Werewolf in Denver (17 page)

Elizabeth laughed. “You didn’t like that, did you?”

“Not so much.”

“It was for your own good, sweetheart. Neil started pestering me about his role in the proceedings, and I realized he intended to run for the council. I don’t know that he would have been elected, but the Stillman name is familiar to so many, and he might have been. I convinced him that being on the council would be boring but being the MC would be fun. He went for it. He’s a born ham.”

“Now I feel better. If I had to choose, I’d rather have him in the MC position than on the council.”

Her grandmother nodded. “So would I. And we can’t just ignore Neil. He’s family. So I wanted to find a place for him where he couldn’t do too much damage. I’m not sure that Howard would have put up with him on the council and I was certain Howard would get elected president.”

“Because you pulled some strings?”

“I didn’t have to.” Elizabeth picked up her wine and took a sip. “I would have, if necessary. I know Cameron Gentry was your choice, but, Kate, that Were has the
moral fiber of a dry martini minus the olive. Howard is the better choice.”

“I happen to think you’re right.” She thought of mentioning the incident with the Sniffer leak but, once again, decided that Neil would eventually hang himself and she hated the role of tattletale.

“I love the WOW acronym, by the way.”

Kate sent her a sharp glance. “Howard told you?”

“Sweetheart, he tells me everything that’s going on. He’s like the younger brother I never had.”

“You won’t tell Neil, though, right?”

“Of course I won’t. Howard mentioned the Sniffer leak, and I’ve already talked to Neil. He denies giving the tidbit to Sapworthy, but I’m pretty sure he did. Both Howard and I should have realized he was close enough to hear our conversation. We’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Good.” Kate hesitated, but they really did need to discuss this. “There’s one other thing, Grandma.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Do you think there’s anything to the rumor that Penny’s going to make an appearance at the conference tomorrow?”

Elizabeth greeted the question calmly, so she was obviously aware of the rumor, too. She stared into the fire. “I hope not.”

“Have you heard from her?”

“No.” She turned to Kate. “Have you?”

Kate shook her head. “Just that one e-mail I told you about, where she wished me good luck with the conference. Nothing more.”

Her grandmother sighed. “I checked with your mother and father today, and they haven’t heard from her, either. I wish they’d at least be willing to attend the
conference for a few hours, just to make an appearance. It’s embarrassing that I helped organize this historic event and my own son and his mate aren’t here.”

“They’re torn between Penny’s choice and mine. They think if they make an appearance, they’ll be expected to take a stand one way or the other, and they can’t see themselves doing that.”

“Why do they have to take a stand?” Elizabeth looked indignant. “I haven’t. Why should they?”

Kate loved her parents, but she understood their limitations, too. “They’re not as strong as you are. I’m sure you’ve been confronted by those who demand that you pick a side.”

“All the time. I tell them to bug off. I’m Switzerland. I’d even be willing to run interference for Woodruff and Violet if they’d only show up.”

“They hate conflict.”

“I know.” She raised her glass in Kate’s direction. “To tough broads like you who can take the heat.”

Kate smiled. “Thanks, Grandma. I’d better go.”

“I do think you should offer him wine.”

“We’ll see. He warned me not to.”

“What nonsense. He’s a Scotsman. They can hold their liquor.”

“I’ll see how it goes.” She walked over and kissed her grandmother on her smooth cheek. “See you tomorrow. And personally, I think the conference is a smashing success.”

Elizabeth brightened. “It is, isn’t it? I hear the restaurant’s bustling. Later on I’ll go down and mingle at the bar, but I always enjoy my quiet time and my wine. It rejuvenates me. Besides, it’s good to maintain a certain mystique by absenting oneself now and then.”

Kate laughed. “You are my role model, Grandma Elizabeth.”

“In that case, you
have
to offer Duncan wine, because in your boots, I would make that the first order of business.”

“I’ll think about it.” With a wave, Kate left the room.

Sally was at the door to show her out. “I want you to see something.” She unbuttoned the jacket of her maroon pantsuit. Underneath she wore a purple Howler shirt.

Kate gasped in delight. Then she stepped closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Does she know?”

“No. She was so adamant that the staff couldn’t take sides, and I’m a member of the staff. But I’m a Were female, too, and I don’t like the idea of human females horning in on our territory.” Determination glowed in her eyes. “You give that Duncan MacDowell hell, you hear?”

“I will, Sally.” She hugged the maid and left.

As she walked down the hallway, she thought about the movement she’d started, and all those who believed in her and in this battle to preserve the traditional werewolf way of life. Duncan might be the sexiest Were she’d ever met, and she might crave his body, but Weres like Sally were counting on her to fight for the cause. She couldn’t let them down.

Duncan discarded the idea of taking the elevator to the third floor in favor of climbing the magnificent wooden staircase instead. Each newel post was a carved wolf’s head, and the broad stairs were carpeted in red brocade. Duncan loved everything about Stillman Lodge, from its rustic carved chandeliers to the gigantic stone fireplace in the lobby to the stained-glass lamps in the publike bar.

Several Woofers had invited him for dinner in the lodge’s luxurious dining room, but when he’d mentioned his assignment, they’d wished him well and promised to buy him a drink later when he was finished. As cozy as the bar was, Duncan didn’t expect to be sitting in it tonight. If he and Kate finished before dawn, they would have their own celebration.

He carried a small briefcase containing his laptop as he walked down the long hallway toward her suite. He’d spent a little time during a workshop constructing a rough draft of the mission statement. Since then he’d tried to concentrate on polishing it and failed miserably. He was trying to focus on it now with no success whatsoever.

Instead he was imagining what Kate might be wearing, and whether she’d let him even kiss her, or if they’d work across the room from each other and not touch at all. He didn’t think that was possible. They’d become too close the night before to spend hours alone together now and not want to touch, to kiss, and…to make love, damn it.

God but he ached for her. This was an impossible situation, but no one knew that except the two of them. Or he certainly hoped no one did. He had a bad feeling that Jake had picked up on the chemistry between him and Kate in the way that only a potential rival would.

From the first time he’d met Jake, he’d been on the alert, and not only because the Alaskan Were supported the Howlers. Duncan had noticed how Jake looked at Kate, as if considering whether to make a move. But he hadn’t, possibly because he’d sensed another male had already staked a claim.

Duncan hadn’t staked a claim, not really. He’d only
made love to her once, and that was a far cry from staking a claim and miles away from binding her as his mate. Yet he’d reacted to Jake’s interest with an inner snarl of warning. He had no right to do that, but Jake might have picked up on it. Bloody hell. That wasn’t good.

At the end of the hallway he found a set of carved double doors and a discreet brass plate with the words
thirty-three hundred
on it in elaborate script. Kate’s suite was definitely in a higher-rent district than his, which had a single plain door and was in the middle of the hallway on the first floor near the elevators.

He supposed his room would be noisy at night, but he hadn’t slept there yet, so he couldn’t say for sure. Sleeping there tonight was unlikely, too. Either he and Kate would work all night on the mission statement or they wouldn’t, but he could see no scenario in which he ended up back in his own room.

He had, however, tested out the shower not long ago. He’d also shaved and changed into jeans and a slate blue sweatshirt from his alma mater, the University of Edinburgh. He hoped the sweatshirt would inspire him to great heights of verbal genius. Yeah, right.

Her suite had a doorbell, and he pushed it. Chimes sounded inside, and then she opened the door. For a moment they stood there looking at each other. He was glad for the chance to adjust to her beauty before they were behind closed doors again.

As if they’d agreed on a dress code, she’d also put on jeans and a sweatshirt. Hers was gray and said
Stillman Lodge, Est. 1902
. It included a line drawing of the lodge’s exterior below the lettering, which curved around either side of her breasts. She’d put her hair on top of her head and, in a winsome touch, stuck a pencil in the topknot.

He wondered how in hell he was going to keep his hands off her.

“Come in.” She stepped back from the door, and he noticed her feet were bare.

He could understand the temptation to go barefoot as the soles of his loafers sank into the thick gray pile. Getting naked on a carpet like that would be a sensuous experience. He’d like the chance to find out.

“Go on in.” She moved behind him to close the door. “The food’s here.”

He waited to hear the lock click into place behind him before he turned to her. “I can already tell this is going to be difficult.”

“I know.” Her shirt quivered with her quick breaths. “Go in and get some food.” She made a shooing motion with both hands. “That will take your mind off of sex.”

“No, it won’t. I wonder if—”

“I mean it.” She sounded slightly winded. “Get in there and fix yourself a plate.”

He could smell the food, although her scent was the most important one to him at the moment. She looked very earnest and determined, though. He turned and walked into her living area, his steps silent on the thick carpet.

She had windows galore, including a big corner one to his left, and the curtains were open. Although it was dark outside, he could see a row of lights running down a snowy hillside. “What are the lights for?”

“Night skiing. The season came early this year, and they’re still setting up, but they turned on the lights tonight and I thought you’d enjoy looking out.”

“Thanks.” He was strung tighter than a hunting bow and he made a conscious effort to relax his shoulders. “Nice place. Very nice place.”

No walls divided the sparkling white kitchen on his left from the living area to his right, probably so she could take full advantage of the views from every window. On the far right wall, a wood fire crackled in a decent-sized stone fireplace flanked by two tall bookshelves. A cushy red leather sofa and two easy chairs faced both the fireplace and a flat-screen television that was about twice the size of the one in his room.

She’d set out the food on a bar-height counter that enclosed most of the kitchen area. Tall stools were spaced along one side. The view from the corner window had to be spectacular in the daytime. She’d fit a good-sized desk neatly into the space in front of it, and when she worked there, she’d have a one-eighty panorama.

He tried valiantly to look at her surroundings as a casual visitor might, but instead he saw everything in terms of whether it would be a good spot for sex. The carpet had already passed muster, and although the red leather sofa might be too slippery, he liked the idea of that cushioned surface. The desk, once cleared, had potential, as did the barstools.

His body grew hard as he cataloged the possibilities. And this wasn’t even the main room for what he had in mind. Through a double doorway he glimpsed the edge of her bed. He just knew it was a king. A suite like this wouldn’t have anything smaller.

“Let me take your briefcase so you can fix yourself something to eat.”

As she walked toward him, hand outstretched, he remembered that he was still holding the damned thing. He’d been standing there like a granite statue, and right now his cock felt as if it had been turned to stone. He allowed her to take the briefcase, but it
meant she’d moved close enough for him to breathe in her scent.

Holy hell. She was as aroused as he was.

He cleared his throat. “Look, I have an idea.”

She walked over to her desk and laid his briefcase on it. “I know you do.” She turned back to him and leaned her hips against the desk. “I can see the evidence in the fit of your jeans.”

“Don’t be so smug. You’re no better off.”

“I know it!” Her voice was a soft wail. “I’ve
tried
to put sex out of my mind. It’s like telling yourself not to think about a pink elephant, and then that’s all you can think about. I thought maybe if we ate some food…”

“I don’t care a thing about food right now and neither do you.”

Her gaze met his. “No, I don’t.”

His heart thudded heavily in his chest. “I think we should have sex and get it over with.”

“You suppose that will work?”

“I don’t know, but I can hardly remember my own name, let alone what we’re supposed to be doing instead of having sex. I need you something fierce.”

“I guess we could try it.” Turning toward the desk, she hit a button, and all the drapes began to close as she walked toward him. “Where?”

He could barely breathe from wanting her, let alone walk anywhere. His voice sounded like gravel running through a chute as he nudged off his shoes. “Right here on the carpet would suit me fine, lass.”

Chapter 11

Sniffer Update: @newshound—
H. Wallace instructed K. Stillman, D. MacDowell to turn off phones. No Sniffs till they’re done. Hope it’s soon! #sniffless

Clothes flew everywhere. Kate couldn’t get out of hers fast enough, and she noticed that Duncan apparently felt the same.

“This is not what you recommend in your book.” He shoved down his jeans and knit boxers and kicked them aside.