The Art of Seducing a Naked Werewolf (Naked Werewolf 2)

“Is that where she holds them?” I asked, snickering. Cooper growled at me. “Fine, I’ll play nice, for now.”

I turned to hop off my bar stool, and there he was, standing in front of me in all his plaid-clad glory.

This close, I could appreciate Dr. Thatcher all the better. He was pretty. The beard almost camouflaged the generous curve of his lips. It drew the eye away from the fine, straight nose. Maybe that was the point. You could catch a lot of crap in this kind of place, being a pretty boy. And from what my cousin Caleb told me, you could get some unwanted attention from truckers at rest stops.

Still, he was tall and broad-shouldered and moved with a sort of competence. And Geek Squad was hiding some serious muscles under that Simpsons T-shirt and flannel. I started having some weird waking-dream hallucination in which I pictured him busting into the saloon like Aragorn entering the royal halls of Rohan in Lord of the Rings. As the Dr. Thatcher-Aragorn hybrid made his away across the floor in full armor, I stared up at him with saucer eyes and a mouth full of drool but no words. All I could manage in the scope of this guy’s little grin was an incredibly un-wolf-like squeak.

This was a first for me. I didn’t have trouble talking to guys. Hell, Samson and Cooper named me an “honorary dude” when we were kids, to save their pride after losing so many foot races to their baby sister. But I was used to relating to guys on that familiar, buddy-buddy level. The Grahams are related to almost every family in our little valley. It’s difficult to find a potential date who doesn’t cross some creepy genetic boundaries.

And this was the point where I realized that I was having my own personal mental vacation, staring blankly at a complete stranger.

“Dr. Thatcher, this is my sister-in-law, Maggie,” Mo said, filling the awkward silence.

“I’m Nick Thatcher,” he said, stretching out his hand.

I froze. Cooper watched me, his brow furrowed. Normally, he would be afraid that I would punch Nick. At the moment, I think he was afraid I was going to throw up on Nick.

Nick reached forward, grabbed my motionless hand, and shook it. As he moved closer, his scent hit me full force, and I had to put a hand on the bar to steady myself. New leaves. Thanksgiving dinner. A smoky note of moss. I narrowed my eyes at him. I recognized that smell.

The hiker. Dr. The Truth Is Out There had been wandering in my backyard.

“I know who you are,” I said, looking up to find those seawater eyes of his pinning me to the floor. He was staring me down. Nobody stared me down! Eye contact is a serious no-no with predators. In the animal kingdom, it basically says, “I’m not afraid of you. I plan on taking your food and your dignity, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

I found it was a lot easier to be annoyed by that than hypnotized by his evil baby blues. I ratcheted my chin up a few degrees. “What brings you to our neck of the woods, Dr. Thatcher?”

He smiled. “Just a little research trip. I think I disappointed some of the locals, though. They heard ‘doctor’ and thought a new MD had come to town.”

I entertained myself with the image of the locals showing up at Dr. Thatcher’s door, requesting help for hemorrhoids and plantar warts.

“Well, we don’t get a lot of academics up here.” I tilted my head and smiled back, a hundred percent guile-free. “In fact, how did you hear about Grundy? Was there an ad or a brochure that caught your attention?”

The doctor was an equally skilled bullshitter, which earned him a little bit of my grudging respect. There was no trace of hesitation as he said, “Something like that.”

He smirked. And I wanted to lick his chin. I actually had to keep my jaw tense to fight the urge. Sensing the weird energy that seemed to be swirling around my body, Cooper’s eyebrow winged up to his hairline. Mo leaned against the counter, her head whipping back and forth as if she was watching some sort of dirty tennis game.

“So, Maggie, do you live nearby?” The question seemed loaded, just by the tone Nick was using. I stared at him, trying to decipher the slight tilt to his head. A good hunter excels at interpreting body language, whether it’s an elk preparing to bolt or a guy sneaking peeks at your ass. Dr. Thatcher already knew where I lived. I could only assume he had asked me that because he wanted to talk about the valley.

“Not too far,” I said blithely.

“I was thinking Maggie might be able to show you around the area, Nick.”

My facade dropped for a second, and I shot my brother a meaningful look, the meaning being “shut the hell up.”

Cooper didn’t even blink, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Well, Nick heard I was a field guide, asked me to take him on some of the tougher trails around here. But I really don’t have time in my schedule. And since you’re the only one who knows the area almost as well I do . . .”

“That won’t be possible,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ve gotta work.”

“Oh, you can move your schedule around,” Mo said, grinning at me. “Your hours are pretty flexible.”

OK, that was going too far. Being an unofficial official for the pack meant settling disputes between pack members, monitoring the wildlife (i.e., food sources) available around the valley, controlling the pack when we ran together. And it’s hard to find a day job that will accept “got kicked in the ribs by an agitated moose” as a reason to call in sick. The village paid me a salary for maintaining records and appearances at the town hall. And I was the closest thing there was to law enforcement in my valley. I didn’t have time to escort the yummy doctor around by the nose.

OK, that wasn’t true. I spent a good portion of my “work day” bored out of my ever-loving mind. But no one, particularly the yummy doctor, had to know that.

“Mo, my hours are none of your business,” I said through a clenched, fake smile.

Nick shrugged, and the motion brought his arm brushing across my shoulder. It felt as if a warm electric current had passed through my skin. I held my breath, willing away the tremor that skittered up my spine.

“Well, if you find a way to fit me into your schedule, let me know. I’ll probably just wander around the eastern butte for a few days, take in the sights,” he said. “I’m a climber, and I’m eager to see what sort of trouble I can get into around here.”