LITMIR.BIZ

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her hands, then took the bread from him and set it on the dark green and black marble countertop. Cobb put the turkey on an old-fashioned butcher’s block that sat in the center of the kitchen. She looked around. A small table with an L-shaped bench sat beneath a large corner window, with two chairs on the sides opposite the bench. Glass-doored cupboards lined two walls, and all the appliances were modern brushed stainless steel.

      “This is lovely,” she murmured, running her hand along the counter. She thought of her little galley kitchen in her apartment in Tucson and squashed a surge of envy.

      “Thank you, Miss Gibson.” He handed her a bread knife. “If you would cut some bread, please. Enough for yourself and Mr. O’Connell.”

      “Oh, please, call me Taite.” She watched Cobb set a knife efficiently to the turkey, cutting off large slices, then she turned her attention to the bread and began slicing it. “How long have you worked for Mr. Merrick?”

      “Nearly thirty years now.” Cobb placed the carving knife in the sink. Pulling open a drawer next to the stove, he pulled out a butter knife and two forks. “My father worked for his father, and I began my employment when young Mr. Merrick was still a teenager. Would you like salad cream or mustard on your sandwich?”

      Salad cream? Did he mean salad dressing?

      Cobb must have seen the confusion on her face, for he clarified, “I believe you Americans call it mayonnaise.”

      “Oh, both, please.” Taite set her own knife down and picked up the slices of bread. Turning, she walked to the butcher’s block where Cobb had set aside thick slices of turkey. She placed the bread on two plates, then added a few tomato slices from a third plate. “What’s he like? Mr. Merrick, I mean.”

      Without looking at her, he said, “I don’t discuss my employer, miss.” He placed the sandwiches on a cornflower blue platter and carried it over to the small breakfast nook. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll fetch Mr. O’Connell.”

      Taite pursed her lips and watched Cobb leave the kitchen. She hadn’t scored any brownie points there. She might’ve even lost a few. And somehow she had the feeling she needed the little guy in her corner.

      “Well, fuck. You could’ve been a bit more welcomin’, boyo,” Declan growled. “It’s a damned good thing I told Taite you were a loner or she might think you’re just plain rude.”

      Ryder stretched out his legs and laid one arm along the back of the sofa. He watched Declan pace in front of the bookcase-lined west wall of the study. “I told you not to come,” he reminded his friend. “If you wanted to make up with Pelicia, you could’ve used an excuse other than werewolves.”

      A shot of color rode high on Declan’s cheeks. He scowled. “It’s not an excuse.”

      “Uh-huh.” Ryder crossed his ankles. He’d never seen Declan so discomfited, and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. “You and she didn’t exactly part on good terms, as I recall. You think she’ll even talk to you?”

      “Dry up,” Declan muttered. He rubbed one hand over his cheek. “And stop tryin’ to change the subject. We were discussin’ you and this ridiculous excuse you’re givin’.”

      Not having anything else to fall back on, Ryder returned to his original pretext. “I do have deadlines, Declan.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

      “Fuck that.” Declan’s emotions rode close to the surface. Ryder detected frustration and anger. And fear, which he’d never before sensed from the former marine commando.

      There was a sharp crack, and Ryder opened one eye to see Declan standing at the desk, both palms flat on the surface. The sound had been his friend slamming his hands onto the desk. He closed his eye again and concentrated on appearing unconcerned.

      “Dammit, Ry. You don’t understand. The thing that came after us was a werewolf. A goddamned werewolf!”

      The last thing Ryder wanted anyone around him to believe was that werewolves actually existed. And so he went on the offensive. “Pull the other one, mate.”

      “I’m tellin’ you what I saw.” Declan stopped pacing, and Ryder could feel his friend staring at him. “The fuckin’ thing was at least seven feet tall, shaped like a man but covered in fur. And its face…” Declan dropped onto the other end of the sofa and sighed. “Its face looked like a fuckin’ wolf’s.”

      Without opening his eyes or changing his posture, Ryder said, “All I can say is my research has never suggested that werewolves are real. Especially as Hollywood would portray them.”

      “Shit.” Declan’s voice was deep and harsh. “Well, if it’s no’, I don’t know what the hell it is. But it’s no’ human, I can tell you that much.” His Irish brogue became more pronounced, clearly showing his agitation.

      They were silent for a few moments, Declan muttering under his breath now and again. Knowing his friend would get back on the subject of werewolves, Ryder shoved to his feet and walked to the bookshelves. Running one finger along the top shelf, he followed it until he reached the book he was looking for. He handed the thick hardback to Declan. “Here. This fellow is supposedly the foremost expert on lycanthropy.”

      Declan frowned, though he took the book. “Jaysus! I don’t want to look through some fuckin’ book, Ry. Why won’t you just tell me what you know?”

      Ryder opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Cobb.

      “Pardon me, sir.”

      Ryder turned his head to see Cobb standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

      Declan muttered something under his breath and tossed the book onto the sofa.

      Cobb raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment other than to say, “I’ve made a sandwich for Mr. O’Connell. Ms. Gibson has already started eating, if you’d care to join her in the kitchen,” he said, directing his last comment to Declan.

      “Sure. Why not?” Declan slanted a look at Ryder that promised the conversation wasn’t over. “You comin’?”

      “In a minute,” Ryder responded. He needed to talk to Cobb to make sure they were both following the same game plan. Waiting until he could no longer hear Declan’s footsteps, he looked at his employee. “They won’t be leaving tomorrow.”

      Cobb blinked. “You’ve decided to let them stay?”

      With a sigh, Ryder scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand, kneading muscles gone taut with tension. “I know Declan. He’s like a bear after honey. He won’t leave until he knows how he can protect the woman. If I try to make him leave, it will cause him to be more suspicious than he already is.”

      He didn’t want to look too closely at the more pressing reason for having them stay.

      His bone-deep loneliness.

      He’d missed Declan, that was a fact. It would be nice to catch up on old times with his friend. Ryder closed his mind off to thinking about his other houseguest. Perhaps if he didn’t put a name to her and thought of her in more abstract ways, he wouldn’t be so attracted to her.

      “We had discussed sleeping arrangements,” Cobb said. “However, now that I’ve seen them together, I wonder…Should I put them in the same room? I assume they’re lovers.”

      Ryder clenched his jaw at the thought of Declan touching Taite, of the other man sliding into her slick heat. A snarl left his throat, startling him. Dammit. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t even know her, yet she seemed intimately familiar, like the warmth of home.

      “It appears it would be in Mr. O’Connell’s best interests for them not to be lovers,” Cobb observed wryly.

      Ryder stared at Cobb, the beginnings of panic swirling in his gut. He had to fight this attraction he felt, because it could go nowhere. He couldn’t let it go anywhere. Especially given what had happened with Marika….

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