by J. K Harper
His tone conveyed his admiration as he went on, “That was a good crowd in here tonight. You must be pretty popular.” With that, he looked back up at her again, although he kept his eyes from looking directly into hers. A gentle smile was on his face, which was so sunny and open she couldn't help but relax.
“I've been lucky. My books have been well received,” she managed to say without stammering, feeling the usual shyness about her writing evident in her tone. She was proud of her work, but the difference between writing in her private space at home and reading her work out loud to strangers in crowded bookstores was still significant. She was always taken aback when people came up and told her how much they loved her books.
“Well, then,” he said, plunking the book in front of her and gesturing at her pen. “I'll just have to read it myself, then. Would you sign it for me?”
Claire swallowed. Still a little shaky from the force of her ricocheting emotions in the presence of this alluring stranger, she nodded and picked up the pen. Then she paused.
“What's your name?” she asked, looking back up at him. Her wolf wiggled and rolled and jumped, dancing with the desire to shift and run with him. Claire felt her pulse beating hard in her neck.
“Tate,” he said, his expression suddenly serious as he looked back at her. “Tate Bardou. Pleasure to meet you, Claire.” He extended his hand to her, the natural cowboy charm making it such a genuine gesture she reached out her own hand over the signing table.
The second their skin touched, Claire knew she was utterly lost.
***
Tate felt the blood rush from his head the moment his fingers connected with hers. A bolt sizzled between them, sending little shocks up and down his spine. His wolf shivered and stared so intently at Claire from Tate's eyes he knew they glowed even more.
Then again, her eyes were glowing as well. The startled expression on her face captivated him, since he knew it matched his own. Just like the other day on the street in Cortez, there was a huge spark between them. The spark that said she was his mate.
Claire abruptly pulled back her hand, breaking the moment. By the increase in her breathing, though, not to mention her unshielded eyes, Tate knew she'd felt it as well. He also knew she was nervous around him, although he still wasn't sure why. Even so, he knew how to handle that. He was a horse trainer who often worked with flighty, suspicious fear. Claire exhibited the same symptoms. This, he understand how to approach.
“I wondered if I'd ever see you again,” he said, keeping his voice and his stance casual despite the yearning need to leap across the damn table and claim her. Which was crazy. He never in his life had had any desire to “claim” any woman. What did that even mean, exactly? “I guess you were in a hurry the other day. Were you getting ready to come out here for your reading?”
She nodded, the spill of thick white-blonde hair waving over her face with the movement, teasing at her full mouth. Tate suddenly imagined her beautiful lips parted beneath his. Hurriedly, he went on. “Sorry about being so pushy that day,” he said. Carefully, he smiled at her. “I was just interested in you the moment I knew you were there.”
Claire visibly swallowed. With another quick nod, she bent her head back down to her book and scribbled some lines in the front of it. Then she gently shut it and handed it to him. “You'll have to pay for it up front,” she said. Her smooth, rich voice flowed over him, sending tightness to his groin.
“Yes, ma'am,” he said, lips still tipped upward. She shot a quick glance at him to see if he was kidding with her. He tucked the book under his arm and almost imperceptibly leaned away from her again, as if he wasn't terribly interested in her presence.
It was maybe the hardest thing he'd done all day.
“Claire,” he said, pausing a moment at the sound of himself saying her name. He hoped he'd be saying it a lot more often. “Claire, do you have plans tonight?”
Clearly caught off-guard, she stared at him. He let his gaze meet hers directly, although he still angled his body away from her. Even though she was still sitting and he towered above her, he hoped he didn't seem to be in her space.
“I don't,” she finally said. Her pulse had jumped in response to his words, and he tracked the delicate movement in her neck. The sight of it beating there, just below her creamy skin, sharpened his breath. He had the sudden urge to lean across the table, catch the delicate skin there between his teeth, and lightly nip at it.
His wolf shivered with the effort of not doing just that. Giving himself a hard internal shake, Tate tried to speak normally. “I don't want to miss out on this opportunity a second time. May I take you out for dessert? Drinks? A late dinner if you didn't already eat?”
Clearly still a little wary, Claire regarded him with those wide, beautiful green eyes. He found himself wondering if she retained that color when she shifted into her wolf. Her scent, though, she couldn't hide from him this close. She was just as wildly aroused as he was, despite the shock he also sensed still lingering beneath it.
“I already ate dinner,” she said after another few long, agonizing moments had passed. The look in her eyes, though, said she was still hungry. “But....” Taking a deep breath, she tipped her chin up, as if she'd made a decision. Unexpectedly, a smile bloomed across her face, making her even more stunning. “Do you have anything else to offer, cowboy?”
Tate felt what seemed like every drop of blood in his body rush straight to his cock, which suddenly strained against his jeans. He blinked at Claire for a moment, unable to articulate any words as he processed her clear invitation.
When he was certain his voice wouldn't crack, he said, “Yes, I think I do. I'd love the great pleasure”—he paused for the briefest moment on that word, smiling as he saw her pulse beat hard in her neck—“of your company this evening, Claire.”
Casually, trying to restrain his wildly excited wolf, Tate offered this most alluring female wolf, this beautiful woman, his arm and a smile at the same time, still keeping himself as unassuming as possible. If ever in his life he'd wanted to make a good impression, this was it. Holding his breath, he waited for her answer.
Eyes flicking around the bookstore as if still uncertain, Claire slowly nodded yes. “I'm leaving early in the morning,” she said as she pushed back her chair and stood. To Tate's pleasure, he saw she was almost as tall as he was. All the better to kiss her with. “But there is an evening still ahead of us, isn't there?”
She took his arm and flashed that sudden smile again, melting Tate's brain in the process. “So. Your hotel or mine?”
Claire kept stealing sidelong glances at Tate as they walked the few blocks to her hotel. Her awareness of everything else around them was present as always, but she was alarmingly distracted by him. She found his easy stride, his natural gentleness, and his obvious interest in her all fascinating, although she still didn't completely understand why. It went beyond pure physical attraction, although that was definitely high on her radar. Something in him made her feel comfortable, relaxed, and centered in a way she never felt unless she was out running in the desert canyons.
“After you,” his deep, soft voice said as he opened the door to the quaint old hotel her publisher had put her up in.
She slid another glance at him as she entered. Quivering slightly from sheer hormonal reaction as she passed his very male self, she also felt even more curious. Good old-fashioned manners weren't something she found in a lot of men anymore. Granted, she'd usually stuck to very casual relationships, with the exception of two—her very first boyfriend, and her most recent ex. That one had been courteous as well, although it always seemed as if he had an ulterior motive to being gentlemanly. As if he thought he was supposed to do it, rather than he did it because it meant something to him.
She could tell Tate was genuine when he held open the door for her to pass through first. He cared more for her comfort than for his own image. Despite the fact he was paying so much attention to her, she didn't feel overwhelmed at all. He
was sincere in his motions, but it wasn't as if his entire being was pinpointed on her in a way that would feel uncomfortable.
Real. The content voice of her wolf drifted through her mind.
Yes. Tate Bardou seemed like the real deal. Whatever that might mean for Claire.
As her wolf rolled in excitement, Claire realized she was thinking in terms of the future. Filing that away for more examination later, she passed through the doorway ahead of him, skin buzzing when she moved past him and took a quick, surreptitious inhale of his light yet unmistakeably male scent. After giving her another one of his seemingly endless natural smiles, he breezed into the hotel after her. This was a man who seemed completely confident in his own skin.
And what a magnificent skin he had, she admitted to herself as she continued her admiration while she walked to the hotel's sole elevator. She could scent the desert of home on him, though the wildness of the mountains also touched him. A healthy tan spoke of significant time spent outdoors, as did the faintest crinkles at the corners of his eyes, although he looked to be right around her age of only mid-twenties.
For a split second, she imagined his hands traveling over her body, smoothing along her flesh, dipping into her hollows and caressing over her curves. A gasp rose in her throat at the force of the image, which she knew was underscored by her wolf's firm attention on him. Swallowing it down before she embarrassed them both, she blindly jabbed at the elevator's “up” button.
Wolves had a tremendous amount of sexual energy. It simply defined them as what they were. To be perfectly frank, Claire had no problem acting on her needs, especially with her wolf very eagerly urging her on. She'd had casual, fun one night stands before when she traveled for readings. Just one night, then she never saw them again. Those encounters never worried her before, or made her gasp with longing before she'd even touched the guy. And, of course, they were almost always human men. But Tate—something was incredibly different about him. Something drew her to him in a way she'd never felt before. It was as unsettling as it was exhilarating.
Following her instincts to get naked with him was not unusual for her. He was gorgeous and as interested in her as she was in him. What kept frying her brain was the crazy sense that she already knew him—and that she would see him again after this.
The elevator door softly opened. Attempting to keep her stride steady, Claire walked in. Every sensation in her body was wildly alive, keenly attuned to the presence of the sexiest man she'd ever set eyes on just a few feet away from her. The man she'd invited up to her room.
“So,” Tate said, leaning back against the elevator wall and eyeing her in that soft way, one lip curved up in what she'd begun to suspect was a perpetual smile. “You write. You read your writing to groups of people. You live near my home, but I've never seen you before. Yet for some reason, it almost feels like I know you already. What to make of that, huh?”
Claire jumped inside as he echoed her own thoughts. But despite the fact his last words were a question, his tone was so utterly nonchalant she didn't even tense. Something about him put her at ease so totally, she felt on a core level that she could trust him with her life.
Aside from Melle, Claire never felt that way about anybody. Ever.
“But enough about you,” Tate said, a sudden twinkle in his eye and a flash of a cute dimple—a dimple! Who knew she'd ever find a dimple on a man to be so sexy?—letting her know he was teasing. “Bet you wondered why a dusty old cowboy was wandering the urban streets of Denver.”
“You're hardly old.” Teasing him back came so naturally she still felt a little startled.
“Old enough to know how to treat a beautiful woman who clearly has a brain, her wits about her, and is getting more intriguing to me every second,” he returned. This time, although his voice was still mild and the grin still shaped his mouth, something with a more serious intent crept in as well.
Something more seriously sexy.
In her mind, Claire's wolf stretched and rolled, exposing her belly, then leapt to her feet in a playful fashion. She liked this game of repartee. The deep ache throbbed between Claire's legs again, and she drew in a somewhat shaky breath as strong desire pierced her.
Tate abruptly stilled, his eyes going straight to hers. The smile eased away from his features, leaving them focused. And aroused.
Claire tipped her head to the side and met his gaze head on. There was no way she could hide her attraction to him. Any wolf within a mile of them would be able to sense it as well. But she wasn't afraid of her attraction to this dark-haired, gentle wolf. Nor was she afraid to let him see it.
The only fear she really had was acting on it. After her most recent brush with a possessive male from a wolf pack, she wasn't keen on letting that possibility happen again. Even though every erotic possibility with Tate, especially the kind that led to them both being sweaty and satisfied, was looking more enticing with each moment she felt herself falling into the gorgeous pool of his velvety brown eyes.
***
As soon as Claire focused her gaze on him, the sensuality behind it had Tate futilely pressing his hands behind him against the elevator wall to keep himself from making some dumb move that would startle her off and end this very promising evening far too prematurely. He heard the hitch in her breath, smelled the spike in her arousal.
His wolf pawed at his mind, demanding to be allowed to lead Tate into his natural state. Bit by slow bit, Tate relaxed his control, allowing his wolf to join the forefront of his more rational human mind. He'd let his sides merge closer, as long as he didn't scare her off. He often relied on his wolf when he was training horses, to let that more instinctive side hold forth.
Hopefully, the technique worked just as well on a somewhat skittish, utterly absorbing woman. Not that she seemed remotely skittish about her own interest in him. Claire was a wolf, and clearly fully in tune with the sexual side of herself. That, he was pretty clear on. Something else, though, held part of her back. Damned if he wouldn't figure out what it was. He just needed to take his time, go slow, and not make her run away again.
If only he could remember exactly what it was he'd said in Cortez the other day that made her take off. He'd never broach the subject again, if it kept him close to this bewitching female.
His mate. His human mind still boggled with that knowledge, despite his wolf's total acceptance of it. Then again, wolves naturally mated for life, while humans didn't necessarily have that tendency. In the wolf shifter world, it was the extremely rare wolf who never discovered a mate and instead might share a less deep bond with a random partner of choice. Tate had just assumed he'd have years before stumbling across his mate. Then again, he also knew full well what the word “assume” really meant. It was a good way to make an ass out of “u” and “me.”
He reached for careful words, although he didn't drop his gaze just yet. “You're the most intriguing woman I've ever met, Claire. I know you can sense that. We both know.”
Clearly not one to blush, she nevertheless shifted on her feet. Just the sight of her soft curves moving beneath her clothing sent an abrupt thickness to his cock, making it necessary for him slightly adjust his stance as well.
Was that sudden amusement in her face? Not one to let a potentially humorous moment slip by, Tate said, “Obviously I'm interested. I don't like to hide things. Especially not important things like letting a woman know I like her.”
A smile broke across her face, illuminating it to the point of almost painful beauty. Tate wanted nothing more in that moment than to rub his face against hers, nibble at her ear, softly kiss his way down her beautiful neck.
“I can tell you aren't one to mince words,” she said. Her rich voice still wrapped around his senses, keeping his arousal firmly ignited. She'd dropped her gaze again, fingers fiddling with her dark jacket. But the smile remained. “So, okay, I'll bite. Why are you wandering around Denver, anyway? There can't be many horses downtown.”
Tate laughed. She was matching hi
m on the scale of humor. He liked her more and more every second, beyond his purely male appreciation of her body and his deep knowledge that she was meant to be his. And he hers.
“I train horses. I flew here the other day to see clients outside the city. Flying home tomorrow, too.”
Watching her carefully since her eyes were still averted from his, he caught the light twitch of her eyelid when he said the word home. A-ha. That was a trigger for her. Seemed he still had to be somewhat delicate in his approach with her.
“Horses? That's an unusual occupation for someone like us.”
Someone who was a wolf shifter, she meant.
Tate shrugged. “It's always come fairly naturally to me. The connection to horses part, I mean,” he hastened to add, in case she thought he was bragging. “The training—well, let's just say I've had a steep learning curve over the years, and I'll never stop learning.”
Claire sighed a bit wistfully. “I love horses. But I've never really been near them.” She looked back up at him. Something in her face softened, despite the ever-present natural wariness that seemed to live under her skin. God, he couldn't wait to stroke that smooth, beautiful skin. “I don't really understand what's happening here,” she said, changing the subject so suddenly he felt briefly unmoored. “But I feel totally comfortable around you. At ease.” Pausing for a split second, she went on in a very quiet voice touched by curious wonder, “Like you'd never hurt me. Maybe that's how horses feel around you, too.”
Tate tilted his head a bit and looked at Claire. He couldn't let this woman walk away from him again. Ever. Studying her closely for a moment, he carefully read her body language. She was aroused. She was letting him up to her room. She might recognize he was her mate—or maybe not yet.