Desert Roots Page 2

  He clenched his fists under the table and cleared his throat. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

  “Ha.” She laughed. “Try again.”

  He scowled. That was the hardest part about changing — getting other people to believe you. The biker pack he’d run with had thought he’d been joking, too.

  “I mean it,” he growled a little too fiercely.

  That growl had shut up the meanest, ugliest, most brutal members of his old pack, but she didn’t bat an eye.

  She turned the closest chair around and straddled it. “Well, that sounds like a story I have to hear.”

  “Long story,” he warned.

  “Got plenty of time.” She plucked the lime from the neck of his bottle, held it between her lips, and sucked.

  The sparks that had been shooting around in his groin exploded into fireworks.

  “I turned over a new leaf once,” she mused.

  “Yeah?”

  She looked up. Wow. Did eyes really come in that bright a shade of blue?

  “I gave it up after a day.”

  He grinned in spite of himself.

  “Want to know the moral of the story?” She put both elbows on the table and leaned close. So close, he could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo. Her hair brushed his hands. He sat perfectly still, holding back a shiver of need.

  “Moral?” That word, he hadn’t had much use for over the past couple of years.

  “The moral of the story is, you can’t change who you really are, deep down inside.”

  Just what he was afraid of, not that he’d admit it, of course. And anyway, he got sidetracked, because there it was again — that flicker of fear and sadness in her eyes. Just a momentary flash that might have been his imagination. Must have been, because when he looked closer, she was all sass and confidence again.

  “Why would a man like you want to turn over a new leaf?”

  He pursed his lips. “Been bad.”

  She leaned closer, and the top of her peach-colored bra showed. “What if I like bad?”

  Sweet Jesus, he was going to die from desire.

  She dropped her voice and went on in a whisper. “After all, it’s not often a she-wolf can find a guy capable of fulfilling her needs. On the dance floor, that is.”

  His cock swelled against the denim of his jeans. Yeah, he was capable, all right. And his wolf side was more than willing to indulge her in anything she desired. Still, he resisted, even though he could barely remember why any more. Hell, he could barely think.

  Needs. We have needs, his wolf howled.

  He’d never felt more twisted inside, like a whole wrestling match was going on inside his soul.

  If she’d been human, he might have thought her a little too loose and easy. But shifters had a whole different level of sexual appetite, and she was simply going after what her wolf soul needed, just like he might if he wasn’t trying to prove himself.

  “Believe me, I wish I could. But I have to say no.”

  Her brow furrowed, telling him he was the first man who’d ever turned her down. He had to be, because who would be fool enough to reject a woman like her? The place was full of other candidates for her attention, all salivating over her every move.

  She shrugged, wrapped a hand around his, and guided his beer bottle to her mouth. After a long, slow sip, she licked the foam off her lips.

  “So, have you started?” she asked in a husky voice, still an inch away from his lips.

  “Started what?” he asked a little breathlessly.

  “Turning over that leaf.”

  Leaf? What leaf? His wolf wagged its tail.

  “What do you mean?” he managed.

  “Well, if you already turned it over — okay. I guess I’d better let you wallow in your lonely misery.”

  He hadn’t been wallowing or lonely before he laid eyes on her, but suddenly, that was exactly how he felt.

  Her face brightened, and she went on. “But if you were just thinking about a change, tomorrow would be just as good. Because tonight would definitely be more fun on the old side of the leaf. I guarantee it.”

  He leaned back and pointed at her with the one finger not wrapped around his bottle. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a devil, sweetheart?”

  She grinned a mile wide and blinked innocently. “Who, me?”

  She’s got a point, his wolf said. We can start tomorrow.

  Was the beast kidding? He was supposed to be atoning for his sins.

  “Why not start tomorrow?” she echoed.

  On the other hand, maybe she was right. Tomorrow was just as good a time to become the new him. The haircut and vehicle trade didn’t really count. Technically, he was still in the planning stages of a new life. One more night in his familiar old role — long nights in bars, fast bikes, and hard-hitting fights — wouldn’t hurt, right?

  Right! his wolf cheered.

  She stood with a grin and stuck out her hand. No surprise there — she had a killer tight grip.

  “I’m Carly. And you are?”

  He hesitated. For years now, he’d been going by his road name. A name he’d been planning to drop along with his old ways. But if he wasn’t quitting until tomorrow…

  “Bones,” he said, watching her eyes.

  She lifted the other eyebrow and crossed her arms over her perfect rack. “I refuse to call a grown man Bones.”

  He crossed his arms right back. She wanted bad; he’d give it to her. “I refuse to go by any other name.”

  He waited for her reaction, then waited a little more. And…huh. She didn’t give in. All the women he’d ever met in dim bars liked Bones. She didn’t?

  She looked him over again and pursed her lips. “Bruce.”

  He squinted at her against the light. She thought she could guess his name?

  “Not Bruce. Bones.”

  She ignored that completely. “Chuck.”

  He shook his head.

  “Rudy.”

  “Do I look like a Rudy?”

  “Chip.”

  “Chip?”

  “Okay… Homer?”

  They both laughed at her wild guesses. His soul felt lighter, even if his balls grew tighter.

  She went back to looking him up and down, studying him like a new species. Up, down, back again.

  He grinned and leaned back in his chair, knowing she’d never guess. Which meant he’d finally chalk up a point over this she-devil.

  After a pause of consideration, she nodded to herself and whispered, “Luke.”

  The front two legs of his chair tipped back to the floor with a jolt. Holy shit.

  “Luke.” She said it again, nodding like a mother who’d just found the perfect name for her son.

  No one had called him Luke for a long, long time, and hearing it tugged on something inside. Like she’d snagged a little corner of the boy he’d once been and started reeling him out of where he’d been hiding, bit by bit. Or maybe it was the way she said it, like he was a goddamn saint or something.

  “Luke.” She smiled, proud of herself.

  “Luke.” He nodded, ceding her the point.

  Carly and Luke. Sounds good together, his wolf decided.

  Which was crazy. Since when was his wolf into that kind of thing?

  Ever since we met her, the beast said, as if that were many happy years ago and not just a minute or two.

  We didn’t just meet her now. We saw her ages ago, on the highway.

  On the highway, when she had passed in a blur?

  I knew, the beast insisted. I just knew.

  He didn’t dare ask what the beast knew.

  “Luke. Biblical name,” Carly said with a naughty grin.

  He laughed out loud. “Don’t read into it.”

  “So, Luke,” she said, teasing him all over again. “Wolf,” she added in a lusty undertone too low for human ears. “You ready to dance?”

  He considered for exactly two seconds before his resolve shattered. He shot to his feet, grabbed
her hand, and pulled her close. So close, he wasn’t breathing air, but her scent.

  “Ready,” he murmured, letting her lead the way.

  Chapter Three

  “You from around here?” Carly shouted over the music as she led her handsome stranger to the dance floor.

  Yes, her stranger, at least for tonight.

  Only tonight? her wolf cried.

  Absolutely, positively, only for tonight, she shot back before the stupid beast got any bad ideas.

  But it was too late, because her wolf had been entertaining bad ideas for a while. What was this obsession with settling down with a mate?

  Every wolf needs a mate, the inner voice cried, so broken and lonely, Carly nearly caved in.

  A second later, she straightened her shoulders and dug in her heels. No way would she give in to her wolf’s silly desires. A woman who fell in love was far too likely to hand over her heart and her soul.

  Think of Mom, she told her wolf.

  You’re not her, the wolf whined back. You’re you. You’re strong.

  Yes, she was strong, but so had her mother been once upon a time. And Carly had no desire to turn out the same way.

  Her wolf licked its lips and tried a different tack. He’s gorgeous. Just give him a chance.

  That, she fully intended to. One chance for one night, but not a second more. Just like all the other men she’d picked up over the last few years. She’d allow herself one night of fun, of satisfying her body’s needs — and then forget about him. It was better that way.

  Not better, her wolf whined. Lonelier. And this man is different.

  That much, she had to agree with. There was something different about him. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Sure, she’d picked up a hunk or two — or ten — in the past and made sure she got exactly what she wanted for exactly one night. But she’d never come on as strong, as fast, as pit-bull determined as just now. Why did she crave this man so much?

  He’s dangerous, her wolf hummed. Not in warning — in glee.

  But that didn’t explain it, either. She’d done bad boy types brimming with anger, ink, and attitude. She’d done broody road warriors. What was it with this guy?

  Mate, her wolf whispered. Mine.

  When Luke shook his head, the light cast shadows over high cheekbones, and she wondered if he’d read her mind. But no, he was just answering her question. Was he from around here?

  “Just passing through. How about you?”

  The man had a voice that made her toes curl. A body a sculptor would pay to shape. A face any woman would fall in love with. He was the perfect combination of rugged and handsome, like a cowboy from a cigarette ad crossed with a model for a fancy cologne. She sniffed deeply, and her inner wolf sighed.

  Mine.

  Just for tonight, she reminded her wolf. Then she shut it in its inner cage and let herself drink the man in.

  His short, dark hair stuck up a little at the front. His deep, dark tan was closer to a windburn, like a hardcore biker who’d spent most of his life on the road. Dozens of small scars hinted at a lot of midnight brawls, and the bigger ones — like the scar that zigzagged down his right arm — spoke of life-or-death shifter fights. His piercingly dark eyes carried a little bit of everything. Love. Hate. Betrayal. Burning anger. A sprinkle of hope.

  She looked a little deeper and found joy, hiding all the way in the back. A bridled kind of joy just waiting for its chance.

  And fear? Not a trace.

  She licked her lips. No self-respecting member of her family would approve of her messing with a transient, bad boy type. A man with big, bold tattoos who stood for everything they despised.

  Forbidden, in other words. The best kind.

  He looked at her expectantly, and she realized she hadn’t answered his question. Was she from around here?

  Sort of. Kind of. A long story she really didn’t have time to explain. I’m a member of two packs — Arroyo Hills in California, where I grew up with my loony mother, and Twin Moon Ranch, where my father and siblings live. It’s just up the road from here, and it’s paradise, only I never get to stay there long. I’m always in between.

  But that would be the wimpy side of her soul talking, so she quickly tucked the thoughts away.

  “Just visiting,” she said.

  Luke nodded, looking as relieved as she was. If he was just passing through, this would be easy. A fun night of dancing followed by more intimate moves once she got him somewhere private, and then in the morning, a quick thanks and good-bye. That was her modus operandi when it came to men. Easy come, easy go. Quick. Convenient. Fun.

  And never, ever anything deeper than that.

  Never? her wolf whimpered.

  She shook her head firmly. Thank goodness for her tough human side. It was her inner wolf who deluded itself with visions of the perfect man — or even worse, the perfect mate.

  It would be nice to have a mate, her wolf whimpered.

  Like that ass, Craig? she shot back.

  Her inner wolf all but bared its teeth. Never. That was not my idea.

  Carly took another gulp of beer, trying to purge the memory from her mind. Her home pack had actually welcomed Craig in and encouraged the idea of a mating to him.

  Just get to know him a little, her mother had urged.

  Like Carly needed more than one glance to see through the man with slicked-back hair and a cocky grin. Craig was arrogant. Selfish. Ambitious, too — dangerously so.

  Gonna find me a good pack to lead, you know, Craig had declared. And I need a good she-wolf at my side.

  More like a she-wolf at his beck and call, Carly figured. He’d barely even looked at her, addressing the Arroyo Hills alpha instead.

  He’s perfect for you, her mother had declared.

  Perfect? Carly could barely stand the overwhelming scent of Craig’s hair gel, let alone the rest of him.

  Luckily, her home pack was progressive enough not to force anything on her. But they sure as hell could pressure her. After three days of that, she’d hit the road, heading to her father’s side of the family at Twin Moon Ranch for a little reprieve.

  This man isn’t like Craig, her wolf murmured about Luke. This man is perfect.

  Carly considered. The perfect man was one she could wave good-bye to on her way out of town. And that made Luke Mr. Perfect, if only for tonight.

  Luke smiled one of those killer smiles, and though she melted inside, she made sure to shoot her best grin back. The one that said, I want you to know, Hot Stuff, that as much as you think you’re playing me, I’m playing you.

  I know, his eyes twinkled. Believe me, I know.

  “So, no hurry to get anywhere tonight?” he asked.

  She grinned. “No hurry.”

  Twin Moon Ranch was just up the road, but her family wasn’t expecting her at any particular time. And the second she stepped foot on the ranch, she could forget about this kind of fun. Her dad was the former alpha of that wolf pack, and her brother the current leader. That made fooling around with any male in the pack out of the question. It was just too complicated. So a night with Luke was exactly what she needed to tide her over until she could hit the road again.

  Definitely not in a hurry, her wolf murmured.

  Not with the dance floor just livening up. And certainly not after she’d spotted Hot Stuff eyeing her up and down. When she’d sniffed and caught the scent of wolf…

  Yum. Her inner beast practically purred as she led him closer to the band.

  The minute they hit the dance floor, he pulled her close, and hot damn, did that he-wolf have moves. Luke led her around the floor like she hadn’t been led — or allowed herself to be — in a long time, sweeping her in and out of his arms in glorious twists and turns. It was like dancing with sunshine, even though they were in a seedy bar at the stroke of midnight.

  “Promise me something,” she said the next time he pulled her into his chest.

  “What’s that?” He grinned, all bad boy a
gain.

  “Promise that turning over a new leaf doesn’t mean you’re going to give up dancing.”

  His hearty laugh filled his tanned face with a new glow. “I guess I have plenty of other sins to give up first.”

  Just hearing the word sin made her inner temperature shoot up another few degrees. And when he said give up, he held her closer, as if that were the last thing he wanted to do.

  Maybe he wasn’t really ready to give up all his sins.

  Maybe he shouldn’t even try.

  Maybe a girl like her was exactly what this man needed to hang on to all the good parts of being bad.

  “You know that line, right?” she asked. “The one about laughing with sinners instead of crying with saints.”

  The music slowed just then, and his face grew somber. “Done plenty of laughing,” he said, so quietly she almost missed the words. “And not always at the right thing.”

  Regret had its own signature scent, and it snuck into the space around him. A lot of regret, it seemed. It clouded his eyes and slowed his step.

  “Still beats crying,” she said. “Come on, Hot Stuff. That leaf’s not going anywhere before tomorrow.” She pulled him through the next couple of moves until he found his rhythm again.

  “I guess not,” he admitted, taking the lead once more.

  The band followed up with another fast song, and before long, all those bumps, touches, and grinds filled her mind with visions of what else she could do with this man and how good it would be. Then the band transitioned into one of those slow love songs made just for a woman in her mood. The kind that gave her a chance to sniff his neck up close, to let her hands trace the muscles of his back. Which meant a hell of a lot of tracing while she squeezed her chest and hips against his. He smelled like leather and fresh air and the open road. And Jesus, did he turn her on. Those dark, hungry eyes — Black eyes? Brown? — so focused on hers. The easy way their bodies pressed closer with each beat.

  His hands played over her ribs, but just when they got deliciously close to where she really wanted to feel them, he backed away.

  “Hey,” she protested, clamping her hands over his. She tugged them up until he was cupping the lower edge of her breasts. Not high enough to give the crowd a real show, but enough to make her intentions clear.