Ghostwalker 09 - Ruthless Game

entire B&B on the chance he’d need his team, as wel as to ensure his privacy.
    She nodded. “Cal me Saria. It wil be easier since we’l be spendin’ a week together. Is that your bag?” She indicated his smal war bag with a nod of her head.
    He’d be damned if she carried it for him. He reached down and lifted it himself, sending up a silent prayer that his very ful groin would al ow him to walk.
    “Just Drake then. Thanks for meeting me so late.” He never had such a reaction to a woman. It had to be the fierce need of his cat.
    She shrugged and turned away from him, walking down the wooden sidewalk toward the grove of cypress trees dipping long, shimmery beards of moss into the water. She made no sound as she walked, a graceful, silent sway of her hips so enticing, his breath caught in his throat. He was not a man given to shocking, erotic images at the sight of a woman walking, but every cel in his body went on alert and he had the mad desire to leap on her, pin her under him, and devour her. He shook his head to try to clear the madness from his brain.
    It was his leopard; that was the only sane answer. He’d been injured too long ago and his cat had been unable to emerge. Recently the man he chose to work for—wel , okay, Drake had to admit it, his friend —Jake Bannaconni, had arranged an operation for him, grafting the bones of his kind to his bad leg in the hopes that he could someday shift. He wasn’t quite healed, and when he was tired he stil occasional y walked with a limp, but his cat was growing more restless as each day passed, eager to test out the new material in his leg.
    More and more the leopard fought to surface. He had purposely asked his guide to find a bed-and-breakfast in a remote area with the idea that he might try to al ow the animal side of him freedom—it was that or go insane. He pushed down the voice of his surgeon to take it slow. He’d taken it so damn slow he real y was losing his mind and his poor, unknowing guide was in danger of being savaged.
    He was a man who automatical y noticed everything, and there was no way not to watch Saria walk. He felt so damned old and she looked fresh and innocent and so far out of his league it wasn’t funny. But stil , she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He breathed normal y now, years of discipline taking over. The wildness receded even more. The smal breeze caressed the wispy ends of her sun-kissed hair and his heart stuttered.
    Saria turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, a slight frown on her face, her eyes assessing him. She slowed her pace. “Are you al right?”
    He gave her a direct stare, the kind that usual y scared the hel out of people. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He was gruffer than he intended, but she looked so damn young and innocent, and he wasn’t having a great deal of success control ing the images of her naked body, writhing under his—and that made him feel like a lecherous old man.
    “You’re limpin’.”
    There it was again, that little accent that seeped into his skin and made his cock jerk hard. And he wasn’t limping. No way. He kept his stare steady, regarding her without expression. “I don’t limp.” He walked with ease now, fluid and strong and damn it al , he’d gone from a lecherous old man to a decrepit one in her eyes. Faced with the sexiest woman alive, he had obviously forgotten suave and power.
    Her eyebrow raised slightly. A dimple melted into that ful , tempting mouth. She gave him a smal , half-smile. “I’m glad we got that straight because the dock is a distance away. We can cut through town and a sort of Christmas tree forest, and then maneuver the edge of a cypress grove. That wil save a few steps.”
    He gave her a faint grin, not admitting a thing. “The quicker we get started, the better.”
    The setting sun dropped a fiery shower of light just before it sank ful y into the river, bathing her in red and orange flames. The silken fal of her hair beckoned him, impossible to resist. He reached out and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, his heart pounding. He felt a rush of heat pour through his bloodstream. Blood roared in his ears, thundered in his head.
    She was potent, no doubt about it. She went completely stil when he touched her, but she didn’t bat his hand away, as she had every right to do. Her eyes went liquid and she blinked, locking her gaze with his. She looked untamed, unattainable, and everything male in him responded to that chal enge.
    He