Miranda's Mate (7 page)

She sank back against the leather seat of the Lincoln and finished her meal. She didn’t really want Lars to stay with her but couldn’t think of a diplomatic way to refuse him, particularly since she’d accepted his offer earlier.

What do I want?

The answer came back so fast her mind reeled. Garen. She wanted more of Garen. The tiny bit she’d had was nowhere near enough. The reality of his hands and mouth and cock was ever so much better than they’d been in her imagination. They’d torn at each other like animals and come almost before they’d gotten started. Not quite the romantic interlude she’d imagined all the times she’d brought herself off with him in her mind.

Not romantic at all, her inner voice intruded. What happened in the Learjet was sex, pure and simple.
I was already hot when he sat across from me. Men know things like that, and it takes less than nothing to get them going. If I were smart, I’d forget all about having fucked him and just move on.

Problem was she didn’t want to do that. She’d do almost anything to have the hard, well-muscled planes of his body jammed up against her again. Miranda shook her head.
Got to get hold of myself, or I’ll fall into his arms the next time he so much as looks at me.

She refocused her mental energy. It was obvious she’d have to hang around the safe house at least long enough for her new ID to arrive. So much for burying herself in the woods and letting her wolf side take over for a while. Miranda swallowed. She did not like it when other people called the shots. It had been one of the worst aspects of the military. Lost in her thoughts, she was surprised when the car jolted to a stop. She glanced out the window. A shopping center. She started to get out of the car, but Garen swung around and grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get hair dye.”

“I’ll do that. The store probably has cameras. You do not want to be caught on tape or film anywhere.” He shook her slightly. “I trained you better than that.”

“No,” she muttered. “The U.S. Army did.” She dragged her legs inside the car. Garen shoved her door shut and took off at a trot for Rite Aid.

She and Lars sat in silence for several minutes before he said, “It will not be as bad as you believe, fraulein. The days will pass quickly. I am certain we shall find ways to—”

“That’s just it.” She dove into the breach.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“While it was very kind of you to offer, I really would rather be alone.”

Lars turned in his seat and met her gaze. “I would not do anything you did not want me to.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” She tried to smile. “I, um, I live by myself. I’m used to being alone. It’s bad enough I can’t go home…” Miranda let her words trail off and hoped like hell he wouldn’t make this any harder than it already was.

“I understand, fraulein. And more than you think. I will stay until your new ID shows up. If I remember correctly, the safe house has many bedrooms. Do not worry. I will give you adequate privacy.”

“It’s really not necessary.”

“Oh, but I think it is.” Garen let himself into the car and tossed a paper bag into the back seat. “Take a quick look and tell me if it’s what you wanted.”

She peeked into the bag and rolled it back up. “Yeah, this will work fine. How could you possibly know what we were talking about?”

“I have very good hearing. One of us will stay with you until your ID arrives. Your only choice, Miss Miller, is which one.”

She nodded. Never a good feeling, resignation sat heavy in her gut. The thing she didn’t understand was Garen. He was positively chipper, a vast departure from his demeanor ever since she’d made the error of letting her hormones rule her common sense.
Christ!
He was actually whistling as he nosed the car out of the huge parking lot and turned onto Highway 2.

Maybe I’ll tell both of them to stay. That way they can entertain each other, and they’ll leave me alone.

Garen watched the Lincoln roll out of the long driveway with Lars at the wheel. He glanced around a clearing hogged out of a forest thick with evergreens. A two-story cabin sat a quarter mile back from the logging road that provided access to it. A brook babbled crisply down from one of many steep ravines lining the central Cascades. The beauty of this location was its relative remoteness. A bevy of sensors kicked off silent alarms in the house if anything broke multiple beams across the turnoff from the logging road.

He took the steps into the house two at a time. Miranda had disappeared inside with her bag within seconds of their arrival. The edges of his mouth twitched, lost somewhere between amusement and concern. She’d been so intent on getting away from both him and Lars she’d nearly run through the heavy, metal-reinforced door. He’d joined her on the porch to activate the electronics to unlock it. Despite her eagerness to get into the house, she’d shied away from him, making it obvious his touch was anathema.

He let himself inside and shut the door. Built of logs, the cabin blended nicely into the surrounding forest. The lower floor was one large room. A substantial woodstove had been plumbed into one end of it; a stack of split wood lay to one side of the hearth. The cabin ran on solar—a dicey proposition with all the evergreens around the house—and a backup generator, so the woodstove was more than decorative.

Garen’s jaws clamped together. Women. He had no idea what had changed between when Miranda had nudged her pussy into his hand and welcomed him inside her body and now when, if looks could kill, he’d be deader than the spider corpses he swept out of the way as he pulled dustcovers off the furniture.

He upended his computer bag on the round, oak table and fiddled with the setup to hook his laptop to a scrambled satellite link. He needed access to his desktop at The Company. He also wanted to get Miranda’s new docs in process. He grimaced. She hadn’t liked being backed into a corner. He’d seen anger and resentment smolder in her blue eyes when he’d told her it was a waste of manpower for both him and Lars to remain. That was when she’d muttered, “Fine,” her mouth set in a hard line, and scampered into the house.

After a private conference with his firm, Lars was en route to Spokane. From there, his orders were to check in for further instructions. Garen assumed he’d fly himself back to Europe in stages unless some black ops were happening stateside. As a parting shot to Garen, Lars had said, “Good luck, my friend. She has a temper, and at the moment she is far from sanguine.” His austere features had brightened in a warm smile. “Still, if I had my way, we would trade problems. Taming spitfires is right up my alley.”

Garen rolled his eyes and booted up his computer. He wasn’t planning to tame Miranda. Simply getting along with her for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours until he could escape and nurse his wounded feelings in private might prove beyond him. His cock was giving him nothing but grief. It had been hard ever since he’d induced Miranda to join the Mile High Club.

He snorted.
Wonder if she even knows what that is?
He reached a hand to rearrange himself, but it didn’t help much. It was agony sitting at the table knowing she was so close. For fuck’s sake, he could smell her, all musk and lavender and something unique to Miranda. His wolf was on the prowl, which didn’t make things any easier. It wanted more of Miranda too. Garen couldn’t remember it ever being so…enthusiastic about any of his women before. His hand strayed back to his crotch. He forced it to the keyboard. Even if he brought himself off, it wouldn’t make a dent in his lust.

He wanted Miranda, but she didn’t want him. Unused to indulging his emotions, Garen tried to push disappointment aside. It bounced back stubbornly and slapped him in the face. He’d never let a woman get under his skin before. More to the point, he’d always been a fuck-’em-and-forget-’em type. What was it about this woman? It had to be more than working in close proximity. He’d been attracted to several of his agents in the past. He liked his women strong, capable, and independent. But he’d always managed to wait until the agents had tenure, and once he’d fucked them, that was that. He didn’t want them anymore. He shook his head and tried to refocus, but a persistent sadness lodged behind his breastbone.

Maybe it’s karma. Some goddess with a sense of humor is getting back at me for all the hearts I’ve broken.

He bent to the task of typing in the coding to scramble his location and information. It took a while, but his desktop finally flared across the screen. His mouth twisted into a grimace. Work. As usual lots had piled up. It never mattered the day, month, or season. Business was always brisk at The Company.

Light was fading from the day when he finally looked up. The house was absolutely silent. The only thing that hadn’t abated was Miranda’s earthy scent. He flicked a switch. The light came on, but it was weak. He thought about firing the generator but was hesitant to break the soothing quiet of the forest. He pushed out of his chair and rotated his torso to get the kinks out before striding to the woodstove. When he tugged the doors open, he grinned. Some considerate agent had actually left a nice pile of scrunched up paper and kindling. He struck a match on the rough cast-iron stove casing and lit the pile of tinder, checking to be sure the damper was fully open.

Garen hunkered next to the stove for long enough to make certain the fire would go, feeding it at intervals. He straightened. Still no Miranda. He thought about hunting her down and then discarded the idea. She was an adult. She’d surface in her own time. Or not. In the meantime, his stomach constricted. Lunch had been hours ago.

Garen riffled through cupboards and finally settled on a box of scalloped potatoes and a can of tuna. He figured he’d mix the tuna in with the potatoes. A package of cheesecake mix would make a most excellent dessert. He’d blend some whiskey in to give it a bit of a lift. He started with dessert to give it time to set. The cabin’s appliances ran on propane, so the small refrigerator did its job in spades. If he remembered right, things froze in the refrigerator section and got so hard in the freezer section it took hours for them to thaw. He poured himself a mug of whiskey and sipped it as he worked. Every once in a while he chucked more wood into the stove. When the cabin got warm enough, he stripped to his shirtsleeves.

*

Miranda galloped to the upper floor of the cabin and peeked in all six rooms. Four were bedrooms, one a bath, and the last a conference room. She picked the room at the very end of the hall, mostly because it had a small balcony that looked out onto the forest. After chucking her bag onto a chair, she glanced around the room. The ceiling pitched steeply with dormer windows and balcony doors framed in. A double bed with a colorful quilt sat off to one side. An oak tallboy with a mirror over it and a small table with two chairs completed the room’s furniture. The floor was bare wooden planks with throw rugs strategically placed.

She pushed the balcony doors open and inhaled deeply. The air smelled sweet and clean. Her lupine senses detected a rich bevy of rodents, all within easy striking distance—and another wolf or two, a few coyotes, and some mountain lions. The roar of the Lincoln’s powerful motor and tires crunching over gravel told her Lars was leaving. The irritation she’d swallowed like a bitter draught when Garen had dismissed her suggestion about both of them staying rose to mock her. She’d never felt quite so powerless. It was not a good feeling.

It’s like I’m a little girl and the good menfolk decided what was best for me.

A muted snarl escaped her throat. Her wolf informed her it would be child’s play to leap from the balcony and disappear into the forest. She pulled the door shut to lessen temptation. After pacing up and down the room until she almost couldn’t stand herself, Miranda unlaced her boots, toed them off, and lay on the bed. Her mind was a confused jumble. The worst part should have been fear the ISL gang wasn’t done with her. Instead, the thought that rose to the top over and over was how the hell she’d manage to keep to herself under the same roof with Garen.

As it was, the urge to hurtle downstairs and into his arms was nearly irresistible. She shut her eyes in a vain attempt to sleep. Garen’s face formed behind her closed lids. He was lean, yet powerfully built with broad shoulders and a hard, flat stomach. Not that she’d seen all that much of his body. They’d barely undressed in the plane. She’d gotten conversant with his cock, though. What an amazing appendage. Long and thick, his ridged flesh had felt heaven-sent inside her. She wanted to lick the length of his heavy shaft and plant nibbling kisses around the head.

He had glorious hair. Black shot with silver, it was thick and smelled delicious. Like bay rum and sandalwood. Miranda ran her hands down her body and snorted.
Yeah, maybe I should ask what kind of shampoo he uses so my hair can smell like that too.

Like she’d done so many times before, she teased her body with practiced fingertips and pretended Garen’s hands and mouth moved over her sensitive flesh. Somewhere between her second and third orgasms, she realized one of her biggest problems was she’d used Garen as a fantasy object almost since the first day she’d laid eyes on him. To have finally moved her dreams to reality was nearly too much to deal with, let alone resist. He wanted her—maybe not as intensely as she wanted him, but she was certain he’d fuck her again if she came on to him.

Miranda pulled a hand from her damp crotch and the other from a nipple. She got to her feet and padded to the door, listening intently with her lupine senses.
Good. I’m still alone up here.
She gathered the hair dye and a change of clothes from her bag—serviceable clothing, warm and not too formfitting—and skittered into the bathroom. A shower would be perfect to cool her overheated libido and wash off the sweat from travel.

The water was hot and plentiful, the towels fluffy. By the time she combed out her newly bleached hair, it was nearly dark outside. She slid into black combat pants and an oversized long-sleeved wool shirt. It seemed chilly, so she layered a jacket over everything. Someone had left a pair of sheepskin slippers in the bathroom. She tried them on, pleasantly surprised that they fit.