Free Shifters of Silver Peak: Mate For A Month by Georgette St. Clair Page A

standing there in his shop and carefully carving that beautiful flower, for her.
    For some reason, the memory of her last birthday a couple of months earlier flashed through her mind. That had been right after her father had decided she should marry Beacham. Beacham had sent her several packages from Saks Fifth Avenue, and they’d all included cards that were signed by his secretary and said “Beacham Haversham wishes you a happy 21 st birthday”. But she was twenty-two. He’d sent her a pair of pearl earrings – she didn’t have pierced ears. And there had been some truly loathsome perfume that smelled like someone had vomited up an entire flower garden. To top it off, there had been a horrid mink stole that had made her want to cry at the thought of the minks who’d died to make it.
    But Marcus had remembered what she liked, and taken time to make something with his hands, just for her.
    “You didn’t make me mad,” she said. “You just kind of hurt my feelings.”
    “Oh.” He looked taken aback. “That’s worse. I’d rather you got mad at me.”
    After a minute he asked, “How did I hurt your feelings?”
    “You just always act like you can’t stand me.”
    He looked at her in astonishment. “That’s not true at all. I dislike you least of anyone.”
    Eileen burst into laughter. When she’d first met him, maybe that would have hurt her feelings, but now that she was getting to know him better, she realized he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. For Marcus, that was practically a love sonnet.
    “You could make me another flower,” she suggested. “I really did love it. How about a rose? I love roses. And by the way, that was a very nice thing that you did for that couple.”
    “I wasn’t being nice. I just wanted them to shut up.”
    Eileen shook her head. “No, you’re secretly a nice guy.”
    Marcus looked horrified. “You shut your filthy mouth, woman.”
    “Chelsea told me that one time when you were in town, a car fell on someone at the garage, and you ran in there and picked it up off them.”
    He stared at her in confusion. “What else would I do? And they were screaming. I was trying to enjoy my hamburger at the cafe. Had to get the car off them before I could do that.”
    “Marcus is a sweetheart,” she sang out loud.
    “Oh, good God.” He looked annoyed, which made her want to sing even louder. Big, grouchy wolf. “What do I have to do to get you to never, never say that to anyone?”
    She hesitated. She thought back on that kiss, and how much she wanted him to do that again…and more. She wanted to tell him exactly what he had to do. How to ravish her. Where to kiss her. Where she wanted his tongue…
    Heat flooded her cheeks at the thought.
    “I’ll think of something,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual.
    He shook his head in bemusement. “I’m sure you will.”
    Then he stopped walking.
    He was breathing heavily, she realized, and sweat was beading on his forehead. He glanced into the woods, shook his head hard and rubbed his eyes with his hand. He looked again. He was staring at nothing.
    “Are you all right?” she asked, worried.
    “Matthew?” he called out, his voice hollow.
    She stared at him. “Who? Marcus, there’s no one there.”

Chapter Eleven
     
    Early Friday morning
    Silvery clouds veiled the moon. Crickets chirped in a ragged chorus, and the frost-glazed grass was cold and crunchy underneath her slippered feet. Eileen, standing there in her pink plaid flannel pajamas, rapped on the workshop door with annoyance.
    She heard Marcus stirring inside, and then he walked over and threw the door open.
    Naked. Apparently he slept naked.
    Behind him, she could see a pile of broken wood.
    “What’s up with the broken furniture?” she asked as he stretched and yawned. Despite the air’s chill, she felt a familiar warmth sweep over her as she tried, and failed, not to look at his naked body.
    “What’s up with pounding on the door at three a.m.?”