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  Nate cleared his throat, suddenly awkward, and waved away the invitation to join them for coffee.

  "How about I come back and finish this off

  tomorrow?"

  Gina smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her face. "Would you mind? That'd be great."

  "Of course not. You should have said something earlier."

  "I did."

  "Yeah, but…" He grinned in embarrassment. "I didn't realize you meant you'd had a proper accident. You're so calm."

  Laughing, she led him to the door. "I always am. See you tomorrow, Mr. Moore."

  He grasped her hand in firm handshake. "Nate. I insist."

  "And I'm Gina." She giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound. "I feel so old when I get called Ms. Longmire."

  Nate grinned back. Tomorrow. He'd ask her out tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Gina collapsed into the sofa with a sigh, burrowing down between the cushions and curling her legs up beside her. Thank goodness he was gone. Now there was no reason for her not to fall to pieces. Megan certainly wouldn't mind.

  Megan handed her a mug of hot chocolate. She wrapped her fingers around it appreciatively. She was still cold and huddled into the throw rug as Megan looked at her thoughtfully.

  "So, what happened?"

  Gina waved a hand vaguely. "Blew a tire. Ran off the road."

  "Are you sure?" Megan wandered around the room, casually straightening a crooked picture and realigning the magazines on the coffee table. She stood back, eying them critically before making a further tiny adjustment. "Because this isn't the first accident you've had."

  She was almost offhand about it, Gina marveled. Just throwing the statement out there like it was a perfectly reasonable proposition. She would have liked to shake her friend—didn't she realize that was exactly what she didn't need to hear right now. "Why would someone want to kill me?" she asked instead.

  Megan settled into the armchair opposite before answering. "Three accidents in a week would be suspicious on its own, but they all could have been deadly. Someone 'accidentally' pushes you off the footpath and into traffic; a pot plant falling from a balcony misses you by inches. Now this. It can't be a coincidence."

  Gina stared across at her and spoke slowly. "Maybe not, but why? No one has any reason."

  "Don't they?" Megan leaned forward, "What about Cain?"

  "Oh, but he wouldn't…" She couldn't finish the sentence.

  Megan raised her eyebrows. "Wouldn't what? Wouldn't want to? Wouldn't be able to? Don't try and tell me he doesn't have a motive.

  Gina felt the color draining from her face as Megan's words sunk in. He did have a motive, one she didn't want to consider.

  "But he's family," she pointed out.

  "So? He'll also be very rich family when you're dead."

  Gina chewed her lip in agitation. It was true. Under the terms of their mother's will, her half-brother Cain would inherit her share of their trust fund if Gina died before him. Their inheritance stayed in trust until they turned thirty—for Gina that was only a few days away. After that, it was up to her where she willed her money.

  She shook her head. "No. If nothing else, he wouldn't have the guts to do something like this."

  "What about Alan?" Megan's voice was a sibilant whisper, gliding across the room.

  Gina ignored the suggestion, standing up to switch on the lamps in a flurry of movement. Alan West was the local sheriff. He was also, unfortunately, her stepfather.

  "Well?" Megan prompted.

  Gina nodded reluctantly. "I guess he could. But he's the sheriff, for God's sake! He wouldn't…"

  Megan shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Who's going to believe any different if he says your death's an accident?"

  She was right again. He'd be the least likely suspect. The locals all thought he was wonderful—a generous man who looked out for his family and really cared about the local community. He'd only got the job two years previously, but it had been enough for him to insinuate himself into the town.

  Huh! If only they knew! He'd made her life a misery from the minute he'd married her mother, smarmily charming to everyone in public, but nasty the second they were alone. Even her mother, while not condemning Gina's dislike of her new stepfather, never believed just how vicious he could get. He never left a single bruise, but the mental scars had lasted for years.

  It had been a cruel fate that had had her multinational employer transfer her to their newest resort. The last place she wanted to be was close to her stepfather and weasel-like half-brother, but she couldn't refuse that sort of promotion. And the only town within commuting distance of the Oasis Retreat was Two Oaks, the same town where Alan West was sheriff.

  "So…?" Megan was fidgeting, impatient with the

  long spell of quiet.

  "I guess." Gina lowered herself back onto the sofa. "But even if it is him, what do I do about it? I can't exactly report it to the sheriff, can I?" she scoffed.

  It was a feeble attempt at bravado, and she knew it. The whole thought of someone disliking her so much swamped her with memories of the past. It had seemed like a lifetime ago when she'd been so lacking in self-esteem she'd not even bothered applying for college and had jumped at the opportunity to take on a junior clerical role with the Oasis Group. Her stepfather had sneered at her too many times. He'd told her she was worthless, she had no ability, no potential, was ugly, that no one could possibly ever like someone like her…

  And now it all came back in a rush of fear and selfloathing. Once again, someone thought she was worthless—so worthless she could be killed and no one would even notice. No one would even care.

  Was she really that dull a person? Gina lowered her head, her face in her hands, and tried to concentrate on positive things. For the first time in years she couldn't think of any, and she was horrified by the tears that started to fall. Oh, God, and now Megan was going to think she was useless too.

  She felt someone settle onto the sofa beside her, and a pair of arms wrapped firmly around her shoulders. Megan. A hand started to stroke her neck… calming… soothing. She felt just like a little child again. Safe—and loved.

  Megan was so close she could feel her heart beating, its rhythm jarring against her own. She snuggled closer. Now she could feel the warm moisture of Megan's breath tickling the fine hairs at her nape.

  "You're not alone, honey," was breathed into her ear. "Not any more."

  "No." She wasn't alone.

  Megan's arm nudged her breast, her hand brushing softly over her nipple as she moved. Gina sighed, happy again, and relaxed. She barely even felt the careful stroking as Megan's fingers again brushed over her nipple, but she felt it pebbling in her bra.

  The fabric was rough against the sensitized skin, and she rubbed at it irritably, cursing her choice of clothing. The only reason she'd fished it out from the back of the drawer was the memory of Nate standing in her entry, dominating it, and staring through her blouse to the lace demi-bra that barely covered her. She hadn't worn this horrible old thing for years but had instinctively snatched it up and put it on under her sweater. It wasn't the slightest bit sexy—probably the reason she'd chosen it, she realised ruefully. It was less Nate she had to worry about than her own reaction to him.

  * * * *

  Nate stared into the mirror, his eyes fixed on the trickle of red seeping down his chin. His beard grew faster near full moon, and he tended to shave twice a day, but he hadn't nicked himself in years. This is what not paying attention does, he cautioned himself, knowing it was a wasted thought the moment it slipped into his head. He'd left her two hours ago and he was still horny. Shit!

  A shadow loomed in the doorway to the bathroom, leaning negligently against the doorframe as he sniffed the air. "Been hunting, bro? I smell fresh blood."

  Hunting? He wished… Preferably catching today's woman of choice and bringing her home to play with. Maybe he'd even want to keep her.

  "I cut myself shaving, you idiot," he snarled, w
atching the shadow step further into the room. Once in the light, he was startlingly similar in looks to Nate, but considerably larger.

  Sebastian Moore grinned and ruffled his little brother's hair. "I know that, you goose. I was teasing."

  Nate snorted, and went back to rinsing the shaving cream from the sink.

  "Seriously though, are you going on the prowl tonight? We're all going for a run."

  'All' meant his brother, as well as his cousins Rafe and Rob. They'd grown up together, and it had been years since the old gang of four had regularly run wild in the forest. Not since they'd been pups, really.

  "You're two nights early, aren't you?" he growled, still unreasonably annoyed about the tiny cut.

  Sebastian smiled back placidly. "You know how crowded it gets in the forest at full moon. We thought we'd have an extra night out—just us."

  It was tempting—and it might even help him to forget about Gina Longmire for a few hours. His family were the alphas of the area, and the only ones who could change whenever they wanted. On fullmoon nights when all the betas changed, there were a lot more werewolves about. Sebastian was pack leader, so he had to be seen to be involved in the local werewolf community. Nate usually preferred to stay home and watch TV.

  He wiped his towel roughly over the basin and tossed it in the clothes hamper in the corner. "Yeah, I'll come with you."

  "Good. " Sebastian winked. "Looks like you could use a bit of distraction."

  "Grrr." Nate mock-growled at his mountain of a brother, thinking for a second before grinning evilly back.

  He flung himself straight at him, shape shifting in mid air. Sebastian was sent careening backwards into the hall, but by the time he landed on the hard timber floor, he'd also changed. The two wolves wrestled their way down the hall, a tumbling mass of snapping, growling fur. They didn't stop until Sebastian finally used his greater weight to hold Nate down, his neck clamped securely between Sebastian's jaws.

  Panting and laughing, Nate changed back, wiping away the slobber that clung to his skin. A second later, Sebastian did the same thing, buffeting him cheerfully on the shoulder as he stood up.

  "Needed that, did you?" he asked, then pointed down the hall. Stray hairs were scattered its entire length. "There's a reason we try to stay human indoors, you know."

  Nate grinned. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He added sotto voce, "But isn't that why we replaced the carpet with timber? Easier to get the fur out…"

  He was rewarded with a cuff about the ear. Sebastian was playing the role of big brother to the

  hilt tonight. "Just clean it."

  "Should I eat dinner before we go out?" Nate asked innocently.

  "Nah, just yesterday I heard the ranger saying he's got a problem with hares at the moment." Sebastian grinned broadly, his eyes bright with good humour. "I think we can help him out with that."

  Good. A run was always much more fun when they got in a hunt at the same time. Unconsciously, he licked his lips. There was something extra nice about fresh meat eaten al fresco, plus he'd get the satisfaction of following the trail.. He loved to see the scents in three dimensions, and to hear the details of the forest around him. Just little things, but things he often didn't get time to appreciate when he was in human form.

  Besides, surely it would take his mind off Gina.

  Chapter Three

  He was a goner. He knew he was.

  So much for all the good intentions he'd been so carefully fostering all day. Yesterday, even when she was wet and bedraggled, he'd been attracted to her. Okay, so it had been beyond 'attracted'. But, hell! The feeling had been within the bounds of sanity.

  Today, however, was something else again. She was something else again. She'd greeted him at the door wearing a long suede skirt and a floaty peasant blouse. He could see even less of her skin than yesterday but somehow, she was just…

  Trying to describe what she was doing to him wrapped his mind into knots at roughly the same time his stomach was melting into syrup and his cock was harder than rock.

  He'd woken up, convinced yesterday was an aberration. She wasn't the slightest bit model-like, so it simply wasn't possible he'd harbored any thoughts of fucking her senseless—and on the kitchen table, of all places! She clearly wasn't his 'type.'

  Positive he'd been imagining things, and thoroughly refreshed by the nighttime run in the forest, he'd even started handing the file over so his property manager could complete the inspection. The only reason he'd been there himself yesterday was because Sarah was home with the flu.

  Then he'd been struck by a vision of Gina perched on the table, naked, and the expression in her eyes— the pure need—had him telling Sarah that, purely for the sake of continuity, he would finish off the inspection himself.

  He'd knocked on Gina's door, stared into warm brown eyes, and watched the elegant swing of her hips as she led him down the hall and into the kitchen. And he was lost. Maybe he should have stayed away after all.

  "I, ah, won't be too long." Good opening, Nate— not! He would have given himself a swift kick in the shin if he wasn't afraid she'd notice and think him barmy—as well as inarticulate.

  Gina smiled serenely and gestured towards the oven. "Be my guest. There's no hurry today."

  That's what she thought! His cock was in a tearing great rush to find out if she was just as welcoming as in his imagination. Just as wet, and just as warm…

  He stood up abruptly. "The oven's fine. Is everything working as it should?"

  "Uh-huh."

  Nate made a note on his clipboard. "Let me just check the condition of the walls and floors upstairs, then I'm done."

  A few minutes later, having studiously avoided staring too obviously at her oh-so-feminine bedroom, he was back at the front door. He still hadn't thought of a discreet way to introduce the subject and doubted that 'Wanna have wild sex with me?' would get him past first base.

  He grasped her hand as he hesitated in the doorway, keeping hold of it way longer than a purely business-like handshake required.

  "I was wondering if I could cook you dinner one night?" he asked.

  Gina's calm demeanor barely wavered. "You can cook?"

  He grinned, knowing his smile was lethal, and watched in satisfaction as her eyes dilated and her stance softened ever so slightly. "Of course." He pretended hurt, raising a small smile from her. "I'd offer to take you out but can't imagine you wanting to eat at the Oasis, and since the only other choice is Hank's Diner, I reckon you should take a risk on my cooking."

  Gina joined in his teasing, mock-pouting. "Well, how could I possibly refuse such a wonderful invitation?"

  "Good." Nate raised her hand to his lips, enjoying the way her eyes widened impossibly. "In that case I'll be back at six-thirty with some groceries." He let the anticipation stretch before carefully turning her wrist so it was palm up and placing a gentle kiss on her hand. He closed her fingers tight over the kiss and a slow smile, irrefutably wolfish, crossed his features. "Until tonight, then."

  He watched her shudder, the movement so slight as to be almost imperceptible, and couldn't resist running his thumb lightly down her cheek and tracing the outline of her luscious mouth. He'd save her mouth for later, but in the meantime…

  His lips brushed lightly over her cheek before he pulled away and strode down the path to his car. Her eyes had still been half-closed when he'd glanced back over his shoulder, and he couldn't suppress a cocky grin. Obviously, he hadn't lost his touch.

  * * * *

  The pleasant mist surrounding her dissolved as his car pulled away, the distant sounds of early evening traffic filtering back into her consciousness. What on earth had all that been about? A man had never affected her quite like that before. It was almost like being…hypnotized?

  Nah. She was being ridiculous. Stuff like that didn't happen in real life.

  She was closing the front door when another thought struck her. What had he said just before he left? Something about dinner?

  Oh.


  My.

  God.

  Blood rushed to her face, and her hand trembled as she fastened the chain. Six-thirty. He'd be back to cook her dinner at six-thirty. She slumped against the wall. Nate Moore, Two Oaks's most eligible bachelor was going to be cooking her dinner. Here. Tonight.

  And she'd agreed? She couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it.

  But she had. She knew she had.

  Damn.

  And for him to cook her dinner? Couldn't get much more intimate than that.