To Tempt the Wolf

Chapter 4

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING BEFORE TESS A WOKE, HUNTER searched through her house for any reason a lupus garou would have specifically targeted her other than the fact her pheromones undoubtedly had something do with attracting him and soon found something he couldn't comprehend. Wolf pictures filled three desk drawers in the guest bedroom. Since lupus garou wolves looked just like regular wolves, he couldn't tell if they were real wild wolves, or his kind. Not unless he could smell them. Against a wall, shelves housed several books on wolf behavior also.

But why she'd have tons of photos and books on them, and why her scent attracted him to such an arousing degree--

A sepia photo half-hidden by the wolf pictures caught his attention, and he pulled it out. "Seth."

Sitting next to a woman with a baby on her lap, Seth appeared more youthful than Hunter remembered him, his handlebar mustache curled high, his pale eyes as serious as the rest of the expression on his face. Hunter recalled seeing him in a photo panning for gold in California with his great-grandfather and great uncle, the three of them the best of friends. But he didn't remember Seth having a mate before a rockslide had taken his life.

Hunter glanced at the back of the photo. No identification. Why would Tessa have a photo of him? And how come Hunter remembered who Seth was, when nothing else was clear?

In the closet, Hunter found a bunch of half-finished paintings, the focal point of the pictures, wolves--gray, red, Arctic.

He frowned. Maybe Tessa's brother used the wolf photos to create the paintings. But why not finish them? Why hide them away?

Tessa stirred in her bed in the master bedroom. Hunter shut the closet door and left the guest bedroom to make the fire and start breakfast, but he had a lot of questions to ask the little lady.

When Hunter's arms had been wrapped tightly around her, Tessa felt warmer and more secure than she had in months--since the time the sheriff told her that her brother was suspected of murder.

Except for Hunter nuzzling his face in her hair in the middle of the night, and rubbing his cheek on her shoulder another time, he hadn't made any overtures that amounted to wanting something further. Probably because he didn't know if he had a significant other, which made her appreciate him even more.

After finding her father making out with different women on three occasions at home when her mother was gone, Tessa didn't think any man could be faithful. Well, maybe she did. For a while. Until she began dating and then she knew the truth. Most men she'd known didn't care who they were with as long as the woman agreed to have sex.

Hunter's warm embrace had been comforting, and Tessa wanted to bask in the feel of him, the masculine smell of him, the heat of his body all night long, but she finally had fallen into a deep slumber.

When she fully awoke, she wasn't surprised to find Hunter making eggs, sausages, biscuits, and coffee over the fire. Another load of wood was stacked neatly on the log rack. He seemed at home under the circumstances, which again made her wonder if he was an undercover operative or a Navy SEAL or something.

Navy SEAL. She snorted. Yeah, that nearly drowned in the Pacific.

Part of her hoped he'd remembered something about his former life, mainly that he wasn't attached to anyone. But part of her was afraid he would recall too much, and he would leave her for his old life pronto. Right now, she needed him, if nothing more than for moral support, well, and protection.

If someone had tried to kill him, she had no doubt he would want to square things with the person also. She still couldn't believe Ashton Wellington had shot him.

"Morning. I'll get dressed and be right back," Tessa said.

"Morning." Hunter's masculine voice heated her through and through, his eyes capturing hers.

She smiled. "You're a sight for sore eyes." Cliche, right. But god, he was--crouching before the fire, an elusive smile on his lips, his windswept hair curled about his shoulders, a shadow of a beard darkening his square jaw, a look of seduction as the fire flickered in his eyes.

"Ditto, Tessa."

She waved in the direction of the bedroom. "I'll be right back." Yet she didn't want to leave. Never before had she wanted to be with a man 24/7. It wasn't that she felt like moss that clung to a stone, rather, she just enjoyed his company--a little too much.

In the bedroom, she slipped into a pair of jeans and a red turtleneck and sweater, then threw on a pair of warm knee-high socks and suede slipper boots. After washing her face in the icy water in the bathroom, she applied foundation, darkened her red lashes, and brushed her hair. She stared at the sink. Hopefully, the pipes wouldn't freeze.

She glanced at her brother's sweatshirt hanging in the shower, the hole visible.

Ashton was the reason her brother had gotten into so much trouble over the years. The sheriff always said Michael was the instigator. But he wasn't. Michael was a born follower, Ashton, always the leader. So it didn't surprise her he would pull something like this. Well, maybe a little. She didn't think he'd do something so dangerous. What in the world had gotten into him? Drinking. Maybe. He could get crazy then--as she well knew.

She padded down the hall into the living room where Hunter still hovered over the fireplace. He seemed so contemplative as he flipped the eggs and sausages, she didn't want to disturb him, but he turned and smiled. The look was more smug than sweet, almost as if he had known she'd been quietly observing him.

"I hope you don't mind." He served up the eggs.

She laughed a little under her breath. "What woman would complain? If Michael had ever made breakfast before I got my lazy bones out of bed, I would have been elated. And in shock."

Hunter would make some woman a darned good husband. But he seemed more like a mountain man, rugged, capable of living alone in the wilderness, yet he had a wonderful tender touch, too. He was perfect. If he wasn't already attached.

He handed her a plate. "I found some planks to board up the window, but wanted to wait until you were awake before I began banging around."

"Oh. Great. Thanks. I'll help you."

His expression said he didn't need assistance, but she owed him and she wasn't about to let him do all that work himself.

They took their meals to the dining table and sat down.

"It's still sleeting, a stalled storm front. I can manage without your help."

She raised her brows. "I bet you tell all your girlfriends that."

The forkful of eggs stopped midway to his mouth and his lips turned up a little, his amber eyes reflecting amusement.

"We're playing the part of lovers, remember?"

"Ah. I wasn't sure we'd agreed on that. I imagine people in this community might find that hard to believe."

She took a sip of her coffee. "You're right. They would, so when the sheriff comes, he'll be our first test subject."

"Not sure he'll make it in this weather. I'm surprised his son was able to get here."

"Or the intruder." Tessa set her mug down, a lump lodged in her throat. "I never considered it before, but what if Ashton was the person who broke in? He was in the area, could have gotten a key from Michael--he'd been at the house plenty of times--and it would explain why he was still out here."

"What is Ashton's relationship with you?" Hunter asked, super casual-like, but the undercurrent of edginess to his voice couldn't be missed.

And why not? The bastard had shot him. "I'm Michael's annoying sister."

He looked skeptical. "Ashton appeared to be close to your age. Are you sure there's not something more to it than that?"

"We're both twenty-three. Went to high school together. Michael met Ashton at a town fireworks display. My brother is two years younger and always looked up to Ashton. So no, Ashton has never shown any interest in me. He's been in all kinds of trouble ever since we were kids. Senior high pranks, junior high pranks. You name it, he was always the ringleader. His dad was a police officer, then deputy sheriff until he was elected sheriff. He always covered for Ashton and blamed Michael for leading his son astray."

"Hmm, so then I must have led him astray last night when he shot at me."

"Shot you," she corrected, her voice bitter. "Even if the bullet only grazed you, he still shot you." That's when she caught a glimpse of her ski cap... and the hole. "What... what happened to my hat?"

Hunter shrugged and finished his eggs.

Her heart raced lickety-split. "He didn't shoot at you twice, did he?"

"He missed me the one time, Tessa. Don't worry about it. I'm sure we have an understanding now."

"Ohmigod, he could have killed you! You have to tell the sheriff."

The expression on Hunter's face indicated it was no big deal, and he wasn't mentioning it.

"All right, fine. I'll tell him." She jerked their dirty plates off the table. "The sheriff won't be able to use my brother as a scapegoat for his son's actions any longer."

"Let me handle this, Tessa." He leaned back in the chair, his expression serious. "Not to change the subject, but I was looking for a phone book, to see if I recognized any names or addresses. Didn't find one, although I came across a bunch of wolf photos in the desk drawer in your guest room."

Tessa's heart hitched. How could she explain how she and her brother were incurably obsessed with wolves? She shrugged, then rinsed the plates.

He took a deep breath, studying her, as if he was trying to catch her in a lie. Of course, she only felt that way because she was trying to hide her reaction.

"I saw the paintings Michael did, too. Wonderful job. So where were the pictures taken?"

"At wolf reserves or zoos. Michael and I do a fair amount of traveling so we can paint or photograph what we need to." She stuck the dishes into the dishwasher.

"Ah. And the books on wolf behavior?"

She hesitated, and cleared her throat, hating the way her hands had grown clammy. Hunter probably had some hang-ups, too, so what was the big deal? "Some good wolf photos in them."

"For Michael's paintings."

"Yes." She wanted to see Hunter's expression, but she busied herself with scrubbing the cooking pan. Did he believe her? She didn't think she sounded believable. And she didn't think he sounded like he was convinced.

"What about the old-photo with the guy and the woman and baby?"

She glanced back at him. "What?"

He was so coolly noncommittal, it was almost as though he was hiding his own emotions. Which didn't make any sense. "It was with the wolf pictures. Caught my eye because it was sepia, and I wondered if it was an old-time photo of a wolf. So it seemed out of place with the others. Who's the family pictured?"

Why would he ask? She didn't know any guy who was interested in genealogy. "My great-grandfather, great-grandmother, and grandmother."

Unblinking, he stared at her.

"You seem a little surprised."

Hunter joined her at the sink and massaged her shoulders with deep, comforting strokes and she relaxed.

"I thought he looked like someone my great-grandfather panned for gold with. But I must be mistaken."

"Do you have a photo of them?"

"Only of Seth Greystoke and my great-grandfather, but the photo's gone--lost in a fire. But he couldn't have been your relation." Hunter straightened. "About this situation with the sheriff, I'll take care of this, man to man." The dark threat to his voice indicated he meant it.

She wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of Hunter and the sheriff's confrontation. She relaxed a little. "My great-grandfather's name was Jeremiah Cramer. So you're right about them not being the same man. As far as the sheriff goes, if you don't tell him everything, I will. Had Ashton been drinking?"

"No." Hunter gave her shoulders a warm squeeze and headed for the living room.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"To board up the window." He tossed on Michael's field jacket, the ski cap, and gloves and was gone.

The frying pan could wait. She rushed to get her snow boots, parka, and gloves on. Why in the world would Ashton have shot at Hunter twice if he'd been sober? Was he the one who was seeing Bethany behind Michael's back? He had plenty of opportunities and motive, jealous that he couldn't get a girl like Michael could and that her brother had become so popular because of his artwork.

Tessa hurried outside to help Hunter, when she saw a figure dressed in a gray parka trudging and slipping along the winding road headed in their direction. She stared at him, trying to make out who the familiar figure was.

Hunter cast a glance in the man's direction. "You sure have a lot of visitors way out here as isolated as it is and as bad as the weather has gotten."

He began pounding a plank over the broken window.

"It's not--oh, hell, it's Rourke."

Hunter paused and looked at her. "Rourke?"

"The newspaper reporter."

Hunter raised a brow.

"An old boyfriend from high school."

"From high school." He pounded another piece of wood in place.

Tessa grabbed the next board for him. "He's looking into Michael's claim someone else was seeing Bethany. At least if he wants dinner with me, he will."

"A date." He took the plank from her and nailed it up.

"I told him to use his investigative skills and find out something useful concerning Michael's innocence."

He stopped and studied her. "So he believes Michael's innocent?"

"No. He just wants dinner."

Hunter smiled, but quickly masked the expression and took the next board from her.

She frowned at him. "I'm not interested in Rourke."

"He's simply a means to an end."

"Right."

"Ho!" Rourke hollered from a distance after picking himself up from the roadway a second time.

"Hey, Rourke! What brings you way out here?" Not wanting to get her hopes up too much, she prayed he'd found something that would help her brother's case.

His cheeks red, Rourke drew closer and wiped his runny nose on a handkerchief. He gave Hunter a long, hard look, although Hunter continued nailing up boards and didn't spare Rourke another glance.

"I worried about you being alone in this ice storm. An eighteen-wheeler plowed into an electric transformer. I tried calling, but ice storms brought the phone lines down. I see you had some storm damage." He looked around. "Good thing you were able to hire a handyman to board up the window this quickly. Guess someone dropped him off."

"Where's your pickup?" Tessa asked, not wanting to explain who Hunter was when she wasn't even sure herself.

Besides, if Rourke knew the story, he would propose taking Hunter into town to see the doctor and get him away from her, then where would she be? Probably Rourke would offer to stay with her in Hunter's place, as if he could be the kind of help Hunter was. She imagined Rourke had never cooked anything over an open fire for one. And replace a window? Never. He'd offer to keep her warm during the night, but she wasn't interested in him like that.

"My truck's up that way." Rourke waved in the direction, and then looked Hunter over really good. "Slid off the road and couldn't get any traction. Figured since you were alone, I'd stay with you until the ice melted."

How could she say no, if he was stuck? But she still didn't want to explain Hunter.

"I'll help you get on your way." Hunter's voice was low and gruff.

Rourke was sure to not like Hunter's suggestion. He raised his brows, and then turned to Tessa. "Let's go inside. I'm chilled to the bone. I see you have a fire going."

Tessa looked back at Hunter. He still needed to nail up three more boards.

"I'll manage," he said to her.

She waffled. She'd promised to help, but she didn't want reporter Rourke snooping through her things if she told him to go inside and get warmed by the fire while she helped Hunter.

He cast her a glance. "I'm nearly done. Go, Tessa. I'll be inside in a minute for another cup of hot coffee. If you wouldn't mind making us some more."

Rourke glowered at Hunter.

"All right," she said to Lord Hunter. She felt she should be curtseying to him. Handyman, hell. He was the rooster that ruled the henhouse. Her henhouse.

"You know, Tessa," Rourke said, as he escorted her to the front door, his hand on the small of her back, "you let people walk all over you too much. Take the hired hand, for instance, he should be doing the job you're paying him, and you shouldn't be in this awful weather helping him."

She thought she heard Hunter growl when Rourke touched her, and she could have strangled Rourke for speaking loudly enough for Hunter to hear.

"I don't like it," Rourke continued, as he walked inside with Tessa and shut the door. "You're by yourself and the company this guy works for just let him off at your place? What if he's some kind of criminal? You never know who these companies hire. He could be on a prison work release program."

Tessa swore Hunter was pounding the nails into the boards twice as fast as before while she warmed up by the fire and peeled off her gloves. "Did you find anything concerning Michael's case that will help?"

Rourke removed his gloves and shoved them in his coat pockets, and then pulled off his wet parka in front of the fireplace. "Yeah, but it doesn't go any further than this room."

Her heart skipped to overdrive to hear Rourke's news.

He handed her his coat and rubbed his hands over the fire. Even in this weather, he was dressed in one of his impeccable gray suits. At least he was wearing sensible snow boots for the icy conditions. " Bethany was seeing some other guy."

Her heart nearly stopped. Maybe finally the break they needed. "I knew it. Who was he?"

"You won't tell anyone else, right?"

Hunter opened the door and looked from Rourke to Tessa. "Coffee ready?"

Jeez, Hunter, not now!

"Who was Bethany seeing, Rourke?" She hoped he wouldn't clam up with Hunter listening in.

Rourke's expression turned blank, and he shifted his attention to the fire. He shrugged. "The DA's office proved no one was seeing her."

Tessa could have shaken him and screamed bloody murder.

"Nice suit," Hunter said to Rourke, and then gave Tessa a knowing look. "On second thought, I'll check on your truck and see if I can move it." He headed back outside.

She hung up Rourke's coat and her own, and then set the pot of water on the fire, anything to busy herself so she wouldn't hurt Rourke. "Who was it?"

"Who is that guy? He doesn't act like a handyman."

"Rourke, who was seeing Bethany besides Michael?"

"I said too much already. It doesn't matter. What's done is done. You'll never be able to prove Michael didn't murder her."

"Who... was... seeing... her?"

"The sheriff's son. But it can't leave this room, Tessa. I swear it."

Ohmigod, she knew it. Her bones dissolving, she collapsed on the couch.

"Are you okay, Tessa? I probably shouldn't have mentioned it to you."

"No, no, I'm all right." As right as could be expected to know her brother's best friend could be the murderer. Bastard. And how would they prove it when his father was the sheriff?

"You promise you won't confront Ashton about this, right?"

"I'll hire someone really discreet to investigate it further."

Rourke sat next to her on the couch and patted her hand. "We can have dinner together now, right?"

Dinner? Sheesh, one track mind. But she promised. She pulled her hand away from him.

"Sure, but there's no electricity so it would have to be some other evening."

Like a couple of months from now. Her mind flipped through different scenarios, remembering all the times Ashton had been to the house, smiling and joking with Bethany and Michael. Why hadn't Tessa noticed what was really going on between Ashton and Bethany? Maybe she had, but she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself.

Rourke waved at the fireplace. "It sounds like the water's ready for the coffee."

Still in disbelief about Ashton, she gathered her composure and rose from the couch. But then again, Ashton could have murdered Hunter last night. And he had been hunting with a rifle since he was too young to do so. Not that Bethany was killed that way, but it could prove Ashton was capable of committing murder, couldn't it?

"So who's this guy really who was fixing your window?" Rourke asked.

Hunter stalked back inside, catching Rourke's question. "Tessa's lover," he said, with a smirk and the look of the devil sparkling in his eyes, his cheeks slightly red from the chill.

She could have socked him. Rourke's jaw couldn't have dropped any lower.

"Handyman, cook, personal masseur, whatever she needs me to be. So who else was Bethany seeing?"

Rourke turned slightly green.

"Who?" Hunter asked again, his voice threatening as he helped Tessa with the coffee mugs.

Rourke swallowed hard. "Ashton Wellington."

"Good. I drove your truck into the driveway. But why don't you stay with Tessa for an hour or so while I take a walk in the woods."

To investigate? Please, God, don't let Ashton be wandering in the woods armed again.

Rourke frowned and she knew it was because he didn't like Hunter ordering him about.

"As a favor to Tessa. I'll be searching for the stalker who's been breaking into her house."

"Stalker?" Rourke looked at Tessa.

"He stole my gun last night."

Rourke ran his hand through his wind-ruffled hair. "Sure, right."

Hunter quickly drank a cup of coffee, kissed Tessa on the cheek, and gave her a sexy smile. If Rourke hadn't been here, she would have snagged Hunter's arm and made him kiss her on the lips like he really meant it--like he had on the beach--only this time proving for real she hadn't dreamed it. As if he read her innermost thoughts, he raised his brows slightly, dimples appearing in his cheeks as his smile broadened, and her cheeks blossomed with heat. Not just her face though as the heat soon spread all the way to her toes.

He winked, the cad. "Be right back." Then he gave Rourke a quelling look as though he'd better behave where Tessa was concerned, and stalked outside. She prayed he wouldn't run into Ashton again.

Rourke looked from Hunter to Tessa and frowned. "Who the hell did you say he was?"

"Loser beta male," Hunter grumbled under his breath as he headed deeper into the woods, the branches dipping under the weight of the icicles clinging to the pine needles.

At least he didn't have to worry about Tessa's interest in the man. He could tell she could barely stomach the guy as a lover.

So maybe Hunter had it all wrong. If the intruder--the gray--was only after Tessa, maybe the sheriff's son did the killing. That would solve everything. All Hunter had to do was prove it. But at least once he did, Ashton would go to prison for the murder, Michael could go free, end of Tessa's problem. As for the gray--that's who he was hunting now.

He wondered too about the sepia picture of Seth and the woman and baby. Maybe it wasn't Seth. A werewolf couldn't have children with a human, and Tessa definitely wasn't a lupus garou. Or maybe the picture wasn't of her family like she thought. But why she would have it then--

Gunshots rang out across the woods. Crazy hunters. Hunters. Hunter. He paused, trying to recall the rest of his name. Nothing. Damn it. His borrowed snow boots crunched on the frozen ground as the coastal pines shielded him some from the sleet. If he had been in his wolf coat, no one would hear his approach. But for now, he wanted them to see him coming so they didn't shoot him by accident.

He narrowed the distance between him and the two shooters. The shorter, bearded one lowered his gun. "Hell, man, wearing a green field jacket makes you blend right in with the woods. You're supposed to be wearing orange so we don't shoot you."

"I'm not a hunter." At least not the kind that used bullets, and normally he preferred blending in with his surroundings no matter the form he took. He guessed it was natural, instinctive.

"Well, hell, if you don't watch out, you'll be one of the hunted."

"Why don't you move farther north?" The way Hunter proposed the question, there would be no doubt he'd issued an order.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" the taller of the two men said, sizing Hunter up.

Don't go there. Cool macho hunters. Tough guys. But neither was a match for him. Which made him wonder if a gang of thugs had gotten the better of him. Had to have--or else he wouldn't have taken a dip in the Pacific.

"Private property," Hunter said.

"Yeah, owned mostly by the timber companies," the bearded of the two men said.

"This land is privately owned. And you don't have permission."

The two men cast each other looks.

"We'll get permission and be back." The bearded man spit on the ground. "If you're still wandering through the woods, blending in like you do now..." He shrugged. "Wouldn't be our fault."

"Happen to be a good friend of the local sheriff's." Hunter gave him a steely-eyed glower--the same kind he would use during a wolf-to-wolf confrontation when he needed to make another back down, tuck tail, and leave. If that didn't work, he added, "Don't think you want to go there."

The two men seemed a little ruffled at the revelation, or maybe it was the look he gave them that changed their minds as the one stamped ice off his boot, and the other fidgeted with his rifle. They finally cursed under their breaths, but headed north.

"Find a place a good five miles--at least--from here to hunt," Hunter added.

They both glared at him and continued walking.

Hunter searched for clues to where the gray wolf had been, the trails he had taken, any evidence he had gotten into a vehicle that left tire tracks behind. Although as a wolf, the lupus garou could travel a great distance, his thick coat protecting him from the cold. Hunter located several paths the gray had walked, found where the agitated hunter had paced, snagged strands of gray fur on a couple of branches, rubbed his scent on several trees.

Was he a rogue or did he live with a pack? The fact he had a key to Tessa's place didn't fit. Was he someone she knew? Another one of Michael's friends? Or one of hers?

Not locating the intruder, Hunter assumed he was sleeping off his nighttime activities, and he would be back again tonight. What if Hunter moved Tessa somewhere else? Somewhere safe? But where? If he had a place, he could relocate her there. He didn't have a clue where it could be though.

"Hunter?" Tessa hollered from deep in the woods.

Hell. Didn't he tell her to stay with Rourke at the house? He hurried toward her voice.

"Hunter?"

"Coming!" Then he heard them. Two sets of footfalls. They had better be Rourke's and Tessa's.

When he saw them, the adrenaline rush began to drain off.

Rourke looked annoyed and out of breath.

Her frown fading, Tessa seemed guardedly relieved, her hair blowing in the breeze, her skin glowing with the cold, her full red lips pouting, begging to be kissed. "I was so worried about you. We heard the gunfire and I told Rourke how Ashton had shot you. We thought maybe he'd killed you this time."

"Take more than that to get rid of me. We couldn't have that now, could we? Not until I can at least locate Bethany's real murderer and put him behind bars." Hunter managed a smile as he wrapped his arm around Tessa and walked her back home.

She felt warm and soft and his thoughts shifted to dangerous notions of getting naked in bed with her. He attributed some of his feelings to wanting to claim her in front of her old high-school boyfriend. Some of his problem was just being attracted to the minx--more than he thought he'd ever been toward any woman, either human or lupus garou. He kept telling himself it was just because she'd rescued him from the beach, and it was nothing more than appreciating the tender care she'd given him. On the other hand, he might have often felt this way toward women. Hell, maybe he was a real Casanova.

"He's the guy you're hiring to look into this?" Rourke asked, his voice incredulous.

"Yeah. He's an ex-Navy SEAL." She looked up at Hunter with adoring eyes.

He thought she was playing her role a little too obviously.

"A Navy SEAL?" Rourke looked sick again.

"Yep." She patted Hunter's arm. "Can't you tell by the great shape he's in?"

"Why is he an ex-Navy SEAL?"

"He got tired of being away from home, the secret missions, unable to settle down and start a family, right, Hunter?"

Rourke watched them like an investigative reporter looking for another juicy story.

Hunter sighed deep inside. He didn't like making up tales that were too far from the truth, but then again, what if his cover of being an ex-Navy SEAL put the fear of God in the sheriff and his bad seed? It didn't hurt for Rourke to think so either. Hunter imagined the word would soon get out about his "former occupation" since Rourke was a reporter. Hmm, then he would probably investigate him. One good thing about being an undercover operative--Rourke couldn't learn anything.

"Hunter..." Rourke waited for a last name.

Hunter knew only that he was a gray lupus garou. Wolf? Grey?

Grey. That rang a bell. Not quite right, but it would do.

"Grey. And we haven't been properly introduced."

Tessa's eyes widened as she stared at Hunter and she missed a step. He tightened his hold on her. Wishing he had better news, he gave her a subtle shake of his head, warning her he didn't know for sure.

"Rourke Thornburg," the reporter offered and stuck his hand out.

Hunter gave his hand a firm shake, firm enough to let him know the power behind the man.

Rourke's eyes watered and he quickly pulled his hand away. Message received.

Tessa pursed her lips. "Did you see the man who was shooting in the woods?"

"There were two of them. I told them to find game somewhere else, farther north."

"They must have loved you," Rourke said, chuckling.

"They didn't argue and moved along."

"Thanks," Tessa said. "But I don't expect you to chase off all the idiot hunters in the area and risk them shooting you accidentally."

"They're too close to your--" As soon as they came into view of the house, Hunter saw the back door standing wide open. He felt Tessa crumple slightly against him. Tightening his hold on her, he knew she wouldn't have left the house unlocked. The intruder was once again warning them he could come and go as he pleased. Maybe not such a beta after all.

Rourke's chill-bitten cheeks instantly lost their red color. "I saw you lock the door."

"Someone's got a key." Tessa's voice shook.

Hunter gave her a reassuring squeeze, but until he could eliminate the threat, nothing he did would alleviate her concern and for good reason. The stalker was a real danger.

Rourke rubbed his gloved hands. "Who?"

"We don't know. Ashton maybe. But whoever it was got in last night when I went to get firewood from the beach," she said.

"Ashton?" Rourke asked.

"No," Hunter said, not wanting Tessa to fear the wrong man. "Someone else. Wait here with Tessa. I'll check out the place first."

Tessa looked like she had a million questions to ask Hunter, but with Rourke here, the inquisition would have to wait. Hunter stalked inside, monitoring Rourke and Tessa's conversation as he checked the rooms.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Rourke asked Tessa on the porch, sheltered from the sleet and wind.

"Hunter was here. He can take care of it."

"Hunter was here all night?" Rourke asked, his tone not hiding his surprise or irritation.

Hunter couldn't help smiling, figuring Tessa hadn't meant to let it slip. Good to let Rourke know he had no chance with her.

"Good thing that he was."

Glad she felt he was an asset despite the fact he hadn't gotten rid of the stalker, Hunter smelled the bastard's scent where he had rolled on Tessa's sheets again. Hunter growled low.

"And the window he was boarding up?" Rourke asked Tessa.

"The intruder broke it."

"Hell, Tessa, you should never have said you were going to locate the killer and clear Michael's name."

Headed back down the hall, Hunter stopped in his footsteps, not believing Tessa would say that to a reporter. Then again, he could, as angry as he imagined she'd been.

"Did you print the interview?" she asked, her voice accusing.

"Damn right I did. Best news I've had in a long time. But I didn't think anyone else was guilty of the crime except your brother so I didn't believe there was anything to worry about. If I had thought differently, I would never have printed that story."

Hunter wanted to kill the reporter.

"All clear," Hunter said, rejoining them on the back patio. He gave both Tessa and Rourke a hard look. "Looks like nothing's been disturbed." At least as far as he would let Tessa know for now. The gray had returned to find out where Hunter had slept for the night and returned to mark his claim to Tessa. Sorry to disappoint him. "What's this about an interview?"

Tessa swore Hunter had the hearing of a cat, although she had hoped he hadn't heard what Rourke revealed about the interview. "I was angry." Not that she felt she had any need to explain the way she felt to Hunter.

Did he remember anything more about his past? She knew Grey wasn't his real name. Not if the way he had shaken his head at her earlier was any indication of the truth of the matter. She only wished Rourke would go away soon so she could ask Hunter what else he had recalled and why he was so certain the intruder wasn't Ashton.

A shiver crawled up her spine. She felt she could deal with knowing it was Ashton, but if it was a total stranger... No, it had to be someone she knew because he had a key. But still, not knowing who made it more frightening.

Rourke pulled off his wet coat and handed it to Tessa. "I'm staying for dinner."

Her mouth dropped. Now, she remembered why the guy had been an on-again/off-again boyfriend in her youth. He decided things for her, which were not in her best interests. She meant to remind him the electricity was off, but Hunter cut in.

"Sounds good. Why don't you stay the night, too?"

Tessa glared at Hunter. Of all the damned nerve!

Ignoring her threatening look, Hunter continued, "The roads are too slick. You might not get very much farther down the road and be in the same predicament. If you got injured, we wouldn't be able to forgive ourselves."

Her mouth gaped open. The thing was, Hunter was right. But whose house was it anyway? Shouldn't she have a say?

For the first time since the two men had met, Rourke seemed to change his attitude about Hunter. He gave him a serious nod. She could tell he was damned thrilled to get Lord Hunter's invitation for the slumber party.

She hung up Rourke's coat on a wooden peg near the back door. "You know, guys, it would be nice to ask the hostess her opinion. The electricity's still not on and--"

"I'll fix the food," Hunter said, and before she could object further, he added, "Rourke won't mind cleaning the dishes afterwards." He gave Rourke a conspirator's wink.

"Not at all," Rourke said, jumping in, ensuring he got a bed for the night.

"I might not have enough food to eat for the three of us, especially since we have to cook so primitively."

"I saw a tenderloin roast in the freezer. Looked to be big enough for the three of us."

She scowled at Hunter. "What if I was saving that for--"

"I'll buy you another. A couple more."

Hell, he didn't even have the clothes on his back. How was he going to replenish her fridge?

"I'll buy you another, too," Rourke said, cheerfully.

She groaned inwardly. She wasn't winning this battle. But she realized Hunter wasn't worried about Rourke's welfare, so much as he was about hers. Her irritation melted some.

"So," Rourke said, taking a seat on the couch, "I'm an only child, Tessa has a brother. What about you, Hunter? Have any siblings?"

Hunter cast Tessa a look, and then started working on building up the dwindling fire. "A sister."

Ohmigod, he remembered who he was? Maybe he did have enough money to buy her another roast. But did he have a girlfriend or wife?

"I've never seen you around town before. Where did the two of you hook up?"

"The beach," both Hunter and Tessa said at the same time.

Rourke laughed. "Figures, being he's a Navy SEAL. Ex-Navy SEAL, rather."

"That's what I thought," Tessa said, under her breath. Having Rourke stay the evening when it was barely afternoon was going to make for an incredibly long day and night. "I suppose I have to feed everyone lunch also."

"How about tuna fish sandwiches?" Hunter suggested.

Jeez, when did he take an inventory of her food?

"Then you can make a list of all the men who have been in the house over the last few months."

"You mean Michael's friends," she said, spearing Hunter a dark look.

"Any male, Tessa, who has been in the house for the last few months. Deliverymen, repairmen, anyone."

"Old boyfriends," she said, sarcastically as she proceeded to the kitchen.

"Yeah, all of those, too."

"None of them should have had a key to the place." She yanked two cans of tuna fish out of the cabinet.

The doorbell rang and her heart hitched. Rourke announced, "Sheriff's here."

Tessa accidentally dropped the can opener on the kitchen floor and swore under her breath. She'd hoped the bad weather would keep him at bay a while longer.

She hurried into the living room, but Hunter was already nose to nose with the sheriff at the front door.