Werewolf in Denver (9 page)

“Does it all come down to sex, then?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he nodded. “It might, at that. It’s a concept to be considered. But I’d rather expand on it and include love. The sexual urge is as old as humans and werewolves. So is the urge to connect on a deeper level that goes beyond physical desire. Weres have always wanted a connection with humans. And humans connect with Weres all the time in business, friendship, and sex. They just don’t know it.” He chuckled. “Damn, I should write this blather down. It’s somewhat brilliant.”

She couldn’t help laughing. They were poles apart in their philosophy, but he was the most entertaining Were she’d encountered in a long time. An unwelcome thought came to her. Would he be half as interesting if they agreed on everything?

Surely that couldn’t be part of his appeal. When she finally found her soul mate, he would share her beliefs, and that would be one of the many bonds connecting them. Yet in cruising through the profiles on Furthebest.com, she’d found dozens of Weres who shared her beliefs.

She’d told herself that time constraints had prevented her from contacting any of them. But if she’d been motivated to connect with a like-minded Were, she would
have found the time. Could it be that if they agreed with her, she was bored? She hoped not.

“Are you coming over to sit by the fire, then?” Anticipation glowed in his eyes.

She fought the pull of his sexuality. Instinct told her that once she joined him on that sofa, the battle to keep him at arm’s length would be over. A warm fire, a glass of wine, soft upholstery, and a hard Were—difficult to resist a combination like that.

“Maybe we should post on Sniffer again, first.” She turned back to the kitchen table, picked up her phone, and hit the power button.

“Aye, perhaps we should.” His tone was indulgent, as if he knew she was only delaying the inevitable. “Would you mind bringing my phone over?”

“Sure.” As she reached for his phone, she glanced at her screen and grinned. “Angela Sapworthy says the cabin score is two–one, my favor.”

“How did she come to that conclusion?”

“I guess because I posted two zingers and you only posted one.” She carried his phone into the living room, rounded the sofa, and handed it to him.

He gave her a pained look. “I didn’t plan on anyone keeping score.”

“You should have. Don’t you suppose they’re making bets on whether we strangle each other before the night is over?”

Understanding sharpened his gaze. “You’re right, lass, and that’s exactly what we want them to be doing. Our cover story is pretending that we’ve been fighting ever since we first laid eyes on each other.”

“But I thought you were all about love and cooperation?” She perched on the sofa.

“I am, but we’re not ready for that, yet. Your Howlers are making that transition difficult if not downright impossible.”

“Good! That’s our mission!” She tapped quickly on her phone’s keyboard. “And the score is now three–one, so you’d better step up the pace, Woofer.”

Duncan had never met such an infuriating and sexually exciting female in his life. Nothing was simple with her, and that aroused him in ways that he hadn’t believed possible. He wanted her surrender, naturally. He was desperate for it, in fact. Yet by God, the battle was almost as sweet as he imagined her surrender would be.

Powering up his phone, he remained standing by the fire as he waited for Sniffer to load.

She tapped away on yet another post. “Four–one,” she announced in a triumphant voice.

That note of triumph charged up his libido. It had done so all summer, apparently, and now he was reaping the result of months of online foreplay.

Consulting his screen, he read the first of her two posts.
Duncan MacDowell enjoys looking into mirrors. #egotoobigforcabin

She was bloody cheeky. Perversely, that was what he enjoyed about her. She was already posting another Sniff as he turned his attention to the next one:
Duncan MacDowell expects everyone to sing the same song—his, of course. #preferHOWLing

And a third popped up.
Addendum to previous Sniff. His song out of tune, but what can you expect when he can only WOOF? #harmonioushowler

With a grim smile, Duncan responded.
Kate Stillman is laced up way too tight. Tends to get tied in knots. #1loosewoofer

He didn’t stop with one Sniff, though. If Angela Sapworthy was keeping score, he needed to win one for the Woofers. So he typed out
Kate Stillman should see an optometrist. She and the Howlers have tunnel vision. #far sightedwoofer

Kate was reeling off more Sniffs, too. He ignored hers and kept typing. Another post, and another, and another. His eyes ached from staring at the tiny keys and the small screen.

“Enough!”

He looked up.

Kate had flopped back onto the sofa and closed her eyes. “This is insane. We should quit before we both end up with terminal carpal tunnel.”

The sight of her lying against the sofa cushions with her arms flung out stirred him more than a little, but he didn’t trust her not to be using exhaustion as a tactic. “You’re just saying that because you want to quit while you’re ahead.”

She opened her eyes, and there was a definite gleam there. “Am I ahead?”

“I think that’s an excellent guess considering that you’re trying to talk me into quitting.”

Mischief danced in those blue eyes. “Okay, I’m one ahead of you. I didn’t expect you to catch up so fast, or to keep going this long. Aren’t you supposed to be jet-lagged?”

“I
am
jet-lagged, which makes my performance in this contest that much more impressive.”

“Braggart.”

“Sneak. You thought I’d take pity on you because you’re too tired to go on. Well, I’m posting one more Sniff to tie it up. If you really want to quit, then don’t post again. Because if you do, I will.”

“How much battery do you have left?”

“None of your bloody business.” But her question made him think her phone was about to die. He glanced at his and realized that his was also in bad shape. “What do you say, milady? Will you allow me to tie the game so we can give up this crazy enterprise, drink some wine, and enjoy the fire?”

She pursed her lips. “Depends on what you plan to say.”

How he wanted to toss the phone aside, go over there, and kiss that saucy mouth of hers. “Tell you what. I’ll show it to you before I send it. How’s that?”

“All right.”

He composed what he hoped was his final Sniff of the night, because he would dearly love to stop doing this and move on to other things, like kissing her until neither of them could think straight.
Kate Stillman is mis guided, but she’s a worthy opponent. #tiredoftyping

“Let me see it.” She held out her hand.

Walking over, he settled his phone in her outstretched palm and allowed his hand to brush hers. He felt that slight contact right down to his bare toes. He took note that her toes had curled a little, too, and he hoped that was all his fault.

She read the post. “How about taking out the misguided part and just saying I’m a worthy opponent? Would you do that?”

He noticed how sexy she looked sprawled on the sofa, considered the two glasses of wine on the coffee table, and made his decision. “Go ahead. Fix it.”

“You’d trust me to do that for you?”

He shrugged. “If you sabotage that post, then I suppose I’ll just have to send another one labeling you a dirty player.”

“Yeah, you would, too.”

“Damn right I would.”

Her fingers moved over the keys. “Okay, it’s sent. And you have almost no battery left.” She held out the phone.

He took it, once again making sure that he touched her soft skin in the process. When he checked the post that came through, it merely said that she was a worthy opponent. She hadn’t tricked him.

He glanced up. “I’m going to shut this down. I think there’s enough battery left to make a quick phone call if we need to. How about you?”

She smiled at him. “Mine’s totally dead.”

She’d tricked him, after all. “So I could have won. You would have been literally powerless to stop me if I’d decided to break the tie.”

She sat up and reached for her wine. “I don’t ever consider myself powerless.” She gazed at him over the rim of her glass as she sipped from it.

His groin tightened. “I don’t suppose you do. Remind me never to underestimate your power.” He busied himself with the fire and decided against adding another log. If the rest of the evening went as he hoped, he wanted this particular fire to die down while a different sort was created under the mirrored canopy.

When at last he joined her on the sofa, he left a civilized distance between them. Cozying up to her right away would lack finesse. He hadn’t used much of that when he’d kissed her earlier, so he intended his present approach to be more subtle. Her surrender would be
more complete if she came to him. He wasn’t sure whether she would.

For the first time in his life, he lusted after a female who was as smart—well, probably smarter than he was. He picked up his wineglass. “Do you suppose we can come up with a toast we agree on, or should we just drink the damn wine and forget about toasting anything?”

“Oh, I think we need a toast.” She lifted her glass. “To worthy opponents.”

“You consider me a worthy opponent, as well?” That pleased him.

She looked into his eyes. “I do. I confess I enjoy matching wits with you.”

“Glad to hear it, because I enjoy matching wits with you. To worthy opponents.” He touched his glass to hers and drank.

“I suppose that round of Sniffs will keep Angela Sapworthy busy for a while.” Kate took another swallow of her wine.

“I’m sure she’ll be dissecting every word for hidden meanings and innuendos.”

“But I think we established our mutual antagonism and dedication to our respective causes, don’t you?”

“If we didn’t, we gave it a good try.” He wasn’t sure where she was going with her comments, but she might be headed exactly where he wanted her. Anticipation fizzed in his veins.

“Before my phone died, I checked the time.” Gazing into the fire, she raised her glass and took another sip.

“And?” Bedtime was what he was thinking.

“And it’s morning already in Scotland.” She glanced over at him. “You’ve put up a brave front, but I have to
believe you’re dead on your feet. I think you should go into that bedroom and get some sleep.”

“I agree with some of that statement.”

“I’ll take the sofa, and—”

“Hold on a minute, there, lass. I think you took a wrong turn. You’ll not be bedding down on the sofa. If anyone does, it’ll be me.”

“That makes no sense. I’m smaller and will fit better. Besides that, I didn’t just travel halfway around the world.”

“So I’m to go into the bedroom and get some sleep and leave you here on the sofa to do the same.” It wasn’t going to happen like that, but he wanted to be clear about what she’d said.

She nodded. “It’s the intelligent thing to do, and I know you’re smart, Duncan. You’ll have a big day tomorrow, and because I consider you a worthy opponent, I want you to be at your best. I don’t want you stumbling around because you’re tired.”

“I’d think it would suit your purposes if I’m not up to par.”

“Not really. I don’t want attendees to start agreeing with your position because your dedication in the face of exhaustion turns you into a hero. I want this fight to be even.”

“What if my ability to function is compromised by extreme sexual frustration?”

She laughed. “Nice try. But I’m sure you can subdue your sexual urges in order to be an effective leader in the morning, especially if you get some sleep.”

Now it was his turn to drink his wine and stare into the fire. He wondered if she played chess. She’d be good at it if she did. She’d neatly maneuvered him into a
corner. He could either walk into that bedroom alone and prove that he placed duty ahead of his appetites, or he would have to admit that he didn’t give a hang about duty and had no control over his impulses.

Although he didn’t care for either course of action, he had little choice. He had to agree to sleep in that bed—with its red hangings, fluffy pillows, and overhead mirror—without her.

Draining his glass, he stood. “You’ll need pillows and blankets. God knows that bed has pillows to spare, and an extra blanket or two must be stored somewhere.”

“So you agree to my plan?” She stroked the stem of her wineglass.

He really wished she wouldn’t do that, especially now that they wouldn’t be rolling around on that big bed together. “I agree with your plan. I don’t like it, but you make a valid point about the conference beginning tomorrow. I owe it to my followers to be—”

“That’s all I needed to know.” Setting her wineglass on the coffee table, she also stood. “You’ve passed my personal test, Duncan MacDowell. You placed duty to your cause ahead of your immediate personal desire, and I admire that.”

“Aye, but admiration is cold comfort when—”

“What do you say we enjoy the best of both worlds?”

He stared at her with no idea of what was coming next. “How?”

“Let’s occupy that big bed together. We’ll have some fun and then we’ll sleep. How does that sound?”

His heart slammed against his ribs. “Good.” He was amazed that he had the power of speech. “It sounds good.”

No question about it, she was definitely smarter than
he was. But it didn’t matter if she was a certified genius. She hadn’t had sex in more than a year, and when it came to giving a female pleasure, he’d pit his skills against those of any male, Were or human. Very soon, the scales would be balanced.

She glanced at the fireplace where embers still glowed. “We should bank the fire.”

“Aye. I’ll do it.” And he’d take a moment to rein himself in, as well. She’d invited him to share a bed with her, but if he rushed the process, he could still ruin the experience for both of them. “You go ahead. I’ll tend to the fire and turn off the lights.”

Her eyes taunted him with the promise of heaven. “I’ll be waiting.”

He clenched his fists to keep from grabbing her as she turned and walked into the bedroom. “I won’t be long.”