Wild Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #4 by J.K. Harper Read Free Book Online Page B

Must remember there were others around who might be listening to their conversation.
    “Ah, thank you so much for coming.” Coming? Had she really just said that? Suddenly thankful she never blushed, Claire cleared her throat and hurried on. “Did you want me to sign my book for you?”
    He glanced at the stack of her books artfully arranged on the table before her. Making a curious sound, he picked one up and turned it over to read the back. Claire took the opportunity to examine his every inch while his eyes remained trained on the book. The way he fit into his jeans spoke of an easy grace, a sense of sureness in his outfit and how it defined him. Downtown Denver wasn't exactly teeming with cowboys, but the way he so surely wore his clothes didn't make him stand out like a sore thumb.
    “'Claire Anderson lives in Colorado,'” he read from her bio, flashing a glance up at her. “Anderson, huh? Pretty common name in some worlds.”
    Although his tone was easy, she instantly tensed. Despite her undeniable fascination, she couldn't help her natural wary reaction. “Some worlds” meant in the human world. No shifter would ever have a name like that. He knew it couldn't be her real last name. He belonged to a pack, and he was trying to find out her affiliation as well. Just like all pack wolves. Just like the other day, when that had been almost the first question out of his mouth. A sudden rush of disappointment that he was like all the others caused her wolf to whine a bit, drooping her tail.
    And why would she care that he was like all the other male shifters she'd ever met?
    Because he is not like them. Her wolf trembled in anticipation, fixated on the gorgeous male before her. Not at all.
    Before she could answer him, though, he took a casual step back and averted his eyes back down to her book. Almost as if he was aware of her bristling and didn't want to alarm her. “Wow, this is your third book? You must have started writing when you were about twelve.”
    Despite herself, Claire let a quick smile at the compliment flash across her face, even though he was still looking down and couldn't see it. Yes, she'd started seriously writing when she was young, but not that young. She'd been lucky enough to publish her first book while she was still taking classes from the small college near her home.
    His tone conveyed his admiration as he went on, “That was a good crowd in here tonight. You must be pretty popular.” With that, he looked back up at her again, although he kept his eyes from looking directly into hers. A gentle smile was on his face, which was so sunny and open she couldn't help but relax.
    “I've been lucky. My books have been well received,” she managed to say without stammering, feeling the usual shyness about her writing evident in her tone. She was proud of her work, but the difference between writing in her private space at home and reading her work out loud to strangers in crowded bookstores was still significant. She was always taken aback when people came up and told her how much they loved her books.
    “Well, then,” he said, plunking the book in front of her and gesturing at her pen. “I'll just have to read it myself, then. Would you sign it for me?”
    Claire swallowed. Still a little shaky from the force of her ricocheting emotions in the presence of this alluring stranger, she nodded and picked up the pen. Then she paused.
    “What's your name?” she asked, looking back up at him. Her wolf wiggled and rolled and jumped, dancing with the desire to shift and run with him. Claire felt her pulse beating hard in her neck.
    “Tate,” he said, his expression suddenly serious as he looked back at her. “Tate Bardou. Pleasure to meet you, Claire.” He extended his hand to her, the natural cowboy charm making it such a genuine gesture she reached out her own hand over the signing table.
    The second their skin touched, Claire knew she was utterly lost.
     
    ***
     
    Tate felt the blood rush