Return of the Wolf. Karen Whiddon

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      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter One

      “Have you seen her yet?”

      Gideon Aronditis turned and grinned at his coworker, rubbing his hands together to ward off the early-morning chill. “Not yet, Randy. But since I’ve been assigned to take her out for this morning’s run, I’ll see her sooner or later.”

      “I’m surprised she wanted to get up this early to fish.”

      “Why wouldn’t she? Everyone who’s even halfway serious about catching salmon knows the best times are dawn and dusk.”

      “Yeah.” Randy scratched his head. “But still…”

      Women rarely came alone to Painter’s Lodge, a salmon-fishing resort in Campbell River on beautiful Vancouver Island. So Gideon had no good idea what to expect. Would he be hauling her ass and gear out of the boat all morning long? He’d already put up with a bit of good-natured teasing.

      “You know she’s going to be good luck,” Gideon said, only half joking. “I’ll bet you she catches the first tyee.” A tyee was a chinook salmon over thirty pounds.

      Though the sun hadn’t yet come up—and wouldn’t for some time yet—clients began appearing at the equipment shack to meet up with their guides. Since the morning air carried a chill, even in late May, everyone dressed in layers. Most wore the standard-issue bright yellow rain slickers. A quick glance showed that all were, so far, strictly male.

      “I bet she won’t show.” Teddy elbowed Gideon. “Maybe she decided to sleep in.”

      “Yeah,” Randy said. “Who ever knew a woman who’d want to get up early enough to be out here at 6:00 a.m.?”

      Gideon ignored them and began assembling his gear, making sure he had plenty of fresh bait. Then he walked down the pier to his slip and did a preliminary check on his boat, a 17-foot Boston Whaler.

      Footsteps on the wooden plank alerted him.

      “Are you Gideon?” A feminine voice laced with silk and sin asked.

      Aha. She’d arrived. Fixing a pleasant smile on his face, Gideon looked up, and his mouth went dry. The smile slid off his face as he saw the woman standing there, the woman who could only be his fishing client. Like the other clients, she’d donned a yellow slicker and wore a baseball cap low over her eyes. Unlike the others, she was tall and willowy, with delicate features and smooth skin that appeared to glow in the pier lights. Though she’d pulled her long hair back into a ponytail, an escaping golden strand caressed her forehead. She was absolutely stunning, breathtakingly beautiful. More than that, she looked both familiar and beloved, though he didn’t know how that could be.

      Gideon felt as though he’d been punched in the gut.

      Staring at her outstretched hand, he collected his wits and consulted his sheet for her name. “I’m Gideon. You must be Memphis.”

      “Yes. Memphis Ayers.”

      He took her hand and another shock went through him.

      He knew a moment of wonder at the delicate bone structure and the softness of her skin.

      Inside, his wolf had come awake. Aware.

      Hellhounds.

      Somehow he managed to help her into the boat, ignoring his fellow guides and their curious looks. As the rising sun sent tendrils of orange and yellow over the horizon, he ran through the rest of his pre-trip check, and finally turned to make sure she was comfortable. Immediately, his mouth went dry.

      She’d taken a seat in one of the hard plastic chairs and the morning light illuminated her like a halo. Everything about her—from her full, slightly parted lips, to the soft creaminess of her skin—made him yearn for her.

      For the first time in his life, Gideon didn’t know what to say to a woman. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to touch her, taste her, make hot, passionate love to her.

      “Are you all right?” she asked, sounding concerned.

      “Sorry.” Face heating, he looked away and blindly stared at the boat next to his. The other guide, an older man, gave him a thumbs-up.

      One by one, the other guys started their boats. Roaring motors shattered the perfect quiet of the early-morning stillness.

      Relieved, Gideon turned his key. The powerful engine gunned to life. Normally, this was his favorite excursion of the day. The guides always took off all at once, in a mad rush to get their clients to that morning’s designated fishing spot up the Discovery Channel. The chilly morning air, sea spray in his face, the anticipation of hooking that perfect fish—all gave him a jolt of exhilaration.

      This morning he had all that and more.

      “Are you ready?” He had to shout to be heard over the noise of the engine.

      Nodding, she flashed him a grin that lit up her heart-shaped face and completely took his breath away.

      Okay. Focus. Taking a deep breath, he undid the last knot keeping them tied to the slip. He eased out into the channel and wove left to avoid Randy’s boat, then gunned his own and headed north up the channel.

      Early clouds hung low over the water, making a swirl of fog. Above, an eagle screeched. This scene, so familiar, now felt completely different and new, painted in vibrant colors. Though it was a cliché, he knew this was because of his reaction to the woman seated behind him.

      When they reached the huge bay, it was no surprise that several locals had arrived ahead of them. In this area, fishing was serious business, and when a local or client caught a good-size salmon, the radio went crazy.

      Gideon stopped the boat and dropped the anchor.

      “How deep is it?” she asked, her soft voice sending a shiver down his spine.

      “Right here, close to two hundred feet. We fish using these downriggers.”

      All around him, the bay grew quiet as each boat went through the same motions СКАЧАТЬ