Legend of the White Wolf (3 page)

   Usually a lot less obvious than that when she was scrutinizing a man's marital status— although he might be married and just not wear a wedding ring—she felt her skin heat even more. "Thanks," she said quickly, turned around, and left his room before she made any more of a fool of herself. But as soon as she reached her door and slipped her hand in her jeans pocket, she realized she didn't have the key.

Cameron watched the petite blonde stand before her room, her parka draped over her arm, her hand shoved into her pocket, but she didn't make a motion to unlock her door.

   She'd left the key in the room?

   The poor woman. She looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion. However, he'd seen the way she'd looked at him and checked to see if he was married, which meant only one thing. She'd been intrigued. Might have even stayed for dinner if she had been more impul sive. Probably a good thing she wasn't. At least, not the way she looked, wearing a sparkling white sweater that caressed nice-sized breasts and form-fitting black jeans that showed off lots of curves, conjuring up the image of
sexy,
soft, and cuddly. Gold curls swept over her shoul ders, and she looked like she belonged on a beach in a bikini, soaking up the sun, a long way from here.

   "Want me to call down and have the hotel staff bring you up another key?"

   She hesitated, mulling over her options, he figured, not saying anything for a minute, just staring at the immovable door. Then she turned around and her lush lips, glossed with something shimmering, pink—and sensuous—curved up. Her stunning green eyes sparkled like emeralds in the bright hall lights, mesmerizing him. Hell, he was a sucker for green eyes.

   She arched an eyebrow and gave a cute little snort. "Uhm, thanks, but I can manage." She straightened her shoulders and trudged down the hall toward the elevator.

   She had spunk, he had to admit. And some damned nice curves. He watched her wiggle her tush all the way to the elevator, then waited until she was inside, just in case she changed her mind. She didn't. His loss.

   He closed his door and padded back to the bed. But he couldn't put the woman out of his mind. Not that he needed any distractions for now while he was on his mission, but until tomorrow morning, he couldn't get much done anyway. He slipped out of his jeans and climbed into bed. Bright and early, he was going to check out Back Country Tours to learn why his friends hadn't arrived home on time, without any word of explanation.

   But even so, Cameron couldn't help listening for the woman to return to her room, and when he heard the door click open and shut several minutes later, he relaxed a little. Then the door clicked open and shut again. He waited, listening. The ice maker down the hall ground, the ice clunking into the bucket. Then her door opened and shut again.

   He tucked his arms behind his head and fantasized how he might have breakfast with the little lady before he took off for his next destination—cabins in the wilderness, no land phones, no cell phone service—he'd have to rely on his instincts more in this investigation. Cameron hoped his friends weren't in any real trouble, hoped they had just been unable to get in touch with him and their P.I. partner, Gavin Summerfield, who was still running their business back in Seattle in the meantime.

   Cameron sighed. Seven days. That's how long the hunting trip was supposed to last. Add a couple of days travel time. Two weeks, max. They'd even had to turn down some lucrative jobs because they were so short handed. But it beat the heck out of him how he got stuck leaving Seattle to land in this snow-filled landscape instead of Gavin.

   Cameron's cell phone rang. Speak of the devil.
Gavin
. "Hey, no word yet, but I'll be going to the cabins tomorrow after I stop by Back Country Tours to see if anyone's in the office in the morning. We'll have a phone blackout for a while once I reach the resort."

   "I received a garbled message. Sounded like Owen and he said something about being unable to get word to us. It sounded like he said he and David were all right. And quitting. Quitting the hunt? The static was too bad, and I couldn't make out any more before the phone line cut out completely."

   "But he really sounded all right? Not under duress? Not in any kind of trouble or anything, were they?"

   "I'd like to say no. But the connection was so bad, I couldn't really say."

   Cameron opened his mouth to speak, when a woman screamed—from the room across the hall.

THE GRAYHAIRED MAN APOLOGIZED PROFUSELY AS FAITH pushed him out of her room, her towel clutched tightly around her torso, her wet hair wrapped in another. She'd kill the hotel clerk. Couldn't the woman give one customer a room that wasn't already occupied?

   If that weren't enough of an embarrassment, here came her knight to the rescue, wearing a pair of vivid blue silky boxers—and nothing else—none other than Cameron MacPherson.

   He raised his brows at her as the man hurried off with his bag, apologizing under his breath.

   "Clerk gave him a key to your room?" Cameron asked, a wrinkle creasing his forehead.

   Faith began shutting the door to hide her state of undress in case anyone else happened to walk down the hall. "Yes."

   "I'll call down and complain to the manager. We haven't been properly introduced, though. I'm Cameron MacPherson. And you are?"

   "Faith O'Malley." She pressed the door closed a little more.

   "Want to have breakfast with me in the morning?"

   She was so annoyed with the clerk, she hadn't planned to let the grudge go, until Cameron asked to have break fast with her. He was just too cute. And persistent. Her stomach grumbled. Although initially she thought eating too late could keep her awake, now she reasoned she might sleep better if she had a bite to eat. Besides, Cameron could take her mind off Hilson, for a little while. It didn't mean she was going to stay the night or do anything she didn't want to do, she reminded herself.

   "Still have some dinner left over?" she asked.

   Cameron smiled, the skin beneath his eyes wrinkling, dimples appearing, his blue eyes gleaming with delight, the devilish look saying he knew he could break her down eventually if he tried long enough. "I'll even dress for dinner."

   She wondered just what his definition of dressed would be. "Be right over. And thanks… for the rescue." She glanced at his boxers, the same blue as his eyes.

   Grinning, he saluted her and stalked back to his room as if his mission was done.

As soon as Faith said she'd eat with Cameron, she'd surprised and pleased the hell out of him. He really figured he didn't have a chance to convince her he was one of the good guys and just wanted a little company.
Her
kind of company.

   He couldn't get the image of her—standing half naked, wearing only a skimpy towel to cover herself—out of his mind. For certain, the gods had smiled on him tonight.

   After hurrying back into his room, he jerked on his jeans and threw the rest of his scattered clothes into his suitcase. Then he moved one of the two pillows he'd been using over to
her
side of the bed. He glanced at the door. He hadn't heard her door opening yet, so he rushed into the bathroom to pick up the wet towel he'd thrown on the floor and hung it up on the towel bar. Afterward, he tossed his toothbrush and toothpaste and shaving gear back into his shaving kit.

   Her door opened and closed. He rubbed his bare chest. Shirt? Or no?

   He stalked out of the bathroom and grabbed his flannel shirt out of the suitcase, then yanked it on, just as she knocked. He returned to the door, opened it, and smiled at Faith. "Dinner's served."

   Wearing emerald-green velour running clothes, she looked incredibly soft and touchable, her blond curls caressing her shoulders like he wanted to do.

   She smiled a little to see his shirt hanging open. He supposed he should have buttoned it, but she didn't seem to mind.

   She raised her brows at the bed where his tray of food was sitting, and he started his salesman's pitch. "I was watching the Jack Nicholson movie in bed. It's about over. Want to see what's coming up after that one?"

   She hesitated, then took a deep breath and headed for the bed. "So what's on next?"

   "Looks like werewolf movie night. Something called
The Howl of the Wolf
."

   "Ah." She sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off a boot and already his thoughts were of seeing her take off more. But she yanked off the other boot, dropped it on the carpeted floor to join its mate, then climbed on top of the floral covers. "That's Julie Wildthorn's third book in her werewolf series. I'd heard the book was better so never went to see the movie version."

   A woman after his own heart. "You like fantasy? Urban fantasy?"

   "Both of the above." She took the lemon-lime soda he handed her, her legs stretched out on the bed, a whiff of her floral fragrance enticing him to take a deeper breath. "So is this a vacation or business trip for you?" she asked.

   "A little of both." Although he hadn't planned on having any fun until she popped into his room and began stripping while he'd been in the shower. "And you?"

   "Strictly business."

   He smiled. Yeah, strictly business. That's why she was sitting on his bed, sharing dinner with him.

   The movie version of
The Howl of the Wolf began, an
d he couldn't help notice the way she smiled at the funny scenes, chuckling under her breath, but her cheeks grew a little flushed when the hero and heroine went beyond kissing, got naked, and ended up in bed together.

   She cleared her throat and leaned back against the pillow. He thought she was going to say something. She didn't, and then she sank lower onto the mattress, her eyes half closed, her long lashes hiding them further, her hand still clasped around the soda can.

   When her eyes closed, he reached over and slipped the drink from her hand so she wouldn't spill it, half hoping she'd spend the night. To his regret, her eyes popped open. "Oh…" She stared at the TV, then smiled. "I like the book version better. She ends up with the hunky werewolf, not the wimpy human in the story." A small wrinkle appeared on her forehead, then she turned to Cameron. "If I fall asleep again, wake me and send me home."

   He shook his head. "I'm enjoying the company." And he was. The last girl he dated was only into chick flicks. Absolutely no fantasy, no sci-fi, no urban fantasy, no historical, westerns, war movies, nothing. He pulled the tray off the bed and settled back against the pillow like Faith had done, only he drew closer this time, enjoying the warmth from her body, her subtle fragrance, the companionship.

   Before long, her eyes were shut again, only this time he slipped his arm under her head. When she smiled at him, her expression quizzical, he said, "I was getting a little chilly. Weren't you?"

   She chuckled, the sound low and amused. But she played right along with him, and snuggled up nice and close. Too bad she was here strictly on business. He smiled at the notion, but it didn't take long before she closed her eyes again, and he nodded off also.

   He hadn't even realized he'd done so until Faith pulled away from him, waking him, and gave him a weary smile. "Guess we missed the end of the movie. Just remember, the werewolf gets the girl in the correct version." Then she climbed off the bed and stretched like a sleek feline wrapped in green velvet-like duds.

   He wanted her to stay the night, but he didn't figure she'd agree. Still… he had to make the offer. "Another werewolf tale coming up."

   "I've seen
Underworld."
She checked her watch. "It's nearly one and I've got business to take care of early in the morning. Snowstorm's supposed to be coming now."

   "Want to have breakfast with me tomorrow?"

   She didn't hesitate to respond this time, and he knew he'd hooked her for a date. "I'm an early riser. Would six be too early for you?"

   He frowned, but at the same time, he was glad she'd share another meal with him before he had to traipse off into the wilderness alone. "Uh. Sure. Pick you up at six."

   But he could tell from her expression, she was already distancing herself from him.

   "Or we could meet down in the restaurant," she said.

   That clinched it. But he wasn't letting her go, just yet. He shook his head. "I'll knock on your door at six."

   When she left his room, he waited at his open doorway while she unlocked her door, but then she just stared into the room. He hoped she was changing her mind about staying with him a little longer, and not that something more was wrong.

   "Faith?"

   "I think the clerk let someone else into my room." Her voice was a little shaky.

   Cameron crossed the floor to check out her room when his door automatically shut behind him. He swore under his breath, realizing at once his room key was lying on the desk.

   She raised her brows at him. "Did you leave your key—"

   "Yeah."

   "You could stay here and watch
Underworld
with me while you're waiting for another room key."

   He chuckled and rubbed his hand over her back, but every muscle remained rigid with tension. "You've got a deal. How do you know someone came into your room?" He escorted her inside and shut the door.

   "My suitcase was open. My bathroom door was closed. And my overnight bag is on its side now, not standing upright."