Lord, how she wished she'd never started down this crazy path. Wished she'd simply sat back and let the rangers do their job. But she hadn't, and it was too late for regrets now.
"Only if you play the part of a suitor. At least give my parents the illusion you really do care for me."
He brushed a kiss across her lips. "How much of a suitor do you want me to be?"
His touch moved down to her moistness and probed gently. She bit her lip and fought the desire to press into his caress.
"A newfound friend or a lover?"
"Friend," she said, voice little more than a throaty whisper. And hated herself for wanting him so.
"Done." He placed both his hands on her waist and set her onto her feet. "You'd better be getting dressed then, because your parents will be probably be back soon.
She stared at him, aching, trembling, and totally unable to believe he'd done it to her again.
"You're a bastard, you know that?"
"Been called a lot worse than that in my life." The shutters were well down in his eyes, his face impassive. If it wasn't for the rather obvious bulge in his pants, she would have thought him totally unaffected by their little petting session.
Moons, how she wished she could read this man — look beyond the wall he'd raised so effectively and see, or feel, what he was really thinking.
"I'll wait for you out back, if you'd like. Don't forget to bring your costume along when you come out."
He walked away, stride long and oh-so-casual. Once again she had to resist the urge to throw something at his stiff, arrogant back.
But she couldn't help thinking that bringing him to dinner would at least get her mother off her back for a while. He was certainly wolf enough to satisfy even her mother's high ideals when it came to a suitable mate — even if he wasn't man enough to satisfy her.
Chapter Four
Duncan thrust open the door and stalked across the yard, breathing deep the sweet night air. It had taken a supreme effort to get up and walk away from the warmth and hunger in Neva's eyes. He would have liked nothing more than to give in to the desire that burned them both, but he couldn't. Not if he wanted to crack her defenses and discover whom she worked for.
The quickest way to do that was to keep her off balance. To play the caring lover one moment, the hard, uncaring bastard the next — something many of his past lovers would probably say wasn't much of a stretch.
He stopped at the wire fence designating the end of the property and stared almost blindly into the forest of trees beyond.
At least he'd be able to sate his lust over the next few days. The thought sent a surge of heat through his veins. As much as he'd told himself earlier it was only to keep an eye on her, he could not now deny his reasons were purely selfish. She might be working for whoever was behind these killings, but he wanted her. Wanted to see her warm smile, wanted to hear the rich music of her laugh. Wanted to make sweet love to her until she screamed his name to the moon.
Foolish, perhaps, but a desire he could not deny. Not when he'd spent all afternoon watching her. The way she'd interacted with the diner's customers and her friend had only increased his fascination with her. She was nothing like any of the women he'd known up until now, projecting such an alluring mix of heated sexuality and sweet innocence.
So what did she want so badly that she was willing to destroy her self-esteem and her reputation? He knew how strict families from the golden pack could be. Knew their beliefs about the dance and mates. And while she'd obviously flirted with the dance in the years since puberty, she certainly wasn't a regular participant — her innocence, her shyness with the sexual act, told him that.
Was she doing it for money, or something else? Maybe that was another direction in which he could push — discover more about her wants and needs, and he might just uncover a thread or two about their killer.
The door swung open behind him. He schooled his features into blankness and turned around to face her. She no longer wore the diner's uniform but faded denims and a soft white sweater that rolled around her neck and emphasized the fullness of her br**sts. The ache in his groin increased tenfold, and he had to wonder how he was going to get through the next few hours of having her so close and not being able to give in to the need to touch her.
She stopped several feet away, face impassive but contempt obvious in her eyes. She threw the small box at his chest. He caught it instinctively.
"I won't wear that disgusting outfit anywhere."
He raised an eyebrow. "You were wearing a whole lot less last night, were you not?"
Heat crept through her cheeks. "Yes. But the night was dark, and most of the others were wearing nothing at all."
"So?"
"So, chaps and a whip are not my idea of a costume, and I refuse to wear them."
"I can make you."