"When?" he asked, being just as cagey.

"Last night. Did you have a good time?" Granddad said, still penciling in the squares in front of him.

"Sure." Jensen fiddled with the handle of his mug.

Granddad nodded and he wrote in another word. Jensen returned to an article about the Mountaineers

and their winning streak. Or at least he thought that was what the article was about. Maybe it was their losing streak.

"Did the good time have a name?"

Jensen's head snapped up. His grandfather had always been good at offhanded prying-and far too

accurate. "No," Jensen said, just as easily. "The good time didn't have a name." He didn't even have to lie about that.

His grandfather nodded again.

Jensen gave up on the paper and rose to refill his coffee cup. He was exhausted. Sleep had evaded him

most of the night. He'd just lain in his childhood bed, remembering. Remembering Katie. Remembering his life here in West Pines. And remembering the woman with pale eyes and no name. In fact, it was startling how much he'd thought about her. How many times he'd replayed what they had done. Even now, he could feel her in his arms. He could taste her lips. Smell her heady scent. And feel the tightness of her body. So vivid, so exciting. His body nearly itched to touch her again. A nameless woman who'd hooked up with a stranger, then left. So unlike Katie. So unlike any woman he'd ever imagined himself with. But then, he'd only imagined being with Katie, hadn't he? Until now. "You know," his grandfather said slowly, and Jensen blinked back to his grandfather. He braced himself for what was coming. They'd had this talk before. It always started this way. He didn't want to hear it again.

"You can't just hole yourself up here with an old man. You got to do a little living."

Jensen set his mug down, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have been

living. And I'm not holing myself up. I'm here to take over the business you started. I want to do that."

"But that was never your plan."

"Well," Jensen said with a sigh, levering himself away from the counter, "it is now."

"Jensen, I just want you to be happy."

He smiled at his grandfather, trying to keep the gesture as genuine as possible. "I am happy."

His grandfather peered at him for a moment, studying him with eyes so much like Jensen's own. Then he turned back to his puzzle. The scratch of the pencil resumed. "Don't think that I didn't notice that you didn't deny the old-man thing," his grandfather said after a few moments. Jensen chuckled, that response not forced. He picked up his coffee and rejoined him at the table. Riffling through the paper, he found another section. The sports pages hadn't managed to hold his attention-maybe something else would. He perused the local news section, pausing on an article about a mysterious beast spotted near a farm a few townships over. This was the second article about this creature in the past week.

He shook his head as he read the newest sensationalized report. A giant beast. A wild wolf. Perhaps a mythical creature.

Try a coyote. A feral dog, at the most exciting.

"You got plans tonight?"

Jensen frowned up from the article. Was Granddad still fishing for more information?

Instead of answering, Jensen asked, "Have you heard all this nonsense about the 'wolf' sightings?"

Granddad looked up from his puzzle. "Gordon Banks said he's seen it out on Route 219, near Shady Fork. He says it's nothing like anything he's seen before."

Jensen stared at his grandfather for a moment, trying to gauge if he was making light of Gordon Banks's claim. After all, the same man also maintained he'd seen a UFO out at the old fairgrounds.

But Jensen couldn't read his expression before the older man returned his attention to his crossword.

"So you didn't answer me? Are you going out tonight?"

Jensen sighed. "Nope. I'm planning to stay in tonight." Going out had proven to be too much. Much, much more than he'd ever imagined.

As if on cue, the phone rang, piercing the quiet.

Lord, he hoped it wasn't Brian or Jill. So far they hadn't called to reprimand him for slipping out on them when he'd excused himself to use the rest room. He wasn't in a frame of mind to hear their irritation with him-he was irritated enough with himself. Not for the same reasons, of course, but he still wasn't ready to talk to them.

Jensen answered the phone on the third ring, taking the maize-colored receiver from the cradle. His grandfather's phone was still the ancient rotary style mounted to the kitchen wall.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Jensen? Is that you, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Anderson. How are you?" Mrs. Anderson was the widow his granddad had been "dating"

for years.

"Fine, dear. Fine. Your grandfather says you aren't getting out enough."

Jensen laughed slightly. Apparently Granddad was sharing that sentiment with everyone.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Anderson."

"Okay." She didn't sound like she believed him.

"Let me get Granddad for you."

Jensen handed the phone to his grandfather, and listened as the older man made plans for the evening. Jensen took a sip of his coffee. What was the woman from last night doing now? How could he find her again?

He set down his mug with more force than necessary. What was he thinking? He'd had enough "good time." Despite what his body and wandering mind might think, staying holed up here seemed the best course of action.

Elizabeth fiddled with the magnification of her microscope, growing more frustrated by the second as she couldn't seem to fine-tune the sample into focus. The cells on the slide shrank and enlarged with each twist, but never came into sharp detail as they should.

She made a low noise in the back of her throat, then straightened from the apparatus. The muscles in her back protested, tight with tension, and she blamed it on leaning over her research for too long. But she knew that wasn't the cause. Just as she knew the inability to focus the slide wasn't the microscope's fault.

Just like she knew that the ache between her thighs wasn't still noticeable because of last night's activities.

No, the ache there had changed and morphed, going from a reminder of what she'd done to a nagging prompt to repeat the performance. The restlessness was growing inside her-again. And now she understood what her body was tense for. s.e.x. But not just any s.e.x. s.e.x with him. Jensen.

Don't go there, she told herself. And not for the first time in the last few hours. But her mind didn't listen. Again she was reliving last night, the way Jensen-the mortal male-had felt buried deep inside her. Stretching her, filling her.

She closed her eyes. He'd taken her desperately, forcefully-their mating had been wild, uncontrolled.

It was just s.e.x, she told herself, also not for the first time. But again, her body-and her mind, for that matter-didn't believe her claim.

Jensen had been different, although not in a way she could define exactly. There was a tenderness in his ferocity. His hands strong, his movements powerful, his eyes haunted.

She kept remembering his eyes. Beautiful eyes like a deep, lush forest, varying shades of greens and browns. She'd seen something in those eyes.

"Yeah, l.u.s.t," she muttered to the empty room. Well, the almost empty room. She crossed over to the opening in the plastic, peeking out at the barn. The owls still sat on the rafters, right where they had been last night. Only today, they weren't alone, either. She glanced over to see a black-and-white creature curled in a tight ball in a nest of hay.

A skunk. The little creature had been in the barn when she came in this morning. He'd waddled around, completely unconcerned with her presence. It had only peered at her, rooted for more bugs to chomp on, and then made itself a bed in the old hay. No scrambling away in fear. No spraying-thank G.o.d.

Something was definitely up with the animals in West Virginia. Including herself.

"No sense of self-preservation," she stated to the sleeping menagerie. One owl opened a golden eye, then they all continued to sleep.

She ducked back into her lab, shaking her head. Too strange. She couldn't believe any animal-with the exception of humans, who were notoriously un.o.bservant-would sleep in her presence. She'd never seen that kind of behavior in all her years of lycanthropy.

She had to admit, she rather liked the company, no matter how unorthodox it was. It could be lonely here. Of course, she'd take loneliness any day, given her other choice. Briefly, she recalled the days with her pack. With Brody. No, loneliness was better.

Why was she thinking about Brody again? She could go months without ever thinking of her estranged mate.

Jensen appeared in her mind. Because of what she'd done with him. Guilt. Of course, her guilt didn't stop her from wondering what Jensen was doing right now. What was he thinking about her and about what happened?

Argh. She was truly getting a one-track mind here, but as she turned back to her lab table, she knew she wasn't going to get anything done. She needed a break.

She'd go in the house, have some dinner, and then maybe try to get more sleep. The fact that she'd slept was probably the reason she felt better this morning.

Okay, she could tell herself that. But she knew why she'd managed to get sleep, and that was all thanks to Jensen.

No. No. She would just stick with this idea. Food, then rest. And she'd see that she'd be fine. She'd be back out here working later.

"You'll see," she said up to the owls and the skunk as she exited her makeshift lab. The birds didn't react. Nor did that skunk. She suspected they didn't believe her any more than she believed herself.

Chapter 6.

"Okay, I'm heading out."

Jensen stopped chopping onions to glance at his granddad. The old man sauntered into the kitchen, sporting a freshly pressed white shirt, khaki trousers, and what was left of his hair slicked into place.

Jensen gave him a low whistle, then grinned. "You look ready for more than just bingo."

"Maybe," Granddad agreed. "I sure ain't staying in and eating beef stew on a Sat.u.r.day night."

"It's going to be some d.a.m.ned good stew," Jensen called after him as he headed out the back door.

Jensen turned back to his chopping, moving on to carrots. Cooking might not be the most exciting thing to do on a Sat.u.r.day night, but it was a h.e.l.l of a lot less upsetting than the events of last night.

He'd much rather chop veggies than be back with that woman.

Ha! Now if that wasn't the biggest lie ever told. He didn't feel proud of it, but he'd imagined himself back with her half of last night and most of the day today. Despite all his efforts to forget about it, to write the encounter off as a fluke-which it had been-he kept thinking about it. Which was why he stood here chopping carrots with more force than necessary as if they were the very cause of all his wayward thoughts and troubled feelings.

He finished the carrots, scooped them up, and added them to the simmering stew. Then he busied himself with cleaning the kitchen. Once that was done, he found himself alone with his thoughts, and nothing to do.

Maybe he should have joined his granddad for bingo, although he knew his grandfather would have had an even bigger issue with that. Bingo at the Congregational Church. Definitely not what his grandfather had in mind for him.

Glancing around the kitchen, he couldn't find anything else to keep him occupied. He moved to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa. Pressing the remote, he flipped through the TV channels, finding nothing to hold his interest.

"Who are you kidding, anyway?" he muttered, finally switching off the TV and tossing the remote onto the coffee table. Nothing seemed capable of keeping the mystery woman from his thoughts for long.

He paced over to the window. A breeze rustled the leaves of the huge oak on the front lawn. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the mountains. The crisp evening air was just the thing to cool the need in him.

Right, probably about as well as the cold shower had done.

But as soon as he stepped outside and the wind ruffled his hair and he smelled the earthiness of fallen leaves, he did feel his muscles relax. He strolled down the drive, focusing on the crunch of the gravel under his feet. The rustle of the leaves overhead calmed him. The bite of the cold slipped through the thin material of his shirt, and even that seemed to relax him.

This had been Katie's favorite time of year. She loved the colors, smells. She loved Halloween. She was the only adult he'd known who planned her costume for months in advance.

He pulled in a deep breath. Now, this felt right and normal. Thoughts of Katie. That's what he knew and understood. He didn't understand the wildness of the previous night.

In fact, he didn't want to understand. He wanted to enjoy his twilight stroll and lose himself in his memories of Katie. He walked for a while longer until the cold actually started to become uncomfortable rather than invigorating. Then he headed back to the house, feeling calmer. More normal.

"Hi, there."

Jensen stopped midstride as he heard the husky, purring voice that he'd finally gotten out of his mind. Or rather, the voice that hethought he had gotten out of his head-obviously he was fantasizing again. But slowly he pivoted in the direction of the fantasy voice.