Beauty Dates the Beast(15)

And oooh, just the feeling of his tongue sweeping against mine made my toes curl in my shoes. Warmth pulsed through my body, matching the strokes of his tongue against my own, and my fingers curled deeper in his lapel as if I could pull his body closer to mine.

The kiss was dark and possessive; with each stroke of his tongue, I felt like he was claiming me for his own … and I very much wanted to be claimed. His hand twined in my hair and—

It felt like every strand was being ripped out of the back of my head. I pulled away with a screech, my hands flying to the knotted mess of sprayed curls that he’d tried to remove with his fingers. “Ow! What are you doing?”

“I was trying to touch your hair,” he said. “What the hell did you do to it? It’s all glued together. Your hair is gorgeous when it’s not done up like a poodle.”

A what? “Oh no, you did not just call me a poodle.”

He tugged on a crunchy lock. “I’m sorry, Bathsheba,” he said, the husky way he said my name like a caress. “Last night your hair was lovely. Tonight it looks like a nest and smells even worse. It’s as if you conspired with Giselle on how to make yourself unappealing.”

“Jeez. That’s the last time I try to kiss you.” Hurt, I took a step backward. He was right that I didn’t look like myself—I suspected that was part of Giselle’s master plan—but it stung to hear him say that.

His arm snaked around my waist again and he pulled me close, so close that our mouths were practically touching again. In my high heels, I was eye level to him and our gazes met. He grinned. “No, it’s not.”

I liked the way his arm lingered at my waist, his hand resting at the dip of my lower back. For a wild moment, I wished he’d rest it a bit lower.

Some virgin I was.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said in a low voice, and my gaze flicked to his sensual mouth, inches away from mine. “Today was … not good.”

“You can say that again,” I muttered. “What’s bothering you?”

Beau seemed to struggle for a moment, then he gave in. “It’s shifter politics. I’m not sure that you’re interested.”

I gave his lapel a little shake. “I’m interested in everything about you,” I told him, and realized it was true.

Well, shit. That was going to make things tricky.

I was rewarded with the faint curve of his sexy mouth in a half-smile, but it quickly disappeared. “It’s Savannah, the were-cougar who’s going into heat. She’s in danger.”

“What kind of danger?”

Again, the hesitation. Then he leaned forward and put his forehead against my own, our noses bumping.

“The wolves have her. They’ve kidnapped her and are going to hold her hostage until I produce another female werewolf. They’re convinced I’m hiding one from them.”





Chapter Seven





All the air left my lungs. I stared at him.



“Female …” I choked around the word. “Werewolf?”

“They’re insane,” he agreed, looking stressed. He ran a hand down his face and seemed suddenly very tired. “As if we’d hide a female werewolf from them.”

Oh, God, this just got worse and worse. I forced a sympathetic look to my face, though I wanted to scream in terror. “Can you talk about it?”

Please, please talk about it. Tell me everything you know.

Beau gestured at the park bench on the far side of the sidewalk, across from the parking lot. On sunny days, Sara and I ate lunch and chatted there. Tonight, I stared at that bench as if it had been my enemy.

As I sank down on one end of it, Beau sat on the other side of me. His hand reached for mine and I let him take it, too numb to do anything but stare blankly at him. He seemed to need to touch me, his fingers playing with mine, stroking along the inside of my palm.

“The wolves have more females than the Alliance does,” he said. “It’s one reason why the wolves rarely using the dating service, I imagine. Between the pack hierarchy rules and the fact that they have more females than the other shifter clans, there isn’t as much of a need. But what they don’t tolerate is a runaway.”

I swallowed hard. “Are … are they looking for a runaway?”

“If they are, I don’t know of any.” His fingers played with mine, his gaze not meeting my eyes. “The wolf packs don’t like it when someone leaves the pack. They expect the pack to rule everyone’s lives—even the ones who don’t want to be ruled. They’re judge, jury, and executioner. And since I haven’t helped them in their search, they now think we’re harboring a fugitive female.” His mouth grew hard. “They took Savannah yesterday. Left a note with her abandoned car and said that if we didn’t have the other female back to them by this time next week, they were going to kill her.”

And Savannah was going to go into heat on Saturday. This just got better and better.

“What are you going to do?” I asked softly.

Beau’s mouth gave a wry twist. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m not keen on the thought of handing over some young girl to the wolves, especially since I know what they’re like.”

I knew what they were like, too. My hand trembled in his.

He mistook it for cold and pulled me against him, tucking me under his arm. “But I don’t know what to do about Savannah, either. Ramsey’s out looking for her trail, but it’s cold by now. So we’re waiting … and we’ll see what happens.”

I pulled away from him. “Beau,” I began. It was time to break it off, as much as I liked him and wanted to kiss him again. “I don’t think this is a good time for us to see each other—”

His eyes gleamed in the darkness, his face showing a flash of haggard emotion. “Bathsheba, don’t say that. I need you. Please.”

I could tell he wasn’t used to asking for things, and I hesitated—then stood up. “I’m sorry, Beau. But I can’t.”


Sara was busy with a project, her headphones on, when I went inside. She looked up as I passed. “Hi. How were your dates?”



I waved her off, not wanting to talk about it, especially in front of the others. Marie and Ryder sat at their desks, chatting and waiting for the phones to ring. They glanced over at me but didn’t approach, as if sensing I needed space. Giselle wasn’t in, at least.

That was good. I didn’t want to see her gloating face right now. I needed to process.

I sat down and stared at my computer. My inbox was overflowing, my voice-mail light was flashing, and my monitor was littered with sticky notes … but it could all wait until tomorrow.

I didn’t know what to do.

The wolf pack was looking for Sara. Beau’s clanswoman had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. I’d just broken up with a smart, funny, gorgeous man who I liked far more than I had any business liking. And my boss was going to make me date a naga.

If ever there was a time to run, now was the time.

I grabbed my shawl and took off my shoes. “Sara, let’s go home.” We could have a nice, calm conversation. I would explain to her what Beau had just told me, then we could pack our things and quietly leave town and never, ever come back. We’d start over again. Someplace where there was no wolf pack, if such a place existed.

Maybe Greenland. They needed office managers in Greenland, didn’t they?

Then I thought of Beau, and my shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

I couldn’t think about that. I couldn’t.

Sara pulled off her headphones. “You bet. I’m done anyhow.” Her wariness was apparent; she scented my fear.

“Great,” I said, forcing a lighter note to my voice. “I want to check out the house. Ten bucks says that Mike went through my panty drawer.”

She laughed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders, and I felt a little less tense at her returning smile.

Since the car was still at the house, Ryder gave us a lift. As we drove home, my thoughts were torn.

Sara was in danger.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Beau.

Sara and I needed to run … but I really wanted to call Beau and explain. But what if he told the wolves that Sara was the one they were looking for?

Exhausted from the mental ping-pong, I gave Ryder a halfhearted wave good-bye as I slid out of her car and headed to the porch. The lights to the house were off, and I dug around in my purse for the extra house key. My hands were shaking so badly that my purse tipped the wrong way and the contents slid across the porch, scattering in every direction.

I swore a blue streak.

“You’re edgy tonight. Date must not have gone well,” Sara said and brushed past me to shove her key in the lock. “Let me open the door.”

I started picking up the spill of junk and throwing it back in my purse. “Sorry,” I said. “My head is just not functioning tonight.”