by Fawn Lowery
Janna's Werewolf
By
Fawn Lowery
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Janna's Werewolf
Copyright © 2007 Fawn Lowery
ISBN: 1-55410-753-9
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books
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To Tina, thank you for suggesting I try writing a werewolf story! Thank you for the vote of confidence!
Chapter One
Janna Marlow gave the cab door a push and rushed toward the entrance of Thomas Stadium. Tennis great, Rick Sawyer, was giving an exhibition match—an exhibition match that Doug Wilson was supposed to be covering for the Daily News.
“Dammit! I don’t know anything about tennis,” she muttered.
Since July she had reported society news for the newspaper—weddings, annual charity balls, fundraisers for little league—while waiting for Elmer McCoy, the managing editor, to come to his senses and see her potential as an investigative reporter. So far he seemed to be wearing blinders where she was concerned.
But on the other hand, she supposed she shouldn’t be complaining. At least she had a job. Doug had spouted off to Elmer and gotten suspended. Word around the newsroom was that a replacement for Doug was being sought. But—in the meantime, any reporter not covering a scheduled topic at the time of a sports event—drew the sports card. Unfortunately, Janna was the lucky winner today The stands were packed. She made her way to the press box on the upper tier. Dropping into the closest seat, she pulled her notepad and pen from her purse. Of all the sports events to cover—she had to end up with tennis. Just watching the game made her sweat. But then she glimpsed the man on the court.
“Oh, honey.” She hadn’t realized she had spoken out loud until the heavy-set man sitting beside her chuckled.
“I hear he isn’t married,” he remarked, raising one eyebrow at her.
Embarrassed, Janna turned her head and busied herself with her notebook and pen. She had seen pictures of Rick Sawyer but the eight by ten glossies hardly did him justice. The guy was one gorgeous hunk to behold racing about his side of the tennis court. Her pulse began to race as her gaze washed over his impressive physique. He had blond hair that flew about his shoulders as he moved. He wore a white polo shirt and white shorts. The muscles of his legs flexed as he lunged to make a shot and Janna bit her bottom lip, willing the sudden battery of erotic thoughts that assailed her to subside.
Damn that full moon. She was caught in its grip and nothing short of throwing herself in front of a train could break the Curse she was bound by. She sighed. Being a werewolf—especially in these times—was difficult, to say the least.
It had been almost six months since she left the family pack. Things had gotten out of hand in Dover Run where the Connor wolves resided. The community was small, quaint, and suddenly invaded by a rogue werewolf who seemed to kill at will. The law enforcement of the small town was up in arms. And though the Connor pack was law abiding, they were under suspicion for more than one of the brutal murders. Janna had worked at The Journal, a mid-sized newspaper in a neighboring city, as a local news reporter. When her family pack fell under suspicion, she began poking around, trying to learn the identity of the rogue werewolf who had invaded Dover Run. There were seven brutal murders in seven weeks and Janna knew for certain nobody in the family pack was to blame. But her efforts to identify the real murderer soon proved futile. She received angry, threatening calls from an unknown source and on one occasion, a death threat. It was then she made the decision to distance herself from the family pack—just to keep suspicion at bay and for safety’s sake. She packed up and moved to Madison and acquired a job at the Daily News.
Suddenly the crowd rose to their feet amid a loud roar of applause—and the game was over. Rick Sawyer shook hands with his opponent, waved at the audience, and trotted off the field.
What the hell?
The stands began to empty. Janna glanced down at her notebook. It was blank.
“Crap. I can’t go back to the office without a story,” she mumbled out loud.
Glancing around, she spied the man who had sat beside her. He was heading in the opposite direction of the crowd. Surmising he might be headed to the locker room for a post game interview, she hurried to catch up with him.
“What paper are you from?” she asked.
“The Argosy.” He grinned at her. “And you’re Janna Marlow, aren’t you—from the Daily News? Don’t you write the society column?”
“Yes,” she answered, smiling slightly at being recognized.
“Did Elmer McCoy send you here to get the scoop on Sawyer’s love life?”
“Not exactly,” she replied, hesitant to reveal much else.
“Well, Sawyer isn’t too keen on women in the locker room, so if you want to see him, you better open a few of those buttons on your blouse.”
Startled, Janna halted her feet. She had heard rumors about Rick Sawyer—sexy rumors having to do with his womanizing and numerous affairs. But was he a male chauvinist too? Or was the reporter from the Argosy just trying to scoop the story out from under her?
She squared her shoulders and caught up to the reporter, now joined by two other reporters, both laden with cameras and microphones as they entered the hallway leading to the locker rooms. The stadium was home to Madison’s football and baseball teams, but when the Chamber of Commerce managed to book tennis great, Rick Sawyer, the field was transformed into a tennis court.
“I’ve never played on such a shitty court!”
Janna heard the comment seconds before the locker room door closed behind her.
“I’m thinking about firing my agent for booking me here.”
Rick Sawyer had stripped out of his shirt and was standing in the middle of the floor, his hands on his hips, his green gaze assaulting the small group of reporters. Janna inched to one side of the group, but not before Sawyer’s critical ogle landed on her.
“Everybody out.”
The stern look on his handsome face sent the group scurrying toward the door, but Janna didn’t budge. She couldn’t return to the office without some semblance of an interview with the tennis player. He’s curt and unruly, she thought, but that description of his conduct wasn’t near enough to fill the column space allowed for sports.
“Not you,” he said, walking toward Janna. “Tell me you’re from the welcoming committee…or better yet—the local whorehouse. I could use a good fucking.”
His comment, though crude in words, made her blood pressure rise a degree. A slanted smile pulled at her lips. “So you’re having a bad day too,” she remarked, raising her notepad and clicking her ballpoint pen. “Can I quote you on that?”
He laughed suddenly. “Just my luck. You’re not from the whorehouse after all. You’re a reporter?”
“Today I’m covering sports.” She gave her head a shake. “It doesn’t
make a whole hell of a lot of sense to me either. I hate sports. But if I want to keep my job…”
She could feel the heat of his gaze on her face, then lowering to inspect the front of her blouse. No doubt he was trying to gauge the size of her breasts. Should she pull in a deep breath and hold it? Or just blurt out her bra size?
“Are you busy for dinner?”
“Dinner?” she repeated like a dolt. His question had caught her off guard. Her senses were busy trying to decide what kind of scent she was picking up from him. She breathed in the powerful aroma of male musk, mingled with a woodsy fragrance that immediately attacked her wolf instincts. Surely he wasn’t—
He turned from her suddenly and strode toward the showers off the room. “Wait for me.”
Janna stared after him. It was a battle of wills to keep from following him as her mind conjured up the most delicious pictures of him stripping out of his white tennis shorts and stepping under a pelting spray of hot water. In her mind she could see wet rivulets careening across his bronzed flesh, cascading down the length of his long legs—
She gave in to a lustful shiver and turned around—lest she give in to her raging phonemes and join him in the shower. She felt moisture in her crotch. Cursing the fact that she was a werewolf and prone to the moon’s commanding powers every thirty days, she dropped into a folding chair near the locker room door and crossed her legs, willing the sexual cravings to leave her body. Maybe she was nuts for staying—but she had to have an interview of some sort to take back to the office.
She tried to steady her nerves. Since returning to Madison, she had made it a point to avoid all males, except those she was forced to work with. Not only were her senses rocked to the point of no return by Rick Sawyer’s raw masculinity, but also there was something else about the guy that she found hard to overlook. She hadn’t encountered too many male weres in her twenty-eight year lifespan, except for those in the family pack, and therefore she wasn’t as adapt in recognizing that particular scent that set them apart from the norm, but she was more than a little attracted to Rick Sawyer. Given the Moon Phase and the fact that she had an almost insatiable desire to have sex, she silently congratulated herself on being able to keep her hands off the guy.
She glanced at her watch. He was taking as long as any woman to shower and dress. She had sat in the folding chair for almost fifteen minutes and her butt was beginning to hurt.
“What’s your name?”
Janna looked up as Rick returned to the room. The sight of him immediately assaulted her gaze. He was dressed in dark jeans and a white t-shirt and his blond hair was dry and grazing his shoulders in soft waves. And his inquisitive gaze was pinned on her face.
For a second she couldn’t think.
He crossed the room and paused at the door, then turned and smiled at her.
Janna hopped out of the chair so quickly she almost knocked it over. Instantly she felt her cheeks flush.
Get a grip, she silently cautioned.
“Janna Marlow. My name is Janna Marlow.”
“Nice to meet you, Janna,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. “I’m—“
“Oh. I already know who you are.” She pulled her hand out of his as though he had burned it. And maybe he had—in some sense. Am I scenting male musk—or not?
He laughed out loud. “Please don’t tell me my reputation precedes me—or that you’ve heard all about me.”
“No.” She stepped through the door he opened for her and headed down the hallway. “I mean, I don’t know all about you.” She flashed him a quick smile. “But I’m hoping you’ll give me an interview for my column.”
“You don’t look the sporty type—unless you do something erotic with those beautiful long legs of yours.”
Janna’s breath caught in her throat.
If you only knew!
“Well, no,” she stammered. Should she bother explaining that she was writing the society column in hopes of impressing the boss so he’d give her a shot at investigative reporting? Or confess that she was a werewolf and considering jumping on him? “But I like sports cars.”
His hand was on her arm suddenly, pulling her to a halt. In the next instant, he pulled her into his arms.
“You have a gorgeous mouth.”
His lips met hers with a mind-jarring kiss that sent Janna’s already volatile senses somersaulting out of control.
A soft moan came from her throat as she settled her beasts against his chest and kissed him back. She raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, curling her fingers in the silky tresses at his nape. Arching her body, she leaned into his. When he pushed his tongue against her lips, she opened her mouth and bid him entry.
His kisses were demanding, controlling, tantalizing. A wave of unadulterated lust washed over her nerve endings, knotting her stomach and bringing a release of female cream from her hot sex.
Then she felt the unmistakable scrape of a sharp incisor rake across her lip.
A resounding shout of joy bounded through her insides.
“I think you want the same thing I do,” he murmured, briefly pulling his mouth from hers.
Her eyes flickered open—to collide with the most incredible silver gaze aimed at her.
This is my lucky day!
“Oh, babe.” He suddenly pulled his mouth from hers and caught her around the waist with one arm. Rushing along the hallway, he hustled Janna out the door of the stadium and into his red Porsche parked in the lot.
“I scented you the second you walked through the door, babe.”
Things were happening too fast. Janna twisted in the bucket seat as Rick slid beneath the steering wheel, ready to voice her objection—but he flashed a white-toothed smile at her—completely dissolving her wish to call a halt to what was happening. Ten minutes later, Rick was helping her from his car and urging her through the automatic doors at the Madison Hotel. Janna’s heart was hammering at her ribs as she went with Rick to his room on the tenth floor.
Am I really going through with this?
“I don’t sleep around,” she began, her emotions battling with her Moon Phase.
They were inside his hotel room and he was pulling her back into his arms before she could think straight. His mouth descended to hers and the erotic sensations began all over again.
“I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you—and I don’t mean just because you’re in the Phase. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t whore around as much as the media reports.”
His breath was hot on her face as he pulled his lips from hers and began opening the buttons on her blouse.
“I—“
Janna grabbed at his hands, having second thoughts and finally finding the courage to object.
“I don’t have sex at the drop of a hat.”
“You want an interview first?” He propped both hands on his hips and grinned at her. “Okay. Get your pad and pen. But take your clothes off first.”
Janna laughed. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. Very.” He combed one hand through his hair then massaged the back of his neck. “Hell, Janna. Do you have any idea how many women I could be laying right this very minute?”
She locked gazes with him.
“How many of them would be in their Moon Phase?” She eyed him, astounded at the mere fact that he was a werewolf. How in hell—
He reached out to her, running his hands the length of her arms, and then raising them to her shoulders, finally he cupped her chin in one palm. “I can’t think of anything except coaxing you out of your clothes and diving between your long legs.”
His mouth was suddenly on hers again, pressing roughly yet sensually. He forced his tongue between her lips and hungrily explored the inside of her mouth, raking his razor sharp incisors across her tender flesh and catching her tongue with their sharp points.
“I know you’re on fire, baby. I understand about the Curse. It has a hold on me too.” He pulled back and stared down at her. “I guess we could hel
p each other right now.”
Janna could hardly speak because of the need for sex gripping her insides. Her heart thundered in her chest and thoughts of Changing and bolting from the room zinged through her mind. But then, so did coupling with Rick Sawyer. The hell with what would come later. She needed to have sex…and she needed it now!
Janna’s senses reeled out of control. There was no way in hell she could fight the Moon Phase. Suddenly she gave in to the battery of lustful sensations ricocheting through her insides.
Oh, hell. Why not?
She had already creamed her panties and her nipples were taut little buds begging for attention. So what would be the harm of trading sex for an interview—as long as she didn’t make it a habit?
He unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it off her shoulders, then unhooked her bra and let it fall away. He took the weight of her left breast in one palm and massaged her sensitive nipple with his thumb, all the while his mouth caressed hers.
Janna’s senses were reeling. His hand felt good on her breast and when he released the zipper in her skirt, her knees almost buckled. She was really going to have sex with Rick Sawyer—gorgeous tennis champion Rick Sawyer—never mind the fact that she was on fire inside because of her Moon Phase—this was Rick Sawyer, tennis great, with his hand on her tit!
He pushed her pantyhose off her hips and down the length of her legs. Janna stepped out of them, steadying her body by placing one hand on his left shoulder. Suddenly the fact that she was stark naked assailed her.
And he still had his clothes on!
“You’re beautiful.” He skimmed his palms upward along her thighs, then her waist, pausing on her breasts. “Absolutely beautiful. And I’m so hard I’m almost in pain.”
He jerked his t-shirt over his head suddenly, mussing his hair, then he shed his jeans so fast that Janna considered commenting on it—
He led her to the bed, and turned to the nightstand. Janna’s gaze fell on the assortment of condoms lying on its top. She bit her bottom lip as she watched him rip a cellophane package open and roll on the rubber.