Weathering Rock

by Mae Clair

  “Broiled crab and scallops,” Arianna called from the kitchen. “I hope you like seafood.”

  “Always have,” he replied vacantly, still scowling down at the gadget. He fiddled with it, turning it this way and that. The screw had to go into the cork, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the blasted wings. Irritated, he swore.

  “Problem?” Arianna rounded the corner, toweling off her hands.

  He glanced up, feeling for all the world like he didn’t know what he was doing. Which wasn’t far from the truth. Straightening to his full height, he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his dignity. “I don’t suppose you have a standard corkscrew?”

  “Afraid not.” Arianna moved to his side, flipped the towel over her shoulder, and took the opener from him. She repositioned it, setting the wings so the screw fit over the cork. “Hold these together and pull back here.” She mimicked the movement, then passed the bottle to him.

  He felt like an idiot. He could devise military strategy and position cannon to bring down an enemy line but couldn’t open a simple bottle of Chardonnay. “Damn the French.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing.” It was relatively easy once he knew what he was doing, though he could sense Arianna’s amusement.

  “How about some music?” she asked, retrieving a remote for the stereo.

  Caleb winced at the thought of another cursed gadget and the anticipation of drums and screeching guitars blasting through hidden speakers. Wyn had subjected him to what he loosely interpreted as ‘music’ on several occasions. He relaxed when the room was flooded by the soft harmony of flutes and harp.

  “Nice.” Caleb passed her a glass of wine, taking a moment to study her home. The living room was in disarray, most of the furniture shoved to the center, covered with drop cloths in preparation of painting. The remainder was a blend of old and new, her dining room finished traditionally with a cherry table, china closet, bar and buffet. From where he stood, he could see the entrance to the family room, the colors bright and airy, maple and cameo-white contrasted by a plethora of plants.

  “Your home is nice.” He felt comfortable in the surroundings, despite some modern extras like the vaulted living room ceiling and a gas fireplace. The furnishings were tasteful and traditional enough to place him at ease without being stuffy.

  “Thank you.” Arianna nodded toward the family room. “Let’s sit down for a while. Dinner will be another fifteen minutes.”

  In his day, a single man didn’t call on an unmarried woman without a chaperone, but he wasn’t a backward boy courting a girl barely out of her teens. They were both consenting adults. It was just growing damnably hard to shut off his desire with her so near.

  It would have been easy to use his persuasive powers. A single glance, a touch, a few softly spoken words and he could have her in his arms within seconds, in bed anytime he chose. But he couldn’t exploit her like that. Not when he was beginning to suspect he might be falling in love with her.

  He sat on the couch, surprised when she chose to sit next to him, rather than on the adjacent love seat. Bands of evening sun spooled through the patio door, tinting the floor with antique brass and candied peach. He could see a grouping of rattan furniture topped by plump green cushions through the glass. Potted geraniums and bright pink impatiens overflowed into the yard.

  “I wanted to thank you again for your help at Gettysburg,” Arianna said. “The kids really enjoyed having you along.”

  “I enjoyed it as well.”

  She smiled, the white of her teeth intensifying the vivid green of her eyes. “It’s nice we have similar interests like the Civil War.”

  He nodded, not trusting his voice. It was becoming difficult to focus, his werewolf-enhanced senses bombarded by a battery of impressions. Bay seasoning on the crab broiling in the oven, the softer under-layers of tinkling chimes in the flute music, the press of cool glass against his fingertips, chilled by the rich flavor of Chardonnay. The subtle fragrance of Arianna’s perfume threatened to consume him. Growing bolder, he set his wine on the coffee table and rested his arm on the couch behind her shoulders. His movement was smooth and unhurried, but every inch of him thrummed with the need to possess her, to taste her mouth and flood himself with her essence.

  “I wasn’t sure you would see me again.”

  “Why?” Her eyes twinkled, cat-green like a clever feline.

  “You were upset with me the last time we had dinner.” He fingered a strand of her hair, delighted when he felt her quiver. The involuntary tremor made his confidence soar. The wolf in him sensed the unintentional release of female pheromones and, without looking, he knew her breasts strained against her t-shirt. He wet his lips, fighting sexual hunger.

  “I wasn’t upset.” Arianna set her wineglass down and angled her body toward his, tucking her legs to the side. “I was…surprised.”

  “Mmm.” Her hair was like silk. He threaded his fingers deeper, tugging with just enough force to convey his interest. “Why?” He cupped her neck, layering his hand against the suddenly wild pulse-point in her throat. He could tell the touch unnerved her.

  “Caleb, don’t.”

  He knew he was pushing too hard, too soon. The rational part of his mind cautioned him to back off, but the wolf was restless and hungry. He pulled her into his arms.

  “Are you afraid of me, Annie?”

  She watched him with wide green eyes. “Afraid?”

  There was uncertainty in her voice, but her gaze held desire. Lightly, he dusted his fingertips across her throat, stroking her neck. “Afraid of what I make you feel.”

  She tried to laugh, the sound a pathetic squeak. “Wh-why would I be afraid?”

  He nuzzled closer, his lips flirting with her earlobe. He took his time, warming the delicate shell with his breath, flicking his tongue into the dainty cavity until she tensed, sucking in a shivery gasp.

  “You’re afraid because you want me.”

  She tasted of honey and cream, of sun-soaked summer fields and wind-streaked skies. He thought about peeling off her clothes, molding her naked body to his until he filled every inch of her, mutual passion driving them to shuddering release. Emboldened, he kissed her neck.

  Arianna tensed. “No. Caleb…” She pushed on his shoulders.

  “Why?” The pulse of sexually-charged blood thundered in his ears, his jeans swollen by the telltale bulge of male arousal. “You want me, Annie. I know you do. I’ve seen you look at me.” Unwilling to abandon his slow seduction, he continued to explore her neck with open-mouthed kisses. He pressed against her thigh, willing her to feel every inch of his arousal.

  Arianna gasped, her breath quickening. “Stop.”

  He was practically panting now. “Why?” Damn, was there some kind of blasted ritual? Even in the twenty-first century, a woman didn’t want to be bedded on her couch like a common harlot. He was out of his head, driven by lust for even considering it, corrupted by the perversion of lycanthropy. “Arianna, I–” Confused, he withdrew slightly. “I didn’t mean–”

  She held a finger to his lips. “I’m attracted to you, Caleb. It’s just too fast. I barely know you.”

  She was right, and he was dirt. Filth of the lowest order, aroused to the point of practically forcing himself on her.

  “I…” The words stuck in his throat, self-loathing replacing passion. His sense of chivalry had gone out the window, overpowered by the predatory half of his soul. It knew nothing of love and tenderness or courtship and romance. The woman probably thought him a heathen, interested only in tumbling her into bed.

  “I do all the wrong things when I’m around you.”

  She smiled. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

  His fingers were still embedded in her hair. She relaxed, settling into his arms. “I like it when you kiss me.”

  “Do you?” Something razor sharp speared into his groin. The woman was insane, unaware she played with fire. Experimentally, he cupped her chin, dragging his thumb
across her mouth. Her lips parted, trembling at his touch, seductively inviting.

  “Like this?” He kissed her lightly.

  The wolf growled, angry at being restrained, but Caleb was lost in the moment. The barely-there contact of his lips against hers was as sexually stimulating as the raw heat of his earlier passion.

  Arianna gave a soft whimper and melted against him. She twined her hands behind his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss.

  Would it be so unforgivable to use his influence when she clearly wanted him? He slid his hand onto her thigh, the contact of bare flesh against his fingertips like an electric shock. Shaken by the depth of his longing, he groaned.

  “I can’t do this.” He broke off the kiss, his breath whistling hard between his teeth. “I can’t kiss you and not want you.” He was surprised to realize she trembled, desire bright in her eyes. The slightest shove and her reservations would crumble. All he had to do was unleash the wolf.

  Take. Possess. Control.

  She raised a hand, tracing the outline of his mouth. “I want you too, but I don’t want to rush. I want it to be right, Caleb.”

  Right.

  There would never be anything “right” between them. He was from a different century, his existence cursed by the ugly blight of lycanthropy. He had no business entertaining the idea of a relationship with Arianna. A doomed man had no cause contemplating love, however fleeting and unattainable.

  “Maybe we should talk for a while.” He drew back, enforcing a safe distance between them. His arm was still hooked loosely around her shoulders, but he no longer felt the heated closeness they’d shared, and groped for something to say. “Did you know Winston has met your friend, Lauren? I believe they had a date tonight.”

  He willed the hot thump of his blood to a controlled simmer, severing his connection to the wolf. Her scent was intoxicating, her eyes luminous green pools brightened by a lingering trace of desire.

  Caleb swallowed hard.

  Before the night was over, he feared he would do something he was certain to regret.

  Chapter 11

  Arianna heaved a mental sigh.

  She hoped Lauren and Wyn were getting along better than she was with Caleb. The man was impossible! One moment he wanted her so desperately he was all over her, the next he was making small talk. She didn’t want to fall into bed on a whim but that didn’t mean they couldn’t cuddle, wrapped in each other’s arms. Romance boiled down to more than a heated tumble between the sheets.

  For the most part he seemed to understand that, unlike the garden-variety Neanderthals she’d dated in the past. And, oh, could he kiss! She enjoyed the feel of his lips on hers, the slow sweep of his tongue invading her mouth until desire buffeted them both. The sensation zinged to the tips of her toes, as exquisite as every fairy-tale spark she’d ever imagined. If she wasn’t infatuated before, she was doomed now.

  And he wanted to talk about Lauren and Wyn.

  “Lauren’s divorced.” She didn’t know why she volunteered the information. Maybe it was revenge for not being able to turn off her emotions with the same rapid-fire speed he did. Mr. I-can’t-kiss-you-without-wanting-you had started the damn game and, in the blink of an eye, had become exasperatingly puritanical. “Her ex-husband is a successful real estate developer. Rick has a natural gift when it comes to turning land into profit. He’s only thirty-two and already a millionaire.”

  Caleb gave no indication he was impressed. “Winston never married. There was a girl, but it didn’t work out.” Something dark and unsettling flitted through his eyes. “Some relationships aren’t meant to be.”

  Disturbed by the undertone in his voice, Arianna sat straighter. Rick Rothrock was forgotten, along with her annoyance. “Was there someone in your past? Someone special?”

  “God, no. I didn’t have time. Not with the war–”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean the Iraq War? Or Desert Storm?”

  “Yes.” He pushed off the couch and paced to the sliding door, filtering a hand through his long hair. He seemed flustered as though he’d made a foolish mistake. “What about you? I was under the impression you and Lucas Drake–”

  “Over and done with.” Arianna joined him at the door. It didn’t surprise her he’d deflected the conversation. If he didn’t want to talk about his past, she’d respect his privacy–for now. “Do you think I would have let you kiss me like that if I was involved with someone?”

  “No. I just meant…” He faltered, the concentration on his face hinting of a headache. He’d yet to tell her about the painfully random attacks, about much of anything when it came down to it. A small part of her enjoyed the mystery, but the dominant half knew she could never become involved with a man who was so secretive.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” she suggested. “I’ve got a few things to take care of in the kitchen. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  His gaze flashed to her face, apology in his eyes. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Kiss me, she thought, but shook her head. Even uncertain, he was sensual, his presence igniting the air between them with a goosebump crackle of electricity. It would be easy to surrender. To forget he’d given nothing of himself, every nuance of his personality wrapped in secrecy.

  Not the relationship she wanted. “Just relax,” she said with a smile.

  It was probably best one of them did.

  * * * *

  The seafood was tasty. In addition to broiled crab and scallops, Arianna made a colorful vegetable medley. For starch she served a wild rice pilaf, but kept fresh pumpernickel rolls on hand in case Caleb preferred something heartier. She had a feeling he was more of a steak and potatoes man than seafood and rice, but he ate without complaint and complimented her on the meal. They talked casually over dinner, and she grew relaxed enough to invite him to Lauren’s party. Afterward, they painted for several hours, finishing the living room before sitting down to dessert.

  Arianna served strawberry pie with coffee, and was delighted when Caleb told her the pastry was one of his favorites. He proved it by eating two slices, and then settled back at the table with a satisfied sigh.

  “That was better than Winston’s dinner service, Ari.”

  She wasn’t certain which impressed her more–the compliment or the use of her nickname.

  “I think that’s the first time you called me Ari.”

  He frowned, mentally gauging the truth of her observation. Rather than comment, he changed the subject. “The living room looks good.”

  Arianna nodded, then realized the smell of fresh latex could be disturbing. “The paint isn’t giving you a headache, is it?”

  “No. Why would you think–”

  “Earlier…”

  “Surprising as it may seem, I’m not incapacitated on a daily basis, Arianna.”

  “I didn’t mean…” She flushed, feeling abruptly awkward for straying into taboo territory. What man would want to admit to an infirmity? The set expression of Caleb’s face told her to leave it alone, but she couldn’t. “Can’t your brother help you? He’s a doctor. He should be able to–”

  “I don’t need help.” Caleb picked up his plate and carried it to the kitchen.

  She followed on his heels, refusing to let the subject be. “Maybe you should see a specialist.”

  “I don’t want to discuss this.” Caleb set his dish in the sink with an audible clink. When he turned, his eyes were an eerie silver, rather than their usual river-blue, his pupils jet black.

  “You don’t want to discuss anything, do you?” The luminescent sheen of his eyes unnerved her, but she held her ground. “Every time I ask you anything personal, you flinch away like it’s poison. How am I supposed to feel comfortable with you, if I don’t know anything about you? Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I care about you, and because I care, I want to know about your headaches? I want to know about anything that causes you pain or discomfort.”

  The admission caught him off guard. It caught her o
ff guard too. She averted her eyes, uncertain why she’d suddenly taken to spilling her guts. Damn, if the impossible man hadn’t stolen her heart.

  Caleb was everything sensual, sinful and beautiful rolled into one. Men who looked like him usually went after Lauren, not her. Rick Rothrock was living proof. Every bit as blond and gorgeous, he’d barely spared Arianna a glance the first time they’d met, zeroing in on her statuesque and stunning friend.

  “It’s nice to know you care.” Caleb grinned, the crooked upturn of his mouth expressing smug pleasure at her careless admission.

  She pressed her lips together. “You had a headache the night I met you. It caused you to have an accident.”

  “No…” He dragged out the word, leaning against the sink and crossing his long legs at the ankles.

  She hated herself for following the movement, noting how the denim pulled snug across his thighs, even tighter between his legs. She could still remember the feel of him, swollen and aroused, pressed against her thigh. The memory sparked a flood of heat in her cheeks.

  “You were the reason I almost had an accident,” Caleb corrected. “You and your vehicle.”

  “So now it’s my fault?” She knew he was toying with her, amusement in his voice, a hint of arrogance in his gaze. “I wasn’t the one riding horseback on a dark road after midnight. What were you doing out there, anyway?”

  He shrugged.

  “That’s not an answer, Caleb. You said you were looking for someone named Meade.”

  “I thought you wanted to know about my headaches?”

  “See?” Arianna threw her hands up in exasperation. “Another question deflected. You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

  “Why should I, when you’re more interesting?” He caught her wrist and pulled her closer.

  “No.” Arianna butted her hands against his chest, attempting to worm free. In another instant he’d kiss her and she’d forget everything, lost in the sensuality of the moment. She could almost see him planning the strategy as he dipped his lips to her neck. Her senses spun like dust motes trapped in a stream of air, the warm press of his mouth ratcheting her heartbeat into overdrive. “Caleb, I want to talk to you.”