Werewolf in the North Woods Read Free Page A

teacher at heart, and dispensing false information, even to keep people from discovering that a werewolf pack owned half of Portland, was distasteful. Because of his degrees and his position at NYU, his audiences tended to believe everything that came out of his mouth. He deliberately enhanced his scholarly image by wearing plaid vests, a bow tie, and corduroy jackets with elbow patches.
    The outfit was an Indiana Jones kind of cliché, but it inspired confidence in his scholarly opinions. Dressed in his professorial duds, he looked less like a college quarterback—which he’d been ten years ago—and more like a man with multiple degrees.
    “I won’t be able to make this one.” Cameron braced his fingertips on the dining room table. “I have an important business meeting.”
    “No problem.” Roarke would prefer not having him there.
    “How many more are scheduled?”
    “Two. Tomorrow and Friday.”
    “I think that should do it.” Cameron looked pleased with himself. “Lately I’ve heard people joking about Dooley and his wild imagination, so the plan seems to be working.”
    “I can’t help feeling sorry for Dooley, though.”
    Cameron straightened and adjusted his cuff links. “Hey, I’m doing him a favor. He’s old and he has arthritis. Selling to me and moving to a dry climate would be the best thing for him.”
    Roarke wondered what it would be like to be so sure of everything. Alphas were naturally confident, but Cameron’s arrogance set Roarke’s teeth on edge. “If you say so.”
    “He’s been a thorn in our side for years. Stubborn old goat just laughed at my dad’s offers, which were, by the way, more than generous. So it’s time to try something new.”
    “Meaning public humiliation.”
    Cameron gazed at him. “Whatever works. That overlook is a security threat and I’m tired of worrying about it. I will get that land. In any case, I have to go now. Good luck with your talk.”
    “Thanks.” Roarke couldn’t argue that the Gentrys needed to own that promontory. A pack of Weres required privacy. He thought again of the redhead and hoped to hell she wouldn’t become a problem.
     
    Three hours later, when she walked into the Rotary Club luncheon in the banquet room of a downtown hotel, he had a hunch she was going to be a very big problem, because the first thing he noticed about her was the way she smelled. Scent was all-important to a Were, and this woman’s aroma filled him with a longing so deep he lost his place in the conversation he’d been having with a couple of club members.
    Absorbed as he was by her scent, he wasn’t immune to her visual appeal, either. A tiara of raindrops glittered in her bright red hair, a white trench coat was belted around her tiny waist, and her stiletto heels drew his attention to her shapely legs.
    As she unfastened the coat to reveal an emerald-green knit dress, his gaze traveled back upward and he felt a visceral tug. It wasn’t that her figure was spectacular, but something about the fit of the dress made him long to peel it off. Not good. He wasn’t in Portland for any sexual conquests, no matter how much a woman appealed to him.
    Other members greeted her politely, but no one acted as if they knew her, so she must not be a regular member. She leaned close to someone as if asking a question. Then her gaze swept the room and she headed directly for Roarke’s table, bringing all those lovely pheromones with her.
    He stood, noticing that he didn’t tower over her the way he did with most women. Even taking her heels into account, she had to be at least five-nine in bare feet. Thinking of her in bare feet was an erotic exercise in itself.
    God help him, he did favor tall women. They were built for so many interesting sexual positions that weren’t possible between a tall man and a short woman. Not that he needed to be thinking about sexual positions in the middle of a Rotary Club luncheon.
    Her blue-eyed glance traveled over him and her