Linda O. Johnston - Undercover Wolf

Too bad she didn’t have the senses that her charges did while shifted, or even some of their enhanced senses in human form. Grace had described them to her, at least somewhat.

If Kristine had better hearing, maybe she could at least hear when—

There. Right in front of her. A movement within her line of vision.

Something had leaped off the hillside. In the little that she could see in the almost complete darkness, the shrubbery clinging to the side of the mountain remained in motion.

A figure moved in front of her on the roadside turnout. A wolf?

Just in case it wasn’t what she anticipated, she clutched the service weapon she had brought along, preparing to use it if necessary.

As quietly as she could, she opened the car door.

That created a haze of light—light in which she could see that something writhed in the bushes in front of her.

A shifter regaining its human shape?

The hell with being seen. Holding the gun in one hand, she grabbed a flashlight, too, turned it on and aimed them both at the moving figure.

In time to see the last of Quinn’s transformation back into human form.

He was back in the car, back in his jeans and T-shirt. Exhausted partly from the shift and partly from his ongoing frustration.

“Did you see anything useful?” Kristine asked, as she drove the car from the turnoff onto the twisting mountain road.

“No. I didn’t see, smell or hear anything at all that could help us. But at least I’ve oriented myself a bit more to this area and shifting around here.”

Beside him, Kristine said nothing for a minute. And then, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Fine.” And he actually was. As he breathed deeply, he felt his strength—and his determination—increasing. He was here. Simon and Grace had to be somewhere around this area, too.

Of course he would find them.

They would find them. Kristine, with all her military training and dedication, would continue to be an asset.

As she had already been, tonight.

“Thanks for watching my back,” he said gruffly, only to see her turn her head to glance at him.

“It’s what I’m here for,” she retorted in an equally gruff tone that made him smile.

The time Kristine had been dreading had arrived.

Okay, it wasn’t that big a deal. They were here undercover. They were both adults, rational people, soldiers.

At least she was a soldier, and he had enlisted as one. But that shouldn’t matter here anyway.

The point was that they were here under assumed identities. False ones.

And now, after dinner, a preliminary assessment of the town, plus the first of Quinn’s shifts in this area—and she anticipated many more—they had to get some sleep to be rested enough to dive right into their roles tomorrow.

Find answers.

Learn where Grace and Simon were, and rescue them, if necessary.

Assuming they were still alive.

That was what was important.

Who was sleeping where, in this small, quaint room with only one bed, was not a big deal. No bigger a deal than her acting as Quinn’s aide for shifting.

He had just crossed the room and closed the drapes. The room didn’t get any darker, since the lights were on.

“Would you like to use the bathroom first?” Kristine asked neutrally.

“After you, sweetheart.” His tone was ironic. Not serious at all.

A good thing.

“Fine,” she said briskly. “Then, when you’re changing, I can take the duvet and make myself a bed on the floor. I think you’ll be okay with the sheets already on the bed, and—”

“And you don’t think the maid would notice tomorrow?” His brows were raised, emphasizing that irony he had already projected.

“We can remake the bed in the morning to look as if we used it like the honeymooners we’re pretending to be.”

She looked him straight in the eye, challenging him to object. He certainly didn’t think they were going to have sex as part of their cover … did he?

And why did the idea twist her insides with molten lava?

She liked how they were getting along so far—on a friendly and professional basis. That was all. But she had convinced herself that any sexual attraction she felt for him was absurd. Unmilitary. Something she would laugh off. Ignore.

Wouldn’t she?

“No need for you or me to sleep on the floor.” His tone was sharp now, as if he was responding to an insult. “We can both act professionally. Share the bed without … sharing anything else. Okay?” Now he was the one challenging her.

“Okay,” she responded as coldly as she could manage.

But as their eyes met, the challenge felt clear. Hell, she could handle it. She could handle him .

Almost as if she was daring him, she took a step closer. Or did he move first? Suddenly, she was in his arms. His lips were hot, tasting as human as any man’s she had sampled before. But not the same. Better. They were sexier. More searching. Magnetic and alluring.

Challenging.

His body against hers—it was as hard as she had imagined. Especially there, below. Where the thick, sexy organ she had viewed before was now touching her, taunting her. Sure, there were clothes between them, but she felt him now. Hard. Erotic. Causing her insides to react with a need she didn’t want.

Didn’t want .

She pulled away fast, before she could change her mind. “Very interesting,” she said, trying not to sound out of breath at all. “All the more reason I should sleep on the floor. But I won’t.” This time, it definitely was a challenge.

“Fine.”

A while later, when they both had settled onto the bed, backs toward one another, Kristine was even more aware of Quinn Parran’s large, warm—highly sexy—presence behind her.

He’s a shapeshifter, she reminded herself yet again. She might like them, but sleeping with one? Plus, he was a new soldier. A renegade, not a dedicated member of the military the way she was. An investigator she needed to work with for Grace’s and Simon’s sake. That was all.

But she lay there, eyes open, long into the night, listening to Quinn Parran’s deep breathing, and not moving at all.

Otherwise, she just might touch him once more.

Most mornings, Kristine enjoyed her first cup of coffee but figured she could survive without it.

Not now. There was a lot she had to accomplish today, and since she’d hardly gotten any sleep last night, a strong dose of caffeine was first on her morning agenda.

She only wished it contained ingredients to rein in her libido.

At the moment, she sat across from Quinn at a table in a coffee shop along Main Street, the primary tourist avenue in Bar Harbor, just a couple of blocks from their hotel. The only good result of her restless night—fully aware of his presence luring her—was that he, too, looked tired. There was a slight dullness behind his golden eyes, and he also held on to the coffee mug in front of him as if it were a lifeline.

Had he remained aware of her, too—and had that also made him lose sleep? Perversely, she hoped so. If she had to suffer that way, then why shouldn’t he?

Maybe, for the sake of the mission they’d taken on, they could prevent another morning like this by indulging in sex tonight….

The thought disseminated electric tingles everywhere within her, even as she rejected it. It would only be a diversion. They had to find Grace and Simon—and ensure that they hadn’t been involved with the deaths in Acadia. That was paramount to anything else.

No matter how tempting.

She took another sip of coffee, glad that the server had left an entire pot. They were still waiting for their breakfasts to be served.

“So what do you think?” Quinn asked, breaking the silence at their table, although the restaurant was crowded and they were surrounded by low conversations. Like her, he had on jeans today. With hers, she wore a pale green buttoned blouse that she hadn’t tucked in. She couldn’t help noticing how Quinn’s black T-shirt hugged the muscles of his chest and upper arms. At the moment, the table blocked her view of below—a good thing. “Are you up for a bus tour?”