Daring The Moon. Sherrill Quinn

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      “Because they make your legs look sexy. Especially in that skirt.”

      “Down, boy.” She tapped him on the shoulder. “This is a pretend date, remember? Besides, you don’t like me that way.”

      “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a lovely view.” He took her hand and started walking again, keeping his strides short so she wouldn’t have as much trouble in her heels. They reached the edge of Luis’s driveway and stepped up onto the pavement. “You know, goin’ back to what you said in the car,” Declan said in response to the story about the wolf attack she’d shared with him earlier, “I’d see it bein’ a rabid coyote, maybe. But Tucson doesn’t have wolves.”

      “I know the difference between a scrawny coyote and a wolf, Declan.” She glanced at him. “It was a wolf.”

      “And it attacked your car.” His look was as skeptical as his tone. “Wolves just don’t attack vehicles, darlin’. If they can’t eat it, they don’t want it.” He shook his head. “I don’t mean to upset you, Taite, but maybe your lack of sleep is playin’ tricks with your mind. Or…”

      “Or?” she prompted when he trailed off.

      “Or your subconscious is directin’ your fear of your stalker in another more primal direction.”

      “Well, listen to you, Doctor Freud,” she muttered. “I would think I’d know the difference between a real wolf and a figment of my imagination.”

      “Maybe.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s done now, anyway. Try to forget about it and enjoy yourself tonight.”

      She wished she could. But at the oddest moments she’d remember the way the wolf’s ruff bristled; the way its lips pulled back from sharp, white teeth; the way its eyes seemed to see right through her….

      Declan was correct from the standpoint that she had other things to worry about. A stray encounter with a wolf was nothing compared to the almost daily harassment she received at the hands of the stalker. The phone calls that were getting more and more threatening, the continuous gifts that, as ordinary and even romantic as they were, served to make her skin crawl.

      Declan let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer in a hug. “Let’s enjoy the party, okay? Forget about wolves and stalkers for a few hours.” He gave her another squeeze and then, with a hand at the small of her back, let her precede him into the house.

      Luis greeted them right away, pulling Taite into his arms for a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. He and Declan shook hands, Luis with one hand on Declan’s shoulder. “Come in, come in. Mi casa es su casa.” He motioned to a server, who brought over a tray of champagne.

      They each took a glass, and Luis toasted, “To friends.”

      “To friends.” Taite smiled at Declan, grateful to have him for a friend, especially during this time in her life. He was a former special forces commando with the Royal Marines who had gotten involved in one of her cases five years ago. They’d immediately clicked. He was like the older brother she’d never had, though she usually told him he was the older brother she’d never wanted. Still, their relationship was more that of siblings, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

      He put up with her crap and watched out for her like family. Which sometimes got a little tiring, especially since he tended to drive off her dates. Not that he wanted her that way. Nor she him. She suppressed a shudder at the thought. Declan was a sexy, virile man, but it would feel like incest.

      Luis patted her on the shoulder and went off to greet another arrival. Over the next several hours, she talked with friends and coworkers, Declan never leaving her side, seeming the ever-attentive date. And of course he charmed the socks off the men and the panties off the women. He was the kind of man many of the men there wanted to be, and the kind of man most of the women just plain wanted.

      At midnight, she linked her arm through Declan’s. Going up on tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, “I’m beat. Are you ready to go?” He wasn’t much of a party hound, so she figured he was past ready.

      He nodded. “Aye, lass, that I am.”

      “Let’s go say good-bye to Luis, then.” She wound her way through the crowd, Declan at her heels. When they approached Luis, she saw John standing off to the side on the other side of the room, his date on his arm, his gaze steady as he tracked Declan’s progress behind her.

      “Luis, we’re going to go.” Taite pressed a kiss against her boss’s swarthy cheek. “Thanks so much—we had a great time.”

      “I’m glad you came, chica. And you, too, Declan.” He shook hands with her fake date and looked back at Taite. “See you on Monday?”

      “You bet.” Seeing that John still watched them, she waved at him, then she and Declan walked toward the front door.

      “You leaving without saying good-bye?” John’s voice came from behind them.

      Taite stopped. Taking a deep breath, she turned with a smile. “John. You looked tied up.”

      He lifted his chin. His gaze cut to Declan. John held out his hand in greeting and Declan took it.

      Taite raised her eyebrows at seeing the men’s hands turning red, their knuckles shining white, each refusing to release his grip first. She put her hands on her hips. “Shall I get out a ruler, boys?”

      John gave a self-deprecating laugh and let go of Declan’s hand. “Sorry. Just wanted to see what your date’s made of.”

      “Flesh and blood, just like you.” Declan flexed his fingers and tucked his hand into his pants pocket.

      “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” John’s grin widened. He wore affability like a politician, but a spiteful smirk lurked beneath his placid expression. “After all, you are Irish.”

      Declan stiffened.

      Taite tensed, too. She didn’t think Declan would do anything, but he did have the ability to kill a man with his bare hands. If John was his usual snide self, he might just tempt Declan’s control.

      “Hey, just kidding, man. Lighten up—it’s a party.” John clapped him on the shoulder and shot a grin at Taite. “I hope you’re treating my girl here all right. She deserves the best.”

      “Aye. She does.” Declan put his arm around her waist and pulled her close for a one-armed hug. “An’ I don’t think she has any cause for complaint with me.” His brogue was stronger now, either through irritation or, knowing Declan, on purpose to exaggerate his Irish heritage.

      John’s lips thinned and anger flared in his eyes for a moment. Then he gave a rueful laugh and shook his head. “Well, you obviously have something I don’t. Good for you.” He looked at Taite and shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for knowing what he’s missing and being a little pissed off because of it. Can you, sweet thing?”

      She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She muttered a lame, “I suppose not,” and glanced at Declan, who gave a small shrug. Taite decided to get while the getting was good. “Come on, Declan. Let’s go.”

      He tilted his elbow up, inviting her to put her hand in the crook СКАЧАТЬ