PRINCE OF WOLVES By Susan Krinard

Luke’s lip curled in a smile that almost seemed self-mocking. “I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from a sophisticated lady from San Francisco.” He offered nothing further, his whole manner turning aside further inquiry as he had done consistently throughout the day—evading each of her probing questions about himself and his past with good-natured facility.

“I don’t think past life here in Lovell would be of much interest to you, Joey,” he drawled, his amber-green eyes sliding back to hers. “The present is much more interesting.”

She waited for his usual round of questions about her—which he seemed to ask with genuine curiosity—but none were forthcoming. Instead, he allowed his gaze to sweep across her face and over her open shirt-front. She controlled a desire to clasp it closed about her throat and reminded herself that this was what she had aimed for. Even so, his open stare still felt like a searing blast of heat that burned through her clothing and left her as naked as she had been in her dreams.

She hardly realized it when she slipped free of him just as his arm slid over her shoulder. She pretended not to see the brief narrowing of his eyes as he drew back again, making the movement part of a stretch and widening the space between them.

“It has certainly been a very enjoyable day, Joey,” he said with sudden, scathing coldness. The abrupt withdrawal of his focused admiration was almost like a slap, though it saved Joey from a decision she was not yet prepared to face. Her body stiffened in reaction, and she nodded with an oblivious ease she was far from feeling.

“I’ve had a good time, too, Luke.” She searched his shuttered eyes. “I’m glad we got a chance to talk, get to know each other a little better.”

When he showed no signs of softening, she continued, “I was thinking—I don’t have any plans for dinner tonight. Would you like to join me? Maybe you could tell me more about the upcoming moose migration.” Her grin was as flirtatious and flattering as she could manage, but he merely gazed at her as if he saw through her unpracticed efforts.

His eyes were not on hers when he finally answered. “I have other plans.” His gruff and unapologetic tone irked her, and she struggled to maintain her amiable demeanor. Damn the bastard! He couldn’t have his way with her instantly, and he sulked!

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said with a softness that hid the sharp sarcasm she longed to hit him with. “What about tomorrow night? It’s Thursday, and they always have a fancy meal at the lodge on Thursdays. I’d like you to be my guest.” The insipid eagerness she gave the words almost made her choke, but at least she wasn’t forced to simultaneously fend off his single-minded attentions.

She had become accustomed to the various expressions that played across his rough-hewn face: faint seductive smiles that never quite seemed to blossom into real warmth, a distant coolness when she asked a question he planned to evade, burning intensity when she knew he felt close to winning her. But she had seen this particular aspect only once or twice before… a truly cold and merciless ferocity, an intense and powerful satisfaction. It was the kind of expression she’d glimpsed when he observed the townsfolk who peered at him with silent suspicion and resentment. She shuddered.

But the strange ferocity vanished as quickly as it had come. “It so happens I will be free tomorrow night, Joey,” he murmured. The familiar seductive smile was back, resting on her with a warmth she knew instinctively to be as false as her own attempts at vapid flirtatiousness. “I won’t be seeing you earlier, but I look forward to a very interesting meal.” As if to reinforce his words, he bared his even white teeth in a grin, and before she could respond with insincere thanks, he had risen and stalked away.

Joey stared after him. Damn the man. If she didn’t need him so badly, she’d have great pleasure in showing him just how possible it was for a woman to resist him. Unfortunately, the only resistance she could permit herself was against the echo of her dreams.