She hung up and headed for the bathroom. Once there, she unwound the bandage from her left arm and examined her wound. She saw that she was black and blue just above the wrist.
Rachel poked it. The swelling was gone, but it was still tender. She flexed her fingers and twisted her wrist, deciding that after her bath she wasn’t going to rewrap it. But she was going to wear a long-sleeved shirt. It was an ugly sight.
She unfastened the brace from her right leg next. Her knee looked no better than her arm. It was swollen and stiff.
It took her nearly an hour to bathe. But in the end Rachel felt human again when she finally emerged from her room. She was clean, dressed, and ready to take on Sub Rosa.
She headed for the kitchen first.
“Oh, good afternoon, Miss Foster,” the man standing at the sink said as she rolled into the kitchen. She wasn’t sure, but she thought his name was Matthew.
“Afternoon?”
He nodded, his smile making up for his harsh features.
Good Lord. She’d slept the morning away. No wonder she was starving. Darn it. She wasn’t taking any more of those pain pills.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, looking around for a towel, giving up and wiping his hands on his pants.
“Ah, I’ll just have an apple,” she quickly assured him, sending her chair over to the counter and grabbing up the only apple sitting in the bowl. “And then I’ll call Franny Watts.”
His face brightened even more. “Kee said you knew a cook. Is she good?”
Rachel eyed the man up and down, realizing that he probably ate more calories in a day than she consumed in a week. She nodded to him just as she took a bite of her apple. “Yup,” she said once she’d swallowed. “She can feed an army with one hand tied behind her back. But I should probably warn you—she won’t let anyone mess with her kitchen.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he nodded. “That’s fine with me. She can have the kitchen.”
Just then, the back door opened, and a man walked into the kitchen. Along with Mickey.
Rachel spun her chair around and pushed the handle forward as far as she could. She zoomed around the counter, bounced off a stool, and shot through the door leading into the great room.
Mickey came bounding after her with a yelp.
Rachel yelped, too, and sped the chair around the great room, the huge wolf nipping at her tires. She slammed the lever to the right as she approached the hall, and Mickey went skidding into a table, upsetting it in a tangle of paws and fur and splintering wood. The two men ran out of the kitchen and nearly tripped over each other as they scrambled to escape Rachel’s chair as she went speeding past the door and down the hall.
Mickey was back on his feet and after her in a matter of seconds. Rachel screamed at the top of her lungs. The chair was not fast enough to outrun the wolf.
And she was running out of hallway.
Keenan stepped into her path, looking like Zeus himself. He planted his feet and leaned over and grabbed the arms of her chair, stopping her dead in her tracks. Rachel swallowed her scream. His claws scratching for purchase on the marble floor, Mickey went skidding into the back of her chair and landed with a painful grunt. Rachel’s chair shuddered with the impact.
“What in hell is going on out here!” Kee growled, sounding more dangerous than his wolf.
Rachel threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to the safety of his chest. He let go of the wheelchair and straightened, holding her securely.
“He’s trying to eat me again!” she shouted, pulling her good left leg up and wrapping it around his waist. “Help me!”
Her whole body started shaking with the force of an earthquake, and Rachel realized her savior was laughing.
Laughing!
She smacked his shoulder. “It’s not funny! He’s after me!”
“Rachel. He’s a wolf. He’ll chase anything that moves.”
She looked behind her. Mickey was sitting on the floor, one of his paws lifted to his face, and he was licking it. He stopped, his tongue still stuck on his paw, and looked up at her.
Rachel hugged Kee tighter.
Without setting her down, Kee walked into the room he’d stepped out of earlier, closing the door with his foot behind them. He walked over to a couch that had been pushed up against one of the walls and set her down.
Rachel’s hair stuck to his neck and then to her own as he pulled away. She brushed it out of her face and realized it was wet. So was her cheek. And her hands.
She looked at Kee, and her eyes widened. He was dressed all in black, in pajamas, and he was a ball of sweat. She looked around the room and saw that all the furniture had been moved to the edges of the room, and even the expensive Oriental rug had been rolled up against the wall. Jason was sitting in one of the chairs, a towel around his neck, a bottle of water in his hand, and a huge grin on his face.
He was wearing pajamas, too.
She looked back at Kee, who was looming over her, his feet spread and his hands planted on his hips. Unlike Jason, he wasn’t smiling.
Rachel took the offense. “You said you’d keep your wolf outside.”
“He must have come in with one of the men,” Kee returned softly, still staring at her with eyes that reminded her of the Gulf of Maine in winter.
“Then tie him up.”
He slowly shook his head. “He’s a wolf, Rachel,” he repeated, as if she needed the reminder. “You can’t tie him up. It would kill him.”
“I’m going to kill him, if he doesn’t kill me first.”
All that declaration got her was a smile. He shook his head again. “Rachel. He won’t hurt you. He was enjoying the chase.”
She held up her left arm and pulled back the sleeve of her sweater, waving her injured wrist at him. “What do you call that?”
Kee sat down beside her on the couch and took hold of her hand and examined her wrist. “That was an accident,” he said, gently rubbing her pulse with his thumb.
Rachel pulled her arm back, mostly because she caught herself enjoying his touch. “I don’t like him,” she grumbled, mad because she knew he was right. Mickey had just been doing his job. She still didn’t like him.
“Jason. Open the door,” Kee said, standing up and putting himself between Rachel and the door.
She squeaked and swung her legs up on the couch, knowing damn well it was a puny defense.
Jason hesitated, looking at her. Then he looked back at Kee and obeyed. He opened the door, stepped aside as Mickey trotted in, and then left the room, closing the door behind him.
Rachel decided she wasn’t answering any more of Jason’s questions about Sub Rosa, the traitor.
“Mickey, come,” Kee said, his voice gentle and low.
The wolf trotted up to his master and sat at attention in front of him. Kee turned to Rachel, and the animal moved to heel beside him, sitting again.
Mickey cocked his head to one side, his tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth. He looked almost civilized, his expression curious.
“Put out your hand, Rachel. Let him sniff it.”
She looked at Kee in horror. “Are you nuts?”
“Wolves respect courage and pounce on fear. Hold out your hand and say his name. Let him come to you.”
Rachel eyed her perfectly healthy right hand, wondering if it looked like a slab of beef to a wolf. Slowly, cautiously, and very reluctantly, she reached out. Mickey licked his lips.
“H-Hello, Mickey,” she whispered.
He didn’t move. Rachel saw Kee push the animal with his knee. Mickey stood up and stepped forward. The beast’s tongue darted out and licked the ends of her fingers. Rachel pulled them back to safety.
“Again,” Kee ordered, his voice gentle but firm. “This time, leave your hand there.”
She gave the bossy giant a good glare first, then slowly obeyed. By God, she was going to make friends with this wolf. He could end up being the only thing standing in her way of finding Thadd’
s secret room.
Mickey took a step closer just as she reached out to him, and Rachel nearly drove her hand down his throat. She jumped. So did the wolf, only forward, not back. He landed with his front paws on her lap and reached up and licked her chin.
Rachel closed her eyes and held her breath.
“That’s enough, Mickey,” Kee said.
Rachel opened her eyes just as Kee pulled the animal down to the floor. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, taking Mickey’s place by kneeling in front of her. He brushed a stray hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Now you can tell people that you’ve been kissed by a wolf.”
Rachel was thinking she’d already been kissed by a wolf—just last night. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater.
“And don’t run from him again. He loves a good chase, and your wheelchair is a novelty.”
“You’re not going to keep him outside, are you?”
“No. He’s part of my package. You get me, you get my wolf.”
“What if I don’t particularly want either of you?”
Kee’s eyes gleamed. “I don’t particularly care.”
“You might, if I finally lose my temper.”
He gave her a horrified look. “Little Goody Two-shoes don’t have tempers.”
“I have one,” she told him, nodding to let him know she was serious. “And I’m about to let it loose. I don’t like being pushed around by large men with even larger egos, I don’t like things being done to me for my own good, and I don’t like wolves.” She gave him her best, haughtiest glare. “And I don’t like men breaking into my room at night while I’m sleeping, just to prove they can.”
His face was a picture of pure innocence by the time she finished. Only the laughter in his eyes said her lecture amused him. Rachel’s palm itched to connect with the side of his face.
She closed her hand into a fist to stifle the urge. This man kneeling in front of her had the power to summon her darker side with just a smirk. Or a kiss. Or a touch.
He was touching her now, though she knew he probably wasn’t even aware of his action. He was slowly rubbing her hip, around and around in sensuous circles—slowly driving her nuts.
“Now what’s the matter? I swear, Rachel, more emotions just crossed your face than most women show in a year. One minute you’re giving me hell for being a man, and the next minute you’re looking at me as if I just drowned your cat.”
Rachel finally moved, but not to slap his face. She simply wrapped her arms around Kee’s neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.
Given the choice of kissing the jerk or slapping him, Rachel decided this was probably less reckless. She certainly got quite a reaction. The poor man was so surprised, he actually pulled back. Rachel didn’t let go, and they both ended up on the floor. Mickey started bouncing around them as if expecting to join in the play.
Once Keenan got over his initial shock, he seemed more than willing to let her have her way with him, and even started kissing her back.
Rachel lost the big fight with herself. A sudden burst of unbidden, outrageous, and highly unpredictable lust sang through her body. She wanted him. With a fierceness she had never felt before, she wanted Keenan Oakes in a very passionate way.
She parted her lips and accepted his tongue into her mouth, grabbing his hair and turning her head to deepen the contact. His arms came around her back, and she felt the world spin. Their positions were suddenly reversed; Kee was now on top of her, nestled between her thighs, the evidence of just what he thought of her attack pushing against her.
Rachel went up in flames at the feel of his weight covering her. She tugged at the collar of his pajamas and pushed them down over his shoulders. Apparently quite willing to help, he shrugged out of the top completely, returning his weight to her, moving his lips from her mouth to her face, her chin, her neck.
She kneaded his naked shoulders and powerful arms, and kissed his jaw before gently nibbling his ear.
A warm wet tongue drove into her own ear, and Rachel’s eyes flew open in surprise.
Mickey Mouse was helping his master. Rachel screamed.
At the sound of her scream, Kee reared up, his entire body tensed for a fight—or tensed with lust denied, she didn’t know which.
Mickey took advantage of the opening and moved closer, washing her face again.
“Goddammit, you insatiable wolf! Get off her,” Kee shouted, pushing Mickey away.
Rachel scooted out from beneath them both, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater yet again. She pulled herself over to the sofa, not knowing whether to laugh, cry, or scream.
Mostly, though, she just wanted to melt into the floor.
She wiped her face again, only to realize that her hand was shaking with the force of her scattered emotions—or was it her own lust denied?
“Lady, you’re dangerous,” Kee said, as he came over and sat down beside her on the floor against the front of the sofa.
They both stared across the room.
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry,” she whispered, her breath just as shaky as the rest of her.
“Sorry?”
“I don’t make a habit of attacking men.” She pushed a stray lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “This was…was…it was a momentary lapse in judgment,” she said, waving at the spot they’d recently occupied on the hardwood floor. She was surprised to see that the wood wasn’t even singed. Mickey was sitting there now, looking at them with lupine disappointment.
“I don’t think I want you going out with Jenkins,” Kee said, still staring at nothing.
Rachel shrugged. “I didn’t really make the date for me. It’s Willow you’re actually indebted to.”
Kee looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Is your sister as…” He cocked his head and studied her. “As impulsive as you are?” he finally said. “Maybe I should warn poor Officer Jenkins.”
Rachel looked back at Mickey. “What is it with your wolf?” she asked, not answering his question. Her heartbeat had finally lowered to a steadier drum, but her whole body still tingled with remembered sensations. What madness had come over her that she was so wildly attracted to Keenan Oakes that she had actually attacked him?
And what was she going to do about it?
“Mickey?” he asked, also looking at the animal. He shook his head. “That damn wolf has cost me more girlfriends than I care to count.” He turned to her, gently tugging on her braid until she looked at him. “How about you, Rachel? Will Mickey scare you off as well?”
Rachel grinned at him. “There’s not much in this world that frightens me, Mr. Oakes.” She held out her hand to Mickey, urging him over. “Especially not anything four-legged,” she added, patting the eager wolf who was now leaning against her, a blissful rumble coming from his throat as she scratched his neck.
Kee made a sound of disgust and stood up, grabbing his pajama top and shrugging back into it. Rachel sighed with regret—for no longer having his beautiful body to look at and for wanting to look at it in the first place.
Once dressed, Kee stood with his arms crossed over his chest and stared down at her with assessing sea-blue eyes. “Mind telling me what that was all about?” he asked.
“What?”
He nodded toward the spot on the floor where they’d ended up. “That kiss,” he clarified. “Or should I say that second assault on my manhood in less than forty-eight hours.”
She didn’t like his towering over her like a god of inquisition. Nor did she like having to explain her actions, when he was guilty of the same thing only the night before.
“Just proving a point,” she told him, giving him a direct stare in return.
“And that point would be?”
“That it’s pointless,” she countered. “Kissing me every chance you get will not help you find those passageways you seem to think exist. Nor will bringing me here and trying to lull me into trusting you make me admit to something I didn�
�t do. I was not in your library two nights ago.”
Kee reached down and scooped her up in his arms, pulling her away from Mickey and walking to the closed door that led to the hall.
“Point taken, Miss Foster,” he said. “And please feel free to make that point again, anytime you wish.” He set her down in her wheelchair, bending close, his arresting eyes pinning her in place. “And Rachel,” he whispered thickly.
“Y-Yes?”
“The next time that particular point is made, by either of us, I intend to finish it.”
“F-Finish it?”
He nodded. And grinned. And lifted her chin with his finger and softly kissed her lips. “And Rachel?”
“Y-Yes?”
“Denying passion is much more dangerous than acting on it.”
Chapter Eight
Rachel was thinking, later that afternoon as she sat at the massive desk in the library, that the intensity of her attraction to Keenan Oakes seemed to vary in direct proportion to her proximity to him.
If they were in the same room, she had quite a time controlling her emotions—wanting to be close to him, smell him, touch him, and feel his lips covering hers.
Conversely, if he was in another part of the house or gone into town to register his newly inherited fleet of expensive cars, Rachel found she was better able to pretend the arresting man didn’t exist.
It was confounding, the mess she’d gotten herself into. Keenan Oakes was the new lord and master of Sub Rosa. He was a billionaire. He was arrestingly handsome, infuriatingly arrogant, and a far more dangerous man than she was prepared to deal with.
He stirred her blood. He made her feel alive as they waged a silent battle over the lie she’d told him, as she tried to outwit him by finding the secret room right under his nose, and as she brought his house to life while dodging his advances and making a few of her own.
The Seductive Impostor Page 10