A Stroke of Enticement Read online

  Zach chuckled, and it rippled through her like living fire. "That is his favorite form of entertainment. Leopard changel-ings, especially boys his age, hate being trapped inside."

  "Of course." She remembered one of the other parents saying something along those lines during a parent-teacher conference. "Was that what you called to tell me?"

  "That, and I wanted to warn you about the cold up in the higher elevations. We might even hit some snow. Dress in layers."

  "Okay." She bit down on her lower lip, wanting to keep him on the phone but not knowing what to say to achieve that goal. "So, 9:00 a.m. tomorrow?"

  "Hmm." He sounded distracted to her ears.

  "I should let you go," she began.

  "Tired of me already?"

  She really didn't know how to deal with him. "No." Another male chuckle. "Tell me something about you, Annie."

  "What do you want to know?" Why did he want to know?

  "How long have you been a teacher?"

  "Five years," she said with a smile. "I started teaching new entrants, but for the past couple of years, it's been kids Bryan's age."

  "You like it."

  "I love it." She found she'd relaxed again, soothed by the timbre of his voice, so easy, so deliciously male. "What do you do?"

  "I'm a forest ranger, specializing in the predatory species that call Yosemite home."

  The work fitted him better than anything she could've imagined. "Do you like what you do?"

  "It's in my blood." He paused. "Someone's at the door. I'll pick you up at nine on the dot. Sweet dreams." The last was a husky murmur laced with temptation.

  "Bye." She ended the call and just sat there, flushing alternately hot and cold. Surely she was reading too much into the conversation. He'd called to make sure she dressed right. The way his voice had felt like a caress over her most sensitive skin . . »-that was the result of her pulse-pounding susceptibility to him. It didn't mean he wanted her, too.

  But she couldn't quite stop herself from hoping.

  Zach pulled open the door to his small home, already aware of his visitor's identity. He'd picked up the scent the instant the other changeling stepped out of his vehicle.

  "Luc." He welcomed his alpha inside. "What's up?" Lucas walked in, dressed in a dark gray suit that said he'd come straight from DarkRiver's business HQ.

  "Nice place."

  "Nice suit." Opening the cooler, he threw Lucas a sleek glass bottle before taking one for himself.

  "What the hell is this?" Lucas scowled at the pale blue liquid inside. "And the suit's camouflage."

  "It's some new energy drink Joe's come up with." He twisted off the top. "We're supposed to give him feedback."

  Lucas took a pull. "Not bad—for something that looks like it glows in the dark."

  Zach grinned. "So, why the camouflage?"

  "I had a meeting with a Psy group today."

  "New deal?" DarkRiver had recently completed its second major construction project for Psy Councilor Nikita Duncan. The success of the venture had been so dramatic, they'd attracted considerable interest from other Psy businesses.

  "Signed and sealed." Lucas's grin was very feline in its satisfaction. "I wanted to talk to you about some of the land you cover during your duties as ranger."

  Zach nodded. "Is there a problem?"

  "Shouldn't be, but I want you to keep an extra sharp eye out. Psy don't usually venture anywhere near our territory, but they've been changing the rules recently."

  "You think they might be trying to use the land to familiarize themselves with the forest," Zach guessed. Psy weren't, as a rule, comfortable in wide-open spaces. They preferred the cities, with their towers of glass and steel. But as Lucas's mate, Sascha, showed, the psychic race was supremely adaptable.

  "I don't think it's happened yet, but there's a possibility it might-—we'd be fools if we didn't prepare for the unexpected."

  "I'll keep you updated." He put down his empty bottle beside the one Lucas had just finished. "You didn't really come here for that." Lucas's caution was something Zach was a senior-enough soldier to figure out for himself.

  Lucas shrugged, the clawlike markings on the right side of his face standing out in vivid relief. "I was passing through to talk to Tammy about the Christmas celebrations, decided to drop in, touch base."

  Since Tammy and Nate were Zach's closest neighbors, that made sense. "Tell Nate I saw his cubs chasing a dog yesterday." Lucas grinned.

  "Sounds about right."

  "Can I ask you a question?" Lucas raised an eyebrow and waited.

  "How fragile are humans?" He'd had human lovers before, but he'd never wanted any woman, human or changeling, with the raw fury that colored his hunger for Annie. It worried him that he might hurt her in passion. "How much do I have to hold back?"

  "They're not as breakable as we tend to think," Lucas said, and Zach knew he was speaking from experience. Physically, Psy were even weaker than humans, yet Lucas was very happily mated to Sascha. "Just don't use the same force on her that you'd use on me or one of the other males and you'll be fine."

  "Who said there's a 'her'?"

  "There's always a her."

  "Her name is Annie, and I'm bringing her to the picnic to-

  morrow."

  Lucas's eyes gleamed cat green. "You're introducing her to the pack? When did you meet her?"

  "Today."

  "Well, hell." Lucas rocked back on his heels. "She have any idea what that means?"

  "She's a little wary, but she likes me," he said, thinking of how her eyes had drunk him up. A man could get used to being looked at that way. Especially when the woman doing the looking was someone he'd like to eat up in small, delicious bites. "I'm going to court her first." But he already considered her his—because not only did Annie Kildaire arouse his most primal instincts, she was his mate . . . and he was a possessive kind of cat.

  Chapter 4

  Annie was ready by eight the next morning. Feeling jumpy and overexcited, she checked her clothing in the mirror one more time. She'd taken Zach's advice and layered it up, beginning with a plain white tee and a thin V-necked cashmere-blend sweater that felt divine on her skin . On the bottom, she'd worn her favorite jeans, along with a pair of hiking boots, in case the drive turned into a walk. Completing her outfit was an insulated puffy jacket.

  "I look like an egg." Caroline had made her buy the cheerful yellow garment, insisting it brightened her face. Annie had agreed because it looked sunny. But it wasn't exactly flattering. Oh well, she thought, peeling it off and putting it on the little backpack that held her camera and water, it wasn't as if this was a date. Sweet dreams.

  The memory of Zach's voice sent desire skittering through her veins. All she could think about was what it would be like to have that voice whisper in her ear while those strong hands touched her with bold confidence. "Oh, man." She pressed a hand flat to her stomach. "Calm, Annie. Calm." It was difficult to listen to her own advice when she'd spent the whole night dreaming about him. The tattoo she'd glimpsed on his biceps fascinated her—in her dreams, she'd stroked her fingers over the exotic lines of it, pressed her lips to that muscled flesh . . . and then touched another, harder part of his body.

  "A whole day" she almost moaned, and went to shove a hand through her hair before realizing she'd pulled it back into a ponytail. Now she glanced into the mirror and made a face. She'd eschewed makeup—who went to a forest with makeup on?—but had given in to the urge to slick on some gloss. It plumped up her lips . . . except that her lips were already plump. "Argh." Too late, she remembered why she never used gloss. She was searching for a tissue to wipe it off when the doorbell rang. "Who on earth?" Running to the door, she pulled it open.

  A leopard in human skin stood on the other side. "I was hoping to wake you," he drawled, leaning against the doorjamb. "But you're all dressed." He tried to look sad, but the wicked lights dancing in his eyes made that .impossible.

  "You're early," she said, unable
to stop staring at him. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, hiking boots and a soft gray sweatshirt stamped with the San Francisco Giants emblem. Casual clothes, but his hair was still damp from the shower and his jaw freshly shaven.

  It was all she could do not to run her fingertips over that smooth skin and nuzzle the masculine scent of him into her lungs.

  "I woke up early—had somewhere I wanted to be." He smiled at her, slow and persuasive. "Are you going to invite me in?" Raising a hand, he showed her a brown paper bag bearing the logo of a nearby bakery. "I brought breakfast."

  She knew she shouldn't let him get his own way so very easily, but stepped aside in welcome. "What did you bring?"

  "Come and see." He waited for her to close the door, then followed as she led the way into the kitchen through the living room of her apartment. "You like to read."

  She saw him glance at the paperbacks on the shelves, stacked on the coffee table, placed face down on the arm of her sofa. "Yes."

  "Me, too." He put the bag on the counter and slid onto a stool. "Why are you standing over there?"

  She looked at him from the other side of the counter. "I thought I'd make coffee."

  "Okay." He kept the bag closed. "But you're not seeing what's in here until you come around to this side."

  He was definitely flirting. And she was definitely playing with fire by allowing it to go on. Because if there was one thing she knew about predatory changeling men, it was that they were quite ferally possessive—and belonging to anyone was simply not on her agenda. Of course, she was also getting way ahead of herself. He was only flirting. It wasn't as if he planned to drag her off to the chapel. "What do you read?" she asked, telling herself it was okay to try to flirt back, that this pull she felt toward him was nothing more than sexual attraction.

  "Thrillers, some nonfiction." He looked around her open-plan kitchen and living room. "It's a small place."

  "For you, maybe." He was so big, so unashamedly male, he took over the space . . . threatened to take her over, too.

  He glanced at her, expression shifting to something darker and infinitely more dangerous. "Hmm, you're right. You're a bit smaller than me."

  She tried to control her erratic breathing as she finished putting on the coffee. He just sat there and watched her with a feline patience that had her nerves sparking in reaction.

  "How long have you lived here?"

  "Last five years. I moved in after I got the teaching job."

  "Did you live at home before that?"

  She laughed through the thudding beat of her pulse. "Lord, no. I was outta there at eighteen."

  "You ever get lonely, Annie?" he asked, his tone liquid heat over her skin.

  "I like living alone. I intend to keep it that way." She thought she'd surprised him with that, but instead of replying, he lifted up the bag and raised an eyebrow. It was a dare. Annie had never considered herself particularly courageous, but she walked around the counter. He nodded at her to take the stool beside his.

  Knowing it would be silly to refuse, she got up, rubbing her thigh with one hand. He noticed. "It hurt today?"

  "What?" She looked down. "Oh, no, not really. It's habit." It was always a little achy in the mornings. "So, breakfast?"

  His eyes went cat on her between one instant and the next. She sucked in a breath at the intensity of that green-gold gaze. "Wow."

  He smiled. "Let's play a game."

  She had a feeling that playing with this big kitty cat was a very bad idea, but since she'd already given in to her insanity, she said, "What're the rules?"

  "Close your eyes. Eat what I give you, and tell me what it is."

  The notion of having him feed her had her heart racing at the speed of light. "What do I get if I guess correctly?"

  "Mystery prize." His lashes lowered, and she thought she caught a glimpse of something edgy, something that blazed with raw male heat, but when he looked back up, there was nothing but amusement in those leopard eyes. "Yes?"

  "Yes." She watched mesmerized as he opened the paper bag with those hands she wanted to have all over her.

  "Close your eyes, sweetheart."

  She swallowed hunger of a far different sort and let her lashes flutter down. It made her even more aware of the scent of him, the warmth of him, the sheer presence of him. When he shifted position to put one of his feet on the outside of her stool, effectively trapping her, she opened her mouth to tell him . . . something.

  But his finger brushed over her lips. "Taste."

  He was all around her, in her blood, in her breath. Losing her train of thought, she closed her teeth over the pastry he put to her lips. The flaky stuff just about melted in her mouth, and she licked her lips without thinking about it.

  Zach seemed to go very still, but when he spoke, his words were light. "Guess?"

  "Danish."

  "Wrong." She went to open her eyes, but he said, "No, keep them shut."

  "Why?"

  "I'm going to give you another shot. Right now, you owe a single forfeit. Let's see if we can even the decks."

  "Forfeit?" She wondered why the thought sent excitement arcing through her. "You never said anything about a forfeit."

  "You never asked."

  As she'd thought—playing with this cat was an invitation to trouble. "Now I am."

  "Later. First, taste this." He put something else to her mouth, and she bit down, determined to get it this time—he sounded far too delighted by the idea of having her owe him a forfeit.

  She smiled. "Blueberry muffin."

  A finger brushed over her lips, making her eyes snap open. "A crumb," he said.

  "Oh."

  He didn't smile this time, watching her with an intensity that reminded her that for all his playfulness, he was a DarkRiver soldier. And DarkRiver controlled the greater San Francisco area. More than that, they were allied with the bloodthirsty SnowDancer wolves.

  "What're you thinking?" he asked her.

  "That you're dangerous."

  "Not to you," he said. "I wouldn't bite unless you asked very nicely."

  Heat flooded her cheeks at the teasing promise, and she was more than glad to hear the coffeemaker ping. "Coffee's done, I'll grab it."

  He let her go, but she had a feeling the game had only just begun. And that she was the prey.

  Zach wanted to groan in frustration as he watched Annie move about the kitchen. He'd come within an inch of kissing the life out of her when she'd licked her lips. Perfect, luscious, bitable lips. He'd resisted the temptation for two reasons. One, the cat liked the chase. And two, the man liked the idea of having Annie melt at his touch. He planned to seduce her until she purred for him.

  "Coffee." She put a cup in front of him, and he took a sip, attempting to behave when what he really wanted to do was haul her close and just take. Patience, he told himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Annie with the wild fury of his hunger.

  "It's good." Sighing in appreciation, he passed her the muffin and a flaky croissant with a chocolate center. "The reason for your forfeit."

  She scowled at the pain au chocolat. "So do the win and loss cancel each other out?"

  "No. I'll collect my forfeit." His eyes drifted to her lips and lingered there. "A kiss, Annie. You owe me a kiss."

  Her lips parted, her breath whispering out in a soft gasp. "And"—she coughed—"my winnings?"

  "I'll give them to you later today." He wanted to drink up the scent of her, spiced as it was by the seduction of her growing arousal. However that arousal was nowhere near enough to satiate the savagery of his own need. But the cat was a patient hunter. By the time this day was through, he planned to have coaxed and tempted Annie Kildaire until she was as desperate for him as he was for her. "Now eat, or we'll be late."

  She nibbled at her croissant, shooting him quick glances as he finished off the bagel he'd bought for himself. "When are you going to . . . collect?" she asked afterward, clearing away the cups with feminine efficiency that
failed to mask her responsive awareness.

  "I've got all day." He slid off the stool and smiled. "Ready?"

  "You look very much the cat when you smile that way," she said. "You're enjoying teasing me."

  He walked over and took the basket she'd picked up from the small table in one corner. "What's this?"

  "I packed a couple of things for the picnic, and some snacks for the ride."

  He peeked in. "Chocolate cake?"

  "Chocolate mud cake," she said, with an adorable note of pride that made him want to claim his forfeit then and there. "I made it last night, gave it time to settle."

  "You'll be Sascha's new best friend." Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her ear. "And yes, Teach, I like teasing you."

  Annie still hadn't gotten over the sensation of his lips on her skin as Zach pulled away from her ground-floor apartment and out into the street. Open sexual heat laced his teasing, but she wasn't sure quite how far he'd take it. If he pushed, would she surrender?

  The temptation was blindingly strong. Not only was he beautiful in the most masculine way, she flat out liked him. Being with Zach, if only for a night, would be, she already knew, a delight. He wouldn't be the least bit selfish, she thought. His partner's pleasure would matter to him. And, given his nature, he wasn't likely to want any kind of a commitment.

  It was perfect.

  Yet Annie found herself hesitating. Already, she reacted to him more deeply than she had to any other man her entire life. What would it do to her to sleep with him, to know him that intimately . . . then watch him walk away? Her mind flicked to a slide show of images. They were all of one woman. A woman with years of disappointment in her eyes.

  "Look."

  She jerked up at the sound of his voice. "What?"

  "There." He pointed out the windshield.

  Her eyes widened at the parade of old-fashioned automobiles on the other side of the road, all huge bodies and gleaming paint. They were so old they had no hover capacity, but there was something very sexy about them. "They look amazing. I wonder where they're going?"

  "I read something about a vintage-car show about a twenty-minute drive from here. We could swing by after the picnic today."