Keri Arthur - Beneath A Rising Moon

But he wouldn't. She knew that without a doubt. Whatever his reasons for coming here, it had nothing to do with interest or pleasure-- at least not for her, anyway. Why the hell was he here? She'd promised the nights, not the days. What was he up to? And why did she feel with such sick certainty that his appearance here boded her no good?

He slipped into the booth she'd indicated, and Ari sighed. "Typical. The best looking man I've ever seen walks in here, and he sits at one of your tables." She hesitated, visibly brightening. "Can we swap?"

She would have liked to, but there was something in his ebony gaze that suggested retribution if she tried. "Sorry. No can do."

"That's right, be greedy. Keep the hunk all to yourself." She raised an eyebrow. "And you wouldn't?"

"Beside the point." Ari waved a dismissing hand and slapped a menu into her hands. "Go get him, tiger."

Neva took a quick drink of soda, then made her way around the counter and walked toward him. He watched every step, his dark gaze as impassive as his thoughts. By the time she'd reached the halfway point, her stomach was tumbling worse than a clothes dryer, and she was seriously regretting her quick drink of soda. "Care for a menu, sir?" she asked, forcing a cheerful smile to her lips.

I think we both know what I came here for. He took the menu from her trembling hands and casually opened it.

It felt like he'd clubbed her in the stomach. She stared at him for a second, knuckles white as she gripped her notepad for dear life. What the hell are you talking about? Aloud, she said, "The specials today are spicy chicken burgers with chips and salad, or minestrone soup with a small platter of homemade breads."

I told you to wait for me last night.

So? You also said you'd take the time to pleasure me more fully, and that didn't exactly happen now, did it? Though there was not the slightest flicker in his shuttered eyes, she knew her barb had hit home. His anger boiled around her, a distant touch of thunder only she could hear.

You agreed to mate with me. You had no right to leave. He studied the menu for a moment, then ordered the chicken burger and fries.

And you have no right to come here chasing me. "Would you like a coffee with that, sir?"

I have every right. "Black, thanks."

She wrote it down, mouth dry. What do you mean? It's one of the more obscure rules of the dance. If a female who has agreed to a mating does not fulfill her promises, then the male has every right to pursue her and make her. He hesitated, his gaze snaring hers with deadly intent. No matter where she might be.

Oh God. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. Surely he wouldn't. Not here in the diner. Even he couldn't be that wild. That uncaring. But as she returned his gaze, a tremor of fear began deep inside.

She may have studied this man, but she didn't know him. Didn't have a clue as to just what he was capable of doing.

I agreed to the nights. I intend to uphold that bargain. Not last night you didn't.

We mated. If you could call what happened between them the second time mating.

You ran. I was far from finished, believe me. The trembling was beginning to work its way down her legs. Her knees felt fluid. She so desperately wanted to tell him she was finished, that she'd had enough of his stupid dance and magnificent but uncaring body. But she'd couldn't. She was snared by the very net she'd thrown, and she had no choice in this now. But she had a horrible suspicion she'd better find

Savannah's attacker fast, before this man destroyed her. Tell me what you want. Aloud, she added, "Anything else with that, sir?"

His smile was slow and sexy and sizzled heat across every nerve ending. "Oh yes," he said softly. "But we'll discuss that a little later." When the diner isn't as full. She flipped closed her notebook and all but ran back to the counter. Where she stood, back to him, taking deep breaths as she tried to control the shaking. She couldn't go into the kitchen like this. Her dad would know something was wrong and be out her e in an instant searching for the troublemaker.

Ari came around the counter. "He has that sort of effect on me, too," she said, voice sympathetic, "And I haven't been anywhere near him."

"I'll be fine once I catch by breath," she said. Which certainly wasn't a lie.

"So what does he smell like?"

"Like a warm whisky on a cold night," she said without thinking.

Ari chuckled softly. "You have got the hots for him real bad, don't you? Shame your old man is next door. You could've dragged our sexy stranger into the storeroom and had a quick dance with him."

That was certainly a possibility anyway, if the heated promise in his eyes was anything to go by. "Of course, you'd have to dust yourself off with bicarb afterward," Ari continued blithely.

Neva blinked and looked at her. "What?"

"Bicarb absorbs smells, does it not?"

"Yeah--so?"

"So, you don't want your straightlaced parents knowing you've actually gone out and enjoyed yourself, do you?" She winked saucily. "Works a treat, believe me. Been doing it for years."

Neva laughed softly and pushed away from the counter. "You're incorrigible."

"But a hell of a lot more satisfied than you'll ever be if you don't start pulling your act into the twenty-

first century." She waved a hand toward the kitchen. "Your dad may be the head of the Future's

Committee, but both your parents are still acting like they were brought up in the fifteenth century."

"Okay for you to say," she said dryly. "You don't have to live with their fifteenth century ideals."

"Neither do you. You moved out two years ago, remember?"

Moving out was easy. Ignoring the twenty-six years spent under their roof, absorbing their influences and ideals, was not. She wasn't even sure she wanted to ignore them.

"I'm trying, Ari, believe me."

"Not hard enough if you let that delicious stranger slip through your fingers."

She forced a smile and walked into the kitchen, handing her dad Duncan's order. When it was ready eight minutes later, she grabbed the plate and his coffee, took a deep breath, and walked over.

"Here you go, sir," she said, placing his plate in front of him.

"Thank you." He let his hand slide across hers as he reached for his cutlery.

It felt like flame caressing her skin, and she jumped. The coffee cup she still held tumbled sideways, splashing heated brown liquid all over the table and him. "Oh God, I'm sorry," she said, horrified. "Are you all right? Are you burned?"

His raised eyebrow suggested he didn't believe the sincerity of her words. "No. Just clean up the table, and me, and it'll be fine."

She pulled the towel from the side of her apron and mopped up the worst of the spill. Ari tossed her another towel, and she finished it. Luckily, the burger had somehow avoided being drenched. She didn't fancy going back into the kitchen right now. "What about the parcel?" She flicked her cloth in the direction of the brown wrapped box.

"It's fine," he said softly. "But you did still miss a bit." She frowned. "No, I haven--" Her voice faded as he shifted, revealing the dots of coffee on his sweater and groin.

Surely you don't expect me--The thought froze as she met his gaze. He would. And he did.

She took another deep breath, then quickly dabbed the stains from his sweater and jeans. And couldn't help noticing--or feeling--the huge bulge of his excitement. An odd slither of feminine satisfaction ran through her. At least he couldn't deny his interest in her when the evidence of it was so clearly visible.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" she said, voice a little more breathy than she would have liked. His smile smoked her insides. "Not right now." She nodded and retreated to the other side of the diner.