Daring The Moon. Sherrill Quinn

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СКАЧАТЬ several minutes, an idea on how to reveal the killer’s true identity in his latest book hit him. Wanting to get it on paper while it was still fresh in his mind, he jumped up and started back to the house, breaking into a jog about halfway there. When he made it to the kitchen door, he knocked dirt off his shoes on the rough-woven rug, then went inside.

      As he went down the hallway and through the foyer, he saw Cobb sitting in the old-fashioned parlor, one of Ryder’s earlier books in his hands. Ryder made a detour and went into the small room. Already his breathing had evened out. One positive aspect to his enhanced metabolism.

      Cobb looked up. “This one still gives me the shivers.” He put his finger between the pages to mark his place. And started to stand.

      “Stay put,” Ryder said. “I only wanted to let you know I’m going to try to get some more work done.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s only two thirty—if that walk and the sea air did their job, I should be able to get quite a bit done yet before nightfall.”

      “Well, there’s nothing wrong with working after dark. You do some of your best work at night.”

      “Ha.” Ryder turned and walked to the study. From across the foyer he instructed, “Unless the house is on fire, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

      “Are Mr. O’Connell and his friend still coming?”

      “As far as I know they’ll be here day after tomorrow or the next day, although I told him not to come.” Ryder frowned. “Now is not the best time.”

      “Yes, I know.” Cobb raised his eyebrows. “I could always refuse them entrance, sir. Especially since you expressly told him not to come.”

      Ryder shook his head. “I haven’t seen Declan in a few years, Cobb. As much as I don’t want visitors now, I can’t turn him away without seeing him. I’ll tell him I’m on a tight deadline and convince him they have to leave after one night. We’ll just need to keep them out of the basement.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      Ryder sighed. “Let’s make sure we’ve a nice dinner for them, Cobb. Put Declan in my old room upstairs. His friend can stay in the adjoining room. Once they arrive, when I get a chance to talk to Declan alone, I’ll let him know he’s got to turn around and leave straight away the next morning.”

      “Yes, sir.” Cobb’s face clearly expressed his misgivings.

      “You have a problem with that?” Ryder asked, raising an eyebrow.

      Cobb shook his head. “Not with the idea, sir. I am, however, not convinced Mr. O’Connell will merely turn around and go all the way back to America after having just arrived. Feeling unwelcome won’t guarantee he’ll leave. You know how stubborn he can be. He’s much like you in that respect.”

      Ryder grimaced. “Just…have the rooms ready, all right?”

      Cobb nodded and put his nose back in his book.

      Ryder closed the door to his study and settled in at his desk. The cooling air from the veranda blew across his nape. He twisted and closed the doors that led outside until only an inch-wide opening remained, then drew the curtains. He was so close to completing this—he wanted no distractions. Once the laptop booted up, he went to the area in the manuscript where he’d left off and began typing.

      He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he became aware of a scent unfamiliar to him. It smelled like…He inhaled. It smelled like honeysuckle and vanilla, but with an underlying hint of musk. All in all, it was an aroma both sweet and spicy at the same time and utterly feminine.

      He shook his head and tried to immerse himself in his work once more. A heightened sense of smell was another trait he’d gotten from his father, and it could be damned inconvenient at times.

      It was apparent he’d gone without sex for too long. If he was starting to smell something feminine without the woman to go along with it, it was time to get back over to the mainland and renew some of his female acquaintances.

      But not now, not with Declan and his friend arriving in the next few days. Ryder heaved a sigh and pushed his chair away from his desk. Standing, he put one hand in his pocket and with the other pushed the curtain aside.

      Cobb was right. Declan would demand to know why they couldn’t stay. Especially if the situation was as serious as Declan had made it sound.

      Dammit. Declan had been fairly cryptic over the phone, merely telling him he was bringing a friend named Taite who was having werewolf trouble. He thought Ryder could shed some light based on years of research for his books.

      Of course, coming here to this isolated island wasn’t much safer. But they had no way of knowing that, and, if Ryder was successful in keeping his own lycanthropy hidden, they would never find out just how much danger they were in.

      He turned back to his laptop and within moments was immersed once more in the story he created. It wasn’t until shadows had crept further into the room that he realized his buttocks were numb from sitting in one position for so long.

      Glancing at the clock on his desk, he saw another two hours had passed. He stood and stretched, rotating his head to work the kinks out of his stiff neck. He started to turn back toward his desk, then stopped, caught by that same musky-sweet scent, stronger now.

      Nostrils flaring, he pushed open the French doors and took a step outside. Vanilla and honeysuckle assailed him and a low growl left his throat before he could stop it. It was a woman, somehow familiar, and she was on his island.

      Voices carried to him on the wind. “What do you mean, he doesn’t know?” The husky feminine voice with a distinct note of exasperation curled around his senses like wispy smoke, tantalizing him, enticing him.

      “Well, when we caught sight of the wolf again in Atlanta, I reckoned we should just get on out here. It’s only a few days early, lass.” Declan’s deep voice was calm, the way Ryder remembered him.

      “Okay, but that would mean he’s expecting us. Why did you just tell me he isn’t?”

      He heard the huff of Declan’s sigh, then the other man mumbled something that Ryder was too far away to clearly catch, even with his exceptional hearing.

      “What?” The woman’s voice rose in pitch.

      “I said he told me not to come.”

      “And yet, here we are.” Although her tone was rich with sarcasm, she still managed to sound as smooth as honey. Her voice slid over Ryder like silk on skin, tightening his entire body with need. When she added, “What’s the plan now, Sherlock?” Ryder almost felt sorry for Declan.

      Almost.

      His two visitors rounded a curve in the path that became cobblestoned at the edge of the lawn and followed a straight line to the front door. Before they could spot him, Ryder drew back into the study, staring at Declan’s companion as she stopped and rounded on his friend.

      “I cannot believe you brought me all the way out here. You…You…” Dropping her two small suitcases, she threw up her hands. “Oh, I don’t even have the words!”

      Ryder’s jaw clenched against СКАЧАТЬ