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  But after reading said article, I’d been relieved. I’d always thought something was wrong with me. I could care less if a guy touched my breasts. Such pawing and panting below my neck had usually made me lose whatever interest I might have had.

  Now I understood I’d been with the wrong guys. Ca-dotte knew what to do. Gentle and sure, he aroused me with tiny suckles, openmouthed kisses, and murmured words of praise. By the time he bent and lifted me into his arms, my knees had begun to sag.

  "Hey!" The room spun as he strode to the bed. "I do not want to play kidnapped settler and Indian brave."

  How rude, Jessie!

  My mother’s voice. Hell. I had to get rid of her.

  Cadotte’s laughter did it for me. "Maybe later."

  He dropped me onto the mattress without warning and I bounced. At least that shut me up.

  My arms reached for him. He stepped back. Worried I had insulted him, I lifted myself onto my elbows. His gaze went from my face back to my breasts.

  "You know, they’re amazing." He brought his eyes back to mine. "And so are you."

  My chest had been my curse since the age of twelve. Once 1 had breasts, my friends who were boys could no longer seem to forget I wasn’t one, too.

  Since then guys had been trying to get their hands on my breasts. I had been trying to keep them off. No one had called my breasts amazing. The nicest thing a man had said about them was that they were "fucking big."

  But in Cadotte’s dark, serene eyes I saw the truth. I was beautiful. At least until the sun came up.

  He flicked a finger at my pants. "Take ‘em off."

  Happy to.

  I kicked my boots across the room, lifted my hips, and slid the ugly tan trousers down my legs. My white cotton granny undies joined them. I might wear hooker bras, but I did not appreciate underwear that rode my crack like dental floss.

  I lay on the bed and he towered over me. "Such soft skin." He trailed a finger up my knee. "Strong legs. Everything about you is beautiful."

  "I-I like to swim." Why I felt the need to talk, I have no idea.

  "I like it that you swim, too."

  "I have a pond. On my land. The old Macray place."

  "Shh." He leaned over and kissed my belly. The urge to talk left completely.

  The bed dipped, but instead of covering me with his body and plunging away—which would have worked for me—he stretched his length next to mine, held his head with one hand, and trailed the other from my hip, across my belly, and back again.

  "Let me touch you, Jessie. I’ve been waiting forever."

  I nearly pointed out that I’d only known him a few days, but I hesitated at branding myself a slut. Besides, I felt like I’d known him a long time. I seemed to have wanted him for a lifetime.

  Dangerous thoughts those, so I closed my mind against them and closed my eyes against all the things I saw flicker across his face as he touched me.

  How long we lay there, kissing, discovering, trailing fingertips across chests, hips, thighs, I’m not sure. When I opened my eyes, the dawn had spun gray shadows through my bedroom. I’d neglected to draw the shades again. I didn’t care.

  His body was even more spectacular in the daylight than it had been by the light of the moon. Just seeing him made me want him.

  He kissed me and got off the bed. The rustle of clothes, the crackle of paper, the snap of rubber—he’d come prepared. I was glad, since until this moment I hadn’t even thought of protection. Would I have let him do me on the floor without it? I guess I’d never know.

  When he rose over me and at last came inside, I kept my eyes open. I wanted to see his face; I wanted to watch my hands stroke his chest, my thumb tease a nipple. I wanted to know how he looked as I tightened and pulsed around him.

  His eyes didn’t cross, though mine did. He made no sound; I had to. He held me and stroked me both inside and out, until I was gasping, breathless, limp.

  I came back to myself and realized he was still big and hard inside me. Heat flooded my face. "What—?"

  He swallowed my question with a kiss, didn’t stop tonguing me until I stopped trying to talk. Only then did he begin to move again.

  I’d always considered reports of multiple orgasms an urban legend. Guess I was wrong.

  He reached between us, stroked me where I was already sensitive until I was writhing and gasping, on the edge all over again. Then he lifted my hips and filled me with a firm, sure thrust. I felt him where I’d never felt anyone before.

  His hands taught me the rhythm. First fast, then slow, then something in between. Seeming to grow, to swell, he throbbed to the beat of my pulse. I gasped, tightened, came again as his teeth scraped the curve of my neck.

  He collapsed, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Trapped for a moment, I suddenly realized how big he was, how strong. Panic fluttered for an instant, until his palm cupped my hip and he rolled to the side. Our noses nearly brushed. In his eyes I saw uncertainty. Something I understood very well.

  My chest tightened. My belly fluttered. My unease was pushed aside by the urge to make that expression go away.

  So I touched his face and murmured, "Uncle."

  Chapter 22

  I fell asleep with my hand still on his face. I’d been exhausted when I got home. Incredible sex had given me a second wind, but there was only so much a girl could take.

  When I awoke we were both under the sheets. Someone, not me, had drawn the heavy curtains. I glanced at Cadotte. God, he was beautiful.

  His skin was smooth and dark, darker still against my plain white sheets. I wondered what he’d look like with long hair. The shorn ends curled just a little, making my fingers itch to twine between them. His earring twinkled against the warm flesh of his neck.

  I remembered kissing that neck a few hours ago, being startled by the cool metal brushing my lips. When he’d trailed his mouth all over my body, the earring had tickled me here and there, adding a new dimension to every embrace.

  His hand covered my hip. My eyes jumped from his earring to his face. He smiled. "Morning."

  I waited for the usual morning-after embarrassment to descend. Before it could, he shifted closer and kissed me. Just a gentle brush of his lips against mine and then he pulled back. Something between my belly and my heart stuttered.

  "I’ll make coffee," he said, and then he was gone.

  I took advantage of the solitude to head for the shower. The totem caught my eye from the dresser. I glanced at the bedroom door through which Cadotte had disappeared. I could hear him banging around in the kitchen, see his shadow flitting against the wall in the hall.

  I opened a drawer and dumped the wolf on top of my underwear, then scooted into the bathroom and locked the door. I had nothing against sex in the shower—with Cadotte I would probably be agreeable to sex just about anywhere—but right now I wanted to think.

  What had I done?

  Had sex. Big deal.

  Actually it had been. And maybe that was the problem.

  I knew better than to fall for a guy like Cadotte. He was gorgeous, brilliant, a little bit strange. We had nothing in common. We probably never would.

  Why on earth he’d wanted me I had yet to figure out. But I couldn’t believe he’d want me much longer. The best way to get out of this without getting hurt was to dump him before he dumped me.

  This resolved, I returned to my room. The slant of the sun through the windows told me the time was long past noon. I threw on shorts and a shirt, tucked the totem underneath a pile of socks in a drawer, and walked barefoot into the kitchen.

  Cadotte leaned against the counter, drinking coffee completely naked. He smiled as if he weren’t and poured another cup. My gaze lowered. I could get used to this.

  He turned and I yanked my gaze upward. Raising a brow, he handed me my coffee. "Would you like to go out for breakfast?"

  The thought of walking into The Coffee Pot with him and ordering breakfast at… 2:00 p.m. was just too much for me. Besides, wasn�
��t I showing him the door?

  I took a sip, swallowed, nearly choked with shock. Cadotte made the best coffee I had ever tasted.

  "What did you do to this?" I stared into the cup as if I could find all the answers to life’s mysteries in the swirling black depths.

  "A sprinkle of cinnamon mixed with the grounds makes all the difference."

  "I have cinnamon?"

  "In the back of the cabinet. Yes."

  "Hmm. Wonder where that came from." I took another sip.

  "Breakfast?" he reminded me.

  "I… can’t."

  The same emotion that had flickered in his eyes when I’d refused to meet him for dinner returned.

  "Why not?"

  More coffee. That’s what I needed. I gulped half the cup, let the heat bubble in my empty stomach. "Because."

  Same lame excuse I’d used the last time. Unfortunately, it didn’t work this time.

  "Because I’m good enough to fuck but not to eat breakfast with?"

  I spilled coffee on my shirt. "What?"

  Having a serious conversation with a naked man was a new experience—and downright difficult. I kept getting distracted by the way his skin shone in the sunlight.

  "I may not be from here, but I know how small towns work. If it got out you were screwing an Indian, there’d be trouble."

  I was silent. There would be, but not the way he thought. I sighed.

  "Will, I—"

  He set his empty cup on the counter with a click and crossed the floor so fast he was crowding into my space before I knew he was coming. He captured my cup, set it aside, and took my hands.

  "Don’t," he whispered. "Why can’t we just enjoy each other like we did last night?"

  I frowned. "You want to do it again?"

  He slid his fingers into my hair. "And again and again and again."

  I hadn’t expected that. Still, why risk my career on something that would never last?

  He kissed me, his tongue teasing mine, his lips soft and warm. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon. I wanted to drink him in and keep him with me forever.

  Lifting his head, he remained close enough that his breath mingled with mine. "Does this have to be complicated? I want you, Jessie. You want me. Let’s just keep doing what we’re doing. Okay?"

  When a gorgeous naked man asks you something like that, what else are you supposed to say but—

  "Hell, yes."

  We ended up back in bed, but before things could get good, the phone shrilled. Why had I ever plugged it back in?

  "Don’t answer," Cadotte whispered against my belly. The warmth of his breath trailed along the moistness left by his tongue. I shivered and forgot all about the phone.

  Until my machine clicked in and Clyde’s voice came out. "Jessie, you’d better get over to the hospital. We got trouble."

  I sat up, nearly knocking Cadotte off the bed in the process.

  "Your victim from last night died."

  I dived for the phone. "Clyde?"

  "Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you."

  "You didn’t. I was just—" I glanced at Will. "Never mind. What’s going on?"

  "Mel. He died. Cherry is screaming blue murder. Said you told them to give him the vaccine and now he’s dead. She’s threatening lawsuit. It’s a total goat fuck."

  I blinked. Goat fuck was Zee’s favorite term. Things must be very bad.

  "I’ll be right there."

  I hung up. Cadotte kissed my hip. "Problem?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  "Can you tell me about it?"

  I considered and decided that I could. The incident last night, and whatever had happened at the hospital since, would be public record soon enough. I filled him in.

  He lay on the bed with his arm beneath his head and stared at the ceiling with a frown, I got up and pulled my uniform out of the closet.

  "I don’t like the sound of this," he murmured.

  "You, me, and the rest of the Miniwa Police Department."

  My gaze on the floor—my bra and underwear must be around here somewhere—I didn’t see him get off the bed. I didn’t hear him, either. The guy moved more quietly than a wolf.

  "Here." 1 glanced up. He held what I was looking for in one hand.

  I slipped into my panties. Why I didn’t feel embarrassed I wasn’t sure. Maybe Cadotte’s ease with his own nakedness was starting to wear off on me. Although I doubted I’d be walking bare-assed in the woods anytime soon.

  I was struggling with the hook on my bra when his hands covered mine. "Let me."

  As I stood in front of the mirror, my eyes met his. He hooked the clasp, lowered his head, and kissed my shoulder; his earring brushed my skin. His hand slid across my belly—dark against light, slim against round. We were so different—and maybe that wasn’t so bad.

  My mind skittered away from the thought. "I’ve got to go."

  He stepped back. "I know. Is it okay if I shower?"

  "Sure. Just don’t scare the hell out of me when I come home. Next time I might kill you."

  "You and what army?" he threw over his shoulder.

  I laughed. Not only did I want his body, but I liked his mouth—and not just on me.

  Opening my sock drawer, I slammed it shut when Cadotte stuck his head out the bathroom door. "We should meet when you get done. I’ve got some ideas I’m going to check out today."

  "Don’t you have a little thing called class to go to?"

  "It’s Saturday."

  Huh. Where had the week gone?

  "You don’t have to help me."

  "I want to." He tilted his head. "Maybe we should work together on this, Jessie. It couldn’t hurt."

  Clyde would hurt me if he found out about it. But right now, Clyde was the least of my worries.

  "I don’t know how much you can help, since you think I’m chasing werewolves."

  "You are."

  I made an aggravated sound and threw up my hands. "Cadotte, you are certifiable."

  "Maybe." He didn’t appear concerned. "What time will you be home?"

  "Morning most likely. Seven-thirty?"

  "I’ll be here."

  He shut the door and the sound of the shower came shortly after. I waited another minute, opened the drawer, felt for the totem, then slipped it over my head and beneath my shirt.

  What could it hurt for Cadotte to research his delusion? Who knows, he might even turn up something useful.

  Chapter 23

  "About time," Clyde muttered when I entered the morgue.

  Since the drive from Miniwa to the hospital in Clear-water was forty minutes, I’d done the best I could, so I ignored him.

  I’d flipped through Brad’s notes as I’d walked in from the car. He’d done a decent job, though it wouldn’t do Mel much good now. As I’d suspected, a reddish-brown wolf had bitten Mel. Since Mandenauer had already killed and burned the thing, the case would be closed—if Mel hadn’t gone and died on us.

  The morgue was bright with electric lights and shiny chrome. All the players were in place.

  Clyde leaned against a counter, jaw ratcheting his chew like a mortar with a pestle. Bozeman was playing with his instruments—lining and realigning them on the pristine table. Anal, much?

  As I wandered into the room, the door behind me opened and what must be a doctor, since he wore a white coat, walked in.

  "You wanted to see me?"

  Clyde pushed away from the counter. "What happened to Mel Gerard?"

  "Got me. I followed the prescribed practice for rabies inoculation."

  The doctor shook his head. His next words were low, near a mumble, almost as if he were going over it again in his head. And maybe he was. "But he started convulsing. Blood pressure skyrocketed. Cardiac arrest. Flat line. All in about five minutes."

  "Allergic to the vaccine?"

  "I don’t think so."

  "What, then?"

  He shrugged and jerked a thumb at Bozeman. "Isn’t that what he’s supposed to find out?"


  Clyde chewed faster, thinking long and hard before he nodded. "Thanks for your time, Doctor."

  When the door closed again, Clyde turned to Bozeman, who was still playing with his toys. "Let’s get on with this, Prescott. I’ve got things to do."

  Bozeman sighed and yanked the sheet from the body. We all stared. The ME went pale. Clyde made a gagging sound and hacked his chew onto the floor. I took one step toward the door before I stopped myself.

  I’d been at autopsies before. Seen a lot of dead bodies. But I’d never seen anything like this.

  Mel’s face was hideous. His nose was twisted, as if broken ten too many times. His lips were drawn back in a grimace; his teeth appeared to protrude. His eyes, open and staring, had bled nearly to black, with only a small rim of yellow around the edge.

  Had Mel had yellow eyes? I think I would have remembered that.

  "What the—?"

  I crept closer. Clyde stopped gagging and joined me.

  The oddities didn’t stop at Mel’s face. His fingernails and toenails were unnaturally long. Fu Manchu had nothing on him. And his beard was longer and coarser than it should have been if he’d only shaved yesterday.

  "A reaction to the rabies?" I asked.

  "Or the vaccine," Clyde murmured. "But why didn’t the doctor mention this?"

  "He wasn’t like this when he came in." Bozeman was still staring. He lifted his gaze from Mel to us. "I saw him. He was dead. But not like this."

  "Rigor mortis?" I suggested.

  "I’ve never seen rigor set in this fast or… or…" He waved a hand at the table. "This bad."

  "That doesn’t mean it couldn’t."

  "I suppose not." The ME went back to staring.

  Clyde made an impatient sound. "Prescott, I need to know what happened before I talk to Cherry again. That woman is sue-happy."

  "Her and the rest of the known world," I muttered.

  "Um, yes. I… uh—Yes," Bozeman managed. He went to work while Clyde and I watched. Not the most appealing pastime for a Saturday afternoon, but I’d done worse.