Werewolf in Denver (16 page)

“He doesn’t want me to sell the Howlers down the river. He knows you’re a persuasive sort of Were, and he’s worried that you’ll get the better of me.”

“That’s because he doesn’t know you very well.” He could stand here forever looking into her eyes. “You’re as likely to get the better of me.”

“I doubt it. But we need to come up with a plan for tonight.”

“Aye, and don’t we find ourselves in a fine fix? We’ll be together, but—”

“We’ll have one hell of a job to do.”

“Couldn’t have said it better, lass. I foresee tonight being pure torture, unless, of course, you agree to see things my way from the start. Any chance of that?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so. So where shall we conduct this test of wills? Howard suggested we block out all distractions.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like
that’s
possible.”

“Little does he know the distraction you present to me.”

“Or that you present to me, Woofer. But I suggest we use my suite. It’s more like an apartment than a suite. There’s plenty of room, almost as much square footage as the cabin, actually.”

He lowered his voice. “How big is your bed?”

“It may not matter. We could be locked in battle until dawn.”

“I’d rather be locked in a different way.” He sighed. “But we have to write that bloody mission statement, and I don’t imagine it will be easy.”

“Now, there’s an understatement. Tell you what. Let’s say if either of us has spare moments during the day, we’ll start jotting down ideas for the statement. Then we can share what we have. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be thinking along the same lines.”

He laughed. “You’re a dreamer, but I’ll jot down some ideas. What time?”

“Let’s see.” She scrolled through the schedule on her phone. “With the late start, the last session ends at six. Let’s meet at seven.”

“Sure. That’ll give me time to slip into my suit of armor. Where’s your suite?”

“Top floor, end of the hall. Thirty-three hundred. I have a fireplace.”

“Don’t you go making it cozy, Kate. Don’t be pouring wine and lighting candles.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

“You should also put on something bulky and ugly, if you can manage that.”

“Okay.” She chuckled.

“And put your hair up in rollers. Wait, I know what you should do. Do you have any of that green glop that females slather on their faces as a beauty treatment?”

Her chuckle had morphed into outright laughter. “No, I don’t, but even if I did, you’ll show up looking your normal gorgeous self, since I seriously doubt you actually have a suit of armor. And armor would only add to your appeal, anyway. It’s not fair if I make myself ugly and you don’t.”

“I could belch a lot. That should help.”

“Oh, my God.” She laughed harder. “Yes, that would help. See that you do. And chew with your mouth open. That’s especially disgusting.”

“What’s all the hilarity about over here? Inquiring minds want to know.” Angela Sapworthy appeared like an evil queen out of a fairy tale. The snow had been removed from her spiked hair and her makeup was repaired.

Duncan’s mind went blank.

Apparently Kate’s didn’t. “Why, Angela, you’re just the one I wanted to see. You have to hear this. You can put it on Sniffer.”

“Oh?” Angela’s eyes took on an avid gleam.

“I was just telling Duncan the best joke. These three werewolves walk into a bar, and the first one says—”

“Oh, I’ve heard it.” Angela looked disappointed. “That’s the one where the punch line is something about a fuzzy navel.”

“Yes! Isn’t it hilarious?”

“The first time, I suppose. Anyway, never mind. I thought you might be talking about something interesting.”

“Nope.” Kate shrugged. “Sorry. Just telling werewolf jokes.”

“Then I’m off.” Angela strolled away.

Duncan glanced at Kate with admiration. “Nice work.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve never heard that joke. How does it go?”

“I have no idea. I was making it up as I went along. I figured there had to be a joke that started out like that. If I’d had to keep going, I was going to make up something stupid, but I got lucky.”

He was sure his admiration for her would be obvious for anyone to see, but what the hell. “You’re amazing, Kate.”

“Don’t let Angela hear you say that or we’ll be in big trouble.”

“Bigger than we already are?”

“Good point. So, I’ll see you at seven?”

He nodded. “You will. And God help me, I’m looking forward to it.”

“I know.” She smiled at him. “Me, too.”

After she walked away, he stood staring at his phone as if he had important messages on it, but he didn’t see the phone at all. All he could see was Kate’s smile. The image of it stayed with him for the rest of the day.

Chapter 10

WERECON2012:
HOWLERS GAIN MOMENTUM

Exclusive report for
Wereworld Celebrity Watch
by Angela Sapworthy

DENVER—There’s a new kid in town, and his name is Jake Hunter! This reporter admits that she has a soft spot for the mighty Weres in the forefront of the Woofer movement. When confronted by sexy wolves like Duncan MacDowell and the two Wallace brothers, Aidan and Roarke, one can be forgiven for joining the rousing chorus of
woof
,
woof
,
woof
!

But the Howlers have a new champion from the wilds of Alaska, the birthplace of all Were packs in North America. If Jake’s a typical Alaskan Were, this reporter needs to go north! Jake offers guided tours through the Alaskan wilderness, and note to all Were females—he’s single.

He also believes strongly that Weres were intended to mate only with Weres. That’s good news for those of us who are worried that the Woofers’ doctrine would mean that human females could snap up all the good Weres. No human female will be getting Jake Hunter, and that’s reason to celebrate!

Now that Jake is one of six council members who will help steer a course for all Weres in the coming months, you can bet Jake will be advocating a return to Were-Were mating, along with other traditional values. And wherever a six-five, two-hundred-pound Were who looks like Jake Hunter leads, this reporter is willing to follow! And don’t forget to follow me, Angela Sapworthy, on Sniffer @newshound—I’m your eyes, ears, and nose for WereCon2012!

Kate spent her day being visible—connecting with Howlers she’d met only online and attending seminars geared toward the Howler movement. In the last scheduled hour of the day, she led a seminar entitled “Letting the Howl Out—Rededicating Ourselves to Werewolf Traditions.” The room was filled with mostly females in purple shirts.

Jake Hunter sat quietly throughout the seminar. As the session neared its end, Kate introduced her two fellow council members—Giselle, in her purple Howler shirt, and Jake, who wasn’t wearing the shirt but supported the cause.

“May I say something?” Jake asked.

“Be my guest.” Kate liked Jake and thought he brought a much-needed strong male presence to the movement.

He stood up, all six-five of him. With his collar-length dark hair and his flannel shirt and leather vest, he looked as if he’d just returned from the wilderness. Every female in the room gave him her full attention, and the males looked at him with obvious respect.

“I think we have a real opportunity here,” he said. “Kate got the ball rolling by founding HOWL. As I told her, I would have joined, but where I live, the Internet is still spotty. But I’m here this weekend and was lucky enough to be elected to the council. That gives us three seats out of six.”

Applause quickly turned to howls. Kate looked over at Heidi, who was probably responsible for starting the howling. Then she laughed and joined in. Howling was good. It reduced stress and brought the group together.

When the noise died down, Jake continued. “Even more important than the strong Howler presence, though, is the lack of dedicated Woofers on the council. Duncan MacDowell is the only one. The others are still undecided, although I think we all know that Howard Wallace must surely support the Woofers, at least privately.”

That news was met with groans. The Wallace pack posed a major threat to the Howlers and they understood that.

“I’m asking all of you to stay strong and promote our cause. Don’t be discouraged because Howard won the presidential race. Kate has been assigned to work with Duncan to create a mission statement for the organization, and I know she’s going to fight for our position while she does that.” Jake challenged her with his piercing green eyes.

“I plan to do exactly that, Jake,” Kate said.

More howls greeted that statement, and the session ended. Kate suspected that Jake had intended his little speech to put pressure on her so that she wouldn’t cave as she and Duncan crafted the mission statement. Because he was a male Were and very perceptive, she wondered whether he’d picked up on the sexual tension between her and Duncan. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Jake would never suggest such a thing, of course. He might not even be completely sure that his suspicions were correct. But instinct told her that on some level, Jake sensed that Duncan had breached her defenses.

But she’d breached Duncan’s defenses, as well. Duncan was as susceptible to her as she was to him, and she should keep that in mind. He might want her to greet him tonight looking ugly, but she wasn’t about to give him that advantage. When they met, the playing field should be as even as she could make it.

Her meeting with him would take place very shortly. Before it did, however, she wanted to pay a long-overdue visit to her grandmother. Elizabeth Stillman had flitted through the conference all day, but Kate had never managed to be in the same place at the same time. Besides, the questions she wanted to ask couldn’t have been voiced with others milling around, anyway.

She thought her grandmother might have some questions for her, as well. She hoped they wouldn’t veer too close to the matters Kate wanted to keep private.

After six in the evening, Elizabeth could usually be found having a glass of exceedingly expensive red wine in her suite, a replica of Kate’s on the opposite end of the third floor. Kate pressed the doorbell, which sounded a melodious chime. Her grandmother hated buzzing doorbells.

A maid with graying hair dressed in a smart burgundy pantsuit answered the door. “Hello, Kate.”

“Hello, Sally. Is my grandmother in?”

The maid smiled. “You know she’s always in at this time of the evening, unless she’s on a trip. Will you be staying for a glass of wine?”

“No, thank you. I just want a few minutes of her time.”

“Sally?” Elizabeth’s voice carried well. “Is that Kate? I was hoping she’d come. Send her right in.”

A twinkle in her eye, Sally gestured for Kate to head on into the suite’s living room.

Kate walked through the entryway and into the living area, her suede boots sinking into rose-colored carpet so plush and soft it would make a perfectly fine surface for sleeping. Her grandmother believed in luxury, from the gold brocade drapes at the windows to the white velvet slipcovers on the furniture, covers that were washed weekly to maintain their pristine condition.

“Kate!” Elizabeth put down her wine and rose from her favorite wingback chair by the fireplace. “I’m so glad you came.”

Kate hugged her grandmother, who at seventy-five had the face and figure of a woman at least twenty years younger. She’d lost her soul mate when they were both only sixty, and although Elizabeth could have searched for another, she’d chosen not to. She liked to say she’d had the best and anything else would be trading down.

Elizabeth Stillman was tall, five-nine in her bare feet, and she usually took off her shoes the minute she stepped inside this suite. Her hair was a blend of several shades of blond that looked quite natural thanks to an excellent hairdresser, and she’d had at least one face-lift that Kate knew about. She preferred to dress in jewel
tones and loose garments that floated around her when she moved.

She was, as Kate noticed whenever she paused to look with a stranger’s eye, a beautiful woman. But anyone meeting her had better not assume that her beauty was the whole story. Elizabeth was extremely intelligent and a skilled politician. She’d run the Stillman pack ever since taking over from her father thirty years ago. She hadn’t slowed down a bit, and even though Kate expected to step into the position eventually, it wouldn’t be any time soon.

Her grandmother waved her to the companion wingback sitting in front of the fire. “Aren’t you having wine? No, of course you’re not. Howard told me you’re meeting with Duncan tonight to craft the mission statement. Is that a brilliant idea or what? I’m not sure if it was mine or Howard’s, but I’m going to take credit for it.”

“It is a brilliant idea. Challenging, but brilliant.” Kate sat in the chair but didn’t settle into it. “And I only have a few minutes. Duncan’s coming to my suite at seven, and I’ve ordered food to be sent up.”

“Just food?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows arched. “You’ll need wine, too. I can’t imagine how you’ll come to any agreement on the wording if you each don’t have a few glasses of wine.”

“If I decide we need that, I have some in the suite already, but I think we may be better off just sticking with water and coffee. It could be a long night.”

Instead of picking up her own wine, Elizabeth sat in her chair and gazed at Kate for several seconds. “And what of your first night with this Were? How did that go? You know I’m burning with curiosity.”

“Fine. It went fine. I got a report from Ryan around
four this afternoon that the Stewarts’ window has been replaced.”

“I’m not talking about windows. I’m talking about whether you and Duncan managed to get along all right. Disregarding those ridiculous Sniffs, of course.”

It was the question Kate had been dreading, and she didn’t want to dwell on it for long if she could help it. “Duncan and I have been able to be civil towards each other,” she said. “But what I really came to ask you is why Neil was the MC for the opening of the conference and not you. I thought we’d agreed that you’d do it.”