Is it really so hard to believe that men and women aren’t all that different when it comes to sexual urges? Why is it okay for men to go on the hunt, enjoy sex when the opportunity presents itself, no harm, no foul? But let a woman go on the prowl and she’s characterized as a man-eater, gold-digger, or worse. All I’m saying is, let us all prowl equally. And to the victor goes the climax.

Chapter 8

You’re beautiful. And soon, very soon, you will be mine. All mine.

Riley’s gut knotted and he had to work to keep from crushing the note in his fist. He took the purse and the note upstairs to his room, pausing briefly as he passed her door. What in the hell had he been thinking tonight?

It was one thing to contemplate coming back to her when this was all over. And a shock to realize he actually had. Apparently the idea of revisiting the tension that had spiraled between them since the moment they’d stepped beneath that crystal snowflake chandelier had been too tantalizing to ignore.

He imagined what he’d say to her, how he’d explain who he really was, the surprise and shocked expression that would shift to that knowing, deliberate smile when she realized she’d found a fellow wolf to play with.

They’d burn hot and bright. He knew that for certain. Just the taste of her skin had been enough to set him off. They might last a night or a month of nights before they flamed out, but it would be well worth the singe marks.

She’d been saucy and sexy and so sure of herself tonight. She’d also been vulnerable, baldly honest, and willing to look at things in a whole new way. Willing to look at him, her resident sheep, in a whole new way.

His lips quirked despite the frustration gnawing at him. She did that to him, too. Amused and annoyed, most of the time simultaneously. Like with her Sheep Attraction Factor. “If she only knew,” he muttered, his smile fading as he let himself into his rooms.

His body was still humming from the frustration of tasting her skin and knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. But he couldn’t dwell on that, not when there was a nameless, faceless threat out there. Watching. Waiting. He had no business encouraging her newfound attraction to sheep. Especially since he wasn’t one of the herd. He’d been sent here to hunt. And his prey wasn’t her.

He rolled on latex gloves and carefully unfolded the note again. He got out a small case, unzipping it and laying it flat before setting to work. Lifting prints was easy enough to do if you didn’t mind the mess it made. But he knew she’d come looking for her purse and its contents in the morning, and he wasn’t ready to tell her who he really was. Although after tonight, for more than one reason, he knew he was going to have to. Just not yet.

She was already going to be pissed at him, so the least he could do was supply a detailed course of action that would give her a sense of security. If she didn’t have her aunt fire his sheep-posing ass first.

Swearing and muttering, he began the painstaking process, hoping to find more than his prints and hers. Would SoulM8 be careless? Had he risked exposure by propping that note on the table himself? Or had he sent someone to do it for him? He’d have had no idea that Riley was there as more than an escort, and yet the note had appeared the only time Riley had been more than a foot from her side. They’d been watched. If not by SoulM8, then by someone helping him out. But Riley would bet on SoulM8 operating on his own. Stalkers generally didn’t work in pairs.

He snorted in self-disgust. All the lectures he’d given Finn, and what had he gone and done? The very thing he’d so passionately argued against. Well, not everything, he argued, his mind drifting back to that moment on the dance floor when he’d so badly wanted to kiss her. Thank God he’d had sense enough to pull back before he did anything too foolish. Though he’d gotten his mouth on her anyway, hadn’t he? So what if it had only been the soft skin on the back of her hand? Tell that to his raging hard-on, which apparently hadn’t known the difference.

He snapped up the phone as he lifted a third partial print from the corner of the note and punched in an East Coast number. He had some connections to a certain fed via a former running back’s brother. If he was lucky, with the time difference Parnell would still be on shift. “Hey,” he said abruptly when the call connected, “this is Parrish. I need you to run some prints for me. Partials, but they’re pretty clean. Yeah, nationwide, but I’m betting he’s a California boy.” He grinned as he listened to Parnell bitch, then said, “I know, add it to my tab.”

He hung up, then went about setting up his laptop and connecting the handheld scanner. Within minutes he was transmitting the images via email to Parnell’s office. Hopefully he’d get an answer back by morning, before Parnell’s shift ended. They’d worked together before and Parnell was good and, more important, thorough.

In the meantime, he’d check his email, see if Ernie had gotten him anything more. Then he’d check hers, something Ernie had made possible for him—computer-fraud consultants being some of the best hackers out there—and make sure SoulM8 hadn’t followed up on his close encounter.

An hour later, he was scrubbing at his gritty eyes, contemplating coffee or a shower or both. Ernie’s email had thrown a whole new perspective on the case. By itself, finding out that MainLine used FishNet for all their employee and business emails and Internet service access was no big thing. Except their account was a huge one, one of upstart FishNet’s biggest. So they’d been given carte blanche with regard to the number of email accounts they could set up. And Tanzy’s editor, Martin, was the guy in charge of doling them out.

Martin, the same guy Tanzy had mentioned was going through some kind of postparenting, midlife sort of thing. Acting out of character. Giving her dates odd looks, as Riley had noted earlier tonight. Then there was the comment that he was particularly interested in Tanzy’s comings and goings recently. She’d chalked up his attentions as paternal. But what if in Martin’s eyes there was nothing paternal about his feelings for his young, personable, sexy protégée?

One glance at the clock told Riley he was going to have to put any further analysis of this new trail off till tomorrow. He was cooked anyway. And Tanzy hadn’t been bluffing about the radio program, which meant he had about two and a half hours before meeting her at the curb for her scheduled four-thirty A.M. pickup. No more following at a discreet distance. He went in the limo from now on.

He stripped out of his briefs—the tux long since having come off—and crawled into bed, setting his alarm for four. That would give him enough time to shower and check for any email from Parnell. If the prints didn’t end up attached to someone with a criminal record, he’d have to look into getting her editor’s prints and run a comparison. That should be fun.

Despite the frustrations of the evening, both professional and personal, he drifted off to sleep with a hint of a smile on his lips, imagining her reaction when she found him waiting for her in the morning.

Tanzy tried to keep her attention on the radio hosts and the mike in front of her . . . and off of Riley, who was presently standing on the other side of the glass separating the broadcast booth from the engineers, watching her intently. Not that there was much to watch.

She’d been a guest on this particular program before, which dealt mostly with the morning drive guys giving her a hard time, her giving it right back, then taking some questions from callers. She had to be on her toes with these two, but their audience was huge and MainLine milked her appearances for all the advertising dollars they could get.

Still, her answers weren’t as snappy as she’d have liked this morning, which meant Billy Mac and JoJo were quickly getting the upper hand. Never a good thing. Her distraction was partly due to the note from the night before, but mostly due to Riley’s unsettling and unwavering focus. How could a guy be so distant and yet so invasive at the same time?

She still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d been curbside and chatting amiably with the station’s driver at the crack of dawn this morning. She hadn’t even had her first Coke of the day, so she’d somehow let him hornswoggle his way into the limo and into the broadcast booth. Something about wanting to see behind the scenes. It had all sounded reasonable to her sleep-addled brain. Plus, she recalled thinking, how much trouble could a guy like Riley get into?

She hadn’t counted on being the one having the trouble.

“So, Tanzy, this sheep versus wolf theory of yours sure has got the Bay Area talking.” Billy Mac grinned widely, which was always a warning.

Tanzy straightened and took a bracing sip of Coke. Her third. It was barely eight A.M. And it wasn’t helping. “That’s one of the things I hope my column does, Billy, get a dialogue going between the sexes.”

Billy turned to his cohost—or cohort, as was more the case—and shared a chuckle that was probably being echoed in truck stops and frat houses all over town. If she looked close enough, she’d probably detect foaming around their mouths. But while they both had the voices for radio, their looks were far short of celebrity standards. Billy Mac reminded her of the rabid sports fan guy who paints his belly blue and yells obscenities at referees. And JoJo . . . well, imagine Dennis Rodman in full drag but without the muscles. Tanzy preferred not to look too closely at either of them. Or gnash her teeth that their salaries were likely triple hers.

“So,” JoJo broke in, pulling his mouthpiece closer, “do you take any responsibility for the dialogue those women have been dishing on their sheepy other halves this past week? All those women who read your column, then looked up at their man and thought, ‘Damn, but I wanna bag me another wolf.’ “

Tanzy knew she had to fire back fast and sharp, but her reflexes were slowed by that one millisecond glance she sent toward her own sheep. It was a millisecond too long.

Billy Mac, ever nimble, had already pressed a button, filling the air with the horrific sounds of wrenching, screeching metal. “That was the sound of the marital discord erupting all over town this morning, folks,” he taunted.

Tanzy’s mouth was open, but JoJo had already pressed another button, and a wolf howl split the air. “And that, my friends, was for all those wolves out there, gearing up for some new action!”

Tanzy wanted to bury her head in her arms. Or go home and crawl back into bed. She never lost control like this. Martin was likely having a cow.

“You want to say something to those women you’ve stirred up, Tanzy?” Billy Mac tossed out.

“Or the wolves panting at their doors?” JoJo added with a cackle.

It was like watching a train wreck. Or trying to run hard in soft sand. She couldn’t make it stop, couldn’t seem to engage her tongue fast enough. She could only sit and stare. At Riley. Solid, dependable Riley.

Like he was going to do something to fix this?

And then the horror increased as Billy Mac zeroed in on the direction of her gaze. “Hey, maybe you want to tell us a little about this hunka hunka burning love you brought with you this morning.” He pressed his lips to the mike, dropped his voice another octave, and added, “At the crack of dawn, I might add.”

Tanzy’s eyes widened. No, no. Don’t do this.

“Who is he, Tanzy? Inquiring minds and single women everywhere want to know. Or . . . is he off the market?”

“He sure doesn’t look like Santa’s helper to me,” JoJo added wickedly. He was already motioning for them to open the control door and send Riley in. Tanzy sent him an apologetic look . . . then frowned. Was that a smile playing at the corners of those lips of his? Lips she’d actually spent a decent portion of the night dreaming about?

“I believe this is the first time you’ve brought a guest, isn’t it?” Billy Mac asked suggestively.

“Maybe he wasn’t done howling when she had to come into work this morning,” JoJo said with a sly wink.

Finally—thank God!—she found her voice. “He works for my aunt. He’s just along for the ride, guys. No pun intended,” she added quickly, cursing herself for giving them such an opening.

But it was too late. JoJo was sending the wolf howl over the airwaves again and someone was miking Riley. This wasn’t a train wreck, it was a natural disaster.

“So, your name is?” JoJo asked.

And that was when Riley froze.

If Tanzy hadn’t been so frantic, she’d have enjoyed that deer in headlights moment. Immensely. Not that it was Riley’s fault he’d been dragged into this mess, but he hadn’t exactly fought against being pulled into it. Of course, she couldn’t actually imagine Riley getting physical or anything. But still, a few of those perfectly modulated words of his would certainly have calmed things down.

“I’d rather not comment on that,” he finally managed.

“Hooee,” JoJo crooned, “you got a voice on you, don’t you, sugar?”

Riley looked at JoJo in a whole new way.

Now Tanzy did smile, and sent Riley a silent thank-you for taking the focus off of her for a moment and allowing her to regroup. He had saved the day after all. Her hero.

“Ah, thanks,” Riley managed. “It’s in the genes. Nothing special.”

“Well, why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” JoJo murmured suggestively. “And we can discuss those jeans later, honey.”

Apparently Riley didn’t listen to the Billy Mac and JoJo Show—or he’d have known that they were the Will and Grace of morning drive time.

“So, you’re just friends, you say?” Billy Mac stepped in, filling the dreaded dead air. “What do you think of Tanzy’s latest theory? First off, would you categorize yourself as a wolf or a sheep?”

Riley’s gaze went unerringly to hers. And in that moment, Tanzy found herself wondering just what his answer would be. Which was ridiculous. It was obvious to everyone but JoJo apparently, what he was. Except . . .

She tore her gaze away. As much as she’d like to leave Riley to the two radio wolves, rational thought must prevail. She depressed her mike switch and said, “I don’t think he cares to share his livestock orientation any more than his name, guys. But I can share that many sheep in good standing have contacted me and are less than thrilled with my observations.”

They both turned on her like vultures on fresh roadkill. Or Billy Mac did. JoJo was still sending lingering glances Riley’s way. “So there is marital discord in response to your theory?” Billy Mac asked.

“Not the way you’re thinking. It’s more that men are surprised that their wives might occasionally fantasize about a quickie with some hot body, just like they do. Not that they really want to act on it, any more than their spouses do—”

She simply stared down Billy Mac’s “Yeah, right” and dry chuckle.

“Most of them, anyway,” she clarified. “But honestly, do you all really think we only care about getting our whites whiter and finding creative ways to cook leftovers? You think we don’t notice the nice butt on the UPS man? You think we don’t have a fantasy or two about doing the bicycle messenger right there in the elevator at work?” She smiled sweetly when Billy Mac almost swallowed his tongue. “We might not think about sex every two-point-three seconds, like men do, but I say we do pretty decently on a daily basis.” She had to work not to look at Riley, for fear of losing what little momentum she’d built.

Billy Mac finally recovered. “And that’s just the married women she’s talking about, folks!” He turned to her. “So, what about the single women? Are you saying if it’s available, they want it? Do women really have the hots for guys who just want a hit-and-run? Or do they want the hot sex, then secretly hope to tame the guy, dress him up nicely, and take him home to Mama?”

“I think some women want the thrill of satisfying sex without the attendant complications of a relationship, the same as guys.” She waved a hand before JoJo could jump in. “I know, I know, the safe-sex thing.” She leaned closer to her mike. “I am not, repeat not, advocating unsafe, unprotected random sex acts.” She grinned, then got snagged in Riley’s attentive gaze as she hit the stride that had eluded her all morning. When it worked right, it could be a real rush. And somehow, rather than distracting her, having him watch her now made it all the more stimulating. She didn’t question it, not right then. When you’re on a roll, you go with it and count casualties later.

“I am, however, advocating that with proper protection and precautions taken, women should get their satisfaction the same way men do,” she continued. “Whenever, wherever. And with the same lack of stigma that men enjoy, and have since the dawn of time.”

“So you’re saying wolves come in both genders,” JoJo said.

Tanzy shifted her attention to him, surprised. “You know what? I hadn’t thought about it like that, but you’re exactly right. Prowling isn’t the exclusive right of men.”

The station manager signaled that time was up and after one last wolf howl and a quick thanks for stopping by, Billy Mac switched to a series of taped commercial spots. “Entertaining as always,” he told Tanzy. “Thanks for letting us have some fun.” He looked to Riley. “Hope you didn’t mind, man.”

Riley merely shook his head and allowed one of the techs to retrieve his mike.

“You want to stick around a while?” Billy Mac asked Tanzy. “We didn’t get any call-in time and the board is lighting up like Christmas.”

Tanzy was glad she’d salvaged the worst of it and wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. But she also wanted to be invited back and knew Martin was hoping for that as well. Still . . .

“You have another appointment to get to, don’t you?” Riley quietly interjected.

Actually, she’d been planning on calling Rina and Susan to discuss shower plans over lunch, but Riley didn’t know that. She caught his gaze then, and realized he was giving her a speedy exit if she wanted one. Thanks again, she signaled with a brief nod, then turned a bright smile toward the disc jockeys. “He’s right. I’d completely forgotten. Good thing you tagged along,” she told Riley. “Maybe I should get my own personal assistant.”

“I was thinking the same thing, honey,” JoJo added dreamily, and Tanzy and Billy Mac laughed.

“Well then, until next time,” Billy Mac told her, shaking her hand, then Riley’s. “I’ll schedule more time for call-ins the next go-around. Maybe we’ll do an entire call-in show, whaddya think?”

“That could be interesting,” Tanzy said, but what she was thinking was, Not in this lifetime. It was tough enough dealing with these two. She knew she’d dodged another bullet this morning by not having to take callers. You never knew who was going to be on the other end on a live program, and sometimes that delay button just wasn’t enough.

Not to mention there was a certain individual she didn’t need to provide that kind of opportunity to.

Shoving thoughts of the note and SoulM8 out of her mind, she gathered her bag, and with a quick grin snagged a Dr Pepper from Billy’s minifridge, then followed Riley out of the station.

There was a small crowd gathered outside, which wasn’t all that unusual during the morning drive show. It was a bright, sunny mid-December morning, but it wouldn’t have mattered if it was foggy and dank. People always seemed to show up. Some were students from the nearby campus, some were commuters, some just passersby. Most were hoping Billy Mac or JoJo would send someone outside with a mike to give them their fifteen seconds of fame and let them ask a question or just gush.

Most of the time, Tanzy didn’t mind. Depending on the mood of the crowd, she’d occasionally respond to shouted comments, even sign an autograph or two. Today she just wanted to get in the car and get home. She should have been happy. The show hadn’t been a total disaster, she’d gotten the return invite. Martin would be happy, the sales reps in advertising would be happy. Why wasn’t she happy?

Because there was something about looking at a crowd of nameless people that made her edgy in a way she never had been before. She couldn’t help but eye them suspiciously, and hated that she felt that way.

Two women pushed through the small throng, making her jump slightly. Riley immediately pulled her back against him and was in the process of putting himself between her and the intruders when the women both smiled and shouted, “You tell it, Tanzy! You go, girl!”

More disconcerted by Riley’s immediate reaction to the perceived threat than by her uncustomary jumpiness, or by the women themselves, she managed a nod and thumbs-up before pushing on. Riley’s hand was planted on her lower back and he was steadily moving her toward the limo. But when she glanced back at him, his face was the same calm, imperturbable mask. Steady as she goes, Tanzy thought.

Someone in the crowd, probably a fraternity inhabitant, cut loose with a wolf howl. The call of the wild was quickly adopted by the other dozen or so campus denizens in the group. Several of the women joined in, pointedly showing the men that they could be wolves, too.

Riley bent down close to her ear even as he continued propelling her forward. “See what you’ve started?”

His deep voice gave her a hot little buzz, but it was overruled by her need to get out of the crowd and into the car. Sort of like the creepy feeling you got when you climbed the basement steps in the dark. Any other time she would have enjoyed the little buzz, milked it even, maybe shot him a wiseass grin and suggestive comment. But not at the moment. At the moment she was wishing she was some anonymous office-worker drone who’d never gotten the idea to share her every last thought with the public at large.

Then someone yelled, “Who’s the dude? Tell us your name!” The rest of the crowd chimed in.

Someone called out, “Take off the glasses! He’s hot, Tanzy!”

Another shouted, “Is he the next wolf on your list?”

Then the howls started again.

She heard someone chuckling close behind her, but didn’t dare a glance. The limo was so close . . .

“Is it always like this?” Riley asked, pressing closer as the crowd shifted inward.

“Sometimes,” she called back.

“You usually do this gauntlet alone? Maybe your editor has a point about getting some protection when you’re out on appearances.”

“The driver helps me out when necessary, or someone from the station accompanies me out. It’s harmless fun. They’re just fans.” Now if only she could shake the feeling that there might be one fan in particular out there, possibly in that very crowd, who wasn’t so harmless.

The limo was right in front of them, the driver was opening the door, when something sailed overhead from the rear of the crowd. Someone shouted, “Look out!”

The next thing Tanzy knew, her head was being pushed down and she was being body-planted onto the backseat of the limo. She straightened in time to see the driver already behind the wheel, even as Riley pulled the door shut behind himself. Which meant Riley had been the one to shove her in the car.

“Drive,” Riley barked at the driver, in a tone she’d never heard him use before.

They immediately pulled away from the curb and into the growing crowd. The driver did this for a living, Tanzy told herself as the crowd reluctantly shuffled away from the moving car. He’d moved far bigger celebrities through far bigger throngs than this. Thankfully the station and the mob quickly faded from view. A view Riley steadily watched until it was no longer visible. Only then did he turn to Tanzy.

Who was looking at him like she’d never seen him before. And maybe she hadn’t. “What the hell happened back there?”

“I don’t know and I didn’t think you wanted to stick around and find out.”

“It was a paper airplane, sir,” the driver informed them after hooking his radio back in its holder. “Everything’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Riley told him, then settled back in his seat as if everything really was okay.

She continued to stare at him, until he finally looked at her again. “Is something else the matter?”

Yes, she wanted to shout. Everything was the matter. “You didn’t answer me. What went on back there?”

“I think the driver explained that—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and don’t pretend you don’t understand what I’m asking.”

He stared at her in silence for a long moment.

“Answer me, Riley. And take those damn glasses off.”

That had him raising his eyebrows, but nothing more. And the glasses stayed put. She folded her arms and stubbornly held his gaze. Finally he said, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt. I’m sorry if I got a little rough.”

“That’s just it, you don’t get rough. Ever. And you don’t bark commands. It’s not in you. Or not in the you I thought you were.”

He simply looked at her and, in that damnably calm voice of his, said, “But then, you don’t really know me all that well, do you?”

“No,” she said just as reasonably, though her thoughts were anything but. “You’re right. Apparently I don’t.”

But I’m going to.