Tonight, though, Reidar was in no mood to play a child’s game over the right to approach the stranger. He fought the urge to smile when he saw Kelan’s reaction the moment she neared the bar.
Instead of returning to their booth, his twin did what any hot-blooded single male would do; he slid onto a barstool next to the beauty.
When his brother also removed and pocketed his collar, Reidar lost his fight and grinned.
Although they followed tradition by wearing the collars with their family crest, both men usually removed them before approaching a potential date, especially out-of-towners unfamiliar with the Falke family eccentricities.
They wore them because the town required the Falke puma to wear one, and any one of the brothers could be required to shift into that role at any time, so it was easier to always have it on. But collars were also considered symbols of submission by some folks, and there was nothing submissive about him or Kelan. Better to avoid potential confusion from the start.
“Come on, Reidar,” Sindre said with a chuckle, “or do ya forfeit without a fight?”
“Too late, boys. First come, first served.” Reidar removed his own collar and watched with avid interest as the scene at the bar unfolded.
His younger brothers both turned to see what he meant by his remark, and then Torsten groaned.
“Shit,” Sindre said, “if Kelan gets his claws into her, there’s not a chance in hell for any of us.”
“Speak for yourself, whelps.” He and Kelan had shared women before. A female fantasy the pair happily indulged whenever a tourist with the right interests came along. The only question was whether this woman would be interested.
“I’ve checked into a hotel,” Beth Coldwell told her professor on the phone as she weaved her way through the locals toward a vacant barstool. She hadn’t had a meal since breakfast and was starving.
The candy bar at the gas station a few hours ago didn’t count.
“Where?” the professor asked.
“In Leavenworth. I didn’t make it to Wenatchee before nightfall, but there’s a Forest Service office here. I’ve already contacted the park rangers and will set up a meeting with one to discuss trails we could use and where the best places might be for us to begin.”
She slipped a butt cheek on the stool and smiled at the bartender. Covering the mouthpiece, she ordered a screwdriver, light on the alcohol, and a menu.
“What’s that?” she asked, not catching the last of what the caller had said.
“I said to be sure and verify locations for setting up the mobile lab too. I doubt we’ll be able to pull the trailer into some of the more remote areas we’ll be exploring.”
“Okay. I won’t forget.”
Professor James Whitmore had a lot riding on this sponsored research project, as did the university, so the fact that he’d let her, a grad student, take point by scouting locations where they could begin meant a great deal. She’d been ecstatic when he’d chosen her as one of two students to help with the field research. The information she gathered this summer would go a long way toward giving her the data she needed to write her dissertation and earn her doctorate.
“Good, good,” he was saying. “And you’ll let me know what the park service has to say tomorrow?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“All right. I want to have the first two locales identified soon, so we can get started immediately upon my arrival.”
“Yes, sir.” The professor had wanted to begin the weekend after finals, but post-semester faculty obligations had held him up, which was why he’d entrusted the set-up for this first leg of the project to her. She was determined not to let him down. “When can Tim bring the trailer?”
“Soon as you give the word that a suitable command post location has been found.”
“Okay.”
Tim Radke, a fellow grad student, also happened to work for his father’s commercial delivery company and had the necessary license to transport the equipment vital to their project, the most important piece being a twenty-eight-foot semi trailer that housed the mobile lab.
“You have his number?” the professor asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. If all goes as planned, I should be able to make it there by sometime on Saturday.”
“I’ll have everything ready to go.”
“I know you will, Beth. Stay in touch.”
A click signaled the end of the call, so Beth pocketed her cell phone and browsed the menu.
“I’d recommend the steak or a burger,” a deep voice said, its volume quiet and sultry enough to make her tingle. “The clam chowder’s from a can.”
That last part had her smiling. Looking over to the man occupying the stool next to hers, she locked gazes with a pair of hazel eyes that stole her thoughts.
“Um…” She shoved her glasses up her nose. The damn things were always slipping. She should have had them adjusted before she left Seattle. “Really?”
He flashed straight pearly whites in a smile that made his eyes gleam but didn’t quite soften the chiseled angles of a handsome face. His tawny hair, mussed in a sexy just-out-of bed look, reached the collar of his T-shirt and had her mind diving for a very naughty place.
“Yes, trust me.” His expression changed again to one of grim promise. “I’ve had it before. It’s not for the faint of heart.”
“What isn’t?”
That smile again. “The clam chowder.”
“Oh, right.” She laughed at herself and looked back at the menu, hoping he couldn’t see the heat pinken her cheeks in the pub’s low lighting. “Steak, huh?”
“New York strip is my favorite. It’s the best in town. Unless of course you’re not the carnivorous type.” He touched her hand as he turned her menu slightly toward him and looked down. “I’m not exactly sure where the veggie dishes are.”
“I like meat.”
She didn’t think her face could burn any hotter. And where had all the air gone?
He met her gaze again. “You do? Great. Then, yes, definitely the steak. The mashed potatoes are good too, and fresh. None of that powdered stuff.”
She smiled just as the bartender set her drink down and asked if she was ready. After ordering New York strip and potatoes, she sipped her drink and waited for the stranger to get his mug refilled from the tap.
When he turned toward her again, she pressed her glasses back into place and then held out her hand. “Thanks for the suggestion. I’m Beth Coldwell.”
“Kelan.” He took her hand in his, engulfing it with his warmth. “Kelan Falke. You’re welcome.”
She didn’t want to release his hand. It was big, warm and rough. Just the thought of that hand on other parts of her body made her tummy flutter. She licked her lips and tried to focus her brain elsewhere. “Kelan? That’s a cool name. Mine’s really Elizabeth, but my friends call me Beth.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Beth.” When he let go of her hand, she wanted to snatch his back and hang on. A ludicrous urge, and one she didn’t act upon. Thankfully. She didn’t even know the guy, but there was something about him…
“So, what brings you to Leavenworth?” He sipped his beer and leaned his forearm on the bar.
“Don’t tell me you’re just passing through.”
Oh, he was good. What a line. He probably did this on a regular basis. Now that the shock of his appearance had worn off—as much as sitting next to the sexiest guy in the bar could wear off—she was better able to handle small talk.
