Desert Wolf

Gently, he steered her toward her luggage, the two small bags she had seen fit to bring for a weekend in the desert. Her companion lifted the bags easily and reached to take her briefcase. She gave him a firm head shake, preferring to hold on to the paperwork she’d need for a quick sale when the reclusive Grant Wade agreed to her terms.

“There’s a watering hole down the road,” this guy said. “The truck is right out front.”

When she glanced at him, he added, “It’s a café. We can get something to drink there or take it to go.”

Paxton nodded. She followed her guide through the revolving doors and onto the street where a large blue truck sat parked at the curb. Like the cowboy beside her, its lines were tall, long and sturdy. Chrome wheels and other fancy stuff were missing. The hood was covered in dust and there was a baseball-sized dent in the passenger door. This truck was a working man’s transportation, not merely a vehicle meant to prove male bravado.

After tossing her bags in the back, her makeshift chauffeur came around to open her door. Getting in while wearing a short skirt took some feminine know-how when the truck’s cab was so high off the ground.

Once she was inside, Paxton stuck out an arm to stop the door from closing and faced the guy helping her. “I really am grateful for the ride. And I’m sorry I seem to have lost my manners. I didn’t ask your name.”

“Wade,” he said, the dazzling smile no longer in evidence. “Name’s Grant Wade.”

Chapter 3

Paxton Hall wasn’t what Grant had expected, and that came as a surprise.

She looked the part of the spoiled young woman he had expected to show up, and she dressed well, but Paxton didn’t really seem spoiled. She’d brought one bag and an overnight case that not too many fancy outfits would have traveled well in. She had been happy to let him choose her hotel and had allowed him to guide her along without complaint.

And she was beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. Though he’d seen a few pictures of her in Andrew Hall’s file, in person, Paxton Hall was a whole new deal.

He liked all the details ringing up—the big eyes that were an unusual amber color, the porcelain skin and the kind of oval face that begged a second and third look. Dark blond hair was cut in a swingy, shoulder-length style and appeared to be natural in color. Very little makeup muddied her face, just a swipe of something dark on her eyelashes and a hint of rose on her cheeks. In his estimation, she didn’t need even that.

She was antsy, her discomfort easy to read. Being beside her made his nerves buzz. Back in the terminal, when he had touched her arm, that buzz had been transmitted to a spot way down deep inside him.

The feminine perfume she wore didn’t help with his initial response to her, either. Some kind of woodsy aroma trailed her, almost completely covering up a more elusive scent he couldn’t yet place. Everything about Paxton Hall, all those details, were laced with a layer of subdued anxiety and anger. Because of him, in part.

He slammed her door and walked around the truck, acknowledging that Paxton was surprised by this unexpected meet up. She knew his name now, but he’d had the advantage of getting to see what she was like before she found him out and the arguments he anticipated began.

Did she consider him the enemy? A problem to be solved?

He had told the truth about her lawyer giving him a heads-up on her visit and knew Paxton would have questions. Plenty of them. Most of those were questions he wouldn’t be able to answer, due to secrets he had to keep, though she deserved some kind of explanation for what was written in that will.

The reason for her visit was a no-brainer. Paxton Hall wanted to sell the land her father left her and have nothing more to do with her early Arizona upbringing. But her father had left him part of that acreage in order to make sure a sale didn’t happen, so surely Andrew Hall must have foreseen that some sort of contact between his two heirs would take place.

As an ex-Ranger with connections, Grant had been tracking Paxton since her father’s death a few weeks ago. And here she sat, in his truck, putting traitor and Grant Wade together in the same unspoken breath. She’d be thinking that the man she had been trusting to get her settled for the night had turned out to be more like the personification of sabotage.

Grant climbed into the cab and rested both hands on the wheel. Without looking at his guest, he said, “Would you like to talk now or wait a while?”

“Now,” she said breathlessly.

Her attention on him was unforgiving. His Were senses told him Paxton’s heart rate had kicked up a notch and that Paxton Hall had expected someone else attached to the name Wade. Someone different. She was trying to reconcile his image with her former ideas about who might turn up to potentially oppose her.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can call you a taxi,” he said.

“I’ve been uncomfortable since I read my father’s will, as you must already know.”

Direct and to the point. Grant liked that, usually.

She turned on the seat. “You are that same guy?”

“One and the same, if you’re talking about Andrew’s legacy,” Grant replied. “If you’re talking about anything else, I probably didn’t do it.”

Levity wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He didn’t have to look at Paxton to feel the animosity creeping into her tone.

“Why?” she demanded.

Pretending to misunderstand what she was asking would have been lame, so he said, “It was important to your father and to others that the property wasn’t sold.”

“Why?” she repeated.

“I can’t tell you about the specifics of that right now, other than to stress your father’s desire for me to hold on to the town.”

“You’re talking about an old tourist attraction that’s been closed for twenty years. I fail to see why hanging on to a defunct ghost town wins out over selling the place,” she argued. “Surely you have better things to do than keep track of it.”

“Not many people would understand my reasons for staying here,” Grant said. “Your father did.”

She zeroed in on that. “You knew my father well, then?”

“Truthfully, I didn’t know him much at all.”

The way she drew back told him that Andrew Hall’s daughter hadn’t considered that kind of an answer. Had she imagined he had goaded Andrew into handing him the town? Finessed Desperado out of a tough man like Andrew Hall?

“What you’re saying doesn’t make sense,” she eventually remarked. “Maybe you can explain things better?”

Grant nodded. “We had a deal.”

“You and my father?”

He nodded again. “Our deal was that I would inherit the town when he passed, and that I’d take care of it and never sell the land Desperado sits on or allow anyone else to sell it.”

That slice of the truth would sound absurd to the woman sitting beside him. The whole truth could never be spoken, of course, though Grant could see Paxton was firm in her resolve to get to the bottom of her father’s strange bequest. He just couldn’t let her find that reason. Paxton Hall, along with all the other humans on the planet, had to be kept from learning Desperado’s secrets—and his.

That much, at least, was clear to Grant. What wasn’t immediately clear was how he was supposed to oppose her when Paxton was here, in his damn truck, with her pale face and her black clothes that reflected her consideration for a man she hadn’t really known.

“Why didn’t he just leave the whole thing to you?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, actually. That would have made more sense.”

And it would have kept Paxton away, maybe, a fact that he had considered since meeting Andrew Hall. He had a glimmer of an idea that Paxton’s father might have sent her away in the first place so she didn’t learn about the werewolves in residence here, and that Andrew’s ongoing silence had furthered the cause of shielding his daughter from truths too difficult to explain.

“Will you sell it to me?” she asked.

And there they were, at a standstill. Checkmate. Paxton would assume her request was reasonable, and it would have been if things had been different.

Grant started the engine. “Do you still want that drink?”

“I’d rather you answered my question.”

He looked at the white-faced woman who couldn’t have been more than two or three years younger than his twenty-eight. She looked even younger than that, though. Paxton truly was an eyeful, though that couldn’t matter in their negotiations.

“Maybe you’ll want to turn right around and go home when I reiterate that I’m not going to sell,” he suggested. “Why waste money on a hotel when more time here won’t get you what you want?”

“You might change your mind,” she countered stubbornly.

“Not going to happen, Paxton. I made a deal.”

The heat inside the car was harsh. Moisture had gathered at Paxton’s temples, dampening her hair. The black silk was starting to stick to her in ways Grant shouldn’t have noticed.

In any other situation, he would have liked a close-up with Paxton Hall. As things stood, the best case scenario would be for her to go away mad and never look back. She might try to file a lawsuit in order to force him to sell, but her father’s attorney wasn’t going to condone a move like that.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t want to make an enemy of the daughter of the man who left something valuable to me. So how can we resolve things before that happens?”

“Too late,” she said, reaching for the door handle, “if you refuse to see my side of this argument and either buy me out or sell.”

Grant reached to take hold of her briefcase, stopping Paxton from opening the door. “Stay,” he said, removing his sunglasses.

She turned her head. Amber eyes lighted on him, connecting with his gaze. Earnest eyes. Wounded. Haunted. Wild.

A stunning jolt of something extraordinary hit Grant in the chest and then melted downward as a second jolt, larger than the first, hit. He had seen eyes like those before and didn’t want to face what that meant. He didn’t want to face her with what that meant.

What he saw in those eyes quite possibly changed everything—his future and hers.

Paxton Hall was a Were.

He had no doubt about it.

Still, Grant could see that she was ignorant of that fact and therefore didn’t know what was in store. He believed this because he couldn’t feel the thing she kept hidden inside her, in the dark. Her scent had kindled his discovery. Those big eyes of hers said it all.

Grant broke eye contact and dropped his hold on the briefcase, stung by the realization of who and what Paxton really was. Worse yet, the air in the cab suddenly seemed charged with wayward electricity that had nowhere to go due to the fact that his inner wolf had been awakened by the directness of Paxton’s gaze.

“What I mean is that we can get to know each other better if you stay as planned,” he said, wondering if he could let her go at all now that he knew what eventually would happen to her. “Maybe then we’ll both understand where we’re coming from.”

Everything about this new turn of events was dangerous, he realized. Remaining close to Paxton could be bad when wolf might call to wolf, setting free what now lay curled up inside her. Letting her go without an inkling of what she was would be equally dangerous. Her wolf had to show sometime and was long overdue. For wolves, timing was everything.

She studied him frankly as she thought over his suggestion. Her eyes never left his face.

“Will you consider buying me out?” she asked.

“We can talk about that and the reasons I can’t agree to doing what you ask.”

Grant’s mind whirled with things he wanted to say, but couldn’t.

I now think your father might have been keeping Desperado for you, leaving it in my care, he wanted to tell her. For when you...in case you needed help and a place to go for a while, among others just like you.

No way could he tell Paxton any of that, since he was only now beginning to understand it himself.

Had her father meant to bring her here for this reason, intending for his heirs to meet? Could Hall have masterminded all of this to ensure his estranged daughter’s first transition from human to Were was in safe hands? Grant Wade’s hands?

“How about if we discuss it now?” she said.

Grant shook his head. “Give me a few hours to think things over.”

She released the door handle and sat back, unable to mask her hopeful expression. “All right. A few hours.”

He couldn’t help but notice how small she looked in the truck. Although Paxton had to be at least five foot five, she was a shade too slim and as willowy as the trees along the riverbed.

She wasn’t lighthearted. Hints of sadness weighed down her shoulders. Did she possess a strong Hall family backbone under all that silk?

It seemed that Andrew had also kept Grant in the dark about a few minor details concerning this legacy. And now, secrets on top of secrets had left him in the hot seat.

Grant reached for the gearshift, mulling things over.

Most likely Paxton didn’t know that her father had followed her life from behind the scenes, and how much Andrew must have loved her.

Sooner or later, Paxton’s wolf would make an appearance. There was no way to postpone that event forever, no matter where she lived.

And that made Andrew Hall one tricky son of a bitch.

“You believe I’m your enemy, but we’re actually more alike than you know,” he said, growing more uncomfortable as the minutes passed. Because, hell...

Just one long glance at those golden eyes of hers had done more than make him realize what kind of DNA she carried. It had also done him in. Captured him completely. Put him on her side. Whatever haunted her, now haunted him.

His wolf wanted to growl in protest over the burden laid upon him, because the wolf had a heads-up on what her innate sense of sadness might actually be.

Paxton Hall was a she-wolf in waiting, and her timing couldn’t have been worse. With a full moon due the following night, she’d be too close to a shape-shifting pack. If she were to face another wolf up close, that meeting might bring out the secrets kept from her all this time. And it wouldn’t be pretty.

It seemed like more trouble had landed in his lap, and that these next few hours were not going to be easy to get through. He had asked Paxton to stay when it now might be imperative to keep his distance from her. He wanted more than anything to take her in his arms and offer comfort, something she hadn’t ever gotten from her estranged father...and that, too, could be dangerous for her.

Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t.

With one more glance at Paxton, Grant said, “I think I’ll need that drink.”

The look she returned made his stomach tighten.

“Make mine a double,” she said.

Chapter 4

As Grant Wade pulled the truck away from the curb, it dawned on Paxton that there might be a downside to remaining in his presence.

From where she sat, on the opposite side of the truck, she still felt the impression of his hand on her elbow, left over from when he helped with her bags. When she had looked at his face, searching for more hints about his character, what she’d found was a man who might not be as happy to accommodate her visit as he seemed.

They were at odds about Desperado, and Grant Wade showed signs of discomfort. Although he rested one arm casually on the window frame and the other on the wheel, those bronzed forearms were corded with tension.

Were those arms sexy? Yes.

Did that matter? No.

So, why had she even thought of questions like those?

Truth was, Paxton wondered what that smooth golden skin would be like to touch and chastised herself for thinking she’d like to find out.

Her reactions to Grant Wade were as automatic as breathing. In her defense, most women liked strong, sexy men who didn’t overtly try to overpower with all that testosterone. Men who could easily take control of any situation, yet sometimes knew better than to try. Handsome men at ease in their own skins who radiated self-confidence and looked exactly like Grant Wade did, from Stetson to scuffed boots.

Weren’t those things tied to what constituted wet dreams for women? Because surely she was going to have a dream like that about this guy tonight, no matter how far apart they stood on her father’s deal.

“Name your poison,” he said to her as the truck rolled past a few strip malls and gas stations, its engine purring like a well-tuned tractor.

“Iced tea. Heavy on the ice.”

He gave her a sideways glance.

“I don’t think alcohol would further my cause much. Do you?” Not wanting to relax, Paxton leaned back against the leather seat, liking the masculine smell of the truck. The trip to Arizona had been taxing. She would have given anything to be able to close her eyes.

“Hotel choices,” he said. “Big or small?”

“Cheap.”

He nodded.

“Then you’ll give in and buy me out of all that acreage. Or vice versa,” she added.

“You’re pretty confident one of those two things will happen?”

“Aren’t you?”

Her companion didn’t reply to that question and angled the truck into a parking space beside a small roadside café.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Famished, actually.”

“I hope you like burgers.”

“Not unless they come with fries.”

“Then you, my fine lady, are in luck,” Grant Wade said as he turned off the engine. “Though you will have to sit across from me.”

“I’ll manage somehow,” Paxton returned.

The café was nearly empty this time of day. A few small tables ringed a linoleum patchwork floor and three faded red booths hugged the windows. The only waitress in sight, dressed in faded jeans and an apron, eyed them curiously when she and Grant slid into a booth. After Grant returned the glance, the waitress ambled over.

“I guess I’m conspicuously foreign,” Paxton said when their order went in.

“This is a place for regulars. Anyone new is suspicious.”

“Maybe she likes you. She’s staring.”

“Nope. Shirleen is just curious. She has imprinted with...” He stopped there without finishing the strange remark.

“Does that mean she’s engaged to someone?” Paxton asked.

Her cowboy nemesis took a swig of the iced tea Shirleen had brought over. “Yep. Western slang for people coupling up.”

Paxton didn’t share how much she might have liked to couple up with Grant Wade after first laying eyes on him, since that wasn’t going to happen. She hoped to get the paperwork signed and be back on a plane.

They ate in silence, an unspoken truce, of sorts, with the curious waitress looking on. Grant didn’t seem to notice the scrutiny, but Paxton couldn’t get much of her burger down. She was relieved when Grant took care of paying the bill. By the time they headed for the truck, evening was settling in with a pink glow on the horizon.

“It’s quite beautiful,” she said, staring at the landscape for a few minutes before getting into the truck. “I had forgotten about that. Maybe I was too young to notice.”

“You remember being here?” Grant Wade asked.

“I remember a few small things. Mostly unimportant stuff.”

“Like pretty sunsets?”

She nodded. “Yes. Like that.”

“There’s no place better for showy horizons than this one,” he said.

“Not even in Texas?” she asked, testing her new theory on Grant Wade being that former Texas Ranger.

“Similar, but not the same,” he replied, opening her door and playing the gentleman card well. He added, “You know about Texas?”

Paxton shrugged.

“Know thine enemies?” he suggested.

“Hopefully you aren’t one of them.”

“Hopefully not,” he agreed, waiting for her to climb in. “We just shared fries.”

More silence ensued as they drove to the edge of town. What more was there to say without getting back into the argument over the property? Grant had asked for time to consider everything she had suggested. That was fine, if he didn’t take too long.

“I’d like to go there tomorrow,” she finally said when a tiny motel on the edge of a wide expanse of desert came into view.

“Back to Maryland?”

She shook her head. “Desperado.”

He took a beat to reply. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

“You’ll be driving over my property every time you go in or out of that old town. I think you owe me a look, don’t you?”

His hesitation wasn’t subtle.

“I can always rent a car,” she persisted. “I wouldn’t be trespassing if I stopped at the gate. I won’t bother the ghosts.”

When he offered no comment, Paxton got the impression Grant Wade might be hiding something out there in the desert that he didn’t want anyone to discover. Had he found gold?

“You said valuable,” she noted.

He glanced at her.

“You mentioned that my father left you something valuable.”

“Did I?”

She waited him out, wondering what kind of actual reason there could be for keeping her away from the old town. Maybe Grant was planning on reopening Desperado as a tourist attraction and didn’t want to mention that. Perhaps his deal with her father had been to make the old place live again and earn Grant Wade, former Texas Ranger, a decent living. If so, the deal was terribly shortsighted, since everyone involved had to realize that no one could reach Desperado without her permission granting the right-of-way.

Surely her father’s lawyer would have pointed out to Grant that buying her out would be to his benefit? The truck had stopped without her noticing. Grant got out, took her bags from the back and again came around to open her door.

“Small and cheap,” he said with a nod to the motel.

Funny, Paxton thought. That’s exactly what she felt like as she watched Grant Wade enter the lobby of the two-story U-shaped building ahead of her. Small and cheap. She’d sell the land for a song if it meant getting back to her life without taking Grant Wade up on whatever emotion he hid behind those sunglasses.

Reluctantly, she followed Grant to the lobby, trying hard not to stare at the way his jeans emphasized his magnificently compact backside and how his auburn hair, badly in need of a trim, brushed his shirt collar. Taking stock of those things made her uneasy. Still, she had to assess her opponent and hope that the best person would win this argument.

As the hot wind caressed her face, Paxton felt even stranger, in a déjà-vu kind of way, as if it wasn’t actually possible for a person to get over their beginnings.

She looked at her feet, then tipped her face toward the motel’s neon sign. Her gaze flicked to the light of the lobby’s open doorway, filled at the moment by Grant Wade. He was waiting. But what, exactly, was he waiting for—the woman to tag along behind him, or the completion of a deal in his favor?

Maybe she was just projecting her own thoughts on the matter, because, damn it, the man was messing with her sense of justice. Grant Wade, in the flesh, suddenly seemed like the perfect guy to manage a ghost town in the Old West.

And he was looking at her in that way he had, making her feel as though she was the only woman in the world on his mind.

Chapter 5

What did Paxton think he was going to do with the old ghost town?

Grant had taken to swearing under his breath and did so repeatedly in honor of the situation he found himself in now as he stood on the threshold to Paxton’s room. Half the space in that room was taken up by a bed, and in a perfect world, he and Paxton might have worked through their differences on top of it. Of course, they weren’t going to do any such thing. He had to get in and get out without lingering.

Cautiously placing one boot inside, then the other, Grant set Paxton’s bags down on the carpet. With his hands now free, he thought seriously about reaching for her and got the feeling she might have been willing to have that happen.