An inch taller than Britt's six-foot-three frame, but slighter of build, Deke had one of those deep masculine voices that made every woman-and some men-take notice. They'd been friends since grade school. Deke had gone on to earn a master's in wildlife biology and then nabbed his dream job with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

Britt was jealous as hell of his accomplishments, but that didn't stop him from being proud of Deke. His friend had pulled himself out of a rough childhood, then worked two side jobs while going to school full-time. He deserved every bit of his success.

"How many more Friday nights is it going to take before you get up the nerve to ask Randi out?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You've been struck stupid by her since the first night we arrived." Deke's attention dropped to Britt's mouth. "If you wind that straw up any faster, you could power up a car engine."

Britt tossed the ratty straw onto the table. He couldn't argue with Deke's blunt assessment. Before walking into Randi's bar six months ago, he'd only met her on one other occasion, though he'd seen pictures of her dotting Barbara's living room. Most were of her as a small child, a few revealed a young teenage Randi, none captured the adult she'd become. She had...matured in the intervening years.

"I don't feel right about dating Barbara's daughter."

"I figured that's why you were playing it cool." Deke dipped a chip into a bowl of salsa. "Look man, I'm not trying to be an uncaring hardass, but Barbara's gone. The coast is clear, though I never thought you dating your friend's daughter was much of a roadblock."

"It was for me. Besides, given our current predicament regarding the property, I don't see us hooking up any time soon, if ever."

"You've got to get out of your Dr. Doom and Mr. Gloom funk. It's Friday night. We should be dancing." Deke caught the eye of a brunette. She sent him a slow, welcoming smile. "Behold, my moody friend. I'm about to show you what fun looks like."

Britt watched Deke stroll away, a devil-may-care smile on his face. Deke loved chatting up folks. His easygoing charm could win over the most closed-minded, cantankerous farmer. Unlike Britt, who found most social interactions painful and annoying.

He made a mental note to have Deke sweet-talk the conservation area's neighbor, Harvey Griggs. The sixth-generation farmer had a cargo load of complaints that could line the French Broad River. Anything from the conservation area's deer eating his wife's flowers to the Steele family's takeover of the town to the effects of the barometric pressure on his joints.

He finished off the last of his whisky and looked around for their server. A few were working other tables, but he found no trace of the lanky redhead named Tiffany. Or was it Tricia? Tina?

Shifting his attention back to Randi, he debated all of three seconds before heading in her direction. He needed another whisky and they needed to talk. He parked himself at the end of the bar, straddling the last open stool.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

"Another Defiant and a chat with your boss."

Older than Britt by a good ten years and sporting Mr. Clean muscles, the bartender asked, "What do you need with Miss Shepherd?"

Britt held the man's gaze. He'd been in enough visual pissing matches to know how to hold his own. "A chat."

"It's okay, Grady." Randi patted the big man's shoulder. "I got this." She pulled a narrow rectangular bottle from a wide assortment on the counter and poured two fingers in one smooth move, then set the tumbler of amber liquid on a square napkin before sliding it toward Britt. "Virgil hasn't returned my phone call, so there's nothing for us to discuss. Unless you'd like to tell me what you know."

Even though she said the words softly, Britt felt them reverberate through the room. He didn't feel comfortable sharing his and Barbara's conversation. Randi should hear it from her mother's attorney. But with the weekend in front of them, who the hell knew when Virgil would get in touch.

"I didn't think so." Randi started to turn away.

"Wait."

"Change your mind?"

Grady continued to eyeball him from the opposite end of the bar, and several others seemed to be hovering in anticipation of his next words.

Britt stood, dropping a ten-dollar bill onto the bar. "Is there someplace we could talk in private?"

After a short hesitation, she finally nodded. "Give me a sec." She stopped next to the bartender and whispered something to him.

"This way," she said to Britt as she brushed by. "Feel free to bring your drink."

Grady's keep-your-hands-off-her glare followed them out of the bar.

If the bartender's distrust hadn't been focused on him, he would've admired the man's protectiveness of his employer. Feral loyalty like that didn't exist in the business world these days.

"Grady doesn't seem to care much for me."

"He's determined that no female on his watch will ever be molested by horny fools."

"Including his boss?"

"Especially his boss."

"Ex-military?"

"Marine. He still trains with them on occasion."

She zigzagged her way into the bowels of Blues, Brews, and Books before stopping at a locked door. Inserting a key, she led him into a spacious, clutter-free office. One side of the room contained a desk with a computer and printer and several mounds of neatly stacked papers. A utilitarian guest chair stood nearby.

The opposite side appeared to be a sort of temporary living space. A television was nestled in the corner, framed by a plush purple recliner and a long brown pleather sofa. Atop the sofa sat a folded blanket and plumped pillow. A door leading into what appeared to be a bathroom separated the living and workspace.

Did she live here?

Given the fact that she managed three businesses in one, it wouldn't surprise him if the answer were yes.

"Have a seat." Randi grabbed a ginger ale from a small refrigerator next to her desk. "Can I get you anything?"

Britt held up his glass. "Thanks, I'm good." Not sure which side of the room she'd invited him into, he waited for her to make the first move. She sat on the sofa, so he made himself at home in the purple contraption. The cushioned rocking recliner enveloped him in masculine heaven. Tension oozed from his body and a low moan tumbled out of his throat.

"It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?"

"Hmm-mmm. If it wasn't purple, I might try to steal this away."

"Eggplant."

He opened his eyes. When had they closed? "What?"

"The color is eggplant, not purple."

"Why do women insist on embellishing basic colors?"

"To annoy the male species, I suppose."

"Mission accomplished."

They shared a smile, and the impact of that brief connection made it seem as though one of his brothers had wrapped him in a bear hug. He was used to thinking of her on occasion, a byproduct of his Friday night visits and growing attraction. However, after their encounter yesterday, he'd thought of little else. He told himself that worry made him recall every word, every expression, every feeling from their time together.

However, Britt tried not to bullshit himself. Others, he could talk nonsense to all day to avoid an issue.

"What do you know, Britt?" Randi asked into the silence.

He knocked back the last of his drink, gathering his thoughts. "Didn't you think to track down Virgil at his office?"

"I spoke to his assistant this afternoon. She wouldn't share his whereabouts."

Britt sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He met her gaze. "Should you decide to sell the Shepherd property-in whole or in part-your mother promised me right of first refusal."

Her eyes flared, and some emotion he could not read tracked across her features.

"Barbara never said anything to you?"

She shifted her attention to the corner of the room, her jaw firming and her chest rising on a deep inhalation. "Is there anything else?"

Dammit, Barbara! What were you thinking?

Anger swelled inside Britt for the pain he was causing Randi. Although Barbara's life had been cut short far too early, she should have verbalized her intentions to her only daughter.

"Only that if you decide to sell the property and I want to buy it, the purchase price would be at twenty-five percent below fair market value."

"I see. Did you and my mother concoct any other limitations on my inheritance?"

"We didn't concoct anything. Barbara wanted the land preserved and she indicated you had no interest in it. When she suggested this arrangement, I assumed you were in agreement. As I understood it, the house and ten acres would be carved out for you. No conditions attached."

"How generous." She shot from the sofa and began pacing the small confines of the office-apartment. "Tell me something, Britt. Why would I agree to sell a thousand acres for below fair market value when I could get double that amount?"

Britt set his empty tumbler on a side table and rose. "Double? Is that wishful thinking? Or do you have an offer on the table?"

"I can tell you it's not wishful damn thinking."

"Who?"

"None of your business."

Dread seeded his thoughts. If Barbara failed to mention any of this to her daughter, Britt wondered what else she hadn't done as promised. What if she'd never gotten around to amending her will to include a right of first refusal? If she hadn't and Randi sold the property to a developer, the Steele-Shepherd pack would not survive the intrusion. Red wolves valued their privacy and were frightened of humans-more than any other wild canid.

He wouldn't feel settled about any of this until they heard from Virgil.

Britt studied Randi's profile. Beneath her bravado, he knew she was hurting. Knew she felt betrayed by her parent. A feeling Britt understood all too well.

Making his way over to her side, he said, "I'm sorry this has happened."

"If it's as you said, the apology isn't yours to give." She folded her arms across her middle. "It's simply another disappointment added to a very long list."

When it came to soothing emotions, especially feminine ones, Britt sucked at the task. He could never find the right words and made things worse when he tried. But seeing Randi weighed down by pain propelled him to make the attempt.

"Listen, I don't know why Barbara never mentioned her intentions. But what I do know is that she loved you."

She sent him an appreciative yet sad smile. "I know." Unfolding her arms, she headed to the door. "My mother's love for me has never been in doubt. Nor was my position in her pecking order." She opened the door. "Good night. I will track down Virgil tomorrow, even if I need to go to his house. I'll let you know what I find out."

Stopping beside her, he ached to soothe away the resignation now blanketing her features. It was far worse than the pain.

"Would you like company?"

Her gaze dipped to his mouth and lingered there for a heartbeat. Britt's body reacted to the small sign of her interest. He sensed the same yearning in her that he'd fought every day since walking through Triple B's doors. How long had he waited for her to send him one lingering glance? One I-caught-you-staring moment? One subtle brush of her body against his?

Of their own volition, his nostrils opened wider, searching for her scent, for something of her he could hold on to through the long hours of the night. He canted his head until he located the faint trace of jasmine...and feminine musk.

"What are you waiting for?" He whispered the words against her lips. Not touching, but close. Achingly close.

She opened her mouth and her ginger ale-laced breath fanned over his face. If she didn't kiss him in the next five seconds, he would take the decision out of her hands.

"For you to leave," she said.

Lust-taut muscles turned into slabs of concrete. "Leave?"

There, on her upturned face, he read her desire and her decision to ignore her body's needs.

Unable to simply walk away, Britt skimmed the underside of her chin with the back of his forefinger. Her skin was soft, smooth, satiny. More so than he'd ever envisioned.

"See you tomorrow."

As he strode away, Britt wanted to look back and see if she was watching him, or his rear, walk down the hallway. Something to tease her about later. In the end, he didn't give in to his curiosity, though he made sure her gaze traveled down his back to his ass.

7.

Randi never made it to Britt's on Saturday. It took her most of the day to track down Virgil. By noon, she'd made up her mind the lawyer was avoiding her on purpose. The thought cramped her stomach for hours. If he was dodging her attempts to speak with him about her mother's will, he must have bad news.

Through word of mouth, she finally located him at his gun club. Not out on the range, but gambling and drinking in one of the back rooms of the lodge. From the smell emanating from his disheveled body, she'd bet this was where he'd been holed up for the past few days.

It took her the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening to sober him up enough to have a competent conversation.

"Would you like another cup of coffee?"

"Hell, no." Sitting at his kitchen table, Virgil grasped his head with both hands. "Can we do this tomorrow?"

"Hell, no." Randi pushed away from the wall where she'd been lounging, waiting for the semblance of a clear mind to appear. "It's well past time I heard the details of Mom's will. And I'm not letting you out of my sight until you read me the contents."

"Didn't we discuss this already?"