by Terry Spear
He folded his arms across his broad chest. A light smattering of blond hair trailed down to the towel slung low on his hips. Her gaze dropped lower. He cleared his throat to get her attention, making her skin heat in a flush of awareness, but he wasn't moving out of her path to the door. Just now she wished it were her room, and he were part of the amenities.
He inclined his head a little, a hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then I guess I'd better get dressed before—"
A knock rapped on the door.
"Too late." His deeply amused baritone sounded like he was enjoying this a little too much, as he turned, took a couple of steps, and opened the door.
Great. Faith hurried to pull on her boots, when the aroma of steak wafted into the room as a man brought in a tray. Faith's stomach growled. The room service guy glanced at her, green eyes smiling. She could just imagine what he was thinking, what with the room's occupant wearing a towel, and her pulling her boots on.
The toweled guy signed the bill, and the lodge employee grinned, dimples appearing in his ruddy cheeks. "Thanks so much, sir. If you need anything else, just ring." He glanced at Faith, smiled even more as if to say she could visit him next if she had a mind to, then left the room.
"Enough for two of us, if you want to split a medium rare steak, baked potato, and salad," the sandy-haired hunk said.
"Thanks so much for the offer, but I'm returning to the front desk to get the right room key. Have a nice night." She brushed past the mostly naked man, smiled when he smiled, then hurried out of the room.
"The night could have been better," he murmured.
She glanced back at him, wishing he was the kind of man she had been dating, and could justify staying and splitting his dinner with him, then maybe share the chocolate treat resting on his pillow with him. And more. For the first time ever, she seriously wanted to flirt with a man. Something about him appealed to her, as if he were the real McCoy, spontaneous and fun-loving, and for an instant, she yearned for that. Wanted to feel that a man who looked like this guy with a hint of the devil in his expression and actions found her appealing, too.
The man lifted a brow and smiled again, his chiseled features and intensely intriguing gaze nearly irresistible. She faltered, but shook her head, and hurried for the elevator before she did anything she might regret in the morning. She didn't look back at him, although she wanted to see if he was still watching her. But she felt he was doing just that, observing her, maybe hoping she'd change her mind? Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part that someone was truly interested in her after Hilson ditched her. On further introspection, she realized she hadn't heard his door shut.
It wasn't until she returned to the front desk with her suitcase in tow that she realized she'd left her parka on the man's desk chair. She let out her breath in exasperation. Okay, so the day turned night wasn't going to get any better.
A line of five guests was waiting for rooms. The clerk still had the cell phone stuck to her ear as she nodded and chatted it up with the woman first in line.
Faith didn't hesitate to stalk up to the counter, pulling her bag with her. The woman who was being waited on looked at Faith as if she was ready to clobber her for trying to barge in.
"Excuse me," Faith said to the clerk and handed her the key card, "but someone else was already in Room 318."
The girl's eyes widened. Then she smiled. "Oh, my, you mean you got the key to Cameron MacPherson's room?" She put her hand to her breast. "If I'd made the mistake, I would have just stayed."
That's saying he wanted the clerk to stay. And jeesh, the clerk had made the mistake. No apology? "Another room, please?"
The clerk held out the new key card. "This one is for Room 317."
"Three-seventeen."
"Yep. The numbers were close. It's directly across the hall from Mr. MacPherson's." She winked. "Tell him if he needs anything, just to give me a holler."
Faith shook her head, grabbed the key card, and headed back to the elevator. At least with his room being across from hers, she could ask for her parka without having to traipse across the whole of the hotel and back.
As soon as she reached her room, she struggled to get the key card to work, then gave the door a shove. The room was dark and cold. She fumbled for the light switch, but when she turned on the lamps, the bedcover wasn't pulled back from the pillow, nor was a gold foil covered chocolate waiting for her either. And of course the ice bucket was perfectly empty. She wondered if Cameron got the special treatment because he was a big tipper, or just an incredibly smooth-talking hunk.
She sighed and rolled her bag next to the bed, then headed back for the door. She might as well get this over with before she finally settled down for the night.
Glancing at her watch, she hadn't realized how late it was already. Probably too late to order anything from the kitchen. But if she ate at this hour, the food would most likely just sit like a lump in her stomach when she went to bed anyway. She knocked on Cameron MacPherson's door.
While waiting for him, she closed her eyes and yawned. Man, she was ready to skip the shower and just collapse in bed.
The door squeaked opened. Wearing only a pair of stone-washed jeans that looked incredibly soft, shirtless and barefoot, Cameron smiled, but he hadn't brought her parka to the door. He looked every bit as sexy as when he was wearing only a towel.
"Are you sure you don't want to have a bite with me?" He motioned to the tray on the table.
The old werewolf movie with Jack Nicholson was playing on the television, and by the sound of the growling, she envisioned he had shapeshifted and was fighting the bad wolf, if she recalled the movie correctly.
She gave Cameron a tired smile. "Under other circumstances, maybe. I left my parka here?"
"You look like you could use a meal and the kitchen's closed by now." His voice, deep and pleasing, sent little chills of expectation through her.
But she resisted the temptation and held out her hand for her coat. "Thanks, but I'm fine." He retrieved her coat and gave it to her, his hand brushing hers in a sensuous way, which made her skin heat again. She thought he looked a little wistful, hopeful that she'd stay and keep him company, but she figured if she did, she would melt under whatever spell he seemed to cast over her. It wasn't like her to be that attracted to a guy she'd just met. She glanced down at his hand, no wedding ring. When her gaze returned to his, he was smiling broadly.
Usually a lot less obvious than that when she was scrutinizing a man's marital status— although he might be married and just not wear a wedding ring—she felt her skin heat even more. "Thanks," she said quickly, turned around, and left his room before she made any more of a fool of herself. But as soon as she reached her door and slipped her hand in her jeans pocket, she realized she didn't have the key.
Cameron watched the petite blonde stand before her room, her parka draped over her arm, her hand shoved into her pocket, but she didn't make a motion to unlock her door.
She'd left the key in the room?
The poor woman. She looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion. However, he'd seen the way she'd looked at him and checked to see if he was married, which meant only one thing. She'd been intrigued. Might have even stayed for dinner if she had been more impulsive. Probably a good thing she wasn't. At least, not the way she looked, wearing a sparkling white sweater that caressed nice-sized breasts and form-fitting black jeans that showed off lots of curves, conjuring up the image of sexy, soft, and cuddly. Gold curls swept over her shoulders, and she looked like she belonged on a beach in a bikini, soaking up the sun, a long way from here.
"Want me to call down and have the hotel staff bring you up another key?"
She hesitated, mulling over her options, he figured, not saying anything for a minute, just staring at the immovable door. Then she turned around and her lush lips, glossed with something shimmering, pink—and sensuous—curved up. Her stunning green eyes sparkled like emeralds in the br
ight hall lights, mesmerizing him. Hell, he was a sucker for green eyes.
She arched an eyebrow and gave a cute little snort. "Uhm, thanks, but I can manage." She straightened her shoulders and trudged down the hall toward the elevator.
She had spunk, he had to admit. And some damned nice curves. He watched her wiggle her tush all the way to the elevator, then waited until she was inside, just in case she changed her mind. She didn't. His loss.
He closed his door and padded back to the bed. But he couldn't put the woman out of his mind. Not that he needed any distractions for now while he was on his mission, but until tomorrow morning, he couldn't get much done anyway. He slipped out of his jeans and climbed into bed. Bright and early, he was going to check out Back Country Tours to learn why his friends hadn't arrived home on time, without any word of explanation.
But even so, Cameron couldn't help listening for the woman to return to her room, and when he heard the door click open and shut several minutes later, he relaxed a little. Then the door clicked open and shut again. He waited, listening. The ice maker down the hall ground, the ice clunking into the bucket. Then her door opened and shut again.
He tucked his arms behind his head and fantasized how he might have breakfast with the little lady before he took off for his next destination—cabins in the wilderness, no land phones, no cell phone service—he'd have to rely on his instincts more in this investigation. Cameron hoped his friends weren't in any real trouble, hoped they had just been unable to get in touch with him and their P.I. partner, Gavin Summerfield, who was still running their business back in Seattle in the meantime.
Cameron sighed. Seven days. That's how long the hunting trip was supposed to last. Add a couple of days travel time. Two weeks, max. They'd even had to turn down some lucrative jobs because they were so short handed. But it beat the heck out of him how he got stuck leaving Seattle to land in this snow-filled landscape instead of Gavin.
Cameron's cell phone rang. Speak of the devil. Gavin. "Hey, no word yet, but I'll be going to the cabins tomorrow after I stop by Back Country Tours to see if anyone's in the office in the morning. We'll have a phone blackout for a while once I reach the resort."
"I received a garbled message. Sounded like Owen and he said something about being unable to get word to us. It sounded like he said he and David were all right. And quitting. Quitting the hunt? The static was too bad, and I couldn't make out any more before the phone line cut out completely."
"But he really sounded all right? Not under duress? Not in any kind of trouble or anything, were they?"
"I'd like to say no. But the connection was so bad, I couldn't really say."
Cameron opened his mouth to speak, when a woman screamed—from the room across the hall.
Chapter 2
THE GRAYHAIRED MAN APOLOGIZED PROFUSELY AS FAITH pushed him out of her room, her towel clutched tightly around her torso, her wet hair wrapped in another. She'd kill the hotel clerk. Couldn't the woman give one customer a room that wasn't already occupied?
If that weren't enough of an embarrassment, here came her knight to the rescue, wearing a pair of vivid blue silky boxers—and nothing else—none other than Cameron MacPherson.
He raised his brows at her as the man hurried off with his bag, apologizing under his breath.
"Clerk gave him a key to your room?" Cameron asked, a wrinkle creasing his forehead.
Faith began shutting the door to hide her state of undress in case anyone else happened to walk down the hall. "Yes."
"I'll call down and complain to the manager. We haven't been properly introduced, though. I'm Cameron MacPherson. And you are?"
"Faith O'Malley." She pressed the door closed a little more.
"Want to have breakfast with me in the morning?"
She was so annoyed with the clerk, she hadn't planned to let the grudge go, until Cameron asked to have breakfast with her. He was just too cute. And persistent. Her stomach grumbled. Although initially she thought eating too late could keep her awake, now she reasoned she might sleep better if she had a bite to eat. Besides, Cameron could take her mind off Hilson, for a little while. It didn't mean she was going to stay the night or do anything she didn't want to do, she reminded herself.
"Still have some dinner left over?" she asked.
Cameron smiled, the skin beneath his eyes wrinkling, dimples appearing, his blue eyes gleaming with delight, the devilish look saying he knew he could break her down eventually if he tried long enough. "I'll even dress for dinner."
She wondered just what his definition of dressed would be. "Be right over. And thanks… for the rescue." She glanced at his boxers, the same blue as his eyes.
Grinning, he saluted her and stalked back to his room as if his mission was done.
As soon as Faith said she'd eat with Cameron, she'd surprised and pleased the hell out of him. He really figured he didn't have a chance to convince her he was one of the good guys and just wanted a little company. Her kind of company.
He couldn't get the image of her—standing half naked, wearing only a skimpy towel to cover herself—out of his mind. For certain, the gods had smiled on him tonight.
After hurrying back into his room, he jerked on his jeans and threw the rest of his scattered clothes into his suitcase. Then he moved one of the two pillows he'd been using over to her side of the bed. He glanced at the door. He hadn't heard her door opening yet, so he rushed into the bathroom to pick up the wet towel he'd thrown on the floor and hung it up on the towel bar. Afterward, he tossed his toothbrush and toothpaste and shaving gear back into his shaving kit.
Her door opened and closed. He rubbed his bare chest. Shirt? Or no?
He stalked out of the bathroom and grabbed his flannel shirt out of the suitcase, then yanked it on, just as she knocked. He returned to the door, opened it, and smiled at Faith. "Dinner's served."
Wearing emerald-green velour running clothes, she looked incredibly soft and touchable, her blond curls caressing her shoulders like he wanted to do.
She smiled a little to see his shirt hanging open. He supposed he should have buttoned it, but she didn't seem to mind.
She raised her brows at the bed where his tray of food was sitting, and he started his salesman's pitch. "I was watching the Jack Nicholson movie in bed. It's about over. Want to see what's coming up after that one?"
She hesitated, then took a deep breath and headed for the bed. "So what's on next?"
"Looks like werewolf movie night. Something called The Howl of the Wolf."
"Ah." She sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off a boot and already his thoughts were of seeing her take off more. But she yanked off the other boot, dropped it on the carpeted floor to join its mate, then climbed on top of the floral covers. "That's Julie Wildthorn's third book in her werewolf series. I'd heard the book was better so never went to see the movie version."
A woman after his own heart. "You like fantasy? Urban fantasy?"
"Both of the above." She took the lemon-lime soda he handed her, her legs stretched out on the bed, a whiff of her floral fragrance enticing him to take a deeper breath. "So is this a vacation or business trip for you?" she asked.
"A little of both." Although he hadn't planned on having any fun until she popped into his room and began stripping while he'd been in the shower. "And you?"
"Strictly business."
He smiled. Yeah, strictly business. That's why she was sitting on his bed, sharing dinner with him.
The movie version of The Howl of the Wolf began, and he couldn't help notice the way she smiled at the funny scenes, chuckling under her breath, but her cheeks grew a little flushed when the hero and heroine went beyond kissing, got naked, and ended up in bed together.
She cleared her throat and leaned back against the pillow. He thought she was going to say something. She didn't, and then she sank lower onto the mattress, her eyes half closed, her long lashes hiding them further, her hand still clasped around the soda can.
When h
er eyes closed, he reached over and slipped the drink from her hand so she wouldn't spill it, half hoping she'd spend the night. To his regret, her eyes popped open. "Oh…" She stared at the TV, then smiled. "I like the book version better. She ends up with the hunky werewolf, not the wimpy human in the story." A small wrinkle appeared on her forehead, then she turned to Cameron. "If I fall asleep again, wake me and send me home."
He shook his head. "I'm enjoying the company." And he was. The last girl he dated was only into chick flicks. Absolutely no fantasy, no sci-fi, no urban fantasy, no historical, westerns, war movies, nothing. He pulled the tray off the bed and settled back against the pillow like Faith had done, only he drew closer this time, enjoying the warmth from her body, her subtle fragrance, the companionship.
Before long, her eyes were shut again, only this time he slipped his arm under her head. When she smiled at him, her expression quizzical, he said, "I was getting a little chilly. Weren't you?"
She chuckled, the sound low and amused. But she played right along with him, and snuggled up nice and close. Too bad she was here strictly on business. He smiled at the notion, but it didn't take long before she closed her eyes again, and he nodded off also.
He hadn't even realized he'd done so until Faith pulled away from him, waking him, and gave him a weary smile. "Guess we missed the end of the movie. Just remember, the werewolf gets the girl in the correct version." Then she climbed off the bed and stretched like a sleek feline wrapped in green velvet-like duds.
He wanted her to stay the night, but he didn't figure she'd agree. Still… he had to make the offer. "Another werewolf tale coming up."
"I've seen Underworld." She checked her watch. "It's nearly one and I've got business to take care of early in the morning. Snowstorm's supposed to be coming now."
"Want to have breakfast with me tomorrow?"
She didn't hesitate to respond this time, and he knew he'd hooked her for a date. "I'm an early riser. Would six be too early for you?"
He frowned, but at the same time, he was glad she'd share another meal with him before he had to traipse off into the wilderness alone. "Uh. Sure. Pick you up at six."