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   "Good. " Sebastian winked. "Looks like you could use a bit of distraction."

   "Grrr." Nate mock-growled at his mountain of a brother, thinking for a second before grinning evilly back.

   He flung himself straight at him, shape shifting in mid air. Sebastian was sent careening backwards into the hall, but by the time he landed on the hard timber floor, he'd also changed. The two wolves wrestled their way down the hall, a tumbling mass of snapping, growling fur. They didn't stop until Sebastian finally used his greater weight to hold Nate down, his neck clamped securely between Sebastian's jaws.

   Panting and laughing, Nate changed back, wiping away the slobber that clung to his skin. A second later, Sebastian did the same thing, buffeting him cheerfully on the shoulder as he stood up.

   "Needed that, did you?" he asked, then pointed down the hall. Stray hairs were scattered its entire length. "There's a reason we try to stay human indoors, you know."

   Nate grinned. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He added sotto voce, "But isn't that why we replaced the carpet with timber? Easier to get the fur out…"

   He was rewarded with a cuff about the ear. Sebastian was playing the role of big brother to the

hilt tonight. "Just clean it."

   "Should I eat dinner before we go out?" Nate asked innocently.

   "Nah, just yesterday I heard the ranger saying he's got a problem with hares at the moment." Sebastian grinned broadly, his eyes bright with good humour. "I think we can help him out with that."

   Good. A run was always much more fun when they got in a hunt at the same time. Unconsciously, he licked his lips. There was something extra nice about fresh meat eaten al fresco, plus he'd get the satisfaction of following the trail.. He loved to see the scents in three dimensions, and to hear the details of the forest around him. Just little things, but things he often didn't get time to appreciate when he was in human form.

   Besides, surely it would take his mind off Gina.

He was a goner. He knew he was.

   So much for all the good intentions he'd been so carefully fostering all day. Yesterday, even when she was wet and bedraggled, he'd been attracted to her. Okay, so it had been beyond 'attracted'. But, hell! The feeling had been within the bounds of sanity.

   Today, however, was something else again.
She
was something else again. She'd greeted him at the door wearing a long suede skirt and a floaty peasant blouse. He could see even less of her skin than yesterday but somehow, she was just…

   Trying to describe what she was doing to him wrapped his mind into knots at roughly the same time his stomach was melting into syrup and his cock was harder than rock.

   He'd woken up, convinced yesterday was an aberration. She wasn't the slightest bit model-like, so it simply wasn't possible he'd harbored any thoughts of fucking her senseless—and on the kitchen table, of all places! She clearly wasn't his 'type.'

   Positive he'd been imagining things, and thoroughly refreshed by the nighttime run in the forest, he'd even started handing the file over so his property manager could complete the inspection. The only reason he'd been there himself yesterday was because Sarah was home with the flu.

   Then he'd been struck by a vision of Gina perched on the table, naked, and the expression in her eyes— the pure need—had him telling Sarah that, purely for the sake of continuity, he would finish off the inspection himself.

   He'd knocked on Gina's door, stared into warm brown eyes, and watched the elegant swing of her hips as she led him down the hall and into the kitchen. And he was lost. Maybe he should have stayed away after all.

   "I, ah, won't be too long." Good opening, Nate— not! He would have given himself a swift kick in the shin if he wasn't afraid she'd notice and think him barmy—as well as inarticulate.

   Gina smiled serenely and gestured towards the oven. "Be my guest. There's no hurry today."

   That's what she thought! His cock was in a tearing great rush to find out if she was just as welcoming as in his imagination. Just as wet, and just as warm…

   He stood up abruptly. "The oven's fine. Is everything working as it should?"

   "Uh-huh."

   Nate made a note on his clipboard. "Let me just check the condition of the walls and floors upstairs, then I'm done."

   A few minutes later, having studiously avoided staring too obviously at her oh-so-feminine bedroom, he was back at the front door. He still hadn't thought of a discreet way to introduce the subject and doubted that 'Wanna have wild sex with me?' would get him past first base.

   He grasped her hand as he hesitated in the doorway, keeping hold of it way longer than a purely business-like handshake required.

   "I was wondering if I could cook you dinner one night?" he asked.

   Gina's calm demeanor barely wavered. "You can cook?"

   He grinned, knowing his smile was lethal, and watched in satisfaction as her eyes dilated and her stance softened ever so slightly. "Of course." He pretended hurt, raising a small smile from her. "I'd offer to take you out but can't imagine you wanting to eat at the Oasis, and since the only other choice is Hank's Diner, I reckon you should take a risk on my cooking."

   Gina joined in his teasing, mock-pouting. "Well, how could I possibly refuse such a wonderful invitation?"

   "Good." Nate raised her hand to his lips, enjoying the way her eyes widened impossibly. "In that case I'll be back at six-thirty with some groceries." He let the anticipation stretch before carefully turning her wrist so it was palm up and placing a gentle kiss on her hand. He closed her fingers tight over the kiss and a slow smile, irrefutably wolfish, crossed his features. "Until tonight, then."

   He watched her shudder, the movement so slight as to be almost imperceptible, and couldn't resist running his thumb lightly down her cheek and tracing the outline of her luscious mouth. He'd save her mouth for later, but in the meantime…

   His lips brushed lightly over her cheek before he pulled away and strode down the path to his car. Her eyes had still been half-closed when he'd glanced back over his shoulder, and he couldn't suppress a cocky grin. Obviously, he hadn't lost his touch.

The pleasant mist surrounding her dissolved as his car pulled away, the distant sounds of early evening traffic filtering back into her consciousness. What on earth had all that been about? A man had never affected her quite like that before. It was almost like being…hypnotized?

   Nah. She was being ridiculous. Stuff like that didn't happen in real life.

   She was closing the front door when another thought struck her. What had he said just before he left? Something about dinner?

   Oh.

   My.

   God.

   Blood rushed to her face, and her hand trembled as she fastened the chain. Six-thirty. He'd be back to cook her dinner at six-thirty. She slumped against the wall. Nate Moore, Two Oaks's most eligible bachelor was going to be cooking her dinner. Here. Tonight.

   And she'd agreed? She couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it.

   But she had. She knew she had.

   Damn.

   And for
him
to cook
her
dinner? Couldn't get much more intimate than that.

   Well, okay, yes, you could. He could be naked and cooking dinner…

   Her imagination was certainly attempting to cast the deciding vote, and the erotic images flicking behind her eyes were sending her pulse throbbing between her legs. He was a realtor, she reminded herself impatiently—a
salesman
.

   A vision of him standing in her kitchen, stark naked, sidled back into her head. Those fabulous, tight buns and a long, thick cock that would fill her very damp pussy quite nicely.

   Gina glanced back towards the darkening street. She knew damn well that if she let him back though her front door, she was sending him a very clear message. She'd be telling him 'yes'.

   Aw, what the hell! She
wanted
him to fuck her.

She couldn't quite remember exactly why she'd said he could cook for her tonight. But she had. And now here he was, striding up her front porch with a sack of groceries under his arm. Apparently, when he said he was doing dinner, he really meant it.

   And did the man ever do anything
but
stride? Mind you, he certainly had the body to pull it off. A fleeting memory of him walking away a few hours earlier crossed her mind. He had to have one of the best butts she'd recently had the privilege to perv on. Nice, tight ass-cheeks, a good handful-and-a-half to each. Mmmm.

   Then he was right in front of her, his nose practically touching hers, and that sexy smile just begging her to lean a fraction forward and…

   Bad Gina. Bad.

   Maybe yesterday's accident had done more damage than she'd realized? Her brain had been scrambled.
Had
to have been. What other reason could she possibly come up with for this completely out-of-character behavior?

   Well, out-of-character
intention
, she amended. She hadn't actually done it.

   Even while she was smiling automatically, moving aside, holding the door open for him, thoughts of a totally different kind were running wild in her head. He was seriously sexy, and he did seem to be coming on to her.

   Unless she was reading him completely wrong?

   Nah. The only local realtor didn't personally cook dinner for every tenant.

   Did he?

   Mrs Chapman's words dribbled into her mind. Perhaps he
did
cook dinner for every single, female client of the agency. It could help explain his reputation. And it was a pretty damn good seduction technique.

   "Can I borrow some pots?"

   His cheerfully called request echoed down the hall along with the sound of her kitchen cupboards opening and closing. While she'd been standing here daydreaming, he'd made it all the way into the kitchen and—

   And unpacked all the groceries…

   Spread them out over the counter…

   And half prepared a meal?

   She stared in sheer disbelief. A large pot of water was bubbling on the cook top and he was calmly tipping a packet of pasta into it. Beside it, some kind of pasta sauce was simmering away, the dreamy scents of cream and bacon wafting towards her.

   Hadn't it been only a few seconds ago that he'd been asking for pots and pans? What the hell was happening to her?

Nate turned back to the stove so she wouldn't see his grin.
Definitely
hadn't lost his touch. Werewolves didn't go in for the whole mind-control thing like vampires did, but that wasn't to say they didn't have some abilities in that area. It had been years since he'd bothered…enhancing…the 'Moore experience' for whichever woman he'd chosen—usually they were so busy throwing themselves at him it was just a waste of effort.

   But Gina was definitely different. For one thing, he'd actually had to work a little to get her to notice him properly. His grin widened as he listened to his own thoughts. He didn't sound half arrogant, did he?

   He grunted softly. Well, so what? He had good cause for his confidence. All you had to do was ask any one of the women he'd had sex with. They'd all walked away very satisfied—if a little stiff—and so would Gina. He smiled again at the idea. There was something about that lithe little body that just made him want to drop his trousers and take her up against the bench, or the fridge… or on the kitchen table.

   Even this close to full moon, his control wasn't usually so shaky, or his imagination so vivid. He could almost
feel
his balls slamming against her cunt as his cock filled her until she screamed… Yeah, he

did like to make a woman scream.

   Nate glanced back towards Gina. She was still standing near the door, leaning against the architrave, a soft mistiness to her eyes. She was following his every movement, but her gaze kept dropping lower, before skipping back up to watch what he was doing at the stove. He turned fully towards her, grinning openly as he caught her staring at his bulging crotch.

   It was probably time to let her off the hook, he figured, and let her gather her own thoughts—for a little while at least. He'd never used his mind skills to coerce a woman into sleeping with him—he'd seen what Sebastian, and his father before him, had done to the werewolves who had—but didn't think it hurt to focus her mind a little more specifically. Less thoughts about shopping lists, and more about just exactly what she wanted him to do to her. And if he could decipher those thoughts, well then, that was all the better.

   "Would you mind setting the table?" he called cheerfully, watching as his words broke the spell.

   Her eyes cleared and as her pupils contracted, the hazel brown of her irises seemed to change. Almost as if she was waking from some kind of luscious dream, awareness slowly etched itself across her features. Her eyes swept abruptly to his face, and a blush slowly stained her cheeks as she realised where her eyes had been so firmly fixed.

   "Where will I find the placemats?" he asked placidly, unwilling to embarrass her, and turned away to stir the sauce. "I hope you like carbonara, and I brought some fresh fruit for dessert," he continued.

   "Yes?" she ventured cautiously, and crossed

towards the cabinet closest to him.

   She bent over, the same long skirt as this afternoon draping gracefully over her rear and highlighting her curves. She stood quickly upright, probably well aware of exactly what he was looking at, and placed two mats on the table.

   He could hardly bear to take his eyes off her, to stop watching her unconscious sensuality as she wafted around the kitchen, casting the occasional hesitant glance back his way. Obviously, although she had no idea about the gentle mind games he'd been playing earlier, she knew something was awry.