Silence of the Wolf(105)

Tom and Elizabeth watched her leave.

She frowned up at him. “Did she smell like—?”

“A jaguar?”

They both shook their heads and said, “Nah.”

***

A short while later, Tom grilled the steaks on Elizabeth’s back patio, while she made arrangements to have her household goods shipped and lined up a Realtor to sell her house. She’d also picked up her camera from the repair shop, delighted that it worked again. She would need it to take pictures for her new newspaper, though maybe Jake would shoot some pictures for her, too. Tom intended to get her another camera—as a spare.

At her insistence, so he wouldn’t splatter steak juices on his sweater, he wore Elizabeth’s bluebonnet floral apron. It got him to thinking about Darien wearing Lelandi’s brown and pink ruffled apron when he fed his toddlers. Tom realized that Darien didn’t need a manlier apron. He himself wasn’t bothered about wearing Elizabeth’s flowery one if it meant being with her and keeping her happy. He could even envision feeding oatmeal mush to his toddlers in another year or so, wearing this same apron.

That had him smiling.

When Elizabeth joined him with a platter covered with raw vegetables to grill, he turned and saw she was looking out at the vista. A male coyote off in the distance watched them.

“Looks like you have an admirer.” Tom flipped the steaks, keeping his eye on the coyote.

Elizabeth set the platter of vegetables on the table next to the grill and wrapped her arms around Tom’s waist. “I think he was interested in me before, but he was afraid of my wolf half.”

Tom set the tongs on the sideboard, turned, and drew Elizabeth into his arms. “Well, now he can be afraid of your other half, too, who’s a whole wolf.”

She smiled up at Tom. “I have to admit I thought I’d made the biggest mistake, shopping at that butcher shop.”

“Sometimes our worst mistakes can turn out to be the very best thing for us. I know your being in my life has been the very best thing for me.”

Elizabeth couldn’t believe her half brother and uncle were dead, and she had nothing to worry about in returning to Colorado, all because Tom had been there for her. She loved him.

And she knew from Tom’s expression that he was ready to skip the steaks and prove just how glad he was that she’d come back into his life. But she wasn’t giving her steaks up for anyone or anything this time.

“Steaks first. Dessert after,” she said.

“Did I ever tell you how hard you are on me?”

“Once or twice,” she said with a smile. “And you love me for it.”

“Damn… right.” He quickly tossed the food on the plates, gathered her in his arms, and started kissing her—and she was reminded of that kiss on the slopes when they’d become a video sensation for the whole pack.

Except for the cool Texas breeze and one coyote witness off in the distance, this time they were alone. And she decided that life was too short.

She wanted dessert first so she dragged him toward the house, plates in hand.

“What about our steaks?” he asked.

“Priorities change,” she said, smiling up at him. “Some things just won’t wait.”

“Amen to that.”





Read on for an excerpt from Jaguar Hunt, the upcoming book in Terry Spear’s action-packed and sizzling-hot jaguar shape-shifter series


David Patterson parked his car and headed into the Clawed and Dangerous Kitty Cat Club, a Dallas-based social gathering spot for jaguar shifters. Humans didn’t know that the shifters even existed and the shifters meant to keep it that way. The owners of the establishment didn’t restrict humans from frequenting the place. More business meant more money. David wasn’t there to support the club; his current task as a Special Forces Golden Claw JAG agent was to follow two unruly teens—jaguar shifter twins Alex and Nate Taylor—and bring them into the JAG branch if they violated one more law—jaguar shifter or otherwise.

This was not the kind of mission JAG agents normally took on—unless the organization felt the teens were at risk or that they could be a welcome asset to the branch and the agent was between assignments.

Neither of the boys was supposed to be in a club that served alcohol, which he would let slide if they were only there to watch the dancers in their skimpy leopard-skin loincloths and micro-bikini tops.

The place was more crowded than David remembered the last time he was here. One rowdy group caught his attention. They looked…different. Many were in great shape—almost as if they were shifters in the Service. But they were speaking in a smattering of foreign languages —Spanish, Russian, Chinese—and some of them wore clothes that were…unusual. Tights, sparkly tops, and ballet slippers that looked less like club clothes and more like what a Las Vegas entertainer would wear. The air conditioning blew their scents to him. Not jaguar shifters.