LITMIR.BIZ

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give me orders, Winter. I’m not your subordinate.”

      “Very well, Rainwater, please answer your phone.”

      “I’ll think about it.”

      She hurried toward the exit door, and he watched the sexy sway of her hips. He had to stop this fascination with her, and now. When she opened the door, he vanished before it closed.

      Two hours later, Fala watched a waiter fluttering behind the counter, shifting between two middle-aged men sitting at the bar, pouring coffee, handing over the morning special of two eggs, ham, bacon and three pancakes. He looked barely old enough to shave and not particularly delighted with his job at the moment.

      She and Winter were the only other customers in Happy Jack’s, and for that she was thankful. She could ask questions without prying ears. She hadn’t needed to convince Joe to go home and rest after his ordeal; he had seemed disoriented and confused after she’d wiped his memory. He said he was going back on leave. She agreed that would be a good idea, especially when the nightmares began. She’d dropped him at home, then had driven straight to the restaurant.

      Across from her, Winter had his nose buried in the menu. His black hair gleamed blue in the harsh fluorescent lights. His dark eyes were hidden by long, thick lashes. Heavy dark stubble covered his chin and face, and she could almost imagine how it would feel against her skin. Yikes, he’s too handsome for his own good.

      He’s not. Look at something else.

      She shifted uneasily in the booth and could smell Winter’s spicy cologne, the starch on his white shirt. She listened for his heartbeat, but it was blocked by something. All she could hear was her own heart hammering in her ears. Every nerve in her body seemed tuned into his proximity. Why was she having this reaction to him? Her physical senses were off the charts. He awakened places in her that she believed were protected by her powers.

      She thought of Akando. Why the heck didn’t he make her feel light-headed and a little faint? If only she’d felt half as much attraction to her fiancé as she felt for the man sitting across from her. The sinking sensation that always plagued her when she thought of her duties as Guardian pulled at her heart. Or was that just desire for a man she couldn’t have? Nothing like experiencing perverse lust.

      To make matters worse, she hadn’t been able to forget the way their bodies had touched in the alley. It was as if she had fallen from a cliff and the particles in her body would reach the ground before she did. She could still feel the hard curve of his chest pressed against her back, the solid wall of unexpected male warmth, his growing erection. And what was up with that earlobe nuzzle? It had sent her mind reeling and she had stood there like an idiot, throwing empty threats at him. She hadn’t liked being at his mercy, or anywhere near him for that matter. Luckily, Tumseneha had chosen that moment to attack. She never thought she would be glad to face the devil again.

      But another devil of sorts faced her at the moment, and he still studied the menu. She recalled that little eye dance between Winter and Tumseneha in the alley. Had they met before? And why had Tumseneha left as if he were afraid of Winter? It definitely raised more questions about Winter’s real identity. She was glad she hadn’t had to use her powers in front of him. She didn’t trust him one bit.

      She didn’t trust anyone outside of her tribe, not at this critical time in her life. Too many uncertainties surrounded Special Agent Stephen Winter. But she would discover the truth soon enough—if he ever decided what he wanted to eat.

      She tapped her foot on the floor and forced her gaze to the steaming coffeepot behind the counter. Other than a curt greeting, Winter hadn’t said anything for a full ten minutes. She wasn’t going to break the silence, but she was reacting to the jittery bounce of his right knee, the leg going up and down like a jackhammer. She felt the vibration of it hitting the center table leg. That leg had remained in perpetual motion since they sat down. What did he have to be uneasy about?

      That nervous energy was catchy, too. She drummed her fingers faster on the table. And there was no escaping the heat emanating from his left knee, almost touching her own. The warmth of it seeped through her jeans, causing her skin to tingle.

      He shifted, and the side of his right foot brushed one of her boots. She jerked her foot back and felt the button on his trench coat pressing intimately into her thigh. He’d laid his coat over her leather jacket on her side of the booth. One probing button down. With an irritated shove, she pushed both coats toward the wall. Jeez, was she losing her mind or was the booth shrinking? He was such a big guy. His nearness dwarfed everything, touched her everywhere. She’d rather be sitting on the floor than across from him in this shrinking booth.

      She straightened and forced her long legs back against the plastic seat. Thankfully, he didn’t shift his legs. She listened to the sound of a fork scraping a plate as the minutes stretched between them.

      It made her more anxious, and she finally asked, “Are you going to be here all morning reading the menu?”

      He glanced up at her. “I know what I want.” His gaze slipped down to her neck, breasts, then shot up again. “Do you?”

      He’d just checked her out. Fala met his gaze, even though her breathing grew shallow and her stomach felt like a fish flopped around inside it. A major complication she didn’t want or need. She assumed a mask of indifference.

      His guarded eyes probed her as if she were a package he was about to open.

      Not if she could help it.

      “I knew what I wanted the moment I sat down.” She stared back at him.

      “You’re very decisive.” His lips moved in the direction of a smile. Or was that irritation?

      When she saw the tension leave his mouth, she was certain it was annoyance. He probably didn’t know how to smile.

      “Waiter.” He raised a long-fingered hand and motioned to their server.

      Fala didn’t know if he meant that as a compliment or an insult. His smooth tones gave nothing away.

      He ordered eggs, bacon and coffee. She opted for a wheat waffle with strawberries and cream, and coffee. When the waiter walked back behind the counter and slapped the ticket on a hook at the cook’s station, Fala leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You got me here, so let’s talk.”

      “All right, what would you like…” His eyes shifted to the waiter as he set a carafe of coffee and two cups on the table. After the waiter left, Winter finished with, “…to ask me?”

      “First of all, why did you bring me into this case?” Fala reached for the coffee and filled both cups.

      “I didn’t. I was following orders.”

      Duh. Why was he toying with her? “Who are your superiors?” she asked, tightening her tone.

      “I’ve never actually met them.” His dark brows arched slightly. “I receive my orders through email.”

      “What agency do you work for?” Fala tasted the coffee, grimaced, and reached for the cream and sugar.

      He stretched a hand toward the sugar at the same time. Their hands touched. Stung by his touch, she jerked back.

      His lips hardened for a second as if he’d felt something, too. He recovered quickly and grabbed a sugar packet. “A branch of the State Department.”

      “What branch?”

      His brows knitted. “You ask a lot of questions. My turn.” Before she could protest, he asked, “Why weren’t you afraid of the lycanthrope?”

      Fala chose her words carefully. “You’ll find, Winter, that I’m not afraid of much. In my line of work, I’ve seen a lot.”

      “So you encounter werewolves on a daily basis?”

      Yeah, and they take the form of tall, nosy and too-damn-handsome special agents. “Some,” she said.

      “But they don’t

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