who took a woman as he had done today had to honor the connection, or know himself to be truly a beast.
So despite his misgivings, it was Ann. He'd made her his mate. And the Almighty made it a covenant, for she was a virgin, and she had found the icon.
She hovered on the brink of sleep, but she whispered, "Jasha?"
"Yes?" He leaned over her.
Her lids fluttered, and she smiled shyly. "Thank you."
She was pretty. He'd always known it; he had a complete appreciation for a good-looking woman. Her complexion was clear and fine; her blue eyes were big and surrounded by long dark lashes. But when she smiled .. . my God, it was like a lamp had gone on in her soul.
Ann was the most kind-hearted, loyal woman he'd ever met—and now she was his. He would keep her forever.
Chapter 12
Ann paused in the kitchen doorway. She wore white slacks, carefully chosen for the way they cupped her rear; an orange sweater, carefully chosen for the plunging neckline and the way the loose knit displayed her black, lacy bra and tiny waist; and open-toed sandals, carefully chosen to show off her formerly pristine pedicure, now ruined in her race through the woods.
She observed Jasha as he sat at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee from a heavy ceramic mug. Morning sunshine poured into the kitchen, lighting his sculpted cheekbones, his wide, sensual mouth, his drooping bedroom eyes. He was reading from his open laptop and he had that grin on his face, a grin she hoped would never be turned on her, for his faithful administrative assistant knew it meant he'd scored against an opponent. He filled out his black T-shirt very nicely, with taut muscles and subtle muscles and bulgy muscles. And hey—last night he'd nearly drowned giving her pleasure.
She wished she didn't feel so self-conscious—about wandering around in Jasha's house, about giving off lustful scents, about opening a conversation with a man she'd thought she knew so well. A man who she now knew hid an awful, glorious, damning secret.
She needed to ask questions. Of course. But how to start? What to say? She'd never been in such a situation before, and please God, she never would be again.
Then he glanced up, and she couldn't remember why she wanted to make conversation with him at all. Why talk when they could—
"Come and see what's in our local paper this morning." He turned the laptop and shoved it toward the seat beside him.
She walked across the kitchen, no longer self-conscious, and perched on the stool.
The headline read, CALIFORNIA HUNTER ARRESTED FOR INTOXICATION.
Jasha stood. 'Til get your coffee. Do you want eggs?" "Til do it." She started to get up again. "Read." Hand on her shoulder, he pressed her down.
Californian Eric Lofts mas arrested yesterday after he drove to the police department and burst in, claiming he'd been attached by a Wolf Man while out in the woods. Mr. Lofts claimed the Wolf Man changed from a wolf to a human man who broke his rifle, then back into a wolf to chase him to his car. As proof, he displayed a fresh bite on his neck. Under further questioning, Mr. Lofts admitted he'd provoked the attack when the "Wolf Man" caught him illegally shooting at one of the packs that runs the Olympic Mountains. Mr. Lofts's blood alcohol level tested at .12, and he was arrested for public intoxication, DUI, hunting without a license, and shooting at an endangered species protected by federal law. He has been released on ten thousand dollars' bail.
"They didn't believe a word he said." Ann accepted the coffee and took a sip. Jasha knew how she liked it—French roast served with nonfat milk and a packet of sweetener. They'd spent many an evening at the office drinking far too much coffee as they worked deals with wholesalers or planned their next expansion.
"I told you so." Jasha sounded insufferably smug as he broke eggs into a bowl and whisked them into a froth. "Cheese?"
"Please." They'd done this before, too—prepared a quick meal so they
So despite his misgivings, it was Ann. He'd made her his mate. And the Almighty made it a covenant, for she was a virgin, and she had found the icon.
She hovered on the brink of sleep, but she whispered, "Jasha?"
"Yes?" He leaned over her.
Her lids fluttered, and she smiled shyly. "Thank you."
She was pretty. He'd always known it; he had a complete appreciation for a good-looking woman. Her complexion was clear and fine; her blue eyes were big and surrounded by long dark lashes. But when she smiled .. . my God, it was like a lamp had gone on in her soul.
Ann was the most kind-hearted, loyal woman he'd ever met—and now she was his. He would keep her forever.
Chapter 12
Ann paused in the kitchen doorway. She wore white slacks, carefully chosen for the way they cupped her rear; an orange sweater, carefully chosen for the plunging neckline and the way the loose knit displayed her black, lacy bra and tiny waist; and open-toed sandals, carefully chosen to show off her formerly pristine pedicure, now ruined in her race through the woods.
She observed Jasha as he sat at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee from a heavy ceramic mug. Morning sunshine poured into the kitchen, lighting his sculpted cheekbones, his wide, sensual mouth, his drooping bedroom eyes. He was reading from his open laptop and he had that grin on his face, a grin she hoped would never be turned on her, for his faithful administrative assistant knew it meant he'd scored against an opponent. He filled out his black T-shirt very nicely, with taut muscles and subtle muscles and bulgy muscles. And hey—last night he'd nearly drowned giving her pleasure.
She wished she didn't feel so self-conscious—about wandering around in Jasha's house, about giving off lustful scents, about opening a conversation with a man she'd thought she knew so well. A man who she now knew hid an awful, glorious, damning secret.
She needed to ask questions. Of course. But how to start? What to say? She'd never been in such a situation before, and please God, she never would be again.
Then he glanced up, and she couldn't remember why she wanted to make conversation with him at all. Why talk when they could—
"Come and see what's in our local paper this morning." He turned the laptop and shoved it toward the seat beside him.
She walked across the kitchen, no longer self-conscious, and perched on the stool.
The headline read, CALIFORNIA HUNTER ARRESTED FOR INTOXICATION.
Jasha stood. 'Til get your coffee. Do you want eggs?" "Til do it." She started to get up again. "Read." Hand on her shoulder, he pressed her down.
Californian Eric Lofts mas arrested yesterday after he drove to the police department and burst in, claiming he'd been attached by a Wolf Man while out in the woods. Mr. Lofts claimed the Wolf Man changed from a wolf to a human man who broke his rifle, then back into a wolf to chase him to his car. As proof, he displayed a fresh bite on his neck. Under further questioning, Mr. Lofts admitted he'd provoked the attack when the "Wolf Man" caught him illegally shooting at one of the packs that runs the Olympic Mountains. Mr. Lofts's blood alcohol level tested at .12, and he was arrested for public intoxication, DUI, hunting without a license, and shooting at an endangered species protected by federal law. He has been released on ten thousand dollars' bail.
"They didn't believe a word he said." Ann accepted the coffee and took a sip. Jasha knew how she liked it—French roast served with nonfat milk and a packet of sweetener. They'd spent many an evening at the office drinking far too much coffee as they worked deals with wholesalers or planned their next expansion.
"I told you so." Jasha sounded insufferably smug as he broke eggs into a bowl and whisked them into a froth. "Cheese?"
"Please." They'd done this before, too—prepared a quick meal so they
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