It’s better this way. Maybe if she kept repeating the thought, she’d begin to believe it.
Brendan saw the blinking light on his answering machine the minute he walked in the door. A sense of foreboding told him who it was even before Julie’s voice drifted out.
He hit the button to repeat the message as he carried the grocery bags farther into the kitchen. He stopped and laughed at the quiver in her voice as she explained how they should stick to being friends. That wasn’t going to happen.
Grabbing a bottle of water, Brendan pondered his options. The obvious one would be to accept her cancellation and track her down tomorrow. It was what any sane, rational human being would do. Clearly not an option for him. After all, he wasn’t just a man after a woman. He was a wolf after his mate.
Calling her didn’t seem like the smartest plan, either. Over the phone he had less influence than face-to-face. If he saw her, he knew he’d be able to convince her to come back to his place.
His gaze lingered on the uncooked salmon on the counter. Better yet, pick up a pizza on the way to her place. Dinner wasn’t started yet, and food would ease his way into her apartment. After all, who could resist a hot, gooey cheese pizza? Besides, maybe she’d feel more comfortable if he gave her the home court advantage. He had no doubt he’d win regardless. He was still grinning as he made his way to his car.
Chapter 5
Music blared through an open window in Julie’s studio. He chuckled as King of Wishful Thinking pummeled his sensitive ears the moment he opened the car door. Get over him, huh? Wishful thinking was right. He’d make sure Julie didn’t have any opportunity to “get over” him.
But he had a bigger problem to contend with first. No way would she hear the door through that racket. Just to be sure, he tried the buzzer and waited a full minute before trying again. He was amazed no one had called in a complaint. She was making enough noise to wake the dead. Wolves had extra sensitive hearing, after all.
It really would be for the benefit of the town to go up there and turn the music off. He grinned at the obvious false justification. The good of the town didn’t factor in, but was a reasonable excuse. Now to figure out how to get up there.
He walked to the front door and examined the lock. He often did repairs on the apartment for Laurie, so he knew the layout of the space. Even if he made it through this door, it would only give him access to the stairwell leading to the actual apartment above the bookstore. At the top of the stairs, the main door to the studio had yet another lock. Once he gained entrance through that door, the apartment was one big room, housing a bed and a small kitchenette. No place for Julie to hide.
In high school he’d spent a few summers working for the local locksmith. One of the first things they’d taught him was how to pick a lock as they’d often been sent on house calls where someone had locked himself out.
He hadn’t done it in years. Still there was no harm in trying, right? And this looked like a simple lever lock. There were even a couple of hangers in the backseat he could use for makeshift tools.
Rubbing his hands together, he planned his approach. Julie’s shouted lyrics drifted to him, making him laugh. Her speech was a bit slurred, and it was clear she was having a good time. He’d long known about her penchant for 80s and early 90s rock. One of her quirky little habits he found adorable.
Pulling out the hangers, he bent them into the shapes he needed.
Time to get to work.
Julie gawked in surprise as the door to her apartment swung open. Brendan stood framed in the doorway, wearing a cocky grin. A large pizza box sat on the floor behind him.
She stood on her bed, the only piece of furniture in the small studio, and stared at him for a full minute before glancing down at the half empty bottle in her hand. What the hell was in this stuff? Wine had never given her hallucinations before. She closed her eyes, rubbing one with her free hand. But the vision remained.
“I brought pizza,” it said, reaching down and grabbing the box on the floor. Or at least, that’s what she thought it said. Like a proper vision, the lips moved but no sound emerged. Although now that her brain had considered it, pizza sounded good. Her stomach rumbled in agreement.
The figment rolled its eyes and prowled into the room. Julie watched it cross to the stereo on the kitchen counter. The music shut off.
How had her imagination done that? The man stalked toward her.
She took a wobbly step backward, thrown off balance by the springiness of the bed beneath her.
“Whoa, easy there.” He reached out to steady her. His touch was warm against her arm, and she stared down at his long tanned fingers against her pale skin. A shiver of awareness raced through her, sweeping some of the clouds from her mind. This wasn’t a vision. Brendan was really here, in her apartment.
“Brendan? What are you doing here?” She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Her brain wasn’t processing things as quickly as she needed right now.
“Well, since you didn’t feel like salmon–” The smile he threw her way robbed her of what few thoughts she’d managed to gather. “–I brought pizza. Pepperoni, tomato and mushroom. I know it’s your favorite.”
She glanced at the box sitting beside the stereo on the counter. She was hungry. And her earlier reasons for cancelling didn’t seem valid anymore. What harm was there really? The world wasn’t going to end because she ate dinner with him.
Turning back to Brendan, she ran her gaze from his head to his toes and back up. He was looking yummier than the pizza.
His smile grew under her perusal, and she raised her gaze to his. The teasing glint in their depth told her he had watched her ogle him, and had enjoyed every minute. He took the wine bottle from her hand and lifted it toward the light.
“How much of this have you had, anyway?” His lips puckered in a whistle as he surveyed the level of the liquid within. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss him. His lips were already puckered and everything. God knew the man could kiss.
She dropped to her knees on the bed, putting them at the same height. Taking the bottle from him and setting it on the bedside table, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips hovered above hers, just shy of touching. She stretched, but he leaned back so their lips remained apart.
“You need to come closer.” She tugged at his shoulders, but he resisted the pull.
“Ordering me around, are you beautiful?” She tugged again, making no more progress than last time.
“Fine. If you don’t want me, then go away.” She puffed out an exasperated breath, unraveling her hands to bring them to her side.
Brendan felt her arms slide away from him, and grabbed them, bringing them back around his neck. He wasn’t ready to release her just yet.
“Oh, I want you all right. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess not to strip off your clothes and bend you backward until neither of us knows our own names. But you, my dear, are drunk. I want more from you than one night you might consider a drunken mistake tomorrow.” He watched his words sink past the alcoholic haze in her eyes. First surprise, then heat, flared in their depths before she dropped them to stare at his mouth.
“I’m not that drunk, Brendan.”
The laugh started in his gut, bubbling up until he had to release it. Even knowing it would replace her desire with anger, he couldn’t stop it. “Don’t laugh at me!” she huffed, trying to pull away. He clung tight, loving the fight within.