by Jodi Redford
“You really have no shame, do ya?” Snorting, Dante pulled the package of jerky from the sack and ripped it open. The loose floorboard outside the kitchen entrance creaked, and he turned as his cousin Shane sauntered inside the room.
“You talking to that mutt again? Think it’s a sign you need a wife.”
A grunt snuck from Dante. “Jesus, you’re as bad as my father with his unsubtle hints regarding Anna Gifford.” Just mentioning her name was enough to give him heartburn. Anna, eldest daughter of the Gifford pack’s leader, would love nothing more than to sink her claws into him and assert her queenly rights as top alpha bitch. He gave Shane a telling look. “Regardless, we both know as long as my father and Anna keep scaring the competition away, no way a female pack member is gonna touch me with a ten-foot pole.”
“The old man’s still trying to weasel the pack merger, eh?”
“Yep. Not gonna happen though. I’d sooner marry Satan’s daughter.” Dante indulged in a wry grimace. “Hell, what am I saying? Anna is Satan.”
“Amen to that.” Shane shook his head before straddling one of the barstools flanking the granite-topped kitchen island. He snagged an apple from the burlwood bowl and polished the fruit with the tail of his shirt. “Weatherman’s predicting a big storm this weekend. Interested in plowing with me and the crew?”
“Damn, I can’t. Got a meeting down state with my distributors first thing Saturday morning.” Morgan’s Wolf Premium Dog Foods was less than a month away from going global. Even while he was ecstatic over the growth of his company, the frequent trips he’d have to make to Ann Arbor were a whole other matter. Morgan’s Ridge was his home. His sanctuary. The one place where his father’s constant demands couldn’t penetrate. Most of the time.
“Your loss,” Shane said, breaking through Dante’s morose thoughts. “There’s nothing like freezing your balls off in subzero temps while shoveling three feet of snow.”
“Always my favorite pastime.” Dante pulled the remaining items from the grocery sack and lined them on the counter. Chevy’s nose nudged dangerously close to the rib eye wrapped inside the butcher paper, and Dante edged the steak toward safety.
“Grilling tonight? Looks like I stopped by just in time.”
“Sorry, no can do.” Dante ripped open the package of oranges and tumbled the fruit into the bowl so they could make neighborly with the apples. “Lilly Prescott is due to show up in less than an hour. Best if you’re outta here before then.” Didn’t need any witnesses if he gave in to his desire to strangle the pain-in-the-ass hellcat.
A strange gurgle popped from Shane. Dante looked up and noticed his cousin gaping at him.
“You’re having dinner with Lilly?”
The suggestion provoked Dante’s humorless laugh. “I’d rather give myself a root canal. Without Novocain.” He tracked Shane’s gaze to the rib eye resting on the counter. “That’s for me and Chevy. Lilly will only be here long enough to state her case for the thousandth time before I send her packing.” Maybe she’d listen this time and stay gone for good. Shit, a guy could hope.
“Why don’t you just sell the land? It’d keep Lilly and the rest of the lynchats off your back.”
Dante scowled. “Whose side you on?”
“Yours, you stubborn jackass.” Shane ducked when Dante lobbed an orange at his head. The fruit rolled on the tiled floor, and Shane lifted from the barstool with a chuckle. “I better scat before you start throwing cantaloupes or something.”
“Good idea.” Dante’s narrowed gaze centered on his cousin’s retreating back.
“Give Lilly a big ole wet kiss for me.” An obnoxious smooching noise shot from Shane.
Gritting his teeth, Dante eyed the bowl of oranges. Lobbing another was tempting—almost tempting as taking Shane up on his suggestion. Bad fucking idea. His lips didn’t need to be anywhere near Lilly’s mouth. Or any other part of her.
His cock stiffened when he recalled in Technicolor detail the one part of her body that’d been foremost in his thoughts for the past three hours. Without exerting much effort, he conjured the image of her wet, glistening pussy.
Jesus, it’d been too long since he’d gotten laid if he was obsessing about Lilly, of all people. Folding the grocery sack, he stalked into the pantry. After depositing the sack in the recycling bin, he grabbed Chevy’s chow bowl and scooped kibble from the bin. He drizzled gravy on top and left Chevy to gobble up the bounty.
The metallic thunk of the dog bowl banging against the baseboard provided a noisy backdrop as Dante stored the rib eye in the fridge and ambled to the woodstove. He ignited a block of fatwood and tossed a couple logs on the firebrick. Soon the earthy scent of wood smoke filled the room. Turning, he caught Chevy watching him with his big head cocked to the side. “Don’t give me that look. The fire’s not for atmosphere. It’s damn cold in here.”
Chevy’s curled lip resembled a mocking sneer. Grumbling beneath his breath at his astute and judgmental dog, Dante dropped in the chair fronting his workstation and booted his laptop. He pulled up the file with his most recent concoction and scanned the ingredient list for Chevy’s Chicken Chow. “What’d you think of the diced carrots I added to the last batch?”
A low groan snuck from Chevy before he hightailed it from the kitchen with a scurry of clicking claws.
“No carrots.” Dante deleted that item from the list. For the next twenty minutes he immersed himself in the monotonous chore of updating his recipe files. When the doorbell chimed, he actually jumped at the unexpected sound. Scraping back his chair, he strode across the kitchen and living room, stopping just long enough to nudge Chevy away from the front door. He swung it open and blinked at the sight of Lilly standing on the other side, swaddled from neck to mid-calf in an enormous, poofy silver coat. She reminded him of a Mylar balloon…or better yet, the Goodyear Blimp.
She stomped her feet on the porch, either out of impatience or lack of circulation. With Lilly, he was willing to bet on the former. She blew on her fingers and gave him a peevish look. “What’s with the surprised expression? You did say six, right?”
He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s only ten till.”
One blonde eyebrow arched. “Look up anal retentive in the dictionary sometime. Might learn something.”
Gritting his teeth, he toed the door closer to the wall. “Fine, come in.”
“Your grudging hospitality leaves me all warm and fuzzy.”
“You’ve got a few things that leave me all warm and fuzzy too.” The words slipped free before he could lasso them.
Lilly jerked to a halt halfway across the threshold. Her icy blue stare pinned him in place. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Get in before all the hot air escapes.” He waited for her to make an appropriate crack and was slightly disappointed when she didn’t. Her sarcastic tongue was precisely the tool he needed to wipe the image of her tempting body parts out of his head.
She sailed past him, and he caught a whiff of sweet floral, underscored by the faintest hint of the intoxicating musk that’d short-circuited his brain earlier in the woods. His cock stiffened like a divining rod that’d struck pay dirt. He slammed the door shut, rattling the frame. Lilly turned, granting him another imperious lift of her eyebrow.
“Wind caught the door.” Smothering the urge to offer any further lame excuses, he stepped around her.
Fabric rustled behind him as Lilly removed her oversized coat. The imagination she’d accused him of not possessing kicked into overdrive as he pictured her dropping the garment to the floor and standing in his living room wearing nothing but stilettos and a smile.
On second thought, ditch the smile. A snarl was more Lilly’s style.
“I see you still have your Shetland pony.”
He turned and noticed Lilly eyeing Chevy warily. Oblivious of the reaction his enormous size elicited, Chevy continued snuffing Lilly’s ankle with loud, excited snorts. Dante recognized the signs. His dog was two seconds away fro
m making Lilly’s leg his new girlfriend.
“Get your butt in the cage. Now.”
Looking slightly ashamed, Chevy skulked into the kitchen. Despite his annoyance, guilt niggled at Dante. Could he really blame the dog for his natural urges? Dante grimaced. Particularly since he’d been mighty tempted to hump Lilly himself—and not just her leg. Tightening his jaw, he held out a hand. “Here, I’ll hang your coat on the rack.”
Her shocked expression bugged the hell out of him. Christ, it wasn’t like he was some bad-mannered asshole. Yeah, but there were plenty of times you didn’t offer to take her coat, dickhead. He shook off his annoying inner voice. Hell, it shouldn’t be considered bad manners when someone showed up uninvited—like Lilly had insisted on doing in the past. She handed him the coat, and he walked to the antler rack near the front door and draped the garment over one of the points.
“Where do you want to do this?” she asked from behind him.
Something about her perfectly innocent question stirred up all sorts of wicked thoughts. He scrubbed a hand over his goatee. I need to get a fucking grip. “Kitchen.” He didn’t entirely trust Chevy to stay in his cage with the deliciously odiferous Lilly in such close proximity. Still, he trusted himself even less if they sat on the sofa.
Lilly sashayed ahead of him, and his gaze slid down the back of her white sweater, zeroing in on her heart-shaped ass. He knew the enticing sway of her hips wasn’t designed to make his mouth water—but day-um—he loved a female with curves. And Lilly had them in spades. Licking his lips, he followed her into the kitchen. She strode to the dining table and plopped in a chair.
“I’d like to get straight to business, if you don’t mind.” Lilly tucked one knee over the other and pinned him with a stare while he hunkered in the seat adjacent to her.
“Don’t mind at all. In fact, I’ll make it fast and crystal clear for you. I’m not selling.”
Her scowl slipped into place. “You know damn well the sixty acres rightfully belongs to my family.”
“Know what I think?” He leaned back in his seat and casually stacked his arms on his chest. “You’ve got a stick up your butt over the fact your grandfather didn’t know how to play a hand of poker. No one forced him to bet the land.”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “Maybe, but your father had no place egging my grandfather into doing it.”
No. But his father was a bastard that way. Any means to the end Foster Morgan wanted was fair game.
Lilly leaned into the table, drawing his gaze to her chest. “I’ve talked it over with my colleagues. We’re willing to raise our offer by fifty thousand dollars.”
Her words were a hollow drone inside his head. For the life of him, he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the soft breasts showcased above her stacked arms.
“Hello? Anyone home?” Lilly’s sarcasm sailed straight over him.
I wonder if her nipples are the same rosy pink as her—
An outraged gasp broke from Lilly, jarring him from his trance. He lifted his gaze and locked on her sizzling glare.
“Are you ogling my breasts?”
He saw no point in denying the obvious. “Yep.”
His admission seemed to rattle Lilly. It took her a minute to find her tongue. Once she did, her lips pinched together. “What sort of Neanderthal openly stares at a female’s breasts when she’s trying to conduct business with him?”
The kind who’s seen way more than your boobs and can’t get either out of his head. His jaw clenched at the reminder. “Lilly, I’m a male. It’s what we do.”
“You never did it before…” The unspoken part of her accusation hung heavy in the air.
“Honey, we both know the reason why. Don’t blame me because your pretty little sweet spot’s branded in my memory.”
Awareness, hot and thick, shimmered between them. She swallowed, and he tried not to imagine her throat muscles working the length of his cock. “First of all, don’t call me honey. Or sweet thang. Or sugar tits. And the various other sexist caveman comments that make me want to hurl. Secondly, I damn well will blame you.” She gave a pronounced tug on her sweater that did nothing to de-emphasize the tempting swells of her breasts. “You had no right to spy on me in a private moment.”
“I wasn’t spying. You were parked on a public road bordering my land. The scene looked suspicious, so I decided to check things out.” He deliberately omitted the part about charging to her rescue. Didn’t need her thinking he gave a damn.
“Exactly how long were you standing there checking things out?”
Long enough. Again, something she didn’t need to be apprised of. “Babe, I’m going to lay it out for you straight. You took the risk. If you don’t want to advertise an entertaining show, keep the self-lovin’ to the bedroom.”
Lilly’s chest lifted with a sharp intake of breath. Damn, was she trying to kill him?
“I wasn’t giving you a show. Furthermore, your logic is ridiculous.”
“It is what it is. Which happens to be right.”
Dante swore he detected steam funneling from the top of Lilly’s head. “Let me see if I’m clear on this. In your book, any private acts carried on outside the sanctity of the bedroom are fair game for prying eyes, even if uninvited?”
Of course he didn’t think that. “Yep.”
He expected her to argue. Or slap him. Storm out of his house, at the very least. Instead, she remained stubbornly planted in place. For several tense, awkward moments they glared each other down. Finally she averted her gaze and blew out a peeved breath. “The least you could do is apologize, you know.”
“For what?”
A dangerous growl crept from her throat. “For spying on me!”
“Aw shit. Are we back to that again?” He tossed up his arms. “Damn it, woman, I told you that wasn’t what I was fuckin’ doing.”
“You could have been a gentleman and left once you realized what was going on.”
Yeah, he could have. Too bad he wasn’t a gentleman. “Will it make you feel better if I apologize?”
She hesitated. “Probably not.”
Hell, he’d never understand the female race. “Then what’s the damn point of me saying it?” He tweaked the bridge of his nose. “It won’t miraculously change what happened. You did what you did, I saw what I saw. Let’s be adults about this and leave it be.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who was caught with their pants down.”
Shit and damnation. This argument was gonna be the death of him. “What do you want me to do? Drop my drawers so we’ll be even?”
She stared at him for a long moment before her lips curved upward in a cagey smile. “Okay.”
He blinked. “Okay what?”
She nodded toward his lap. “Unzip your jeans, wolfman. Time to settle the score.”
Chapter Three
Lilly tried without success to smother a grin as Dante fell off his chair and thudded flat on his gorgeous tush. His dark eyebrows slashing into a menacing V, he grasped the table’s edge and hauled himself upright. “Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind?”
She tried a casual shrug before answering. “Not at all.”
Dante plowed his hands through his shaggy black hair. “You damn well are if you think I’m gonna whip my junk out and jack off in front of you.”
“Why, is there some kind of performance anxiety you’re dealing with? Or maybe you realize you’re wrong about the whole issue.”
Those whiskey-colored eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “What do you mean by performance anxiety?”
Of course he would fixate on that. Typical. “Some guys feel inadequate about the size of their…junk.” She offered a vague twirl of her fingers. “I’m just saying.”
His stare burned into her, hot enough to singe her eyebrows. “The size of my junk is fine. Better than fine.”
She gestured dismissively with her hand. “I’m sure it is. Probably gets mistaken daily for a bratwurst. Which makes those fami
ly picnics a bit dicey, eh?”
The expression on Dante’s face was too delicious for words. Want to see a pissed-off werewolf? Start baiting him about the size of his wiener.
His hand dropped to the worn buckle of his belt. “Ready? Or do you want to nuke some popcorn first before the show starts?”
Lilly blinked when the meaning behind his sarcasm registered. Holy crap. Never in a million years did she figure he’d call her bluff. “Um…no…I’m good. If you are.”
Dante’s lips curled, revealing the glint of white incisors again. “I’m going to leave that assessment for you to make, baby.”
Sweet mother of whiskers. A curl of heat flamed low in her belly, and she swallowed hard. “On second thought, we don’t have to do this now. I am kind of putting you on the spot.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
Easier said than done when her internal temperature just skyrocketed by a hundred degrees. “Really, Dante, it’s not—” Further protest stalled in her throat when he popped the hasp free on his buckle. Fascinated, she watched those strong, tanned fingers grasp the zipper and tug it down. One notch at a time. “Why are you moving so damn slow?”
“Impatient?”
“No, but I could have gone to a movie and filed my taxes in the amount of time it’s taking you to unzip.”
“Movie? Thought I was the only show interestin’ you at the moment.” His molasses drawl laid the tease on extra thick. Releasing his zipper, he stripped from his flannel shirt, revealing a crisp white T-shirt molded over acres of sculpted muscle.
Okay, this was getting weird. The idea of Dante—her sworn enemy—flirting while he prepared to masturbate for her could be material for a Twilight Zone episode. He shoved his jeans down around his hips, and suddenly she didn’t give a fig about the bizarre left turn her day had taken. It seemed Dante preferred going commando. And her crack about the bratwurst couldn’t have been more on the dollar. He wasn’t even fully erect, which made it all the more impressive.
His hand started to close around his thick shaft but stopped. “This would be a lot easier with some lube.”