The Patient Wolf (Wicked Urban Fantasy #1) (8 page)

Chapter 11

Ana hurried home.
Chris was picking her up at six. She wanted time to pamper herself a bit and make herself feel pretty before he arrived. In her kitchen she put the flowers Alexander had given her in a vase on the kitchen table and sat down to polish her nails while she turned her attention to the all-important question of what to wear.

It had been a long time since she had been on a date. She could call Monica for advice, but somehow she wasn’t ready to share her excitement with anyone right now, not even Monica or Lindsey. She felt as giddy as a teenager getting ready for the prom.

There was a problem, however, she realized. She hadn’t thought to ask Chris where they were going. Should she dress for the local pizza parlor or a downtown restaurant?

She finally decided on a pair of dark leggings, high heeled, black booties, and a white lacy top with a matching sweater in case the evening became chilly. It was casual but dressy, and she felt that she was covered for most of the restaurants in town. There weren’t really that many, after all. Rivelou was just big enough to call itself a city rather than a town, but that still didn’t mean it was a very large place. There were the usual handful of chain restaurants scattered around the mall, a couple of pubs and businessmen’s type restaurants downtown, the casino which cruised the river nightly, and that was about it.

Rivelou was just big enough to have one of almost everything you needed, just not everything you wanted. And that was another problem; the size of town meant she was almost sure to run into someone she knew. It was difficult not to in Rivelou, particularly if your maiden name was Bertrand. She had enough relatives and family friends she could almost be certain to run into someone she knew, who would then mention it to one of her relatives, who would then mention it to her grandfather, no matter where Chris took her.

Monica always joked you could never gossip about anyone in Rivelou because you never knew when you were talking to someone’s cousin or sister or next door neighbor. Of course, that never stopped Monica from gossiping. And somehow, even though she’d only lived in Rivelou for five years, she not only knew everyone’s cousins, sisters, and neighbors, but also the best gossip about them all.

It seemed unfair that Monica heard all the gossip when, as a life-long resident of Rivelou, Ana had cousins, aunts, uncles, two brothers, a sister, parents and grandparents, not to mention dozens of assorted friends and acquaintances running all the way back to kindergarten. Why did Monica hear every interesting piece of news before Ana?

Well, news flash! Ana planned to surprise Monica on Monday. Ana Dugan had two dates in one weekend. Who would ever have believed it?

Her thoughts had run full circle when the doorbell rang and she headed to the front door to let Chris in. He cleaned up well. He’d traded the rumpled khakis for a pair of grey dress slacks and the plaid flannel for a blue Oxford shirt. It was a contrast to the designer jeans and fitted turtleneck Alexander had worn so elegantly that afternoon, and Ana grinned at Chris’s obvious discomfort at dressing up even this much. She thought he looked like a puppy dog who’d just had a collar put on him for the first time. She could almost see him squirming. Or maybe it wasn’t his discomfort with the clothing, but the whole dating thing. He held out a cheerful bouquet of brightly colored chrysanthemums and sunflowers.

“They’re beautiful. We have the same taste,” Ana laughed, leading him into the kitchen, where sitting on the table was the bouquet of the exact same flowers Alexander had bought for her that afternoon at the farmer’s market. No need, she quickly decided, to mention she hadn’t chosen them herself. And thank goodness she hadn’t run into Chris at the market, also, since it was obvious he had been there. Running into her family had been bad enough.

Chris’s face fell when he saw the other bouquet. “Oh, you already have some.”

“Not a problem. I love flowers—the more the better. Now that I have enough for two vases, they’ll look great on the mantel in the living room.”

Ana quickly pulled out another glass vase, added water, and arranged the flowers. “There, you carry this one and I’ll take the other,” she said, leading him back to the living room. “They look gorgeous together. You can never have enough flowers. Thank you so much.”

“Glad you like them. Um…are you ready for dinner?” From Chris’ stumbling manner it was clear he was no more used to going on dates than she was, Ana thought. It made her feel more sure of herself.

“I thought we’d go to Flannery’s,” Chris continued. “My sister says the food is good and the atmosphere is casual, but quiet. I haven’t been here in town long enough to really try out many of the restaurants myself.”

“I’ve been to Flannery’s. It’s quite nice and they are known for their excellent steaks,” she said as they headed to Chris’ car.

Flannery’s was a family-owned restaurant that had been in Rivelou for decades. Located downtown on the river, it had a quiet atmosphere and simple, excellent food. The walls were paneled, the booths were deep, comfortable, and private. The ambiance was that of an old boys’ club, and it had a reputation as the place where business deals, and private trysts, occurred.

Night was falling as they got to the restaurant, and with the help of a few outdoor heaters, it was warm enough for them to sit on the outdoor patio. They watched the lights of barges heading down the river. The riverboat gambling casino, lighted from smokestack to paddlewheel, was just heading out for the evening cruise. Several couples and families strolled along the riverfront sidewalk.

“There won’t be many more nights this beautiful and warm,” Ana said.

“Or with so large and beautiful a moon. Not quite full anymore. A waning moon.”

“You are interested in the moon? I’ve always had a feeling for the moon and its phases, too. They regulate so many things in our lives. Most people don’t realize how much the moon affects everything around them,” Ana replied.

“You’re right. They don’t. The moon controls a lot more in our lives than most people realize,” Chris agreed, then made one of his quick changes of subject; something Ana was, almost, getting used to. “I’m definitely enjoying the warm evenings here. In Chicago the restaurants have already closed their outdoor seating areas.”

“Is that where you are from?”

“Most recently, yes. That’s where I have an apartment. I tend to travel a lot for my work, and I just keep a small home base in Chicago.”

“I realize I hardly know anything about you.”

“There’s not that much to tell,” he countered.

“Well, you said you are a consultant. On what do you consult?” she asked, lightly. It was the oldest rule in the book: Men love to talk about themselves. But somehow, whenever she asked Chris anything personal he always became evasive and quickly found a new topic.

“I guess you could say I’m a troubleshooter.”

“Well that sounds interestingly vague. What kind of trouble do you shoot for people?”

He laughed at her joke. “It depends. I have a varied client base and I help them with whatever phenomena are a problem for them.”

“Phenomena? That’s an intriguing way to describe a client’s problem, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What’s another word for ‘phenomena?’ ‘Singularities,’ maybe? Doesn’t everyone find their own problems to be singular?”

“So what type of singular problems do your clients have?” Ana persisted.

“It’s really rather boring, actually. Why don’t you tell me more about what you do at the university? You said you work in the history department, right?”

Ana gave up her questions and told Chris about her work. After all, the old saying worked for women, too. People enjoy talking about themselves. She mentioned her new assignment, the seminar she was working on with Alexander.

“Professor Alexander Fontaine? I think I’ve heard of him. Doesn’t he write a lot of books about the paranormal?”

“Well, that’s only a part of it. He’s an anthropology professor. He studies supernatural beliefs and how they affect people in their everyday lives.” Ana suddenly realized she was repeating, almost word for word, the lecture Alexander had given to her and Monica just a few days ago. She’d found it a little pompous at the time; now here she was using it to explain the man. But why should she have to explain Alexander Fontaine to Chris? It’s not like they were ever going to meet each other. At least she hoped not.

“It sounds interesting,” Chris said, obviously unaware of the line that Ana’s thoughts had just taken. “So you are interested in the paranormal?”

“Well, when you call it that, it sounds so silly. But as I was telling Alexander, my family has lived here for generations, and I grew up hearing so many of the local legends. I guess an interest in stories and legends runs in my blood. In fact, my sister and my grandfather have somehow managed to get involved in running a Rivelou Ghost Tour throughout the month of October.”

“Sounds fascinating. I’ll have to go on it. Would you like to come with me?”

“On a Ghost Tour run by my grandfather? I’m not sure it sounds like a great second date,” she laughed.

“You might be right,” Chris said ruefully. “In fact, considering how we met, maybe we should try something with bright lights and loud music, rather than a walk in the dark.”

Yes, I suppose that is the elephant in the room tonight, isn’t it? We are both wondering if the police have learned anything more about the attack and the killing. Have you heard anything?”

“No, and I don’t expect we will, unless it is on the news. I’ve never found the police to be interested in sharing information.”

“Did you get a good look at it? The dog?” Ana asked.

“Not really. It was large and dark. Other than that, I was too busy trying to keep it from biting one of us, and then wiping mace out of my eyes,” Chris teased.

“Oh, you had to bring that up again,” Ana said, laughing.

“The cop, Detective Sawyer, asked me if I could describe the dog. It had bright blue eyes. Did you notice that, Ana?” Chris looked at her intently as he asked the question.

“I guess I wasn’t really worrying about its eye color at the time,” she replied, then wondered why she didn’t just tell him that she, too, had noticed the unusual color of the animal’s eyes. Her ingrained instinct for secrecy, she supposed.

“Bright blue. It didn’t really look like a dog to me. It looked like a really large wolf. Did the police mention that to you? That it might have been a wolf? What do you think?”

Chris was looking at her very intently as if her answer was somehow important to him.

“A wolf,” she replied, keeping her expression neutral.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“Well, not really. Like you said, the detective did mention something about a wolf to me, too. Did he get the idea from you?”

“Yes, he probably did.”

“Actually, I had the impression he was wondering if you owned the wolf—the dog—whatever it was.” She found herself stumbling over words, trying to ensure that she chose the right one in this suddenly dangerous conversation.

“Really? Well, I guess they might wonder if somehow I was involved.”

“Why in the world would they think that? What would you have to do with a stray dog—or wolf—or whatever?”

“You don’t know, then. I thought the detective might have mentioned it. That’s why my sister moved to Rivelou from the Chicago area. Last year her husband, Jason—he was also a police officer—was killed on duty.”

“That’s terrible. But what does that have to do with a dog killing a man here in Rivelou?”

“Well, that’s just it. That’s how Jason was killed. By a dog. A large, black dog that some witnesses said looked just like a wolf.”

Chapter 12

After dinner Chris
proposed a stroll on the river, but somehow his revelation about the death of his brother-in-law had put a damper on the evening. A moonlight stroll no longer sounded romantic. She suggested he just take her home. Chris walked her to door and kissed her tenderly goodnight.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Very much.”

She was nervous. It had been a very long time since she’d had a man in her house without Sophie there also acting as unofficial chaperone.

Chris sat down on the living room sofa. Funny, Jonathan had sat in just that spot this morning.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked, a little nervously.

“I don’t think so. Come here,” he said, pointing to the spot next to him. “You’re nervous. Don’t be. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I’m not sure what I want,” she said as she sat down next to him.

“Then let’s try a few things and find out.”

Where was the kind, a little bit nerdy man she thought she knew? This Chris was much more sure of himself. He took her gently by the shoulders and moved her closer to him, then slowly leaned in to kiss her. She wasn’t expecting sky rockets. She was much too old for sky rockets, but what she got certainly came close.

How could her body melt and tingle all over at the same time? It had never felt like this before; certainly not with Jonathan.

She banished he ex-husband from her mind. She wouldn’t think about him now. She couldn’t think about anything right now. She just felt.

She wanted more; somehow he knew that—maybe it was the little moaning noises she was making—and he pressed ever closer, kissing her harder, deeper, as his hand crept under the back of her blouse. Everywhere he touched her skin seemed to come alive. He reached higher, expertly flicking open the clasp of her bra and reaching around to caress her nipple. It had been so long. His touch was lighting fires inside her she had thought long banked.

“More?” he asked, without moving his lips from hers.

“Yes, please.”

He unbuttoned her blouse and moved his mouth from her lips to her breast. She gasped again, she needed to touch him, too. She pulled his shirt from his waistband and ran her hands up his body. She loved the feel of the springy hairs on his chest and ran her fingers around his nipple, then explored down until she found his belt.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, stopping her hand.

“Yes. It’s been so long. Yes.”

“Then where’s your bedroom?

“Upstairs. First door on the right.”

He picked her up and headed up the stairs.

“Really?” she giggled.

“What? You don’t think I can carry you?”

“No one’s ever carried me before.”

“Then no one knew how to treat you right before. Let me show you how a woman should be treated.”

He placed her on the bed, pulled her top over her head and discarded it and her bra on the floor.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, and bent to give her breasts attention once more. Then pulled off her boots and her leggings, leaving her only in her panties.

Ana felt vulnerable. She was the only one without her clothing on. “It’s my turn now, she said, and reached up to unbutton his shirt. She ran his hands over his chest. “I was right the first time, you’re like a teddy bear.”

“A teddy bear?” he asked, surprised and a little affronted. “Is that how you think of me? I think I’m insulted.”

“Oh no, I mean it in a good way. I feel safe with you.”

“Woman, you are very hard on my ego.”

“Well, I want other things about you to be hard,” she said, then blushed. Where had that come from? Ana Dugan was shy and quiet and, well, proper. In this past week it was as if a new Ana had come to life. Or perhaps it was the old Ana, the young Ana who had been sure of herself, who’d love to joke, to dance, to sing, who was resurfacing.

But Chris seemed to like this new, teasing side of her. “Then you’ve already got your wish,” he said as he pulled off his pants and joined her on the bed.

~~~

The next morning Ana felt awkward. She had just spent the night with Chris and she had a date this evening with Alexander. When had her life become so complicated? This wasn’t the kind of problem she had; it was the kind of problem that Monica had. Should she tell Chris about her date tonight? Would he think she was cheating on him? On the other hand, if she mentioned how guilty she was feeling would he think she was trying to tie him down? What was he thinking? Had this just been a one-night stand for him, or did he want something more?

Chris seemed to sense the jumble of emotions she was feeling.

“I hope you aren’t regretting last night, Ana,” he said as they drank coffee. “I don’t jump into bed with women lightly. I want you. I want to get to know you better—and Sophie, too. I understand she is a big part of your life. I’m not going to ignore her, or ask you to put me ahead of her.”

“If it were only as simple as just me and Sophie. My life is very complicated, Chris. You don’t know how complicated it is.”

“No, but I’m willing to learn if you’ll let me. Complications don’t scare me. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, either. Maybe we can spend the rest of the day learning a little more about each other.”

“Oh, Chris, I can’t. I have to study and I…I have something I have to do this evening.”

Why should she feel guilty, she thought defiantly? She hadn’t planned to go to bed with Chris when she accepted dinner with Alexander. And after all, he was just a colleague, and they were working on a project together…

“All right. Then how about I leave you now so you can study. Then I’ll meet you tomorrow and walk you home again after your classes.”

“You aren’t angry? Jonathan was always upset if I had something to do rather than be with him.”

“My name is not Jonathan. If there’s one thing I want you to remember, it’s that. You haven’t told me much about him, but from what you have said, I already know he is a first class ass. I understand you had a life before you met me. I have a life, too. We’ll just have to see if we can figure out how to make our two lives work together.”

She walked him to the door, where he kissed her again. “If you keep doing that I won’t let you leave,” she said.

“Then I’ll just have to keep doing it.”

He pressed her close and gave her one more spine-tingling kiss. “That’s so you’ll have something to think about until I see you again tomorrow night.”