After Twilight Part 23

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Does it look as if anything's been stolen?"

He shook his head. "Nothing seems out of place."

The news bothered her more than if the old woman had stolen her blind. Then there would at least be a logical explanation for the woman's appearance, and for her frightening behavior.

"Nothing makes sense tonight," she said quietly. "Thank you for walking me back."

"Are you sure you want to stay out here alone?"

Of course she didn't want to be alone. Tempting visions of Rick sharing a sleeping bag with her made her profess bravery she didn't feel at the moment.

"I'll be fine," she a.s.sured him. "I plan to drag my sleeping bag in the Jeep and lock all the doors."

His gaze met hers, and for an instant, she thought his eyes glowed again. A trick of the moon. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

That was the problem. Rick Donavon was a little too convenient. "I won't need you," she said, vowing to make good her claim. "Good night."

He didn't respond, but turned and walked away. The moment he disappeared, loss and loneliness welcomed Stephanie home. She could have been in his arms, in his bed, but she'd chosen to be rational. The absence of a cut on his chest still bothered her. Maybe the cut wasn't as deep as it had looked. Maybe he was just one of those people who healed quickly. What other explanation could there be?

She couldn't think of a single one. And suddenly, she had trouble coming up with a single reason why she should have left. Morals? Fear? What were those compared to the thrill of his kisses, the sensuous trail of fingers across flesh? She shook her head, worried she'd developed the morals of a cat in heat. Her morals were important, had always been, and she needed to get a grip.

Stephanie wouldn't throw herself at him again. Next time, she might get exactly what she asked for. She shivered, a result of worry that the old woman might come back, she told herself. But deep down, she knew that her response had been antic.i.p.ation. Excitement to see him again.

Chapter Seven.

For three days Stephanie followed the wolf pack. She tried to put Rick out of her mind and concentrate on her research. It worked sometimes, but mostly during the daylight hours. The old woman had not returned. She'd gotten many good shots of the pack members, and had come to identify certain animals. One individual was missing-the huge black wolf she'd saved the night she'd arrived. The same one she later suspected had crept into her tent to stare at her.

His loss saddened her. He'd obviously died of his wounds, or had fallen victim to another menace. She'd noticed there seemed to be a shortage of females hunting, which probably meant Rick was right, and a few were in dens tending pups.

Being able to film the pups would help her cause considerably. All baby animals were cute and people softened toward them. If she could keep up with the pack, she might be able to discover their dens. Rick's warning to avoid the dens resurfaced in her mind. Not only his warning, but the man himself. The sensuous feel of his hands gliding over her body, the huskiness of his voice, the way he kissed a woman completely, nothing held back.

A fly buzzed around her face and she shooed it away, along with her thoughts. She felt hot and sweaty after a morning trying to keep up with the pack. She'd taken to bathing in the stream next to her site in the early morning hours. The water was usually freezing. What she wouldn't give for a nice hot shower. She knew where she could get a shower.

Stephanie mentally cursed her inability to put Rick out of her head and lifted her camera. She took several still shots of the wolves in the distance. They were on the move, so she perched a video camera on her shoulder and followed. The camera around her neck and the one on her shoulder weren't heavy. Not unless a person had been lugging them around for three days.

She'd already traveled a good distance from her campsite, but she continued to follow the wolves until she came upon a scene that made her draw up short. In the valley below, a large herd of sheep grazed. Sheep being stalked by wolves.

In all fairness to the farmers, she knew she had to film the scene. She lifted the video camera to her eye. Keeping the pack in focus proved difficult. The wolves moved in, the sheep scattered, and the task became more taxing.

A loud snap, then a yelp of pain echoed off the mountains. Stephanie swung her camera toward the sound. A wolf was caught in a steel trap and struggled to get out. The rest of the pack lost interest in the chase and crept to where the wolf fought to free itself. They sniffed the steel, circled the trapped animal as if confused as to what they should do.

Stephanie knew what to do. She placed her cameras on the ground and ran from the scene. The trail was rocky and she slipped several times, got up and continued on. She ran until she felt sweat soaking her shirt. By the time she reached her destination, she was totally out of breath.

She stopped, her gaze darting around the area. The door to an outbuilding stood open. She heard banging noises. Racing to the shed, she glanced inside. The shed housed an old truck. The hood was up; the lower half of a man's body stuck out from beneath.

"Rick," she panted.

He jerked, hit his head on the hood and swore. With a scowl, he turned to her.

His gaze flitted over her for a moment before he moved toward her.

"What's wrong?"

"A wolf," she huffed. "The farmers are setting traps."

Rick swore again. "Where?"

"I'll show you," she managed.

She still couldn't catch a normal breath, but she set out again. Not long into the race, her legs felt like rubber. Rick pulled ahead of her. He seemed to know where he was going, so she lagged back, trying to pace herself. She stumbled again, her legs folding beneath her. With a jar, she landed on the ground. She sat for a moment, took deep breaths, and struggled up.

When she came over the rise where her cameras lay in a heap, she spotted Rick nearly upon the scene below. He slowed before reaching the trapped animal. The other wolves still circled the wounded pack member nervously. Her heart started to pound wildly in her chest. He'd walked into a dangerous situation. She wondered what the wolves would do when they noticed a man approaching.

Stephanie didn't have the dart gun with her. No weapon of any kind. She searched the ground, found a thick stick, and picked it up. Luckily, the uninjured wolves melted away as Rick neared the trapped animal. Stephanie a.s.sumed he'd proceed with caution. He didn't. He marched right up to the wolf and bent, grasping the trap. She wanted to scream at him to stay back. The animal would surely attack him!

Without thought of her own safety, she hurried down the hill, the stick still clutched tightly in her hand. She was terrified for Rick and lifted the stick, ready to defend him if the need arose, and she felt certain it would.

"It's all right," she heard him say to the wolf. "I'll have you out of there in a minute."

"Rick?" she whispered.

He glanced over his shoulder, noticed the stick and said, "Put that down and help me spring this trap."

The stick fell from her hand. "Are you crazy?"

"It'll take both of us to pry it open."

"But-"

"Hurry, Stephanie," he called. "She's suffering."

She stumbled forward. The wolf stared curiously at her, but the animal didn't bare its fangs or seem aggressive. Cautiously, Stephanie bent, her gaze locked with the wolf's golden stare.

"Take hold of that end and pry the teeth open while I pull on this end," Rick instructed. "Watch your hands. We only have to get it part way open so she can get her foot free."

Never breaking eye contact with the wolf, Stephanie did as he instructed. The trap was st.u.r.dy steel. She pulled with all her strength. Rick's muscles bulged beneath the sleeves of his light work shirt. Sweat beaded his forehead. Together, they opened the trap enough for the wolf to free itself. The trap snapped back a second later. The animal tried to limp away.

"No, you don't." Rick rose and s.n.a.t.c.hed the animal up in his arms. "Not until I look at that foot."

He walked away, carrying the wolf. Stephanie supposed her mouth dropped open. The man was crazy. She'd been foolish enough to mess with an injured wolf, but at least she'd planned on tranquilizing the animal first. Dazed, she stumbled after Rick. The animal snuggled its head on his shoulder. Stephanie had never seen anything like this-a wild wolf allowing itself to be carried by a man without being drugged or muzzled? It seemed unreal, and so did the quick journey back to Rick's cabin.

He didn't enter the cabin, but moved toward another shed around the back. "Get the door, please," he said.

Stephanie stepped in front of him and opened the door.

"And the light. It's there next to the door."

She switched on the light. Bright fluorescent light lit up the room. The place looked sterile. Shelves along the walls were lined with medicines, syringes, and bandages. Rick laid the wolf on a stainless steel table.

"You want to play a.s.sistant?"

"D-don't you think you should sedate her?" Stephanie stammered.

"You obviously didn't notice her milk supply," he answered. "She has pups and needs to get back to them."

Stephanie hadn't noticed. "Why isn't she fighting you, or trying to bite you?"

He slid his hand down the female's back, stroking her fur gently. "She knows me. She trusts me."

"What is it with you and these animals?" she asked. "I've never seen wild wolves interact with a human the way they do with you."

"I fed them most of last winter," he admitted. "It was a hard one, and I knew the game in the area weren't surviving some of the bigger storms. There was a shortage of food supply for the wolves. Then and now."

Walking to the other side of the table, Stephanie allowed plenty of distance between her and the injured wolf. "You do care about them."

He glanced up, the light blue of his eyes a startling contrast to his dark lashes and brows. "Of course I do. It gets lonely out here. They're like my family. They accept me for what... who I am."

"Yet you allow the farmers to hunt them," she reminded.

Rick ran his hand over the wolf's muzzle. He smiled. "I'll tell you a secret.

These wolves are a lot smarter than those farmers." She smiled in return, then sobered, looking at the proof that such wasn't always the case. "What are we going to do about this?"

"Clean the wound, st.i.tch her up, and send her on her way."

"You know that's not what I meant. What are we going to do about the traps?"

Instead of answering, he nodded toward the shelves. "Grab that disinfectant in the green bottle and some cotton b.a.l.l.s for me. I'm afraid she'll try to jump off the table if I walk away."

Fully intending to bring up the matter again, Stephanie left to retrieve the requested items. She watched him clean the wound, soothing the animal with the soft tone of his voice. The animal even bent its head and licked his hand once. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"My cameras," she groaned. "I left them behind."

"I'll get them for you. I'm going back to snap all the traps I find after I've finished here."

"I'll go with you," Stephanie decided.

He glanced up again, his gaze roaming her in a way that made her cheeks burn. "I thought you might prefer to stay here and have a nice long shower while I'm gone."

She'd been longing for a hot shower earlier, and wondered if Rick read minds as a sideline. Glancing down at her dirty clothes, Stephanie realized it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she needed a shower. "You've found another of my weaknesses. Hot showers and hot coffee."

Rick pulled open a drawer beneath the table and removed some instruments. He didn't glance up when he said, "I plan to find all of them."

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

"The traps," he answered, but that almost smile of his hovered over his mouth.

"Oh," she said. "Do you want me to do anything else for you?"

He paused long enough to make her think he was considering his options. "No," he finally answered. "I'll be done here in a minute. Go on in and have your shower. None of my jeans will fit you, but feel free to borrow a shirt if you'd like."

"Thanks." She hurried out, needing a cold shower instead of a hot one. His gentleness with the wolf, and his admission of loneliness reached her on a level beyond the physical. But there was something very strange about him. She still became upset when she remembered his smooth bare chest, not a hint of a cut or a scratch on him.

The lighting hadn't been good, she reasoned. The scratch was probably there, she just hadn't noticed. She supposed she could rip his shirt open when he came in and have a nice long look. Now, there was an appealing idea. A better one occurred to her a while later when she stepped beneath the soothing hot spray of Rick's shower. If he joined her, she could hunt for all types of imperfections on his tall, muscled body. Stephanie sighed and adjusted the faucet to cold.

Rick finished attending to the wolf. He'd st.i.tched her up and now took her outside. She rewarded him with a wet lick on his face. "You're welcome," he said softly. "Now go home. Your pups will be wanting supper."

The female trotted off into the woods, favoring the injured leg, but he'd given her a good dose of antibiotics and he felt certain she'd heal without incident. His gaze swung toward the cabin. He imagined Stephanie would be in the shower by now. Naked.

What would she do if he stripped down and joined her? The desire to find out was almost more than he could resist. But he needed to resist. If he had any conscience left, he wouldn't encourage further intimacy between them. He'd already made that mistake once. And Stephanie Shane wasn't the type of woman a man used for s.e.x, then walked away from.

She expected more, and she deserved more. The appearance of the old woman at her campsite still bothered him. Rick's immediate instinct had been to hunt the old woman down, to make sure she never told anyone else what she suspected about him. He'd fought those dark urges. They were part of the wolf, not of the man. Since he'd been standing guard at night over Stephanie's campsite, unbeknownst to her, he hadn't felt compelled to act concerning the woman. He hoped she'd disappeared, gone back to wherever she came from, and had the sense to know he wasn't anyone she should threaten.

Stephanie's behavior the other night also worried him. He hoped it had just been an instance where loneliness had overcome good judgment. He hoped so, because he didn't like the implications of her responding to nothing more than the call of the wild. Animalistic need.

If she wanted him for no other reason than the fact she was a female and he was a male, he'd have to worry about her. So far, he hadn't noticed anything different about her. Only time would tell. And the days between the full moon cycles, he knew from experience, were all too short.

Casting a longing glance toward the cabin, he set off toward Larry Anderson's place. His was the property where the wolf had been trapped. He imagined if Larry had set traps, so had some of the others. Rick planned another visit to Hugh. The farmers might have the right to set traps on their own property, but if Stephanie continued to follow the wolves and film them, she could get hurt.

The trek didn't take him long. He was in good shape. Rick retrieved Stephanie's cameras and moved down the hill where they'd discovered the first trap. He found a long stick and used it to snap any traps he came across. Several more were located around the area. He took his time, hoping Stephanie might be gone when he returned.

Of course, he had her cameras, so the possibility seemed slim. The sun was sinking. It would soon be dark. He had enough trouble battling his attraction to her when he wasn't under the night's influence. Darkness made him more vulnerable to his baser needs. Stephanie was definitely a baser need.

The cabin was dark as he approached. Surely if she'd stayed, lights would be burning inside. He breathed a small sigh of relief. She did have some common sense where he was concerned. Rick trudged up the steps of the porch and went inside. He had great night vision and felt no need to switch on a light. After setting Stephanie's cameras on the kitchen bar, he moved toward his favorite chair. He plopped down. A scream had him jumping back up.

"Stephanie?"

"Rick," she breathed. "You scared me to death."

"I didn't know you were there." He walked over and switched on a lamp.

"I must have dozed off."

He turned in time to see her stretch. She wore one of his shirts, which swallowed her, but her legs were bare. And they were incredibly long.

"I hope you don't mind, but I used your washer and dryer. I can't stand to put on dirty clothes after I've had a shower."

Did that mean she had nothing on beneath his shirt? The mere thought was enough to make him hard. Rick tugged his shirttail from his jeans to cover the problem.

"I could use a shower, too." He nodded toward the kitchen bar. "I brought your cameras back."

"Thank goodness." She rose and walked to the counter. His shirt hit her at the knees, and by the slight bouncing motion of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she moved, he thought it safe to a.s.sume she'd washed all of her clothing, underwear included. His problem worsened.