Dreaming of the Wolf (2 page)

She glanced toward the door as a man walked into the restaurant. Wearing an expensive black suit, he was similar in build to the first: stocky and dark-haired, swarthy and all business as he glanced around the place with a wolf’s wary manner. The woman quickly averted her eyes.

Surveillance. Jake bet she was working some kind of surveillance. But who were the men she was watching? And who did she work for?

The waitress returned to the table, delivered his steak and eggs, and asked, “Is there anything else you’d like?” She favored him again with a way too intimate pass, the connotation in her sugar-coated voice suggesting
she
could be on the menu if he was the least bit interested.

With a quick smile to indicate he’d gotten her message, but just as quick a shake of his head to show he wasn’t interested, he said, “No, thanks. I have everything I need,
right
here.” He glanced back at the woman in the suit as if emphasizing he meant that included the woman who continued to be the object of his fascination.

The waitress’s smile quickly faded. “Oh, you’re interested in
her
.” She paused, as if she was thinking of saying something more about the woman. But then she shook her head and said, “I’ll check back with you in a bit, then.” She gave the woman in the suit a derisive look, but before the waitress could hurry off, Jake seized her scrawny wrist.

When she stopped and turned to face him, her pale hazel eyes wide, he released her wrist and asked, “Do you know the woman?”

She gave a soft snort. “Oh, yeah, she and her mother have been coming here for years. Skiing, ice skating, hiking, you name it.” Then the waitress leaned down lower and said conspiratorially, “She’s mixed up with some bad types, and nobody but nobody wants to associate with them—or
her
. Let’s just say it can lead to a
dead
end.” She gave a little shrug.

“Bad types?”

The waitress rolled her eyes. “Mob ties.”

“She’s in with the Mob?” Jake asked, sounding incredulous. The guys she was observing looked like they might have connections, but…

“Her mother was dating one of them.”

That put a totally new spin on the situation. “And the daughter?”

The waitress’s lips curved up in a menacing grin. “Sure, like mother, like daughter. She gave up an honest-to-goodness decent sort to consort with a bunch of criminals.”

He had the sneaking suspicion the daughter wasn’t seeing someone like that. If anything, she was watching the two men in a way that made him think of a police sting operation, not as though she was friends with them. If she had been, she would have joined them.

But the waitress’s words still gave him pause. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” The waitress flipped around and hurried off, swaying her hips in an exaggerated fashion.

He sliced into his juicy steak, the aroma of the T-bone making his stomach rumble again, but the food still didn’t interest him as much as the woman. Taking a bite of the tender meat, which was seasoned to perfection and melted in his mouth, he sat back and observed her further. She looked to be all work, no play, just like he was
normally
.

For some inconceivable reason, he wanted to gain her attention. Maybe because she’d hooked his to such a degree. On the other hand, he enjoyed watching her, studying her, and taking pleasure in her without her knowledge, without the anxiety-ridden pretension that often existed between two people meeting for the first time.

He looked again at her jacket. She could be an undercover cop.
Maybe.
A slight bulge under her jacket on one side could indicate she was packing a gun.

He raised his brows. She could be armed and deadly. Even more intriguing. Although the waitress’s words still lingered in his thoughts: she could be dating a mobster like her mother was. She could be armed because she was one of the criminal element. Yet he couldn’t help but feel she was working as an undercover cop. But if she was, he thought she was in way over her head on this case.

He glanced around the room. None of the other diners seemed to be watching the men
or
her. Why didn’t she have backup if she was a cop?

Getting involved in human affairs that didn’t pertain to the good citizens of Silver Town was not a good idea. Yet if she encountered any trouble, he’d be in the thick of it, rescuing her without thought of reward. Well, maybe a little reward. A heartfelt hug from that sweet body of hers would do for starters. A kiss from those lips would be welcome.

He sat back and finished his steak and eggs, while she sipped more of her tea. She’d taken a bite of a cinnamon roll, but nothing more. Was she as frugal as he? Or just not a big breakfast eater? Or was ordering the breakfast just as a ruse while she conducted her surveillance?

He wondered what it would be like to pull the pins from her hair, release it over her shoulders, and comb his fingers through the lush, silky strands. To disarm her—to see her wearing something softer, something that would reveal her womanly curves even more, or wearing nothing at all. And to taste her lips, sweetened by sugary cinnamon.

Turning his attention to the two men she was observing, he listened, trying to hear their exchange. The men spoke in low tones, but with the murmur of conversations in the busy restaurant and the distance Jake was from the men’s table, he couldn’t make out their words, even with his enhanced wolf’s hearing. The men didn’t seem to take any notice of the woman, either feigning ignorance or showing her that her effort to rattle them was in vain.

Jake glanced at one of the plate-glass windows and the pin-striped awning stretched over the top to shade customers when the sun rose in the sky. Two men sat out front in a darkened Mercedes—the one bearing the license plate that his mystery woman had photographed earlier. Bodyguard, driver, he assumed. And parked in front of that vehicle was another: similar make and model, same setup—two men.

Inside the restaurant, the two men under surveillance shook hands. One smiled, the look pure evil. The other nodded.

Jake glanced back at the woman to see her take on the matter, and his blood instantly heated with ire. A bruiser of a man wearing a dark gray suit towered over her as he motioned for her to leave. When the hell had he entered the restaurant and approached her?

She remained seated, not budging, looking up at the man with loathing as he loomed over her. Jake could see that the man was wearing the hardware to back up his threatening posture, hidden under his jacket and pressed slightly into the fabric as a show of force. He had one hand inserted underneath the jacket, holding the gun.

Like a wolf ready to take down its prey, Jake rose from his booth with a cautious, predatory stalking motion. The man waved the gun underneath his suit jacket again in a sweeping motion toward the door. Defiantly, the woman continued to balk, glaring at him, not moving an inch, not saying a word. Jake admired her stalwart nerve. But he didn’t believe she’d win this argument. Not without a little wolfish backup.

Wishing he had at least asked the waitress the woman’s name before playing his cards, since the waitress seemed to know a good deal about her, Jake stalked across the floor to join her before the beast forced the issue. The woman’s gaze shifted to Jake, eyes widening like pools of melted dark chocolate and drawing him in.

The bulky beast of a man turned to face Jake and narrowed his already beady eyes in confrontation. Jake conveyed a real threat of his own in his posture, just like a wolf would, from his steely gaze to his taut muscles and rigid back. Even the hair on his arms was standing erect, just as his fur would be if he were wearing his wolf coat—another form of intimidation that made him appear bigger, more of a threat.

If anyone could deal with a tyrant like the armed guy in the suit, Jake was the man for the job, with or without a weapon. But fighting the man wasn’t what he had in mind, unless there was no other way around it.

Jake shifted his attention to the lady, offered a friendly smile, spread his hands a little as if in greeting, and said to her, “Julia Roberts!”

His smile broadened as he leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek—the
part
of
the
plan
he
liked
best
—and her eyes were as round as twin full moons as she stared back at him. His hand moved to her back, gently caressing as if he’d known her forever and encouraging her to play along with him. His mouth lingered longer than was necessary on her cool, soft cheek, his free hand taking hers in much too possessive a manner for never having made her acquaintance before. If nothing else, he knew he needed to play his role well if he was going to convince the thug to back off.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here today?” His voice had already changed from darkly interested to huskily enthralled, which wasn’t part of the plan, but more of that wolfish nature he had no control over.

His gaze moved to view her full shimmering lips, now parted in surprise. He wanted to kiss her there, taste her, feel her, sample the sweetness of those lips.

“Tom Hanks,” she said, quickly recovering, winking, and trying for lighthearted, but he saw the look of worry in her darkened eyes.

With his hand to his chest, he feigned being mortally wounded. “Last week I was your Gerard Butler. Tom Hanks this week?” He shook his head, squeezed her hand reassuringly, and gave her one of his more wolfishly friendly smiles. Her hand was icy, and he held on tighter, hoping to show her she had nothing to fear. “Friend of yours, honey?”

“No darlin’,” she said with a drawl that didn’t sound quite real. “He’s mistaken me for someone else.” She cast a brilliant smile at the man and then Jake, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. It was more of a we’ll-show-you expression aimed at the thug.

Jake rewarded her with a slight tightening on her hand to say, “Well done.”

He
was
in
love
. She was someone who could tease like he could on the spur of the moment, someone who could stand up to a man nearly twice her weight who towered over her and was a real threat. She would be perfect for Jake,
if
she were a wolf. And for the time being, he didn’t give a damn about the ramifications of the problems
that
could create. All he cared about was getting to know the woman better.

“I asked the lady nicely if she’d come with me,” the thug said, his voice thickly menacing. “Now I’m going to ask
not
so nicely.” A telltale buzzing in the man’s pocket shut him up. He pulled out a cell phone and gruffly said, “Hello?” His icy slate-colored eyes stared Jake down, threatening him to back off or else.

Jake wasn’t intimidated. The challenge suited him. Face-to-face wolfish confrontations were much easier to deal with than sneaky underhandedness.

He remained standing next to what he assumed was an armed damsel in distress, although he wanted to remove her from the powder keg of a situation. The men in the vehicles out front were most likely just as armed, so he was certain he’d be no match for all of them, even if the woman had a cannon underneath her jacket.

He might not be the pack leader in Silver Town, but he was just as alpha as his older brother and had no qualms about taking this man or anyone else down. But as a
lupus
garou
, he was mindful of which battles to fight and which to leave alone. Going against a whole army of trigger-happy thugs wasn’t in the plan.

The man nodded as if responding to the caller, then shoved his phone into his pocket. He scowled at Jake, then the woman, directing his comments at her. “Just so’s you know,
next
time
, you won’t get off so easy.”

Then he turned, nearly stumbled over the chair in his way, and cursed a string of swear words. After shoving the chair out of the way, he sauntered off like a disgruntled lumbering grizzly. Several customers looked up from their meals and glowered at him for disturbing the peace with such a vulgar commentary as he made his way out of the restaurant.

“I’d recommend we leave, but they’ve got more guns outside, so it would be prudent if we stay a little longer.” Jake slid into the booth with her so they could talk more privately. Although she quickly scooted over to allow him room, his leg still touched hers, and the shock of it sent heat sliding through him.

But what made him even hotter was that she didn’t pull away. Even though the intimation was that this was her booth, her table, and she wasn’t going to be forced into the corner, the challenge in her posture only intrigued him more. But her eyes—which were now focused on his mouth—were what really got his attention.

His gaze strayed again to her lips. Upon closer inspection, he saw glittering speckles of cinnamon sugar just before her tongue slipped out and moistened her bottom lip, as if she was suddenly conscious of something on her lips that she needed to wipe away quickly. But she’d missed some at the corners and the top of her luscious lips, and he was dying to taste them and her.