Crossroads

by Moira Rogers

“What’s to talk about?”

  “Moving in with him?” Nick snatched up a towel and started giving the bar one final polish. “That’s a big step.”

  Mackenzie laughed. “C’mon, Nick. After the year I had? Not all that big a deal.”

  “You make an excellent point. But I’m proud of you for getting past it and moving on with things. Like the dance studio.”

  Her friend’s eyes lit up. “Have you seen it lately? The contractors Derek found for me, God, they’ve worked magic.” She hesitated. “You don’t think he found me contractors who actually work magic, do you? I still can’t tell.”

  Nick tried not to laugh. “As far as I know, it’s all sheetrock, semigloss paint and mirrors. But I want to come by sometime next week and—” She broke off when she caught sight of Kat waving through the etched glass of the front window. “Guest of honor’s here.”

  She hurried to unlock the front door and pulled Kat in past the standing sign which proclaimed the bar closed for a private party. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

  Kat took in the bar’s decorations with wide blue eyes that made her look young, even if she was almost Nick’s age. “Wow, it looks awesome. I haven’t had a birthday party in years.”

  “Just wait ’til the booze starts flowing.” She winked at Kat. “I’m going back to start the music. Want some champagne?”

  “Sure!” Kat bounced up to the bar, obviously overflowing with excitement. “Heya, Mac. Where’s Jackson?”

  “Picking up his mother from the airport.” Mackenzie popped the cork from one of the bottles of champagne. “They should be back any minute.”

  “Awesome. Mama Holt is the best. You’re gonna love her. Tell her, Nick.”

  Nick leaned into the back office and flipped the switch on the speakers linked to the satellite radio feed. “I did. But she’s nervous because Jackson got shot. I told her that’s a depressingly normal day around here.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say Jackson gets shot every day. But, you know, he’s in some trouble or other, like, every time I turn around. That’s what happens when you hang out with Alec.”

  “Amen to that.” Nick surveyed the room again, pushed her hair behind her ears and glanced down at her shorts and T-shirt. “I need to go upstairs and change. Do you guys mind?”

  Mackenzie grinned at her. “No problem. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  Nick barely made it out the back door before her easy smile faded, and she cursed herself roundly as she climbed the wrought-iron stairs to the unoccupied apartment above the bar. Of all the nights to fall into a depressive funk, this had to be the worst. Not only would she ruin Kat’s birthday, but everyone would know she was upset because…

  Because why, Nick? Because you sleep alone? Or because you can’t breathe when Derek Gabriel smiles, but he won’t smile at you?

  She stomped through the kitchen and into the bathroom, where she’d left the bag containing her spare clothes and toiletries. At this point, she’d be better off going to New York to let her father fix her up with whatever random, well-heeled werewolf he’d managed to scrounge up.

  He’d been dropping hints again, ever since she’d gotten back from New England. “Come home, Nicole,” she mimicked as she tugged off her T-shirt. “You’re missing too many priceless opportunities by living so far away.”

  Priceless opportunities to marry well and get ready to take over the family business, something he knew she couldn’t care less about. She didn’t want to be queen of the werewolves, or whatever.

  So what do you want?

  Nick dropped her shorts, snatched up her lightweight black slacks and stepped into them. “Tonight, I want to be the consummate hostess,” she whispered to her reflection. “I want everyone to have a good time, including myself, if at all possible.” She paused before shrugging into her sleeveless red silk blouse. “And I don’t want to think about the fact that I’m going home alone.”

  Chapter Two

  Nancy Desmarais Holt accepted the large paper box and laughed. “Now, Nicole, I want you to know I wouldn’t normally be so rude as to accept such a big piece, but that cake was mammoth.”

  “Yes, it was,” Nick agreed with a smile. “Are you sure you won’t take more?”

  The older woman glanced at Mackenzie, who shook her head while raising both hands. “Oh, no way. I’m not sure I can look at carrot cake again for at least a year.”

  Kat’s voice drifted from the other side of the bar. “Hey! Don’t knock carrot cake.”

  “Whatever doesn’t get taken home is going to the nearest shelter in the morning,” she warned over her shoulder, then rose on her toes to kiss Mama Holt’s cheek. “Don’t be a stranger. Come back tomorrow. I’ll make mint juleps and fill you in on all the latest gossip.”

  She beamed. “That’s a deal, honey. Come on, Mackenzie. Let’s meet Jack outside. I think the party’s winding down.”

  Nick kissed Mackenzie’s cheek next. “Be careful, and I’ll see you guys later.”

  Mackenzie leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t be an idiot, Nick. Derek’s been making big eyes at you all night. Make a move now or I never want to hear you complaining again.”

  Her cheeks burned. “We’ll see.” She waved as they walked out, locked the door behind them and turned toward the table where her remaining guests waited.

  Kat sat sideways in the booth, leaning back against Andrew. He was finishing up a beer and grinning at Derek, who sat across from them. Nick’s breath caught, and she made a concerted effort to breathe in and out.

  He’d dressed simply in jeans and a gray button-up shirt that made his eyes look unbelievably blue. Nick tamped down the lust that rose in her and grabbed a bottle of top-shelf tequila and a handful of shot glasses from behind the bar. She walked over, the low heels of her slip-ons clicking against the floor. “Shots?”

  “Oh God, more alcohol?” Kat laughed and struggled to sit upright. “Can I sleep on a table here? I don’t even remember where I live.”

  “That’s why friends and taxicabs were invented.” Still, Nick lined up only three glasses and raised an eyebrow. “Andrew? Derek?”

  Andrew shrugged his shoulders as gingerly as he could without disturbing Kat. “Hell, I’m game.”

  “None for me,” Derek murmured, though his friendly smile managed to warm and confuse her at the same time. “Not sure how I feel about chasing carrot cake with tequila.”

  Which was exactly why Nick had avoided the cake altogether. “Come on.” She poured the shots and sat beside him, acutely aware of the warm press of his thigh against hers. “Live dangerously.”

  Andrew grinned and raised his shot. “To Kat, on a happy birthday.”

  Nick clinked her glass against his and gulped the shot, grimacing as the liquor burned down her throat. “I should have fetched more limes from the kitchen.”

  Kat snatched the last glass and tipped it back. She gasped, tears springing to her eyes as she slammed the glass down on the table. “Derek will go get some with you. You can teach me how to do body shots. It looks fun in the movies.”

  With both men at the table shooting her apprehensive looks, Nick shook her head. “Maybe next time. My birthday’s coming up in a couple months, you know.”

  Andrew hooted. “We can have another party.”

  Nick toyed with her empty glass. “I don’t know. My father wants me to come to New York. He’s been after me about it for weeks.”

  Kat listed a little to the side before Andrew steadied her. “Hey, you should take Derek. Mari said he’s taking some time off, and he’s going to be depressed if you’re not around to hit on.”

  Derek glared at Kat, and a furious blush spread up his neck and cheeks.

  “I’m sure he’ll find something to occupy himself,” Nick said casually, but she could feel her easy countenance beginning to slip, so she glanced o
ver at Andrew. “Do I need to call a cab?”

  “Nah.” He slipped one of Kat’s arms around his shoulders and laughed again. “Up, birthday girl. We’re being kicked out.”

  “What?” Kat let Andrew nudge her out of the booth, but she swayed a little when he urged her to stand. “Oh, are they going to make out? Thank God. Finally. Let’s go.”

  Nick could hear Derek grinding his teeth. “You better leave with Andrew, Kat, because if I take you home, I’m dunking you under a cold shower.”

  “Bah. You’re no fun.” Kat looped her other arm around Andrew’s neck and beamed up at him. “Andrew will take me home.”

  “God help him,” Derek muttered too softly for them to hear.

  Nick unlocked the door, and Andrew led Kat outside. The street was still fairly crowded, and she imagined they’d have no problem grabbing a taxi without calling one. She cleared her throat and looked at Derek, who still sat in the booth. “Do you want another beer? Or I could make some coffee…”

  He tilted his head. “Come sit down, Nick. We need to talk, since my drunk-ass cousin screwed up my careful plans.”

  She secured the door again and slid into the booth opposite him. “She’s wasted, Derek. I own a bar. I know better than to listen to drunken ranting. It’s okay.”

  He snorted. “She’s a drunk psychic, Nick. She understands more about what’s going on in my head than I do.”

  He didn’t seem to want to take the graceful exit she’d offered, so she reached over, retrieved her shot glass and raised an eyebrow at him as she slowly refilled it. “Does that mean you want to go to New York with me?”

  “Well, it wasn’t in my plans since I didn’t know about it.” He grinned, righted Kat’s glass and pushed it toward Nick. “Besides, I was more thinking about asking you out on a date before we went on vacation together.”

  She bit her lip and filled his glass with the amber liquid as well. “Could have fooled me, Gabriel. All you’ve done lately is glare at me.”

  “Yeah.” He closed his eyes and exhaled on a sigh. “I…was pissed at you. Only I didn’t have any right to be, so I was pissed at myself too.”

  She pushed the shot toward him until it nudged his hand. “Why were you angry with me? What did I do?” What did I not do?

  Derek’s strong fingers curled around the glass. He lifted it to his lips and tossed it back without opening his eyes, giving her a glimpse of the strong column of his throat as he swallowed. The glass hit the table with a hollow thud, and he finally looked at her again. “You went charging into danger. You went on a suicidal rescue mission, and I had to find out about it from Kat. I have no right to be angry that you didn’t tell me. But every time I think about it, every weird, freaky instinct inside me flips the fuck out.”

  Nick froze with her glass halfway to her mouth and stared at him. It was a common reaction, a purely animal response to instinct. Which meant he considered her, at least on some level, to be under his protection. “What do you think about that?” she whispered. “Rationally, I mean?”

  “There’s nothing rational about it. But the human in me says I should have asked you out already, and then I wouldn’t be fighting with myself over whether or not you’re mine.”

  Mine. She couldn’t breathe, much less drink more, so she lowered the shot of tequila and studied the planes of Derek’s face. She knew every inch of it already, every dimple and expression, a knowledge borne of countless hours of desire. Of yearning. The words escaped before she could stop them. “Will you come upstairs with me?”

  He wanted to; there was no mistaking the desire. He groaned and slid his hands over to cover hers. “God, Nick, don’t tempt me. I’ve been trying far too hard not to screw this up, and right now I don’t think jumping into bed with tequila as a third wheel is the way to go. But…if you don’t need to go to New York right away, maybe a date? Dinner, at least. Someplace without nosy shapeshifters and obnoxious psychic cousins.”

  Her heart thumped. “Do those places exist in New Orleans?”

  “I’ll find one.” He smiled at her. “It’d be worth it.”

  She hoped he couldn’t feel her trembling, though she knew better. “We could always order in.”

  He licked his lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Okay. I’m going to get up and leave, and I’m going to call you when we’re both sober. Because that’s the responsible thing to do.”

  Nick wasn’t drunk, and she’d be willing to bet Derek wasn’t, either. “Do you have my number?”

  “I think so.” He flashed her another of those quick, nervous smiles and eased out of the booth. “Either way, I can find it. Especially since Kat and Andrew are probably spray painting it across the side of my truck right now as a subtle hint.”

  “Only if they couldn’t find a skywriter this time of night.” She followed him to the door, trying not to stare at the broad expanse of his back.

  He turned and nodded awkwardly when he reached the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Nick. Count on it.”

  She tried in vain to think of something witty to say. “Have a good night, Derek. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He leaned down, his breath warm against her skin as he brushed his lips over her cheek in a soft, barely there kiss. Nick reacted without thought, turning her head until her mouth touched the corner of his.

  The world tilted as her feet left the ground. She heard Derek’s low, desperate growl as her back hit the wall, just a second before his mouth covered hers.

  She’d been dreaming of it for the better part of a year—longer, if she was going to be honest with herself—and shock still thrummed in her veins, making her heart jump. Then the surprise faded, replaced by animal satisfaction. His taste and scent filled her senses as his tongue twined with hers, and she drove her fingers into his hair and held on.

  One large hand landed on her hip and slid down, coaxing her leg up and around his waist. His hips ground against hers as he groaned and bit her lower lip in a purely possessive gesture.

  Nick locked her legs around him and met the next thrust of his hips with a frantic arch of her body. “Derek.” Mine. The word echoed in her head as she urged his head back and trailed a hot line of kisses over his jaw and neck. She whispered his name again and bit him.

  His hand crashed into the wall next to her head hard enough to send a framed picture crashing to the floor. “Fuck. Nick, I’m losing it…” His voice sounded lost in the boundary between lust and terror. A growl rumbled up through his chest and tore free of his throat and, when he spoke again, he sounded scared. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You wouldn’t hurt me.” Her denial was instant, automatic. Then the full meaning of his words hit her, and she froze. “Oh, God.” She laid her hand on his face. “You haven’t had sex since the attack.”

  “No. Shit, I’m not—” He drew in a breath, and his cheek heated under her hand. “It’s not that bad. But I haven’t had a lot of it, and not with anyone I really… Not with anyone—” He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please tell me you understand all that complicated shit Alec explained to me about the hormones and the instincts and temporary insanity?”

  It had never seemed all that complicated to Nick. Then again, it was the only thing she’d ever known. “Physical chemistry is amplified. A strong enough attraction can make it hard to control desire.” God knew she was having a hard enough time with it, though she’d had a lifetime of practice. “It could be fast, maybe, the first few times, but… You won’t hurt me, Derek. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “God, I know. My manly pride stings a little at the idea of crappy sex. I sort of wanted to impress you.”

  Nick arched an eyebrow at him. “Who said anything about crappy sex? Fast doesn’t equal crappy, not when it’s—” She broke off and looked down. “They write poetry about it, you know. About that moment where you can’t stop, and not
hing else matters. When someone could be holding a knife to your throat and you wouldn’t notice, because every single part of you is focused on—” She found herself staring at the pulse throbbing at the base of his throat, and a quiet growl rose. “We— If we wait—”

  He swallowed. “Is this why all the myths talk about werewolves mating for life?”

  “Part of it.” She lowered her hands to his shoulders and tried to ignore the strong flex of muscle under her fingers. “It’s supposed to be very…affecting.”

  “Supposed to be?” He narrowed his eyes. “I really hope that doesn’t mean I’m the only one feeling this, or I’m going to go away now, and possibly die.”

  Nick stared at him for a moment, surprise stealing her voice. “It doesn’t work if it’s one-sided. Not like this.”

  His breath left him in a whoosh. “Oh, thank God.”

  Then he kissed her again.

  A fresh wave of need crested inside her, sweeping away rational thought. She moaned into Derek’s mouth and pulled at his shirt, desperate to feel him. The fabric tugged free of his pants, and she slipped her hands under it, moaning again when she encountered the heat of his bare skin.

  She tried to work the shirt higher, but he didn’t relinquish her mouth. He tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss, and she started to think he might never stop.

  It took someone pounding on the glass door a foot away from their heads to tear them apart. Derek lifted his head with a rough curse that cut off with a strangled noise. He jerked his gaze back to her face, his expression wild. “Uh, I hope your sister is an identical twin, because someone who looks exactly like you is standing outside with the tallest man I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “What?” The fog of pleasure in Nick’s head lifted, and she turned her head as she pushed at Derek’s chest. “Michelle?”

  He stepped back and lowered her to the ground. “I guess so.”

  Her sister barely looked like herself. Instead of her usual immaculate suit, she wore sweatpants and a rumpled T-shirt, and her normally well-groomed hair had been jerked into a haphazard ponytail. Her face was pale and drawn, exhausted. Even Aaron seemed uncharacteristically grave, with tight lines around his eyes and mouth.