Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf (10 page)

“You were shot,” he countered.

“But I’m alive. Thanks to you. Sure, I’ll have a scar, but scars are sexy, right?” He frowned. Wasn’t she worried about an infection? Lasting issues?

“We’ll talk about it later. How about dessert? There should be a pie in there.” The D word hung in the air between them and he could see her mind churning. Her cheeks took on a rosy hue and her breathing seemed to shallow. He imagined the table melting away between them, and an invisible force pulling them together so he could claim the dessert he truly wanted.

“No. Thanks. I—I think I might take a bath, if that’s all right.”

“Of course. The water heater is gas so it should be plenty warm.” Now if he could just manage to not think of her, naked and wet in his bathtub. “I’ll – ugh – check on the fire.

Thermometer seems to be stuck at five degrees today.” He followed her into the bedroom and put the last log on the fire. “That should do it for a while.”

She stopped in front of the bathroom door and smiled back him. “Thanks.” That was his queue to move. To leave her. So why was it so damn hard to turn away from her and go get more firewood? It wasn’t as if she was going to invite him to join her.

Never mind that the oversized tub was plenty big for the both of them…

Spurred into action, mostly out of desperation that she didn’t see the hard-on forming behind the fly of his jeans, he rose and pivoted toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it.” Maybe it was time for another cold shower. Or a run in the snow.

Damn he wished he could get in touch with Laurent. He needed an ass kicking, if only verbally, because he couldn’t seem to control himself around his house guest, no matter how many times he reminded himself that the situation was only temporary. And more importantly, she was a human.

He pulled the door closed behind him and dropped his head back against it. Gin popped his head up from behind the coffee table and Burke heard the telltale sound of the dog’s tail tapping against the floor. The snow had died down, leaving a cloak of white shimmering in the moonlight. Maybe a late night romp in the cover of darkness was just what he needed.

Burke sank into the knee-deep snow as he gazed down at the sleepy valley. The night was still, calm, crisp. Beautiful and yet biting cold. Overhead, stars winked from the heavens.

And below…

The master bathroom light blazed in the darkness.

Don’t look. Don’t you dare look, Deveraux.

But his eyes had a mind of their own. He couldn’t stop himself from searching her out.

She was exactly what he didn’t need. A woman who made him lose himself. A woman who made him forget the past and all the painful lessons he’d learned. She was like lime juice on an open wound. Bright, fruity, colorful, exotic, and yet, she burned like hell.

Kendall stepped to the tub in front of the massive window. She obviously had no idea anyone was watching her. At this altitude, with half a mountain between him and his nearest neighbor, he’d never felt the need to install curtains in the bathroom. And the bastard in him was far too happy with that decision right about now.

Her hands moved to the top button of the shirt he’d lent her. He sucked in a steadying breath. With the top button undone, she reached for the faucet. Her hands moved to the second button. Then the third.

Dieu.

Annabelle had been right about him. He was an animal. And the animal inside him wanted to lick Kendall from head to toe.

The fourth button slipped through the hole and the shirt hung open, revealing dreamy breasts, a sexy waist. She shoved her jeans over her hips, displaying a triangle of blonde curls.

Despite the cold, heat sizzled through him. He took in a lungful of icy air. Why was he torturing himself like this? Watching her undress made him rock hard and there was nothing he could do about it.

Annoyed with himself and his lack of control he called for Gin and headed to the side of the house where his firewood was stacked. Arms laden with dry logs he made his way through the patio door and stomped off his boots. He’d just managed to twist open the bedroom door when the generator cut out, casting the house in darkness.

“Burke?” Kendall’s alarmed cry shot straight to his heart.

“It’s all right,” he called, dropping the wood next to the fireplace. Then he stepped to the bathroom door. “The generator went off. I’ll bring you some candles.”

“I feel like a jack-in-the box,” she said a few moments later when he brought a trio of candles in and placed them on the vanity. “Jumping at every little sound.” Somehow he managed not to glance her way, nor look at her reflection in the mirror as the candles flickered to life. The room glowed.

“Better?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the golden flames.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Too bad he didn’t have any whiskey left. He could sure use a glass or ten right now. He headed for the dining room. Scotch would have to do.

A strangled cry tore from Kendall’s lips as the hot water hit her wounded shoulder.

“Stupid—“ she exclaimed, tears springing to her eyes.

“You okay in there?” Burke asked from the doorway.

“I’m an idiot. Was trying to wash my hair.” Dernit that hurt.

Burke sighed. She couldn’t blame him for being annoyed with her. She was annoyed with herself. And the whole situation. If she could just turn, she’d be fine. Healed.

But it was no use wishing for things that would never be.

Then why do you keep daydreaming that this is your house and Burke is your mate?

A little voice whispered through her mind.

“Need some help?”

She wiped at the tears in her eyes, so tired of having to depend on Burke’s generosity.

Sick that she had no way to repay him.

“Thank you sounds so weak,” she said.

“I’ll be right back.”

He returned less than a minute later with a large plastic cup. As if he’d done this a thousand times, he settled himself on the edge of the tub and reached for the shampoo bottle.

“Might want to hold your hand over the wound,” he said.

Suddenly feeling a little shy, she clamped her hand over the wet bandage and bit her lip. Moonlight illuminated his face and she saw the look of utter concentration there.

“You’re such a gentleman.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I’m trying to be.” He dipped the cup into the water and then stopped, hands frozen in the air above her.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” But his voice was a little shaky and unconvincing.

“You don’t have to do this you know. I can just take a shower tomorrow or something.” She saw the muscle over his jaw tense.

“Are you gay?” she blurted. She didn’t think so, based on his reaction earlier, but she had to know. It didn’t matter that he was a human and she wasn’t and that they had no hope of anything everlasting. She just had to know.

“What?” The incredulity in his tone said it all.

“I take that as a no.”

“Damn straight,” he said, snatching back his hands.

“It’s okay if you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.”

“Why the hell would you think I’m gay?”

She chewed on her lip, upset that she’d agitated him. “I’m sorry. I – just—I get it now.

I’m not your type.”

His head jerked back as if she’d slapped him. And for several long, excruciating moments he said nothing. She looked away.

Tell me I’m wrong
, her heart cried.

“You’re right. You’re not my type.”

She pursed her lips, nodding as her heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces. Dernit, she hadn’t even known how attached she’d grown to him until that moment. She blinked back a fresh wave of tears.

“Hold still,” he said before dumping a glassful of water over her head. It was probably a good thing because the water washed away her tears. “Sorry. First day on the job,” he said lightly.

She tried to smile at that and failed miserably. If she could just hold still long enough it’d be over. Part of her wanted to tell him to go, but she couldn’t. He’d know then that she had feelings for him. And how pathetic was that? She’d known him for two days.

Or worse, he’d think she was taking a bath, claiming her shoulder ached just to get his attention.

But as he squirted shampoo onto the palm of his hand, rubbed them together and then proceeded to massage it into her scalp she realized that it’d never be over. The bath yes, but not the memory of him. Not her longing.

She closed her eyes and tried valiantly to ignore how erotic it was to have a man wash her hair.

Not just any man, the voice whispered. This man.

His fingertips caressed her skin, sliding through her hair. And forever more when she smelled coconut, she’d think of him.

“Thanks for doing this,” she managed to say as he began rinsing out the suds. She didn’t look at him though. Couldn’t. She stared straight ahead.

“Tilt your head back,” he instructed gently.

Which meant looking up at him. She could hardly stand it. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears.

The old lady in town had been wrong. Yes, she’d found shelter up the mountain. But with her heart breaking more each second, she no longer considered herself safe.

Chapter Eight

Stubborn woman. Stubborn hard-on.

Burke cut the engine and reached for his coat. Kendall had staunchly refused to see a doctor. He had half a mind to get a doctor to do a house call.

Or physically carry her down the mountain.

The wolf inside warned that they wouldn’t make it half a mile before he caved to his desire. When had he become so weak?

Shrugging into his thick winter coat, he marched toward the general store. Icy wind whipped his hair around his face as he stepped over a snow dune. He glanced around the mostly deserted town but didn’t notice anything, or anyone, out of place.

Years ago when he’d first rolled into the mountain town, the old-timey general store had caught his eye immediately, reminding him of the past. And though the rich and famous now flocked to the valley to get away, the town had kept its charm. And somehow the locals never seemed to get star struck.

He pulled open the heavy front door and stepped into the casual atmosphere he liked so much. Over the years he’d come to know the owners. Today, the two old men sat on either side of the old wood stove.

“Hi Donald. George. Hit the slopes lately?” he asked the man in red and black plaid.

George Jenkins was famous for growing up in the mountains but according to the locals, he’d had never skied them. It was a running joke around town. And George was adamant about staying off the trails, no matter what level. No one knew why. But his answer to Burke’s question was the same as always.

“As soon as I sprout wings, son.”

Burke smiled and glanced around the well-stocked store. “Is your phone working?”

“Nope. ‘Fraid not,” George said, his thick gray brows pinching together as he frowned.

“I can’t get cell reception either.”

“Damn storm knocked everything out. Supposed to be another one tomorrow,” Donald said. “Need any lanterns? Candles? They’re goin’ quick.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got everything I need.”

Burke turned to leave and a tall redhead stepped into his path.

“Everything?” she asked, a sultry pout on her red lips.
Rachelle.
The beautiful
shewolf
who’d graced his bed many nights in the past hiked her fingers up his chest. He could feel the old men looking at them, interested in the latest development in their town. Since privacy was always a concern, Burke had kept his relationship, if you could even call it that, with Rachelle a secret.

He ignored the invitation in her blue-green eyes. “Rachelle, you’re looking well.”

“So are you, handsome. Ready to take me home and warm me up?” She leaned in close.

“I can’t—“

She sucked in a startled breath. “You smell like—a human.”

“I’m helping her out. Until the storm clears and she can get back on the road. Nothing more.”Which wasn’t entirely true. But she didn’t need to know that.
Shewolves
could be very jealous and he didn’t need to borrow trouble. One thing he did realize while staring down at the woman who’d been a casual partner for several years, he had no desire to keep her in his life after his vacation was over. Taking her back to the bayou with him and introducing her to his family had never crossed his mind. There were sparks, but no real connection.

“What happened to your no humans rule?” she asked, her voice low enough so no one else could hear. Her lips curved up in disgust and she took a crisp step back, pulling her shoulders down.

She was everything Kendall wasn’t. Brash, self assured, sexually confident, never-took-no-for-an-answer. Kendall was lovely, but unsure of her beauty. Quietly strong with a tendency to babble.

“Her gender doesn’t matter.” Except, it did. Very much. Just like his no humans rule mattered. He was royally f--

“If you say so.” The smile she directed at him was somewhere between perplexed and knowing. She turned to the door and tossed a parting line over her shoulder. “See you around, Burke.”

Seeing the redhead storm out the door gave him an idea. If she was that upset over a platonic relationship, how would she react if she heard Burke was married? Surely this Carl fellow would be equally dejected.

If Kendall decided to go through with a marriage of convenience, she’d need protection, at least for a little while. Maybe that’d be long enough to get Laurent off his back. And when they broke up, Burke could act heartbroken again and they wouldn’t bug him for another century at least.

He turned back to George and Donald who were puttering with a stand of oil lamps.

“On second thought…”

Kendall stopped chewing her lower lip as Burke came through the door, relieved he’d returned. Good gracious, he was handsome, not to mention he looked like he’d walked right off the cover of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. She had the strongest urge to welcome him home with a full body hug and a long, deep kiss.

She stayed planted next to the coffeemaker.

Okay, so she didn’t really want to stop with a kiss. But she’d already overstayed her welcome. Upset his life.