FUR FOR ALL, Book 5 in FIXED (9 page)

“What does that have to do with it?”

“A whole hell of a lot, considering it’s the difference between whether or not the police come swarming around your building like a plague of locusts.” Rafe ignored her furious scowl and sat up. “Since no one is going to be calling the police, I doubt they’ll have any reason to come to my building and eat all the crops.”

“I damned well will call the police, if you don’t let me go.” 68

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“How?” His tone was idly curious as he stood and crossed to an enormous closet, emerging a moment later with robe and a pair of casual linen trousers.

The robe he tossed to Tess and the trousers he pulled on, covering up a tragic amount of bare, bronzed muscle. “If I decide not to let you call the police, Tess, it’s not like you’re going to be able to defy me.” Tess blinked at him, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing with shock. “You mean—you won’t… you’re going to… you can’t just…” Rafe grinned at her. “Hurry up and put your robe on, Tess, before I get so distracted that I forget about making you breakfast.” He gave her an arrogant, indulgent look and swaggered out of the room.

Tess stared after him for a good long minute before her shock faded enough to let the anger bleed through. Shoving her arms into the sleeves of the massive terrycloth robe, she didn’t even bother rolling them up before she snatched the phone off the bedside table and held it to her ear. She didn’t get a dial tone, but she did get an annoying masculine chuckle and the infuriating sound of, “I’m not stupid, sweet Tess. Now come out to the kitchen—where I have the phone off the hook, by the way—and have some breakfast. After last night, you can use the protein.”

Click
.

Tess slammed the phone down on a strangled scream and headed for the kitchen, fully prepared to do battle with an arrogant, trouble-making werecat.

She wasn’t prepared for French toast.

She couldn’t have been more than five minutes behind him, yet when she stepped into the gleaming pine, black and chrome kitchen, he was already laying the first thick slice of batter-drenched bread onto a sizzling griddle. It wasn’t possible. And it damned sure wasn’t fair.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

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He looked up from slicing another slab of bread off a thick loaf of Challah and smiled at her. “Making breakfast. Do you want syrup or jam with your French toast?”

She braced her hands on her hips and glared at him. “What sort of dirty rotten trick is this? How dare you!”

“How dare I feed you?” He shrugged. “I guess I thought you’d be hungry. I know I’m starved. And waffles would have taken a lot longer, but if that’s what you want…”

“That’s
not
what I want. What I want is for you to act the way you’re supposed to, damn it. Stop being so nice!”

“I’m not supposed to be nice? How am I supposed to be?”

“You know. You’re supposed to act like a man. Tell me how much you enjoyed spending time with me last night, and you hate to rush me out because it makes you feel so sleazy, but you really do have an appointment in a couple of hours. And can you get me a cab? You’ll definitely call me if your schedule clears up so we can have dinner tonight, okay?” She paused for breath. “Aren’t you supposed to be the Don Juan around here? Shouldn’t you know how to do all this?”

She watched as he dipped a slice of bread into the bowl, then held it up to let the batter drain off. His movements were economical and expert and rather annoyed. “I’m afraid not. Somehow I must have missed the asshole training when I was becoming such a ‘Don Juan.’ You’ll just have to forgive me if I’m not acting like a total prick.”

“That’s not what I said.” She shifted her weight and tugged the sleeves of the robe down to cover her hands.

“Actually, that’s exactly what you said.”

“Well then it’s not what I meant.”

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“Then tell me what you did mean.” He set a filled plate down in front of her, handed her a glass carafe of syrup and pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the island from the cook top he was working on. “And eat your breakfast while you’re at it.”

She sat down reluctantly and picked up a fork, more to have something to do with her hands than because of an actual desire to eat. She didn’t say anything while he finished cooking his own serving and sat down beside her with an impressively heaping plate.

“Okay, I told you to eat your breakfast and tell me what you meant. Would you care to try for one out of two?”

Tess glared at him and speared a bite of toast, swirling it around in a puddle of maple syrup. “I just meant that you’re…not acting quite like I expected.” He swallowed a mouthful of breakfast and sipped from a huge glass of milk.

“What were you expecting? For me to boot you out of bed the second I rolled off of you?”

She squirmed in her seat. “Well, a little.”

“You really think I’m that kind of man?”

“You do have a—a…reputation, of sorts.”

“Christ Almighty, Tess, if you thought I was that big an asshole, why the hell did you go to bed with me to begin with?” Tess rolled her eyes. “Right. Like I had a choice about that.” His brows drew down into a dark storm front across his face. “Are you implying that I somehow forced you to have sex with me?”

“Of course not. We both know it didn’t happen that way. But Fate is Fate.

And when it comes down to it, there’s not much use in fighting what’s meant to be.”

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Tess stared at her plate while Rafe pushed his empty one aside and cleared his throat. “So you’re saying that we were—somehow—Fated to sleep together last night?”

“I can’t say for sure that it had to be last night in particular, but I didn’t see any point in waiting. I figured if we got it over with, it would be a lot easier for both of us to relax from now on.”

He snorted. “Right. You look really relaxed.” She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again when she saw a decidedly off look cross Rafe’s face. “What’s the matter?” He looked at her, his face a carefully blank mask. “Your cell phone plays
Turkey in the Straw
?”

She flew off her stool and out of the kitchen so fast she should have left skid marks on the parquet floors. “Granddad!”

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Chapter Eight

She sprinted toward the entry hall like it was an Olympic event, then wasted valuable seconds picking her way through shards of broken pottery in order to get to her denim jacket and the cell phone she kept in the inside pocket. She flipped it open just before the last strains of the square dance classic faded from hearing.

“H’lo?”

Pause. “Tess?”

“Yes, Granddad, it’s me,” she said, stepping gingerly back into Rafe’s living room and checking the bottoms of her feet for shrapnel. “How are you?” He ignored her question. “Is something the matter? You sound out of breath.”

“I’m fine.” She looked up when Rafe appeared in the doorway, but she didn’t tell him who she was speaking with. “I left my cell phone in the other room and I had to run to answer it. Is everything all right?”

“I had called to ask you the same question.” His voice cooled and began to take on the tone of disapproval and censure that was a Lionel Menzies trademark. “I expected you to call me first thing this morning to tell me how everything went last night.”

“Last night?” Rafe clearly intended to give her no privacy. Instead of leaving her to finish her call in peace, he perched on the arm of the chair nearest her and watched her with interest while he sipped from a mug of steaming coffee.

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“Yes. Of course, last night,” Lionel snapped into her ear. “When you were asked to deliver a message to the head of the Council of Others. Did the task prove to be too complex for you?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Then I assume you delivered the message without incident.” Tess pursed her lips and looked away from Rafe’s curious stare. “I delivered it just fine to the head of the council, just like you asked.” She didn’t intend to discuss any of last night’s incidents for her grandfather.

“And was there a reply?”

“A reply?”

Lionel sighed over the phone, his voice ringing with impatience and condescension. “Yes, Tess. A reply. You were instructed to wait to see if their leader would offer a reply to our message. Did he give you one?” Tess looked back at Rafe and saw him nodding. He was no longer perched on the arm of the chair, but stood in front of her, watching her intently and nodding meaningfully.

“Um, yes,” she said, eyes fixed on Rafe’s face. “Yes, their leader did offer a reply.”

“And what did they say?”

Tess frowned and bit her lip. “They said…um…that is, they told me to tell you…” She looked back to Rafe for guidance and saw him once again nodding his head with deliberate meaning. “They, uh… they said…’yes’?” Rafe grinned at her and nodded one last time. Tess blew out a relieved breath and turned her attention back to her grandfather’s voice.

“…like to see you as well. Is seven convenient for you?” 74

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Tess caught the tail end of what sounded like an invitation and frowned.

“I’m sorry, Granddad. There must have been a little static. I’m afraid I missed what you just said. Would you repeat it, please?” Lionel sighed again. It was his customary response whenever Tess spoke to him. “I do wish you would listen more carefully, Tess. I said that the council chairs would like to speak with you before the meeting in order to get your impressions of this De Santos fellow. I’ve invited them to dinner tonight and I asked if you would join us. At seven, please. And be sure to dress appropriately.”

Before she could accept or decline, Lionel hung up and left Tess scowling at her silent cell phone.

“You didn’t tell me your grandfather holds a position on this Witches’

Council,” Rafe said, standing to guide her back into the kitchen. He filled a new mug with coffee and set it down before her. “I gathered that was what your phone call was about. The council wished to hear my response to the message you delivered last night.”

Tess nodded, wrapping her hands around the warm mug, but not drinking.

“He doesn’t actually sit on the council. Not any more. He stepped down last year. But he is still active in the politics of it. Some of his close friends are still chair holders.”

“Then they want to question you about me.”

“Yeah, probably.”

There was a brief silence while Tess contemplated the coming evening.

Dinner at her grandfather’s house always made her nervous, and dinner there with the inner circle of the Witches’ Council would likely leave her with an ulcer before she finished her soup course.

“So what are you going to tell them about me?” 75

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Tess’s gaze flew to his face and her eyes went wide as saucers. “Well, I’m certainly not going to tell them that!”

Rafe laughed, a deep, throaty rumble that echoed through the kitchen. “I didn’t expect that you would. That’s between the two of us.” He winked at her.

“I meant, what do you plan to tell them about your first impressions of me?”

“I can’t tell them those, either,” she mumbled. He heard her though, because his grin widened and he chuckled into his coffee. Tess straightened. “I honestly don’t know what they’re expecting to hear from me. It’s not like I know you all that well—”

“Except biblically.”

“—so I can’t think what they’re going to ask about. All I can tell them is that you seem pretty human, you’re fairly intelligent and you’re friends with a werewolf. Oh, and you make killer French toast.” He shook his head. “I’m fairly certain that’s not precisely the sort of information they’ll be looking for.”

“Me, too. But like I said, I don’t know what they
will
be looking for. Except to know that I probably don’t know, you know?”

“I know.”

Tess sighed and looked at her watch, then compared her findings to the digital readouts on his space-age microwave and built-in double oven. All sources agreed. She was way late for work.

“Look, thanks for…er…breakfast,” she said, sliding off the stool and cinching the belt of her robe even tighter, “but I really have to run. It’s my assistant’s day to open the shop, but I still have a ton of work to do. I should get going.”

Rafe set down his coffee cup and nodded. Walking around the island, he placed his hand in the small of her back and ushered her toward the bedroom.

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“Of course. Why don’t you take a quick shower while I gather your things together? You’ll feel much more ready to start the day after you’re clean and dressed in your own clothes. All right?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, just pushed her through the bedroom and into the master bath, showing her where to find clean towels, instructing her on the vagaries of his shower and offering her his toothbrush. Then he smiled at her and left, shutting the door firmly behind her and leaving her alone in the sea of richly earth-toned tile and gleaming porcelain.

She blinked and reached for the shower faucet. Maybe he was right. Maybe a shower would clear her head. At this rate, it damned sure couldn’t hurt.

Rafe waited until he heard the water start to run before he picked up the phone and dialed from memory.

“Yeah.

“Graham. I need you to get some information for me.”

“Thank you for choosing the Silverback Clan for all your investigative needs.

We sniff out all the news you need to know.”

“Cute. You should get business cards printed up.”

“I’m way ahead of you. The press had this really cool generic logo of a wolf baying at the moon, too. They’re gonna be great.”

“I’ll take ten. But in the meantime, this is important. And it’s a rush job.” Graham’s voice snapped into serious mode. “Name it. I’m listening.”

“I need you to find out everything you can about someone. I’ve got a phone number for him, but I don’t know much of anything else.” Rafe flipped open Tess’s cell phone and pressed a button to bring up her address book. Sure enough, memory slot number two read, “Granddad.” He read the number back to Graham. “The name should be Menzies.”