HE DROVE AN Explorer. That surprised her. It seemed so— well, so middle-class normal. Half the people inCaliforniadrove some kind of SUV.
"I ought to sell tickets,” Lily muttered as he slid into the driver's seat beside her. Rule Turner was eye candy no matter
what he wore, but in a tux the impact could wreck a woman's breathing.
"Pardon?" The knowing glint in his eyes suggested he'd heard her very well.
"Never mind." She found herself watching his hands as he started the engine and took them out into traffic. His fingers were long and slim. No scars, of course, nor any little nicks or scabs. Lupi healed such things. What was more surprising was how little hair there was on the backs of his hands. She'd always thought lupi were hairy. "Listen, I'm sorry about the way Worf acted. He's usually friendly."
"He didn't like my scent. The two of us will work things out," he said as he guided the vehicle smoothly through traffic. "Once he accepts me as dominant, he won't need to challenge me."
Nor did his beard seem especially heavy, though naturally he would have shaved... wouldn't he? Did lupi need to shave? "You're assuming you're going to see my dog often enough to work on a relationship with him."
"That's right. I am."
Her lips twitched. A sensible woman wouldn't find his arrogance so appealing. And maybe it wouldn't be, if she didn't suspect he was amused by himself, too. "So, what did your father say? Am I cleared to go talk to your people tomorrow?"
"He agreed to put it before the Council."
"What Council? I thought the Lupois's word was law."
"You might think of the Council as an advisory body, the elders of the tribe. Or maybe they're more like church deacons. The Lupois doesn't answer to the Council, but it pays to have their backing, particularly if he is considering breaking with tradition."
"I can't wait much longer, Rule."
"I know. I have a suggestion. Why don't we talk about something other than the investigation tonight?"
"Such as?"
"What do you usually talk about on a date?"
"The usual—his work, his hobbies, his ex-wives."
He clucked his tongue. "Sexism rears its ugly head. Surely there are a few men who don't just discuss themselves?"
"Well, they mostly don't want to talk about my work, unless I date a cop. And I don't date cops."
"I'm glad to hear that. Of course, I'd rather you didn't date anyone except me."
Her mouth went dry. "You don't have any right to say that. You're moving too fast."
"I'm being honest. Why don't you date cops?"
"They're lousy bets for anything long-term. Besides, it would be icky."
He grinned. "Icky?"
"You know—the way it would feel to work with someone you've ... someone who ... never mind."
"Do you 'never mind' with every man you date?" He slowed for the turn. "I ask not to condemn, you understand, but in hope."
She shook her head. "There you go, jumping to conclusions. I was talking about kissing, not grappling under the covers. And how uncomfortable it would be to work with someone I've had carnal thoughts about, or who I know has had those thoughts about me."
"If you think that only the men you've dated have carnal thoughts about you, you're far more naive than I would have believed."
The husky note in his voice turned the banter personal. Intimate. She licked her lips and tried to keep things light. "Of course not. According to studies, men have carnal thoughts every ten seconds or so. Women know this. We just prefer to ignore it."
"I wasn't talking about the occasional random hard-on. I was talking about the way men react to you. You're an intensely desirable woman, Lily."
Suddenly the air burned in her lungs, thick and sweet, and she was overwhelmingly conscious of her hands. Of the need to touch him—and the need to keep herself from doing any such thing. Lily looked down at her lap, smoothed the silk of her dress, and listened to her heartbeat pounding and pounding in her throat. She couldn't think of a thing to say.
After a moment he sighed. "And now I've made you uncomfortable. Too much honesty too soon. What do you do when you aren't arresting lawbreakers?"
"I like to run, hike, paddle around in the ocean. I've done some rock climbing. What do you do when you aren't jet-setting around or turning hairy?"
He chuckled. "Hairy or smooth, I like to run, hike, and paddle around in the ocean, too. Climbing, though, is better done with hands."
"That makes sense. Um... I should probably warn you about my family. My grandmother knows who you are. I'm not sure my mother does—I left a message with your name— but she'll figure it out pretty quickly."
"Will that be a problem?"
"Probably," she said gloomily. "You're certainly not Chinese. If you were a surgeon, that might not matter. Or a lawyer, as long as you worked for a prestigious firm. She's very big on personal achievement. About my grandmother, though ..." Her voice trailed off.
"The one you call Tiger Lady?"
"For heaven's sake, don't call her that tonight. The closest Chinese translation is, uh, not respectful." She sighed. There was no way to explain Grandmother. One had to experience her. "Just treat her as if she were royalty."
HE WAS MAKING mistakes with her. Rule knew that, but he couldn't seem to stop. He wanted to claim her, and he didn't want to wait. But whenever he let his urgency slip out, she retreated.
Lily wasn't sure about him. That was only natural. Even if he hadn't been what he was, she would have wanted time to know him, to know her own mind. He understood. He even agreed. But his blood was up, and the discipline of years was stretched taut just by being with her.
It didn't help to know she was as attracted as he, however she tried to hide it.
Tonight's date was about as safe as a first date could be, he thought wryly as they entered the restaurant. They were on her turf, surrounded by her family. He would rather have taken her someplace quiet and private, someplace where he could look at her as much as he liked. Touching would have been nice, too. But it eased something inside him to look at the curve of her throat or the slightly crooked incisor that only showed when she grinned. "You have a lot of relatives," he murmured.
The restaurant itself was less obviously oriental than he'd expected. The tables were round, white-draped, with western
place settings. A few people sat at those tables, but most milled around—easily fifty in this room, he estimated, and there was at least one more section to the restaurant. All wore evening dress, with many of the men in tuxedos. He'd wondered about that. A tux had seemed excessive for a family birthday party. He'd worn it anyway; Lily had said the party was formal, and he admitted to possessing his share of vanity. He looked good in a tux.
"I'm not related to everyone. Just most of them." She slanted him an amused glance. "Grandmother is probably holding court on the terrace. We'd better find her and deliver this." She lifted the small, elegantly wrapped box in her left hand. "It may take awhile. You do draw attention."
It took awhile. Rule was tense, hyperalert in the way typical of this time of the month, his balance a delicate thing. Scents and sounds assaulted him with every new person to meet and charm. Outside, unseen, the moon was yet unrisen, but he felt it sliding nearer the horizon with every pulse. The sensation was pleasant, but distracting.
The discipline of years helped him stay focused on the room and the need to mask his feelings. He was helped by his curiosity about these people—Lily's people—and by his awareness of the woman at his side. That, too, was a sweet distraction pulsing through him, making even the moon's call less compelling.
It didn't take long for him to note a common theme in the comments of her relatives. The unspoken text emerged in jokes that weren't quite funny, in sympathetic comments or the blanks left by avoiding one particular subject.