Untitled (8 page)

   You couldn't put a price on Utopia. If he hadn't been sure they'd have heard him, he'd have groaned out loud. God, he was getting cynical. Maybe it was time he gave some thought to settling down, raising a family. If nothing else, 'practicing' could be fun.

   A floorboard creaked directly above his head, and he shrugged. The house was an overpriced pile of crap. Not that he'd tell the eventual buyer that— legally, he couldn't—but there was nothing to stop him strenuously recommending they get a building inspection done before they signed any contracts.

   His memory crept back to the board floors in Gina's bedroom as he waited. He'd seen quite a lot of them this morning when he'd gone searching for all the condom wrappers he'd tossed on the floor last night. The timber was a nice color, well worn but with the patina of a good polish hiding the imperfections.

   He poked idly at the bearskin rug covering the ugly tiled floors of the house he was trying to sell. Yugh! Who'd put tiles in a living room anyway? The board floors at Gina's would be good if he moved in with her. It really was a pain trying to get the fur out of wall-to-wall carpeting.

   This time he did groan out loud, spinning to look out the window at the distant forest. He could hardly believe it. No matter how many times he told his brain to forget about her, his thoughts snuck back around to Gina Longmire.

   It wasn't until he realised his fists were tightly clenched by his sides, his stance stiff, that he forced himself to relax. Castigating himself for every errant thought obviously wasn't working. He flicked open his cell, punching in Gina's number. So much for him being the one in control…

Bending over to pick up the apple she'd accidentally knocked off the counter, Gina discovered a whole new set of muscles. A hot shower had loosened her up—for a while—but now muscles she hadn't even known existed were protesting almost every time she moved. And when every movement reminded her of last night…

   Swallowing a groan, she straightened, gingerly adding the apple to her small pile of groceries. Her thighs ached. She doubted she'd ever had her legs spread so wide—or for so long—as she had last night.

   Megan, damn her, simply grinned. It was such a
knowing
grin, and such an 'I know what you did last night' kind of a grin, that Gina looked cautiously around the store, wanting to be absolutely certain no one else had seen Megan's indiscreet smirk.

   The store would close in a quarter of an hour and was unusually quiet. Just an elderly couple bickering quietly at the deli counter and Yvonne, the same middle-aged woman as usual scanning the groceries at the counter. She'd not even looked up, and Gina turned back to Megan, a lot more secure in herself.

   Surely it wasn't that obvious? It wasn't like she had a whopping great sign plastered across her head, flashing lights spelling out the fact she'd been fucked 'til she couldn't walk straight.

   The very idea sent a hot flush scooting up her neck and over her cheeks. It was true, too. She'd noticed walking between the car and the shop that, if she wasn't careful, she was tending to waddle rather than walk. How embarrassing!

   She blanched. Then again, maybe Yvonne
had
noticed. Maybe that was why she was so studiously staring down at the groceries rather than chatting away as usual. On second thought, no. If Yvonne suspected anything even the slightest bit gossipworthy, then nothing and no one was safe.

   That didn't stop her paying up as quickly as humanly possible and practically dragging Megan from the store and out to the relative safety of the street. Saturday morning trading was slowly drawing to a close and, like small towns everywhere, the weekend lethargy was drifting in to take the place of the earlier bustle.

   Only a few places would remain open so, after stowing the grocery sacks in the trunk, Megan towed her towards the diner. That meant walking past the realtor's. No matter how determinedly she tried to look away, Gina just couldn't quite keep her eyes off the shuttered shop front. There was a closed sign swinging behind the door, the lights were out, but there was a shadow moving somewhere down the back. Nate?

   She probably should have kicked herself for the naïve little burst of hope, but there had been a message on her machine when she'd stepped out of the shower. A fairly standard 'thanks for the night' sort of message to be sure, but a message nevertheless. She honestly hadn't expected to hear from him again.

   As soon as their orders had been taken, Megan started. After all, she knew the only reason Megan had insisted on accompanying her this morning was the chance to pry for details.

   "So," Her face was alight with curiosity. "How was it? Is he as good as the rumors say?"

   Gina answered before she'd stopped to think. "Better."

   Oh puh-leeze! Gina cringed. Had that dreamy little sigh been hers too?

   Megan leaned across the table, her hand tugging Gina's wrist. "And?"

   "And what?"

   Megan's mock-grimace attracted the attention of the next table, but she totally ignored Gina's frantic hand signal to tone it down.

   "Nuh-uh." Megan shook her head, eyes glinting wickedly. She glanced around the diner at the handful of people having an early lunch, the threat obvious. "Tell all—or else!"

   "Tell what?" Nate pulled out the chair between them, settling himself at the table without asking permission. "Megan," he nodded amiably in her direction before his eyes returned to Gina. "How are you?"

   There was a hint of humor in his voice, and she couldn't miss the barely suppressed laughter lighting up his eyes. How the heck did he imagine she was going to answer that question?

   "Good. Thank you." Did her answer sound half as

stilted as it felt?

   "Glad to hear it." He grinned down on her then glanced back across to Megan who smiled serenely. "I had dinner at Gina's place last night," he explained. "Ended up being a bit of a late night."

   "So I heard." Megan grinned at Gina. "I was just asking for details."

   "Ah." He nodded, pretending a seriousness he obviously didn't feel. The laughter in his eyes was infectious. "I never kiss and tell."

   He winked at Megan. "I'd better be on my way then," he said, swinging out of the chair as lithely as he'd sat down only minutes earlier. "I'll let you get back to pumping her for all the details. I know we Moores are legendary."

   Gina looked heavenward, muttering. "Great!" Realizing her only chance of escaping Megan's avid curiosity was about to walk away, she hammed it up, lowering her head into her hands, then resting it slowly on the table. "Just great."

   Nate ruffled her hair companionably then bent to plop a brotherly kiss on her bent neck. "You'll survive." From under her hair, she watched him grin across at Megan. "Your friend doesn't look all that scary to me."

   "Some kind of hero you are," Gina grumbled.

   "Sorry love, but you know what?" He chuckled, the sound going straight to her belly. "I don't do 'riding to the rescue on a white charger'. It does terrible things to my suit."

   A sharp tug on her hair, and he was gone.

   Gina looked up, attempting a scowl. Megan just burst into peals of laughter, tears streaming down her face. Eyes still bright, she grinned at Gina. "Tell me he's exaggerating about the 'legendary' status?" she demanded.

   Gina shook her head, a slow smile curving her lips. "Nope. No exaggeration at all."

Another totally dull Saturday night was looming on the horizon. After running into Nate in town this morning—surely that couldn't have been a coincidence?—Gina had half-expected him to call. But he hadn't, and now she was sitting around at home with nothing much to do.

   She glanced around the cozy living room, half wishing more housework would materialize out of thin air, but it was as perfectly neat and tidy as it had been two minutes earlier. What else could she do to fill in the evening? It was way too early for bed, and the thought of settling down to watch a movie was beyond her. Unusually for her, she was filled with nervous energy. What on earth had he done to the quiet, boring Gina Longmire who'd been perfectly content with her quiet, boring life? Just one night, and he seemed to have banished her forever: leaving behind this sexually frustrated creature who hadn't even been able to sit still long enough to watch a rerun of 'Friends'.

   The linen cupboard. Perhaps she could sort through that? Gina was clutching at straws, and she knew it. Maybe she could rearrange her bookshelves then?

   She shook her head, a small part of herself finding it totally hilarious that the safe persona she'd erected to protect herself from her own emotions had been so easily shattered. Surely there had to be something she could do to take her mind off sex and, more specifically, to take her mind off Nathaniel Moore— local realtor and sex god.

   That did it! Sex god? Huh!

   Her mind—and other parts of her body too, she acknowledged ruefully—were running out of control. It was past time to find something to fill in the hours to bedtime.

   She drifted listlessly through the house, cataloguing possible chores and trying very hard not to wonder what Nate was doing right now. Or who he was doing it with. She found it very hard to believe that a man with such a huge sex drive didn't have a Saturday night date. Surely, he had to be in demand.

   In the kitchen she straightened the pot plants and tweaked the curtains closer together. This morning's hint of spring had well and truly disappeared and there was ice in the air. Even through the fogged glass she could feel the insidious cold, seeping through every chink in the old window frame. There'd be a heavy frost in the morning. She shivered, her lightweight wrap no longer holding off the chill despite the centrally heated warmth of the house.

   Enough was enough. She'd go to bed and read a book. As she turned back towards the hall, a flash of white by the back door caught her attention. She'd forgotten to take the trash out. For a second she hesitated—surely it could wait until morning? But, no. If she left it, despite the cold weather, it'd be sure to attract mice, and it had taken her weeks to get rid of them when she first moved in.

   Shivering before she'd even opened the door, she drew her wrap closer with one hand, the fingers of the other securely entwined in the knotted top of the plastic garbage bag.

   And she'd thought it was cold when she'd been standing by the window inside. Sheesh. She should have known better and grabbed an overcoat rather than just ducking outside to dump the trash in the bin by the side wall. Even through the solid soles of her fluffy slippers, she could feel the chill of the partly frozen ground. The cold snap was going to be worse than she'd thought.

   A light mist was wending its way through the trees, stray tendrils floating around her ankles, but it hadn't fully thickened yet. Gina stopped for a second, fascinated by the way it billowed out towards her, eddies of wind she couldn't even feel shifting it into amazing patterns—there for an instant, then gone again. It was quite beautiful, yet eerie too, and it didn't take much imagination to see werewolves and vampires, monsters and fairies, as the fog suddenly swirled around her, enveloping her in a clammy white world.

   She shivered again, her cold feet reminding her it was winter and that she was outside wearing nothing more than a light wrap over her nightgown. The bin was only two steps away; she could cope with the aching cold for a few seconds more.

   The bin lid was in her hand, the bag lifted half way, when a sharp crack, totally out of place in the softness of the mist, caught her attention. For a second her breath hitched, then she relaxed as she realized it was the snap of a tree branch, nothing more. In this fog, it wouldn't be surprising to find more than one little creature's senses not quite as accurate as usual. It was probably an owl, she reasoned even as she tried to force her numb fingers to move more quickly.

   A surge of movement in the fog behind her caught her attention and she swung to meet it, wryly aware that she was being much jumpier than usual. There were no bears in the area, she reminded herself sternly, and there was no such thing as werewolves. Anything smaller couldn't hurt her. Therefore, there was nothing to be afraid of.

   Nothing but humans, she realized as disembodied arms reached from the fog, grasping her wrist. The rest of his body was shrouded by mist, almost invisible, but the strength in his grip was very real, as was the way he was drawing her inexorably closer.

   She tugged sharply and tried to spin away, her mouth opening on a scream. A thudding blow to her stomach had her doubled over, gasping for breath before she'd managed to make a sound, and she'd barely straightened to meet the new threat when her vision went dark. There were soft voices, unrecognizable, but still she struggled. From a distance, almost like it was happening to someone else, she felt the pain in her temple and saw the bright colors flash behind her eyes. Then nothing.

Nate hadn't really planned on going out that night. The forest would be crowded with betas, especially in the more easily accessed areas, and it really was bloody cold. Even with a thick fur coat, it wouldn't exactly be a comfortable evening out. But since the only alternative seemed to be staying home alone brooding about Gina for the rest of the night, he didn't really see that he had much choice.

   He and Sebastian had shape-shifted early in the evening, but while Sebastian had stayed in the forest closer to the towns, Nate had loped off into the thickening fog. He liked it deeper within the forest, all the areas the humans rarely ventured into. Although his wolf ears picked up the cacophony of tiny sounds he'd never hear in human form, he still found it peaceful. And there wasn't anything more soothing to his soul than the sound of the wind sloughing through pine trees. It was such a distinctive sound— there was nothing else quite like it.