No Humans Involved Read Free

the door as fast as my platform sandals could take me. Four-inch heels aren't made for anything speedier than a runway stroll, but I pushed them to a quick march, inspiring a look of alarm from two passing workmen.
    I told myself Jeremy had a plane to catch, but even if he hadn't, I'd still have hurried.
    I know I should have more self-respect. More dignity. The way I see it, though, it's karmic payback. I've always been the one leading the chase—inspiring the bad love poetry, setting the hoops ever higher—then waltzing away when I grew bored. Now, I guess some cosmic force had decided it was time for me to make a fool of myself.
    I'd taken a big chance asking Jeremy to join me for the week.
    We were—despite my hopes—just friends. Then, a few weeks ago, we'd been talking about the show and, having had a few drinks, the segue came easily. To my shock, he'd said yes. Now he was flying three thousand miles just to see me. That had to mean something.
    The patio opened to a terraced yard stuffed with perennial borders, gazebos, ornamental trees and statuary. As I trotted along the flagstone path, winding around one fountain, one pond and two oversized statues, I wondered whether a trail of bread crumbs would have been wise.
    Finally, far enough from the house to mentally step offstage, I found a wooden bench. Jeremy answered after the first ring.
    "Did I catch you at a bad time?" he asked.
    "No, I was just getting my schedule for the day. Mainly interviews plus some meet-and-greets, culminating, of course, in the welcome bash tonight—which, lucky man, you'll be just in time for. I hope you're ready to play party escort."
    I stopped for breath. Silence filled the pause, and I winced and mentally smacked myself. Jeremy at a Hollywood party? He'd rather face off against a pack of ravenous wolves.
    "I'm just kidding," I said. "You'll be jet-lagged, and I'm sure you don't have a tux—"
    "I do. And it's packed. The party isn't a problem, Jaime…"
    When he let the line trail off, my heart started thumping.
    "The babies are sick. It's just a cold, but it's their first—"
    A scream drowned him out—less like the wail of a sick baby than the roar of a wounded lion. I recognized Katherine, one of his foster son Clayton's fourteen-month-old twins.
    "Jesus, poor Kate," I said. "She sounds miserable."
    Jeremy chuckled. "She's not that ill, actually. It's Logan who's bearing the brunt of it. Of course, he's not complaining, but he's quite willing to let her express outrage on his behalf."
    "How's Clay taking it? Or dare I ask."
    "Let's just say he's not making it any easier. We don't usually contract colds, so he's worried. I'm sure it's no cause for alarm but…"
    He let the sentence trail off. I understood his concern. A werewolf's increased immunity meant sickness was rare, so even a cold would be worrying. If the situation worsened, Clay and Elena couldn't just bundle the little ones off to the emergency ward, or the doctors might discover they carried something far more alarming than a cold virus. Jeremy wasn't a doctor, but he was the Pack's medical expert and they'd need him there. Even more important, he'd want to be there.
    "Stay," I said. "We can do this another time."
    "No, I am coming, Jaime. I'll be there soon as I can, hopefully tomorrow. "
    My heart gave a little flip. "Good. Then look after those babies, tell everyone I said hi and I'll get an update in the morning."
    When I signed off, I closed my eyes, listened to the birds chirp and rustle in the hedges, and let the wisps of disappointment float away. To my surprise, they were only wisps. If Jeremy had made any other choice, he wouldn't be the man I'd raced at breakneck speed to talk to. Family—and family responsibilities—came first, and that was fine by me, even when I knew his priorities wouldn't change, whatever form our relationship might take.
    The birds had gone silent, their song replaced by the soft whisper of the wind and the tinkle of distant chimes.