Dancing on the Wind (16 page)

his lips. “Think about what hound dog usually means when a woman applies that

insult to a man.”

Keenan frowned. “When I was in college that term meant an insatiable guy who

jumps every woman he sees.” She shook her head. “Fallon isn’t like that.”

Matty took a drink of his tea, speaking to her over the rim of the glass. “What do

you actually know about Reapers, sweetie?”

“Very little except for what he’s told me.”

Matty shoveled a large forkful of lettuce into his mouth and devoured it before

pushing the bowl aside. “Well, you see it’s like this. Lupine Reapers were created by the

goddess Morrigunia to champion humankind. She wanted them single-minded in that

pursuit, but She also knew they’d need to have gentleness in their lives to

counterbalance the brutality that is their lot. But She is also a defender of womanhood

so She put a geis, a magical prohibition, on Her Reapers that keeps them from actually

having intercourse with a woman they don’t intend to bond with. Once they do the

nasty with a lady, that’s it. They are mated for life and he won’t ever touch another

female.”

“Like wolves.”

“Yeah, like wolves,” he agreed. “But hounds are a different matter altogether. Why

She created them is anyone’s guess, but She didn’t put that particular geis on them and

She didn’t create all that many. As a matter of fact, other than Fallon, I don’t know of

another canine Reaper in existence.”

“So what you’re telling me is he can screw all the women he wants to,” she said,

eyes hard and mouth tight.

“No, I’m saying that he’s screwed more than his share over the years. Hell, I think

he got most of
my
share, but who’s counting?” He chuckled. “As he views it, he’ll be

faithful to you, Keenan, but if he needs to jump in the sack with someone for an

assignment, he won’t think twice about it.” When she opened her mouth to let out the

angry words that were mirrored on her face, he held up a hand. “I’m not saying he’ll

want it, but he will do it.”

Her appetite gone, Keenan pushed her salad aside as well. “Well, that sucks,” she

said.

The waitress came to take their bowls away so Matty said nothing to Keenan’s

statement. When the server was gone, he leaned toward her over the table.

“Are you the jealous kind, darling?” he asked.

Keenan toyed with her tea glass. “I didn’t think I was, but the thought of Fallon

climbing into bed with another woman makes my damned blood boil.” She lifted the

glass and took a long drink.

76

Dancing on the Wind

“If you’re worried about him giving you something he picks up from someone,

don’t. His parasite would kill any infection that came into contact with him so he

wouldn’t pass it along.”

“Contracting an STD from him doesn’t piss me off half as much as him being with a

woman in the first place,” she admitted. “He got all high and mighty telling me I

couldn’t make it with other men, and now to find out the good old double standard is

hard at work here just fries my okry.”

Matty grinned at her expression. “If you need someone to tweak his nose for you,

I’ll volunteer to climb in bed with you any time you need me, darling.”

Looking up from staring at the tablecloth, Keenan caught the twinkle in Matty’s

blue eyes. She smiled and reached over to pat his arm. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

There was a moment of uneasy silence then Matty sighed. “Here’s comes supper.

Rabbit food is okay, but I’m a steak and taters kinda guy.” He rubbed his hands

together as the waitress placed his Porterhouse before him.

The food was excellent—cooked to perfection, and by the time the last French fry

dredged through ketchup had been plucked from Keenan’s plate and the last chunk of

baked potato with sour cream had been lifted from Matty’s, the offer of dessert was

declined.

“I’m as full as a tick,” Matty commented, rubbing his flat abdomen, “but I could

sure use a drink. Have you been to the lounge yet?” He shot out his right leg and

reached into his pocket.

“There’s a lounge?” she asked, folding her napkin before placing it atop the table. “I

haven’t had a chance to go over the employment package to find out what all we have

on the installation.”

“We have a great little lounge with a dance floor. They serve the best margaritas

I’ve ever had. Want to give it a try?” He picked up the guest check presenter and slid

his personal ID card down a groove in the side.

“That’s a handy little device,” Keenan observed.

“An Exchange invention. It automatically adds in the tip and takes the money out

of my personal checking account,” he said. “So are we gonna get a nightcap?”

She started to shake her head but thought better of it. “Yeah. I could use a drink.

Sure, let’s go.”

The lounge was darkly lit with a long bar on one end of the room with tables and

booths on the other, the two areas separated by a parquet dance floor with a

spectacularly beautiful old-fashioned jukebox, its classic dome shape framing the

bubble tubes that were pulsing red, orange and green.

“Oh man!” Keenan exclaimed as she headed straight for the machine. Like a child

in a candy shop, she put her palms to the control panel to take a look at the list of songs.

“Man!”

77

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I think its all sixties music this go ’round,” he told her. “They change eras every

month. Hank, the barman, told me the jukebox will hold twelve hundred songs, so the

music you’ll find there is from all the musical genres of that decade—pop, country,

classical, foreign, Broadway, motion picture and TV themes, you name it.”

“Just look at these songs!” she whispered. “Some of them I haven’t heard in years!”

“Three plays for a quarter,” he told her, digging into his pocket for the coin. “You

choose and I’ll go get our drinks. What’s your poison?”

“A Bloody Maria,” she said.

“With tequila instead of vodka, heavy on the lime and hot sauce.”

She glanced up at him and smiled. “I knew I liked you. If they throw in a handful of

olives, I’ll be in seventh heaven.”

“You got it,” he said, and headed toward the bar.

A few minutes later, the bartender brought their drinks, introduced himself as

Hank Levins and welcomed Keenan to the Exchange.

“Our tavern wench is out with the flu,” Matty said when Hank left. “But it’s a slow

night.” He looked around, nodded at the only other two customers in the lounge. “A

real slow night.”

Keenan relaxed in the booth, her first sip of the Bloody Maria soothing and hitting

just the right spot as it went down. The music had changed, further easing the tenseness

from her shoulders and neck.

“Don’t let it worry you, sweetie,” Matty said. He was sipping on what looked like a

tequila sunrise. In the dim corner where they were sitting, she couldn’t really tell.

“What?”

“That he might be required to sleep with another woman,” Matty replied

diplomatically. “Since the two of you have bonded, his heart won’t be in it. It’ll be

strictly business to him.”

She cupped her hands around the tall hurricane glass. “You know him that well?”

“I’m the closest thing to a buddy he has,” was the reply. “He’s kinda choosey about

whom he hangs with—if you know what I mean.” He grinned. “I’ve never been a threat

to him.”

She turned her head and looked out across the darkened room. “I’ve never

considered myself the jealous sort, you know? If a man wanted out of a relationship, if

he strayed, that was okay. It was love ’em and leave ’em, no strings attached—

especially not heartstrings. I moved on and never looked back, but now…” She

shrugged, sighed deeply and slumped in the booth. “Damn but this bonding thing has

put a kibosh to that carefree lifestyle.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since you two bonded, but I’ve heard he didn’t go

shrieking through the halls cursing the Fates, beating his chest and tearing out his hair.

He seems to have accepted it better than I would have thought.”

“He’s dealing with it better than I am,” she admitted.

78

Dancing on the Wind

“Sometimes Groves’ mouth spews out more trash than a garbage truck.”

Both turned to find Fallon standing beside the booth. He was looking at Keenan so

intently the temperature in the room seemed to have dipped.

“You got through early,” Keenan said, her voice unnaturally high as though she

were a child caught doing what she knew she shouldn’t.

Clearing his throat, Matty moved over, unconsciously putting himself closer to

Keenan. “Ah, you wanna join us, Misha?” Matty queried.

Fallon turned the full brunt of his stare to the doctor. “Ah, you wanna leave while

you can still walk and talk and take nourishment, Matthew?” he countered.

“Fallon, we…” Keenan began, but already Matty was sliding out of the booth.

“Nothing was going on,” Matty told Fallon.

“Except your big mouth,” Fallon said, crowding Matty so he could sit down in the

booth with Keenan.

Matty gave Keenan an apologetic look. “I’ll see you later,” he said, and hurried

away.

For a long moment Keenan just looked at Fallon. He was sitting across from her

with his arms folded over his chest, his eyes locked on hers. Finally she could stand the

silence no longer.

“Are you going to be an ass about this?” she questioned.

He shook his head. “Nope.” He unfolded his arms and braced them on the tabletop,

leaning toward her with that fixated stare locked on her face. “But I am going to be a

real cur about it,
myneeast caillagh
. A very territorial cur who isn’t in a very good frame

of mind right now.”

“Nothing happened,” she defended. “We had supper and came in for a drink.” She

too leaned forward, her voice tight and her gaze filled with resentment. “Let’s get

something straight between us right here and now, Fallon. I am not your private

property to be ordered about. If I want to have supper and-or a drink with a friend, I

will do so. You are not going to tell me what I can and can’t do. Is that clear?”

One black brow swept upward. “So long as you understand that if I need to fuck

another woman, I will,” he returned.

Keenan blinked then moved back as though he’d slapped her. Her eyes narrowed.

“Well, I guess you can fuck whomever you please,” she snarled.

“Did you happen to notice I said fuck and not make love to?” he asked.

“You think there’s a difference?” she countered, not appeased.

“I know goddamned well there is,” he stated. “I would never fuck you, Keenan.

Fucking is simply a part of the job. Making love is part of the bonding.” Before she

could comment on that statement, he scooted out of the booth. “You want another

drink?”

79

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

She shook her head. She hadn’t finished the first one. As he sauntered over to the

bar, she thought of getting up and leaving. Her anger was like a red-hot prod poking at

her heart, but when he turned from the bar and headed for the jukebox, she remained

seated, curious about what music he might choose. Watching him come back toward

the table after he’d made his selection, she felt her body responding to his long-legged

strut and the powerful span of his broad shoulders.

He reached the booth just as the music began playing. He held out his hand.

“Dance with me,” he said.

Though she was tempted to refuse him, the song was a particular favorite, seemed

so apropos, so she threw caution to the wind and reached out her hand to take his. He

led her onto the parquet dance floor and swept her gently into his arms, holding her

firmly, moving so seductively to the rhythm it made her ache.

“You know I’m the jealous sort,” he said, looking down at her. “You’re gonna have

to accept that, Keenan.”

His lower body was pressed to hers, his hips stroking her with every turn, the bulge

between his legs sweeping across the juncture of her thighs as he slow danced her

around the floor to the strains of The Righteous Brothers singing “Soul and

Inspiration”.

“And I’m the independent sort,” she declared. “You’re gonna have to accept that,

Fallon.”

His slow, easy smile took her breath away. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll try to be less

restrictive if you’ll be more understanding.”

“Understanding of…?”

“What I might have to do has nothing to do with us, Keenan,” he said, his hand

tightening around hers. “It won’t be because I want to do it. It will be because it’s

necessary. That would be the
only
reason it would happen.”

“And I’m expected to like you slipping between the sheets with another woman?”

she demanded.

“No, but I do expect you to know I won’t like it any better than you will.”

She snorted. “Taking absolutely no enjoyment from the act whatsoever.”

“I can’t prevent my body from deriving pleasure from sex,
lhiannan
.
That’s

biological.”

“What about the jealousy part?” she inquired. “Are you going to work on that?”

“I doubt it,” he said, swinging her around again. “That you’ll have to live with.”

“Then you’ll have to live with it too,” she said. “I’m not going to stop having a life

just because you staked a claim to my body, and remember there’s always the old