Beneath a Rising Moon Read online

  spring, and it had caught many a tourist by surprise. Not

  that Ripple Creek was anywhere near as popular with

  humans as nearby Aspen—but then, most of the wolf packs

  who lived here didn’t want it to be.

  Her pack was the exception. Her father even headed

  the “bring Ripple Creek into the twenty-first century”

  committee.

  A smile touched her lips, but just as quickly faded.

  She’d have to watch her step around her parents today,

  or the shit really would hit the fan.

  She thrust her hands into her coat pockets and made

  her way toward the diner. Her parents lived above it—as

  had she, until her mother’s incessant nagging that she

  find a mate and settle down had grown beyond the joke it

  had originally started out to be.

  Sav certainly didn’t cop half the flack she got—but

  then, Sav had what her mother considered a worthwhile

  career. She, on the other hand, was simply another

  waitress in the diner. Which was a job she actually enjoyed

  doing and had no intentions of leaving.

  A bell chimed softly as she pushed open the door. The

  rich aroma of omelettes and coffee filled the air, stirring

  her hunger even though she’d already eaten.

  “Morning, Cub,” her father called from the kitchen.

  She snagged an apron from under the counter, tying

  it around her waist as she pushed through the double

  swing-doors into the kitchen.

  “Morning, old one.” She dropped a kiss on his leathery

  cheek.

  He swatted her with his spatula, green eyes twinkling

  good humoredly. “Enough of the old, thank you very

  much.”

  She grinned and pulled herself up on the nearest

  bench. “Where’s Mother?”

  “Still at the hospital.”

  “No word from the doctors on Savannah’s progress?”

  His mask of cheerfulness slipped a little. He sighed

  and thrust a hand through his thinning blonde hair. “They

  said her vital signs were a lot stronger. It’s just a matter

  of waiting now.”

  Waiting was the one thing she wouldn’t be doing. “Her

  thoughts are stronger, Dad. I don’t think waking is that

  far off.”

  He lightly squeezed her arm. “Thanks. I’ll tell Mother

  that.”

  “Need anything done in here before I start setting

  tables?”

  “I did it all last night. Couldn’t sleep. You want an

  omelette?”

  When she nodded, he slapped one onto a nearby plate

  and began making another. She shifted her leg and

  grabbed a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer

  underneath the bench, then dug in.

  They ate in silence. When they’d both finished, she

  collected the dishes, throwing them into the dishwasher

  before pouring them both a coffee.

  “Your mother wants to know if you’ll come for dinner

  tonight,” he said.

  She stared at him for a second, her heart feeling like

  it was about to race out of her chest. “Is this a request or

  a demand?”

  He grimaced. “You know your mother.”

  A demand. By the moon’s light, what on earth was

  she going to do now? “I—” She hesitated, but knew it was

  better to tell a half truth than a straight out lie. “I was

  planning to go out later tonight, but I can come over if

  dinner is early enough.”

  He nodded and raised his eyebrow. Curious, but not

  overly so. “Anywhere in particular?”

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re reshowing

  Charade at the Playbox. Thought I might catch that.” She’d

  actually caught it two nights ago, but he didn’t know that.

  Her dad snorted. “How many times will that make it?”

  She grinned. “Only fourteen.”

  He shook his head. “You’re never going to catch a mate

  if you keep spending your time down at that old movie

  theater lusting after ancient actors.”

  “Well, until I meet a man with Cary Grant’s looks,

  charm and style, that’s exactly what I intend to keep

  doing.”

  “We’re never going to get grandkiddies, that’s for sure,”

  he muttered. He slapped her leg, amusement dancing in

  his eyes. “Go set the tables before I get inclined to lecture

  on the virtues of finding a good man.”

  Grin widening, she slipped off the bench, planted

  another kiss on his cheek, and headed off to work.

  The morning rush came and went. Arianne, a fellow

  waitress and long-time friend, swept in at eleven, all color

  and energy and smiles.

  “Such a wonderful day,” she all but trilled, shucking

  off her coat and grabbing an apron.

  “Got lucky last night, did we?” Neva commented dryly.

  Ari grinned. “No, but I’m intending to tonight. Hooked

  myself a fine specimen last night.”

  “And you didn’t dance? Good grief, girl, are you sick?”

  “Nope. He was with another mate at the time, and it’s

  not polite to steal, you know.”

  “Since when has that stopped you?”

  Amusement twinkled in Ari’s dark green eyes. “Since

  his mate was double my size.”

  Neva snorted softly. “Good enough reason, I suppose.”

  “Generally. You filled the salt shakers yet?”

  Neva shook her head, and the two of them got to work.

  Lunch was busier than normal, thanks to the rising influx

  of fly-fishermen wanting to take advantage of the early

  season warmth. At one, when there was a brief slowdown

  in customer traffic, Neva grabbed a soda and leaned wearily

  against the counter. Lack of sleep was beginning to tell.

  Thank God it was Monday, and the diner was closed

  tonight.

  Then she remembered what she had to do, and a shiver

  ran down her spine.

  Ari joined her near the fridge, leaning her forehead

  against the cool glass. “Man, I’m hot.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t wait for tonight, huh?”

  Mischief danced in Ari’s eyes. “Well, now that you

  mentioned it.” She hesitated as the doorbell chimed.

  “Maybe we should put the ‘Closed’ sign up. Otherwise, I

  don’t think we’re going to get out of here today.”

  Neva smiled as she glanced toward the door—and felt

  her smile freeze on her face. It wasn’t just any old customer

  who’d entered. It was Duncan Sinclair.

  Ari’s soft gasp of admiration seemed a hundred miles

  away. Neva could only stare at him, her mind whirling

  with a thousand different thoughts and fears.

  What on earth was he doing here? Was it just chance

  that brought him here or something more?

  He adjusted a small brown-wrapped box tucked

  beneath his arm and took off his dark glasses, his gaze

  skating across the crowded room. No, she thought, knees

  weak, heart straining with fear. It wasn’t chance, but

  something more sinister.

  “Now there’s a honey I wouldn’t mind wrapping my

  legs around,” Ari whispered. “Moons, what a delicious

  bod.”

&n
bsp; He certainly had that, Neva thought with a chill. She’d

  thought him dangerously handsome last night, but now,

  when he was wearing dark jeans that hugged his legs with

  such thigh-defining tightness, and a black sweater that

  fitted his lean body and seemed to show every ripple of

  muscle, the impression of a dark angel was doubled.

  Tripled.

  His gaze collided with hers, and something trembled

  deep inside. Whether it was fear or anticipation, she wasn’t

  sure.

  Which of the free tables are yours? His mind voice was

  brusque, unemotional. A tight beam only the two of them

  could hear—thankfully, given her dad was next door in

  the kitchen.

  Booth second from the end. She kept her tones as

  clipped as his.

  “God,” Ari continued. “Hope he chooses one of my

  booths.”

  “Thought you had a date tonight?” she said, hoping

  Ari was too intent drooling over Duncan to notice the slight

  tremor in her voice.

  “Are you crazy? That honey gives me the slightest

  indication of interest, and I’m a puddle at his feet.”

  Neva watched him stride to the booth and had to admit,

  if only to herself, that if he’d shown the slightest bit of

  interest in her, she would have puddled right alongside

  Ari.

  But he wouldn’t. She knew that without a doubt.

  Whatever his reasons for coming here, it had nothing to

  do with interest or pleasure—at least not for her, anyway.

  Why the hell was he here? She’d promised the nights,

  not the days. What was he up to? And why did she feel

  with such sick certainty that his appearance here boded

  her no good?

  He slipped into the booth she’d indicated, and Ari

  sighed. “Typical. The best looking man I’ve ever seen walks

  in here, and he sits at one of your tables.” She hesitated,

  visibly brightening. “Can we swap?”

  She would have liked to, but there was something in

  his ebony gaze that suggested retribution if she tried.

  “Sorry. No can do.”

  “That’s right, be greedy. Keep the hunk all to yourself.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t?”

  “Beside the point.” Ari waved a dismissing hand and

  slapped a menu into her hands. “Go get him, tiger.”

  Neva took a quick drink of soda, then made her way

  around the counter and walked toward him. He watched

  every step, his dark gaze as impassive as his thoughts. By

  the time she’d reached the halfway point, her stomach

  was tumbling worse than a clothes dryer, and she was

  seriously regretting her quick drink of soda.

  “Care for a menu, sir?” she asked, forcing a cheerful

  smile to her lips.

  I think we both know what I came here for. He took

  the menu from her trembling hands and casually opened

  it.

  It felt like he’d clubbed her in the stomach. She stared

  at him for a second, knuckles white as she gripped her

  notepad for dear life. What the hell are you talking about?

  Aloud, she said, “The specials today are spicy chicken

  burgers with chips and salad, or minestrone soup with a

  small platter of homemade breads.”

  I told you to wait for me last night.

  So? You also said you’d take the time to pleasure me

  more fully, and that didn’t exactly happen now, did it?

  Though there was not the slightest flicker in his

  shuttered eyes, she knew her barb had hit home. His anger

  boiled around her, a distant touch of thunder only she

  could hear.

  You agreed to mate with me. You had no right to leave.

  He studied the menu for a moment, then ordered the

  chicken burger and fries.

  And you have no right to come here chasing me. “Would

  you like a coffee with that, sir?”

  I have every right. “Black, thanks.”

  She wrote it down, mouth dry. What do you mean?

  It’s one of the more obscure rules of the dance. If a

  female who has agreed to a mating does not fulfil her

  promises, then the male has every right to pursue her and

  make her. He hesitated, his gaze snaring hers with deadly

  intent. No matter where she might be.

  Oh God. She took a deep breath and released it slowly.

  Surely he wouldn’t. Not here in the diner. Even he couldn’t

  be that wild. That uncaring. But as she returned his gaze,

  a tremor of fear began deep inside. She may have studied

  this man, but she didn’t know him. Didn’t have a clue as

  to just what he was capable of doing.

  I agreed to the nights. I intend to uphold that bargain.

  Not last night you didn’t.

  We mated. If you could call what happened between

  them the second time mating.

  You ran. I was far from finished, believe me.

  The trembling was beginning to work its way down

  her legs. Her knees felt fluid. She so desperately wanted

  to tell him she was finished, that she’d had enough of his

  stupid dance and magnificent but uncaring body. But

  she’d couldn’t. She was snared by the very net she’d

  thrown, and she had no choice in this now.

  But she had a horrible suspicion she’d better find

  Savannah’s attacker fast, before this man destroyed her.

  Tell me what you want. Aloud, she added, “Anything

  else with that, sir?”

  His smile was slow and sexy and sizzled heat across

  every nerve ending. “Oh yes,” he said softly. “But we’ll

  discuss that a little later.” When the diner isn’t as full.

  She flipped closed her notebook and all but ran back

  to the counter. Where she stood, back to him, taking deep

  breaths as she tried to control the shaking. She couldn’t

  go into the kitchen like this. Her dad would know

  something was wrong and be out here in an instant

  searching for the troublemaker.

  Ari came around the counter. “He has that sort of effect

  on me, too,” she said, voice sympathetic, “And I haven’t

  been anywhere near him.”

  “I’ll be fine once I catch by breath,” she said. Which

  certainly wasn’t a lie.

  “So what does he smell like?”

  “Like a warm whisky on a cold night,” she said without

  thinking.

  Ari chuckled softly. “You have got the hots for him

  real bad, don’t you? Shame your old man is next door.

  You could’ve dragged our sexy stranger into the storeroom

  and had a quick dance with him.”

  That was certainly a possibility anyway, if the heated

  promise in his eyes was anything to go by.

  “Of course, you’d have to dust yourself off with bicarb

  afterward,” Ari continued blithely.

  Neva blinked and looked at her. “What?”

  “Bicarb absorbs smells, does it not?”

  “Yeah—so?”

  “So, you don’t want your straightlaced parents

  knowing you’ve actually gone out and enjoyed yourself,

  do you?” She winked saucily. “Works a treat, believe me.

  Been doing it for years.”

  Neva laughed sof
tly and pushed away from the

  counter. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “But a hell of a lot more satisfied than you’ll ever be if

  you don’t start pulling your act into the twenty-first

  century.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Your

  dad may be the head of the Future’s Committee, but both

  your parents are still acting like they were brought up in

  the fifteenth century.”

  “Okay for you to say,” she said dryly. “You don’t have

  to live with their fifteenth century ideals.”

  “Neither do you. You moved out two years ago,

  remember?”

  Moving out was easy. Ignoring the twenty-six years

  spent under their roof, absorbing their influences and

  ideals, was not. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to ignore

  them.

  “I’m trying, Ari, believe me.”

  “Not hard enough if you let that delicious stranger

  slip through your fingers.”

  She forced a smile and walked into the kitchen,

  handing her dad Duncan’s order. When it was ready eight

  minutes later, she grabbed the plate and his coffee, took

  a deep breath, and walked over.

  “Here you go, sir,” she said, placing his plate in front

  of him.

  “Thank you.” He let his hand slide across hers as he

  reached for his cutlery.

  It felt like flame caressing her skin, and she jumped.

  The coffee cup she still held tumbled sideways, splashing

  heated brown liquid all over the table and him.

  “Oh God, I’m sorry,” she said, horrified. “Are you all

  right? Are you burned?”

  His raised eyebrow suggested he didn’t believe the

  sincerity of her words. “No. Just clean up the table, and

  me, and it’ll be fine.”

  She pulled the towel from the side of her apron and

  mopped up the worst of the spill. Ari tossed her another

  towel, and she finished it. Luckily, the burger had

  somehow avoided being drenched. She didn’t fancy going

  back into the kitchen right now. “What about the parcel?”

  She flicked her cloth in the direction of the brown wrapped

  box.

  “It’s fine,” he said softly. “But you did still miss a bit.”

  She frowned. “No, I haven—” Her voice faded as he

  shifted, revealing the dots of coffee on his sweater and

  groin.

  Surely you don’t expect me— The thought froze as she

  met his gaze. He would. And he did.

  She took another deep breath, then quickly dabbed