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

“And that’s the delicate charm that calls me like a siren’s song,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile.

I murmured, “This is it, Nick. We can be friends, or we’ll have nothing. Your choice.”

“You’re not making this easy for me.”

I huffed out a laugh. “I’m not supposed to.”

“If it means that I can spend time with you, I’ll call myself your friend. I’m not going to stop hoping for more. But I’m going to wait for you to come to me.”

“That won’t happen,” I said, to myself as much as to him.

“We’ll see,” he said, wriggling his golden-blond eyebrows at me.

I rolled my eyes and turned away, leading Nick out of the hallway.

Unfortunately, Clay had gone to the bar to look for his wandering date and was talking to Darby. I tried to plaster a pleasant expression on my face as I slid into the empty space on his left. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“I thought you’d crawled out the bathroom window to escape,” he said, taking the beer and bussing my cheek. He stopped for a moment, inhaling. He shot a suspicious look at Nick, who had sidled up behind Darby.

“I’m more of a ‘cause a distraction with a bar fight, then sneak away through the back’ sort of girl,” I teased, watching Nick warily as he put his hand at the small of Darby’s back. Without warning, I had the irrational desire for the power to make her spontaneously combust with my mind.

“Clay, have you met Nick Thatcher?” For now, I was omitting Nick’s job description. It would get around to the pack eventually, but it might help if the pack got to know him and trust him beforehand. Still, Clay’s smile was sharp, and not all that friendly, as he reached forward to take Nick’s hand. I guess he picked up on more than just my scent on Nick. I sighed and took a step farther away from both of them. Darby and I watched as the boys seemed to be competing over who could squeeze more circulation out of the other’s fingers.

“Well, this isn’t awkward,” Darby muttered. Despite myself, I shared a commiserating little grimace with her.

“I’m Maggie, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever really met.”

“Darby,” she said, shaking my hand in a way that didn’t leave me wincing, like the boys were doing now.

“Darby works full-time at the supermarket,” Nick told me. “She just got promoted to assistant manager.”

I threaded my arm through Clay’s and smiled affably. “Clay is a mechanic. We keep him pretty busy around the village, but there’s nothing he can’t fix. It’s taken a load off of Samson.”

“Darby’s studying for her master’s degree online, in social work. She wants to help kids like herself who grew up in the foster-care system,” Nick shot back, his tone a little bit more aggressive than proud.

“Clay is helping his sister raise her two children while they care for an ailing elderly aunt,” I retorted as Clay began to look distinctly uncomfortable under my “praise.”

“Darby takes in retired rescue dogs. She’s adopted two German shepherds through a state shelter program,” Nick said.

Damn it. That did make me like her a little more.

“OK, I think it’s time to get out of firing range,” Clay said, pulling me toward the dance floor. “Darby, it was nice to meet your résumé.”

She snickered and waved as Nick glowered at us.

“So, what was that?” Clay asked, spinning me around and slipping his hand to my waist. He stared over my shoulder to where Nick and Darby were chatting companionably. I gritted my teeth and stepped back, so Clay would have to turn me away from them. “Were you two dating or something?”

“No, he’s a friend,” I grumbled. “A friend who is a giant pain in my ass.”

“You want I should get rid of him?” he asked in his best New Jersey accent. “We could make it look like an accident.”

“That’s what I said when I first met him!” I exclaimed as Clay snickered and pulled me closer. My head tilted up, and my forehead brushed the line of his jaw. Seriously, when did God stop giving men jaws like that? I muttered, “But I guess cold-blooded murder is wrong and all that junk.”

Clay’s eyes flickered with some emotion I didn’t quite understand. His smile faltered. And it was as if some invisible mask had been pulled away from his face. He caught himself, it seemed, and lifted the corners of his mouth again. “Well, if you need help burying the body, I’m handy with a shovel.”

I chuckled. “Good to know.”

“So, let’s talk about something more interesting,” he said, sliding his fingers along the bare skin of my shoulders, leaving a little trail of sparks in his wake. “Let’s talk about you.”