The Gentry alpha’s ego knew no bounds. Roarke had tried to explain, without revealing anything Abby had confided in him, that the talks were having the opposite effect Cameron had hoped. After being attacked, Earl Dooley wasn’t cowed at all. He was more determined to stand his ground and prove his case.
Cameron didn’t get it. He’d launched a campaign to humiliate Dooley and he intended to keep up the pressure until he succeeded. He had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
The discussion had eventually turned into a heated argument, and Roarke had decided to leave before he said something he’d regret. After all, his parents were good friends with Cameron’s parents. He was supposed to be out here on a goodwill mission, not to stir up controversy.
If he could find the Sasquatch pair, then he could relocate them and leave Cameron to stew in his juices. Roarke hadn’t promised to deliver Earl Dooley’s head on a platter, and he’d be damned if he’d continue that campaign. But the Sasquatch needed protection, maybe even from Cameron Gentry.
Too bad he hadn’t found them tonight. But they were large and able to cover quite a bit of ground in a day. These two seemed to be diurnal instead of nocturnal. That was another misconception about Sasquatch—that they were all nocturnal. Like humans, some were night owls and some were larks. These two apparently moved around during the day, which was why Earl had spotted them in the first place.
Hungry and frustrated by his lack of success, Roarke didn’t notice the message on his BlackBerry until he was back in his room at the mansion. Abby. She wanted to meet him for lunch at noon at Flannigan’s.
Despite knowing that he shouldn’t have anything more to do with her, he texted an acceptance. Lunch in the city would break up his day and cut down on the number of hours he could spend looking for the Sasquatch pair, but Abby was the only bright spot so far on his Portland trip. A simple little lunch wouldn’t compromise the whole program.
It was a testament to his eagerness that he arrived at Flannigan’s early the next day. But that meant he could watch her walk toward the booth where he was sitting. He soaked up every second of that experience.
Her outfit was urban chic—gray slacks with those strappy high-heeled sandals guaranteed to drive men crazy, and a roomy black jacket worn over a tight white T-shirt. She’d piled her red hair on top of her head and added some large silver hoop earrings to the mix. He wanted to eat her up.
Her color was high as she slid into the booth opposite him. “Thanks for meeting me on short notice.”
“Happy to.” In fact,
happy
was too mild for the emotion he was feeling at seeing her. And smelling her. Once again, her scent grabbed him by the gonads. The two of them were meant to be lovers—but when?
That sort of thing took time to develop, at least in his estimation. He couldn’t just invite her to join him in one of the hotel rooms conveniently located above them and expect her to go along with that. Any woman worth having was worth the trouble of wooing with a long, slow seduction. But he didn’t have that luxury.
She asked how he’d been as they both consulted the menu. He gave the automatic response that he’d been fine, but busy. Then he continued the conversational tennis match by asking how she’d been. Fine, but busy. He smiled at her response.
Eventually she’d tell him why she asked him to lunch. He wouldn’t push. His ego wanted to believe that she was as intrigued by him as he was by her. She was aware they didn’t have much time together in Portland, but maybe she wanted to make the most of what time they had. He wasn’t free to do that, but it would be nice to have her say it.
After they ordered—steak sandwich for him and a bowl of vegetable soup for her—she leaned forward, as if not wanting to be overheard. He took that as a sign that she had something intimate to discuss. He mirrored her by leaning forward, too.
Her eyes really were incredibly blue. He could gaze into them for hours. Her scent surrounded him, and his groin tightened.
She moistened her full lips with her tongue. “I saw you in the woods late yesterday afternoon.”
For a brief moment he didn’t get it. Then he did. But maybe it wasn’t as bad as he feared. “I went for a short hike.”
“Not exactly.”
Uh-oh
. It was bad. “Abby, I don’t know what you think you saw, but—”
“Professor Wallace, you are a hypocrite.” Her blue eyes lost their friendly sparkle and bored into him like twin lasers. “Not only do you believe a Sasquatch pair is out there, you’re looking for them.”
So maybe she hadn’t seen him shift. Maybe she’d just noticed him walking in the woods. He’d take the lesser charge any day. “You found me out, Abby. Your grandfather’s story was so convincing that I decided to check out the situation for myself.”
“You have an interesting method for doing that.”
His heart pounded. Looking into her eyes, he saw what he’d been afraid he’d find there. She knew. Worse yet, hours had passed since then, hours when she could have spread the word about him to half of Portland. Any second a pitchfork-wielding mob could descend on Flan-nigan’s.
But that wasn’t the worst part. He’d compromised werewolves everywhere. He’d failed not only the Gentrys, but every werewolf in the world. If he’d shifted at the mansion, which would have been the sensible thing to do . . . but no, he’d let his temper rule. And now this.
He could tell by her determined expression that trying to convince her she hadn’t seen him shift into wolf form was pointless. “All right,” he said quietly. “Where do we go from here?”
She took a deep breath. “First of all, did you find anything last night?”
“No.”
“Why were you looking in the first place?”
“I’m here to make contact and relocate them. But before I say anything more, please tell me if people will be arriving soon to take me away. For all I know, you invited me here so I could be captured, studied, put on display.”
She cringed. “No.”
He relaxed a little. She’d seemed genuinely dismayed by that idea. But she still could have told her grandfather. Or maybe not. If she’d told Earl, he would be sitting here with her, both to protect her and to satisfy his scientific curiosity.
Slowly the hope grew that she’d told no one. If that were the case, he still had a problem, but it wasn’t a global one, at least not yet. They were involved in a very delicate dance. He had to step carefully.
“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he said.
“None whatsoever. But I might have to take my chances and trust you, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Despite everything, I think we have the same goal: to find that Sasquatch pair. My motivation is to validate my grandfather’s claim. What’s yours?”
He glanced around the restaurant. It was crowded and nobody seemed to be paying much attention to them, but that could change if someone happened to catch part of this conversation. “Look, you’ve said you may have to trust me, and if so, that needs to start now. We can’t have this discussion here. I’m too much at risk.”
She hesitated. “Where would you like to have it?”
“In my car would be good.”
She looked nervous about that.
“Okay, how about this. My car’s in a public garage. We can go sit in the car and talk. I won’t drive anywhere.”
“And you’ll give me the keys.”
“All right.” He fished in his pocket and handed over the keys to the Corvette. Then he took out his wallet and put enough money on the table to cover lunch. “Let’s go.”
They didn’t talk on the way to the parking garage. Roarke spent most of the time beating himself up for having shifted in the woods where Abby had been able to see him. The rest of the time he listened to the sexy
click-click-click
of her high heels on the sidewalk. And here he’d thought she’d asked him to lunch because she was hot for his body. Too bad he’d been wrong.
She clicked the locks open as they approached the red car and waved him away when he started to help her in the passenger side. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”
He climbed behind the wheel and scooted the seat back as far as it would go so he could stretch his legs. They closed their doors in a perfectly synchronized move, and then they were alone in the small cockpit of the sports car.
It could have been an erotic moment, considering how the tiny space was instantly filled with her compelling scent. But he was too worried about what this would mean to him and the Were community to be turned on.
He cleared his throat. “First let me explain something to you regarding my . . . kind. We don’t have the best of reputations among humans.” He glanced at her to see how she reacted to that.
She paled slightly, the first sign that she might not be as brave as she appeared. “So you’re not human?”
“Not in the strictest sense.”
“But right now you look like it.”
“Right now there’s not a single thing about me that isn’t human. My eyesight and sense of smell are better than the average person’s, but no one realizes that besides me. To the casual observer, I’m just a man.”
Color bloomed in her cheeks. Then she glanced away.
That’s when it hit him that she’d not only watched him transform into a wolf, she’d also seen him take off his clothes before the shift. “I guess you know exactly how human I am,” he said.
She met his gaze. “I suppose I do.” During a moment of silence, her eyes revealed the fascination she wouldn’t acknowledge. She cleared her throat as if struggling to remain aloof. “You mentioned a brother, and parents. Are they also—”
“No, just me,” he lied.
“Do they realize you’re a werewolf?”
“Abby, you already know more than it’s safe for you to know. Don’t make me tell you things that will only make this worse for both of us.”
“Can you explain that?”
He studied her, weighing the risks. “I can try. The usual reaction to my kind over the course of history has been fear. Fear makes people dangerous.”
She tucked the car keys in her oversized black purse and zipped it closed before settling it on her lap. “I managed to sneak in a little Google time this morning. It sounds as if
your kind
, as you call it, can be dangerous, too.”
He noted her choice of words—
I managed to sneak in a little Google time.
That reinforced his belief that she hadn’t told Earl yet. “I won’t lie to you. We—”
“Too late. You’ve been lying to me, and a bunch of other folks, ever since you arrived in Portland.”
“Out of necessity.”
She traced the stitching on her purse with one finger. “I guess I can understand that, but I still don’t see how you could stand up there at those service club meetings and trash Grandpa Earl’s sighting.” Her glance was accusing. “He saw them, didn’t he?”
“I’m sure he did.”
Her fingers tightened over the strap of her purse. “Damn it, Roarke, he needs to know that. He’s dreamed about making contact his entire life, and although he clings to the belief that the sighting was legitimate, I know you’ve made him doubt himself. That’s not right.”
Roarke sighed. “There are bigger issues than fulfilling your grandfather’s lifelong dream. Unusual creatures like Bigfoot need to be protected, not exploited.”
“He wouldn’t exploit them!”
“Wouldn’t he? The minute he printed that picture, he was down at Flannigan’s telling the world about it.”
“He was just excited. He didn’t mean any harm.”
Roarke sat in silence and waited for her to realize that excuse didn’t cut it.
Finally she rolled her eyes. “Of course you’re right. He didn’t stop to think about the repercussions of broadcasting his discovery. I’ll admit that waving the picture around wasn’t a very good idea.”
“No, it wasn’t. Luckily the search parties weren’t well funded or well organized. If they had been, that Sasquatch pair would be on its way to a zoo somewhere, or worse, a laboratory.”
Abby shuddered. “That makes me sick to my stomach.”
“As well it should. They’re very sweet animals, but they’re not particularly smart. They wouldn’t have understood what was happening to them, and if the people in charge decided to separate them . . . They mate for life, and I’m afraid they both would have died of broken hearts.”
“I don’t want any of that. And neither would my grandfather, if he realized the problems he could cause. He didn’t stop to think, but he’s not totally insensitive. I just wish he could know that he really did see them.”
Tension coiled in Roarke’s gut. She held his fate in the palm of her hand and he wondered if she knew that. “Are you considering telling him . . . about me?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” He held his breath as he waited for her answer.
“Because then I’d be putting you in the same danger as the Sasquatch.”
The tension in his stomach eased. “I’m not quite as vulnerable as a Sasquatch.”