So I Married a Werewolf (Entangled Covet)

by Miller, Kristin

  “Well,” she said, talking as she typed, “you need two kinds of biscuits. One kind should be dry and bland, something the dog wouldn’t really desire but would eat if there wasn’t anything else available. The other kind of biscuit should be bacon-flavored and juicy, something the dog would naturally enjoy.”

  Carter nodded, pretending to follow along, but he was probably bored out of his gourd.

  “Put the dry biscuit on the floor,” she said, “and the dog will go after it. You’ll want to cover it with something heavy, your shoe being the best option. Because the dog is a scavenger, it will fight to get the biscuit from beneath your foot. It’ll probably cry and beg, paw and scratch, but eventually, when it realizes it can’t get what it wants, it’ll back off. That’s when you offer the juicy biscuit.”

  “The poor dog,” Carter said. “You’re just teasing it with the dry biscuit.”

  Faith looked up from her computer screen. “No, it doesn’t really want the dry one at all.”

  “How do you know?” His brow looked puzzled. “Maybe the dog prefers dry biscuits over bacon-flavored.”

  “The dog only thinks it wants the dry biscuit, because it doesn’t think it can get a better one. They’re opportunistic feeders.”

  Carter slid his feet off the desk and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Things must’ve been getting heavy—he had his serious, stone-set face on. “What happens after you tease the pooch?”

  Rolling her eyes, Faith continued, “You reward the ‘back off’ or ‘leave it’ behavior. You give the dog the bacon biscuit and say the keyword you’ve chosen, whether it’s ‘off’ or ‘away’ or ‘leave it.’ The first time, you’ll say the word during the act, or slightly afterward. After this, you’ll say the command and expect compliance. You’ll continue to do the routine ten to fifteen times, or until the dog’s behavior leans solidly toward waiting for the bacon biscuit rather than scrambling for the one it shouldn’t eat.”

  “This bullshit really works?” Carter laughed. “You’re torturing the poor dog who knows what he wants! Why not just give him the dry one?”

  “Because, once again, the only reason he was interested in the first place was because it was in front of him, not because it’s what he prefers.”

  “What if the dog is tired of bacon biscuits? What if he’s had them over and over again and wants something different?” Carter’s smile fell and an odd shadow crossed his face. “What if the dog realizes too late what’s best for him? What then?”

  “Carter, are you all right?”

  “Hmm?” He seemed to snap out of some kind of daze. “I’m fine. I just think you’re torturing the dog for no reason. If he wants the dry biscuit, let him have it.”

  She sipped on her drink. “That’s not the point of the exercise. It’s how to teach dogs to leave things alone. Other species of animals could use similar training.”

  Take that, Casanova.

  “So that’s it, then?” he said. “Torment the animal and move on?”

  “Nooo.” She shook her head and took another drink. “You move the exercise to the park, or on his next walk. You increase the temptation and remove the shoe over it. You leave something on the sidewalk that the dog really wants so when you go for your morning walk, you say the word you’ve been using to keep the dog under control.”

  He seemed to chew over her words. “Humperdinck’s improving, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I can walk by him now without his tiny, fluffy legs attaching to the toe of my boot. Are you using the biscuit strategy to teach him to leave my shoes alone?”

  “Partly.” She grinned. “Humperdinck and I have a lot of work to do.”

  He frowned. “Why’d you say it like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “That you both have a lot of work to do. Both.”

  She shrugged. “I’d like to be a juicy biscuit to someone someday.”

  “You?” He cleared his throat and pounded on his chest as if something was stuck. “I think you’re juicy enough.”

  Her cheeks flushed hot.

  His gaze shifted to the back lawn, the desk, the floor. “I have to hit the gym before heading to work.”

  “Okay,” she said, but he’d already scampered out of the office.

  He’d just said she was juicy. Was he toying with her, flirting as he always did, or did he mean it?

  Stupid. She slammed her head on her desk.

  If he meant it, he would’ve stayed in their bed in the Monarch. He would’ve made a move before now—she’d been sleeping two doors down from him for the last three weeks, for Christ’s sake! Now that she thought about it, why wasn’t he trying harder to get into her pants? He wasn’t the Alpha of their wolf pack, but he exhibited serious alpha qualities. He was possessive and rugged, powerful and strong. And he’d made only two attempts to get her between the sheets. The first time he’d told her he didn’t want her, and the next he’d run to the bathroom like his balls were on fire.

  Even the dogs she’d trained would paw after a dry biscuit if it sat in the room next to them for weeks on end. She didn’t exactly want Carter to paw at her—okay, she totally did—but it’d be nice to turn down his advances rather than wonder why they weren’t there in the first place.

  She’s not like us. Paisely’s words ran through her head. She’s not confident in her sexuality and her ability to keep a partner happy.

  “I’m the dry biscuit,” she whispered to herself. “Wonderful reality check. Thank you very much, Barbie Paisely.”

  Luckily, there were options to change her bland biscuit status, and Paisely would lack class forever. And she really did want to be someone’s juicy biscuit someday. She would’ve given her right arm to be Carter’s juicy biscuit, but it looked like that wasn’t in the stars anymore. She could exercise at home when Carter was at work. There had to be dancing videos available. Was Paula Abdul still around? The Tae Bo guy? Jane Fonda?

  God, had it really been that long since she’d worked out?

  She pulled up Amazon on the internet and punched “fun, sexy physical fitness” into the search bar.

  Zumba. Pole dancing, portable pole included. An extensive twelve-week program called Intensity D60Z.

  Things in the fitness world had really changed. There were so many options. So many things that looked surprisingly…fun.

  “I’ll show you confident.” She tossed her mocha into the trash. “I’ll be the juiciest bacon biscuit in the Pacific Northwest.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “What’s taking you so long, Faith?” Carter tightened his bow tie in the bathroom mirror and brushed a piece of lint off the lapel of his penguin suit. “It’s nearly six o’clock. They’ll be here any minute. Are you ready?”

  The captain and the other members of the bureau were never late.

  “I told you, I’m coming!”

  He charged through the living room into the kitchen. She’d put dinner in the oven—chicken casseroles from the smell of them—bread on the counter, and dessert in the fridge. He checked all of those things, twice, to make sure everything was ready to roll. He arranged a line of wineglasses that were already perfectly straight and twisted a few wine bottles so their labels pointed out.

  Something bumped against his shoe.

  “Damn it, Humper—”

  The black-and-white furball sat beside his shoe, staring up at him, his tiny tongue lolling out of his mouth.

  “Look at that…you’re not humping.” He picked up the pooch and gave him a good scratch under the neck. “You’re kind of cute when you aren’t acting like a freak.”

  “Some could say the same about you.”

  He turned, and lost his breath.

  Faith stood in the doorway wearing a 1950s-style emerald-green dress that reached mid-calf. The dress was simple. Satin. Thick straps. It accented her curves perfectly, hugging her body at the waist, flaring at the hips, with twisty-turvy fabric bunched at her breasts. Whoever designed the cocktail dress was a genius.
>
  As his gaze rose to her face—he bit back a gasp. “Your hair, it’s—”

  “Red.” Although most of it was pulled up, she bounced a thick crimson curl in the palm of her hand, acting the part of a fifties starlet. “Crazy, right? I haven’t gone back to my natural color in years.”

  He couldn’t breathe. He set Humperdinck down and flipped the switch on the vent above the stove to make sure it wasn’t sucking air from the room.

  “What made you choose tonight to do it?” he asked.

  When everyone would be staring at her…

  “I realized I was tired of trying to be someone else…of trying to impress someone else, when the only person who really matters is me.” She smiled, lighting the room. “And I like my hair red best.”

  He absolutely agreed.

  “You look stunning. Worth every hour you made me wait.” He closed the distance between them, stopping just short of pressing against her. “Did I ever tell you that when I was growing up, my favorite cartoon character was Jessica Rabbit?”

  “No.” She looked up at him, laughter and curiosity in her eyes. “You didn’t.”

  “That’s what I was going to tell you at the Monarch, during our shots game of Star Trek.” He slid his hand along the natural bend of her waist. “You always had the curves, but now, with the hair…” He blew out an exaggerated Roger Rabbit whistle. “You’re a spittin’ image.”

  She whacked his hand away. “No touchy-feely for you tonight, Casanova.”

  “At least not until the bureau gets here.” His heart sped, and Carter got the unmistakable feeling that its rhythm was matching hers. “You are still my wife, remember?”

  As Faith scurried around making last-minute adjustments, Carter escaped to the restroom to catch his breath. The longer he was around her, the harder it was to keep his composure. His hands wanted to reach out for her. His mouth yearned to cover hers. His feet moved to be near her. It was as if the wolf part of him, somehow linked to the physical part, was determined to be with Faith, no matter what the logical part of him said.

  He’d been spending long hours at the bureau to lessen the pull, but it wasn’t working. He’d reopened cold cases, reworked details. He’d cleaned the break room. He’d organized filing cabinets and color-coded their werewolf registration system again…and again…simply so he would stay busy and away from home until after Faith went to sleep.

  Over the last week, they’d seen each other thirty minutes a day. An hour, tops. Each time it was in passing, and each time she seemed to get more beautiful. It wasn’t the few pounds she was shedding that had caught his eye—he’d noticed the exercise videos piled next to the television and moved into new positions by morning—it was the confidence she exuded. It reminded him of the first bureau dinner when Tracy glammed her up and she said she was determined to put on a show.

  Only this time he could tell the confidence was real. It was more than the clothes or the makeup and hair. It went deep, and it was damn sexy.

  The doorbell rang.

  Before he exited the bathroom, Carter took a deep breath. Under the watchful eye of the bureau was the only time he could palm the small of Faith’s back to lead her into a room. The only time when he could hold her hand at dinner. He could stare at her from across the room and admire how beautiful she looked—he might even be able to whisper it in her ear.

  “It’s showtime,” he said, and then walked out to greet the captain.

  …

  Faith felt great. Better than she had in ages. And the party was a hit.

  The soreness from the Intensity workout had finally worn off yesterday. She could sit now without moaning and falling onto her hip. For the first time since she’d met the members of the bureau, Faith felt like she could talk to them. As if they were somehow equal to her. Perhaps deep down, beneath the badges and stuffy humor, they were.

  Carter spent the first twenty minutes of the party on the back deck with the captain. Other bureau members and their partners had arrived, some familiar faces from Vancouver Island, including a few new others. Nate Ramsey arrived solo, thank goodness, and apologized that Paisely wouldn’t be attending. Apparently she’d eaten some bad fish from the market and was under the weather.

  Poor thing.

  Faith focused on the floor—man, could it use a good waxing—so no one would see her smile.

  As she served a full glass of wine to Mrs. Owens, who smiled and thanked her like a fellow Stepford wife should, Carter swept through the double doors, bringing in gusts of wind with him.

  Weaving around bureau members, Carter locked his gaze on hers. For a second she thought she’d done something wrong. He embodied heat, raw and intense, as he patted someone on the shoulder and brushed by, holding her captive with those icy blue eyes.

  “Can I talk to you?” he asked, walking straight past her and into the living room.

  “Sure.” She smiled and set down the serving tray, nodding to Mrs. Owens. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time, dear.”

  The living room was warm, thanks to the fire lit in the stone hearth in the corner, but Faith got an odd chill when she walked behind Carter. He faced the fire, his hands gouging into the spine of the couch. As if taking a silent cue, the few bureau members in the living room disappeared into the kitchen.

  Once they were alone, Faith touched his back. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  Carter spun around, and pushed her back against the wall. She squealed, giddy with excitement as he smiled and cupped her chin in his hands.

  “We did it,” he said, his goofy grin reaching ear to ear.

  “Did what?”

  He brushed his cheek against hers and whispered, “The captain offered me the position.”

  “He did?” she screamed. “That’s—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, melting her thoughts to goo. His lips pulled into a smile over her mouth. She smiled right back. A teeny tiny, and very annoying, voice in the back of her head screeched about not kissing her husband, but he got the job! This called for a celebratory kiss, and just one couldn’t hurt.

  “He wants to petition the Alpha to open another spot for Nate,” he whispered, “but for now, it’s only me.” He palmed the wall on either side of her head, his hips pressed against hers. “He told me not to tell anyone, but I couldn’t go another second without telling you.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Why was she suddenly out of breath? “So what now?”

  “There’s a promotional ceremony in Wallace Falls State Park during the next full moon, with guests attending in wolf form—pack tradition. The Alpha and his family will be there, along with the existing members of the bureau, and anyone else from the pack who is interested in attending.” He looked like he was about to burst out of his skin. “The captain said he noticed how many hours I’ve been clocking in at the office lately.”

  “Yeah,” she said, “you’ve been working nonstop.”

  Keeping one hand on the wall above her head, he placed the other on her stomach. She quivered down deep in her belly as she looked up at him and anticipated the feel of his mouth over hers. He stared down at her through his thick lashes, blinking slowly.

  “You did it,” he said, his voice filled with reverence. “You really pulled this off. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Probably live a miserable, lonely existence,” she joked, though he didn’t laugh when she did.

  “You have no idea how right you are.”

  Before she knew what happened, his lips touched hers, a caress that scattered goose bumps over her entire body. He was tender and careful, his lips urging hers apart without any demand. She pressed her hands against his chest and opened her mouth for him, but he didn’t take the offer. He kissed her again and again, openmouthed and full of affection. His fingers tangled in her hair, traipsed down her neck.

  Between the last time she kissed him and now, something changed. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she felt the shift ro
oted in her belly. He wasn’t lusting after her body. She got the very real, very startling feeling that he was trying to connect with her on a much more intimate level.

  He pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. He seemed to be having as difficult a time finding air as she was.

  “How can this fade?” His voice was deep and raspy, barely audible. “He has to be mistaken.”

  “What?” She frowned. “Who? I don’t understand…”

  “Ahem.” Someone said from the entry beside them. “Hate to intrude, but the oven timer’s been going off for two minutes and no one can figure out how to turn it off.”

  “Got it,” Faith said, dropping her hands from Carter’s abs. “Can you, ah,” she said to Carter, “check on Humperdinck? He’s been quiet.”

  He nodded, and then disappeared into the hallway as Faith served dinner. When he returned to the dining room, they started on the casseroles. They were culinary perfection. Watch out, Rachael Ray! The dessert, chocolate soufflé scooped into individual cups, was a total hit. Two bureau wives asked for the recipe after scarfing them down, which Faith handed over in exchange for a few of their own tried-and-true recipes.

  After dinner, bureau members laughed and chatted in the living room, kitchen, and dining room. Nate and the captain spent over an hour in the study, probably talking about bureau business. Faith stayed in her heels as long as she could, but when midnight rolled around, she tossed them beside the couch and slipped on her bumblebee slippers.

  Carter was on cloud nine, buzzing from one group to another. They seemed to accept him into their fray, patting him on the shoulder, smiling when he said something funny and shaking his hand.

  She’d never seen him this happy.

  Everybody was getting what they wanted from this marriage deal, Faith thought. Carter had landed the job of his dreams, Dawson was going to Yale, and she was…what was she getting again?

  Oh yeah. She was getting a fake marriage to the guy of her dreams and a quickie divorce. She’d almost forgotten. As the unevenness of the picture became clear, a dull ache settled in Faith’s chest.