer.
“I thought you were nervous,” he said.
“I was,” she admitted. “Then I remembered how much I love parties.”
He smiled at that. And as he moved around the room, he realized he’d discovered another facet to Elizabeth, yet another one he wouldn’t have guessed. She was a natural-born hostess. She could charm even the most antisocial person within a matter of seconds.
But as he stood back and watched her chat with the stodgy old Bob Turner, he couldn’t blame any person in the room for being drawn to her. She had a vivaciousness, a verve that couldn’t be ignored.
Hadn’t he seen all of that simply by looking into her eyes from across a dark, crowded bar.
“So, Molly says you actually brought a date to this shindig.”
Jensen turned to see his grandfather clad in his seersucker suit that he only dragged out for ritzy events.
“Yes. I did actually bring a date.”
“Where is she?”
Jensen gestured toward where Elizabeth stood. “Right there.”
Granddad’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “Holy smokes.”
Jensen laughed. “Yeah. I have to admit I’ve had that same reaction several times since meeting her.”
“Well, let’s go rescue her from Bob. That old codger has got to be boring her to tears.”
They walked up to Elizabeth, then waited for Bob, who rarely strung more than four words together, to finish up a riveting story about his last fishing trip with his buddy, Joe.
Finally, when the story drew to an end, with no discernable point, Jensen jumped in to grab her away.
“Please excuse me, Mr. Turner,” she said with another of her lovely smiles. Old Bob looked totally smitten.
“Elizabeth, this is my grandfather, Charles Adler.”
Granddad offered her a hand. “Oh, just call me Granddad.”
Elizabeth beamed at him. “Hi, Granddad. It’s wonderful to meet you. Your grandson had told me all about you.”
“Is that so,” Granddad said, giving Jensen a pointed look that meant that might have not been a good thing. “He hasn’t told me very much about you. But that’s my grandson. Too damned secretive.”
Elizabeth’s smiled slipped ever so slightly, and Jensen immediately wondered if she was hurt that he hadn’t mentioned her. But before he could decide, her smile returned, wide and beautiful.
“Well, we haven’t known each other that long.”
Jensen realized her words were true, but given what they had shared, it seemed far longer than a handful of days.
“So, you will come over to our house tomorrow morning. I make a mean brunch.”
Elizabeth grinned at Granddad, then glanced at Jensen to read how he felt about the idea. He nodded.
“I’d love to,” she said.
“You know, Granddad, it is customary to invite a person you just met. Not order her.”
“Not if you are damned intent on having that person where you want them,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“See?” Granddad said with a smug waggle of his grayed brows.
Elizabeth laughed at the older man, obviously as delighted by him as he was with her.
Definitely a good thing, Jensen decided. It was good to have the people he cared about like each other. He glanced at Elizabeth. He did care about her. A lot. Again, the handful of days thing just didn’t seem to matter. He knew what he felt.
“Now, if you two youngsters will excuse me, I have a dance saved for me by Heddy. I believe I will go claim it.”
Elizabeth waved as Granddad beelined to his lady friend.
“He doesn’t seem confused,” Elizabeth said.
“No. He doesn’t,” Jensen agreed. “The thing is, he hasn’t—until last night.”
“Maybe... Maybe he wasn’t last night, either.” Elizabeth seemed reluctant to say that for fear he might think she was mad, too.
“Why? Have you seen anything around your place?”
She shook her head. “No. But... ”
She shrugged, although the gesture seemed more like she didn’t want to say something rather than she didn’t know what to say.
“I just hope he’s okay,” she said finally.
Again he got the feeling there was more she wanted to say, but instead she turned to watch the couples dancing in the next room.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked as he saw her expression become almost wistful.
The wistfulness turned to eagerness in the space of a heartbeat.
“I haven’t danced for years.”
“Well, neither have I, so let’s go figure out how again.”
She glanced back at the dance floor, then nodded.
They stepped out among the twirling couples, taking hold of each other much like awkward teenagers at a high-school dance.
After a few graceless turns, he pulled back slightly. “This isn’t going to work.”
Elizabeth’s face fell. “You don’t like it?”
“Oh, I like dancing with you, but I don’t want to hold you like this.” He pulled her closer, still cradling her hand in his, but he brought her close enough that they touched chest to thigh, and he slid his other hand down until it was pressed to the small of her back, just above the subtle curve of her bottom.
“That
is
better,” Elizabeth agreed as she rested her head on his shoulder and allowed him to lead.
“I’ve never danced like this,” she murmured, her warm breath touching the skin of his throat.
Nor had he. Dancing had never aroused him like this, that was for sure.
“My brothers would have had me sent to the abbey if they’d seen me this close to a man at a party.”
Jensen found the comment a tad odd in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Abbey? Maybe that was a British thing—she had said that was where she was raised.
“Well, hopefully they won’t take the same measures they did last night.”
She immediately lifted her head and the hand that she had resting on his shoulder, moving it downward, stroking over his back.
“Are you still hurting?”
He shook his head. “Nah, it takes more than a couple of brawny brothers to injure me.”
He didn’t even want to think about what his back looked like now. This morning it had been several interesting shades of blue and purple.
“Well, they are more than that,” she muttered, then seemed to realize she’d said the words aloud.
He started to ask what she meant, when the hand that was carefully exploring his back sank lower still, rubbing the indentation of his spine, just above the top of his pants.
He pulled in a steadying breath. Who even knew that was an erogenous zone? But then again, anywhere Elizabeth touched seemed to be pretty damned erogenous.
“Maybe we should go outside for a moment,” he suggested, realizing his black dress pants were suddenly feeling quite snug. He had images of one of his clients coming up to discuss their beloved pet with his anatomy and trousers doing a fair impersonation of a pup tent.
When she gave him a curious look, he moved his pelvis just a bit closer so she could feel him, hard and ready.
Her eyes widened, but then a naughty smile turned up her lips. “I think you do need some air. Cold air.”
“Very cold air,” he agreed.
Linking hands, they strolled toward the door off the dance floor, which led to the veranda at the back of the inn. But he didn’t stop there. Instead, he headed off the porch toward the lake.
Once on one of the little paths, with the lake in view, Jensen stopped and pulled Elizabeth back against him.
“I don’t think this is going to solve your problem,” she pointed out, even as she rubbed against him.
“Nope,” he agreed readily and captured her mouth.
She moaned as his tongue parted her lips and brushed teasingly against hers. His hands roamed down over her, loving the way her slight curves felt under the silky material of her dress.
“This is where I’m pretty sure that I’m being brought to the garden to be ruined.”
Ruined
didn’t really describe what he wanted to do to her, but he couldn’t stop kissing the curve of her jaw and the arch of her neck to ask her about the curious wording.
From her small, panting breaths and the way her body arced and wiggled against his, she didn’t seem inclined to think it was a bad thing, either.
His hands caught the rounded globes of her bottom, and he pulled her up tighter to his body.
Then, suddenly, Elizabeth froze, her body going absolutely rigid in his arms.
Jensen lifted his head, expecting someone to be there with them, but as he looked around, he saw no one.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning down at her shadowed features.
“Did you hear that?”
He listened, then shook his head. “No.”
She remained silent, and then in the distance he heard a faint howl. Long and eerie, but far away.
“It’s a dog.”
Elizabeth remained absolutely still. Again, a howl sounded—the sound echoing as if it were miles away.
“I—I want to go in.” She pulled out of his arms and hurried back toward the inn.
“Okay,” he said, confused, to her retreating back.
But once inside, she seemed to calm immediately, making him wonder if she had a phobia of dogs or something. But again he did think of his grandfather’s claim of seeing that black wolf. And as the paper stated, Granddad wasn’t alone. Hell, Jensen half-thought he might have seen one, too. His gaze returned to Elizabeth.