and leaned back with a sigh. 'Thank you.'
He nodded and rose, collecting both bowls and taking them over to the sink. She watched him walk away, admiring the way his faded jeans clung to his butt and wishing she had the courage to actually admit out loud what she really wanted right now. The wolf within might be free, but she wasn't totally courageous. Not yet. 'What else do you hope to find at the hair salon?' she asked, more out of a need to fill the heated silence than any real curiosity. 'Because if she did drop sleeping tablets in my drink, they probably came from her handbag. I doubt she'd keep something like that at the salon.'
'No. Which is why I want to head on over to her house afterwards.' He handed her a cup of coffee and sat back down.
She wrapped her fingers around the mug and frowned. ' I think her mother is living with her. I doubt she'd leave to head up to the mansion, even if Betise does.'
'No. But she might head out to a dinner invitation with an old friend.'
Neva raised an eyebrow. 'I didn't think Iyona had any friends--old or new.'
'According to Neeson Jones, she has two. Neeson's helped me arrange a little get together tonight at the
Blue Moon.'
The Blue Moon was the bigger of Ripple Creek's two bars and usually packed with partygoers when the full moon was rising. 'You were lucky to get a table.'
'Called in a favor. The owner's an old friend of mine.' She leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee. His gaze drifted down her body, lingering on the folds of silk covering her breasts. Anticipation tingled across her skin, and the deep down ache sprang to life. And all because of a look. It was almost scary just how attuned she was to this man.
'Why do you want to search Betise's house? What do you hope to find?' She stretched out her legs, her feet touching his. Warmth sprung between them, prickling up her leg.
'I don't know. Something strange is going on with that pair, not the least of which are the lies she's spreading about me. A clandestine search might uncover a few handy secrets.'
'You don't think she's linked to the murders, do you?' She ran her toes up the long lean length of his foot. She'd never found feet arousing before, but just touching his was doing strange things to her breathing. As was the sexy smile that tugged at his lips, daring her to be bolder. 'At this point, no, though Iyona obviously hates my pack. It's always possible she does know something.' She slipped her foot up his leg, enjoying the contrasts of soft denim and taut muscle under her toes and half wishing those powerful legs were entwined around her. She reached as far as his muscular thighs but couldn't go any further without slipping off the chair. 'Have you asked her about the Bitterroot incident?'
'Yes.'
He reached under the table and began to knead her instep with his thumb. A tremor shot up her leg, jumping her pulse into a triple-time dance.
'She claims she wasn't there,' he continued, his rich voice deeper by several notches, and as seductive as the moon itself.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle but insistent press of his hand against her skin. 'You don't believe her?'
'No.'
'I could get Savannah to check it out, if you want.'
'I already have a friend checking it out. He should be calling back soon.' He wrapped his hand around her foot, his fingers so warm against her flesh it felt like she was being held by hot iron. 'Are you ticklish?' Her eyes flashed open. His gr in radiated enough heat to melt the snow drifting past the kitchen window, and devilment shone in his dark eyes. Her heart did an odd tumble. She had a feeling she was seeing a side of him so very few did. 'No, I'm not.' She tried to jerk her foot away, but he held her tight.
'Really?' His ran a finger lightly down the sole of her foot, and she bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh. 'Really. Now let go.'
'I don't think so.'
He flicked a fingernail across her instep and the laugh escaped. She squirmed on the chair, an odd flush of trepidation and desire running through her. He raised an eyebrow. 'For someone who's not ticklish, that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.'
'Well, maybe I am a little ticklish.'
He ran his finger across her foot again. Laughter bubbled through her and broke free. He stopped, dark eyes a heated mix of desire and amusement. 'Okay,' she said breathlessly. 'Maybe I'm a lot ticklish.'
'Just on the foot?' His fingers slid enticingly up her calf, and pinpricks of desire fled across her skin, leaving her hotter than she'd ever thought possible. 'Yes.' Her reply was little more than a pant of air.
'You sure about that?'
No. 'Yes.'
'So you're definitely not ticklish behind your knee?' His fingers teased her skin as he spoke, and she couldn't contain her laughter. He stopped again, his grin as delicious as the look in his eyes. 'Shall we explore where else you might be ticklish?'
'Not in my lifetime.' Grinning, she ripped her leg from his grasp and jumped up from the table, bolting for the stairs.
He caught her in the hall and she laughed, halfheartedly fighting his hold on her. He pressed her back against the wall, his hands on either side of her body, neatly corralling her. His masculine odor filled her every breath, and the desire that scorched the air between them left her breathless and aching.
He leaned close, his gaze all but devouring her. 'I never could resist a challenge.'
His mouth brushed hers, a tender caress that left her lips tingling and her wanting more. But before she could react in any way, his hands had slipped to her waist and she was being tickled unmercifully.
She laughed, long and loud. Laughed until her knees felt as if they were going to give way and tears were streaming down her face.
'Stop, stop,' she begged between gasps for air. He did, bracing his hands on either side of her again. 'I think we can safely say you're ticklish all over.' His grin was boyishly cheeky.
'You think?' she managed to say.
'I think.' He leaned a little closer, and his cheeky grin melted into something far more dangerous, far more luscious. 'We can't risk heading out to Betise's for another hour or so. Any idea what we should do until then?' She hesitated, her pulse zooming, the need to give in to desire warring with the instinct to keep safe and keep her distance--emotionally, if not physically--from this man.
'We could go back to the kitchen and finish our coffee.' But her voice came out with a betraying huskiness, and the heat singeing the air became a tempest that blasted them both.
His smile faded, but his dark eyes burned bright in the hall's semidarkness. 'We could. Or you could tell me what you really want.'
She could. But she wouldn't. The wolf within might be free, and it might want him with a fierceness she'd never felt before, but she suspected if she openly admitted that, she might also be forced to admit other things. Like how much she didn't hate him. Or, how she was beginning to fear the thought of him walking away at the end of this moon phase.
'Tell me.' He dropped one hand and began undoing the knot at her waist.
A tremor of anticipation ran through her. 'No.'
'I can taste your desire on the air, little wolf. What harm is there in admitting it?'
'Plenty.'
The knot fell away and her gown slipped apart. The warm air caressed her even warmer skin, and her breath caught, then quickened. But he didn't touch her. Instead, he caught the left edge of the gown and gently flicked it back and forth across one erect nipple. The sensation was like nothing she'd ever felt before--erotic, arousing, torturous.
'Tell me,' he said softly.
She swallowed, but it didn't seem to ease the dryness in her throat or the trembling in her belly. 'Why do you care? I'm yours for this phase, no matter what I do or don't admit.'
