Just One Bite

Just One Bite

Barbara Elsborg

Liv is having the day from hell. Hit on by her piggish
landlord, a victim of an attempted mugging by a guy who bites, and then her
hair gets caught in the coffee machine. Things go from bad to worse when she’s
stalked on her way home, and the stalker turns out to be the morning’s mugger.
Except he’s tall, dark and delicious, offering an apology, flowers and a body
to die for. Oh, and he wants to cook a steak dinner just for Liv.

There’s just one snag. He’s a raving lunatic who thinks he’s
a werewolf.

Chapter One

It wasn’t the worst day in Liv Miller’s life, that spot was
taken by the day she’d slipped her father’s brand new car into reverse instead
of park, plowed over a set of golf clubs and through the garage wall to end up
in the fishpond.
Oh God.
Who knew Land Rovers were so powerful and walls
so thin? And that grown men could be so attached to sporting equipment? Good
thing that she and her father were close. He eventually forgave her. Afterward,
when anyone in the family had a bad day, someone managed to bring up
that
day
to top it.

But
this
day was coming close to that all-time low.
Liv had been late for work because her fat, balding, chauvinistic pig of a
landlord had grabbed her as she exited her apartment. His suggestion of a way
she might like to pay her next month’s rent made Liv’s stomach crawl. When his
rancid breath hit her face, she heaved, and that saved her because he thought
she was about to throw up and let her go.

Liv had rushed out the building and hardly turned the corner
before some fuckwit attempted to mug her. They’d tussled until she’d recalled
the one surefire way to hurt a guy. A knee in the balls. He’d doubled over and
she ran.

Less than an hour later, Liv proved that accidents in the
workplace were indeed a daily hazard when she managed to trap her hair in the
coffee machine. Her vindictive boss cut her free, no doubt snipping off far
more than she needed to. That hair wouldn’t grow back anytime soon. And now
after eight hours of grueling work checking insurance claims, the most stupid
of which was from a woman knocked out when she yanked a frozen chicken from her
freezer, Liv was being bloody stalked.

She walked faster, certain she wasn’t mistaken. She’d caught
sight of a dark-haired guy in a leather jacket staring at her as she left work.
He’d popped up again as she got off the bus and had crossed the road after her
when she’d tried to give him the slip by dashing over on a red light. There had
been a squeal of brakes but no thump, so she guessed he’d made it.

“Excuse me?” a man called.

It had to be him. A stalker with manners was a novelty, but
Liv kept going. Her apartment building and safety, assuming Creepo the landlord
was out, lay around the corner.

“Could I have a word?” the guy asked.

The tap on her shoulder flipped her from annoyed to furious.
Liv gripped her purse tighter, ready to swing it into his face, and turned to
confront him. Then she froze, because in front of her stood the man who’d tried
to mug her that morning. He held out a bunch of flowers, and when he saw her
scowl, lowered them to cover his crotch.

“I have no problem kicking flowers,” Liv snapped. Not when
the target lay just beyond.

“I can explain,” he said, taking a step backward.

She scowled harder. “You have five seconds.”

“Name’s Cal Masterson. Not trying to rob you. Wanted to ask
for directions, but you didn’t give me the chance to speak.” He flashed a
devastating smile.

Potential homicidal mugger slowly morphed into Mr. Tall,
Dark and Delicious.

Still…he’d followed her to tell her that?

“You bit me.” Liv glanced at the marks on her arm. He’d
drawn blood. She hadn’t realized until she sat down on the bus.

“That was your fault,” he said.

Liv’s jaw dropped. “How can
you
biting me, be my
fault?” She activated her death-ray glare, able to repel a normal man at thirty
paces. This one smiled more broadly.

“Your arm got in the way of my mouth.”

“I was trying to defend myself. I thought you were attacking
me.”

He rolled his eyes. “You flung your arm into my face. My
mouth was open. I was trying to speak when your knee unexpectedly made contact
with parts of me I feel particularly fond of, and I bit you. Sorry.”

He pushed the flowers into her hand. Liv sagged. She’d
reacted because of Creepo’s earlier grope and maybe she hadn’t given this guy a
chance to explain. If he’d wanted to mug her, he wouldn’t have tracked her down
to apologize. Liv was a sucker for guys with good manners.
Oh damn.

“Apology accepted. I’m fine. Just a few scratches. ’Bye.”
Liv turned and he was suddenly in front of her.
Wow, speedy guy.

“The thing is,” he said, “and I’m really sorry to have to
tell you this, but I might have infected you.”

Liv gulped as the bottom fell out of her world.
“Wha-wha-wha…” Damn, she sounded like a helicopter. Her head flooded with
thoughts of hepatitis, HIV, the Ebola virus, bird flu.

He bent to whisper in her ear, “I’m a werewolf.”

Liv’s jaw didn’t just drop—it hit the ground and bounced. Oh
God, he was out on day release from an asylum. Tall, dark and delicious
regressed to tall, menacing and…darn it, he was still delicious. Plus, she had
to give him points for an original pick-up line. He looked at her expectantly.

Play nice with the lunatic.
“I see,” Liv said, and
nodded in what she hoped was a caring way, sliding her foot back as she spoke
and looking round for men carrying a tight-fitting white jacket in his size.
“I’ll be sure to look out for signs of rabies.”

He gave her a puzzled look.

Okay, not rabies.
That’s good.
Liv took another step
back.

He moved forward and glanced up. “It’ll be a full moon
tonight.” His eyes darkened.

All the better to… Oh God.

“Mmm.” Another step back. Next time she went out, she was
buying mace or a machete. Maybe both. Liv spent her days dealing with the
results of the unexpected, but even she hadn’t expected to ever meet a
werewolf. Not that he was, of course.

“It’s possible nothing will happen,” he said. “But I can’t
take the risk. I need to stay and look after you. I’d never forgive myself if
you were hurt. You’re much too pretty.” He smiled again with those perfect
teeth.

All the better to… Stop it.
Liv exhaled. Hopefully it
was a coincidence she wore a red dress. If only they’d been in a bar and he’d
bought her a drink, or three, and they’d spent a few hours flirting, and he’d
called her pretty a half-dozen times, then maybe, just maybe she’d have been up
for this. Except for the werewolf bit, of course. She took another step
backward.

“Going to invite me in?” he asked.

His question triggered a memory of a TV show. “No.” She
stared at him. “So you can’t come in, can you?” Why did the attractive ones
have to be either gay or nut jobs? “I haven’t invited you into my apartment so
you have to stay outside.”

“That’s vampires.”

Damn, so it was.
Her shoulders slumped. “So you don’t
sparkle either?”

He glared. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

Liv put on her stern face and thought of her old Latin
teacher who had eyes like a hawk, a sharp mouth and loved pop quizzes.
Guaranteed to snap her straight into gloom. “I am taking it seriously.”
You’re
insane, that’s very serious.

She glanced around. Where were crowds when she needed them?

He sighed. “Please let me come with you to your apartment.
No funny business, I promise.”

“Let me think. No.”

Actually, bad girl that she was, idiot that she was, Liv
fancied a bit of funny business. It had been far too long since— She gave
herself a hard mental slap. He thought he was a wolf. She was allergic to dogs.
This was not a match made in heaven.

“I’ll cook for you.” He held up a bag. “Steak.”

He had huge black eyes, the longest lashes she’d ever seen,
and her willpower was a weak, pathetic little thing easily stamped on.

Ouch.

“Oh all right,” she muttered.

It beat watching a rerun on the TV while she ate a soggy
microwave meal, plus her father had always told her to be kind to those less
fortunate than herself—such as basket cases. Especially if they made her heart
jump and her bits tingle, except not if they thought they’re a werewolf. Well
no, her father hadn’t said any of that. His advice when Liv left home was,
“Keep your knickers on.”
Bless him.

I’ll bear that advice in mind
, Liv thought, trying to
remember which underwear she’d put on that morning, and led Trouble with a
capital T to her apartment.

I’m such an idiot.

* * * * *

As they stood outside her apartment and Liv fumbled in her
purse for her keys, she wondered what the hell she was doing. Was it too late
to kick him and run? Then she had the strangest sensation.

Cal smells trustworthy.

What the hell did that mean? She wrinkled her nose and
sniffed. There was some enticing scent in his vicinity. She caught herself
sniffing again and pretended to cough. Was insanity catching? He looked at her,
his eyes bright with amusement and…something else.

Hunger. Desire. Lust.

Oh God.

Liv wasn’t into brief encounters. She was fed up of them.
Fed up of being let down by guys who said they’d call and never did, fed up of
guys telling her it wasn’t her it was them, fed up of lies and rudeness. She
always had such high hopes when she met someone new, which meant she fell even
harder, crying her way to acceptance when it was over, but…it had been a long
time since she’d been out with anyone. She had needs. Cal was gorgeous. If he’d
just keep his mouth shut.

Well, not all the time.

Her fingers played with her keys inside her purse.

“Can’t find your keys?” he asked.

He was trustworthy. He wouldn’t hurt her.
Which planet am
I on?

“They’re here somewhere.”

Liv shook her head to try to shake sense into her brain.
She’d led a guy who thought he was a werewolf to her apartment door. Still not
too late to change her mind. She could pretend to throw him a ball and dash
inside. Or she could call Creepo to the rescue. Maybe not. Or she could take a
risk. The thought made her heart pound.

Liv worked in insurance. She didn’t do risks. She calculated
and assessed before she dipped her toes into the water, literally and
figuratively. Liv had never been caught out by a cold swimming pool.

“I swear to you, I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

Probably the last words heard by the victims of Ted Bundy.

Cal raised one eyebrow. Liv was a sucker for guys who could
do that.
Goddamnit.
He was fulfilling all her fantasies.

She had the keys in her hand. Open the door, right. That
scent—
oh God—
mint chocolate chip ice cream? Her favorite. Steak followed
by ice cream, followed by…
Oh darn it, why not?
She unlocked the door,
motioned for him to go in and sniffed as he passed.
Yummy.

“Kitchen’s just ahead,” she said. “You can’t miss it. The
ice cream can go in the freezer.”

He frowned. “I haven’t brought ice cream.”

Liv wrinkled her brow. Then what could she smell?

“Want me to go and buy some?” he asked.

“No, it’s fine.” She was such a pig with mint chocolate
chip, it was better if she ate it in private. No way would she share. Not even
with Mr. Wolf. “Please cremate my steak.”

He winced but didn’t argue, so he got a point for that.

“Wine?” He lifted a bottle of claret from the bag.

Another point. Liv took two glasses from the cupboard and a
corkscrew from a drawer. After she’d put the flowers in water, she turned her
music system on low, perched on a stool and watched.

“Can you talk while you cook?” she asked.

“I’m brilliant at multitasking.” He grinned, poured the wine
and turned on the grill. “See, four things.”

“But not math. That was three things.”

“Four, I was thinking of something as well.”

He winked, his eyes darkened and Liv went up in flames. She
glanced at her feet, almost expecting to see fire shooting from her toes.

“So how long have you believed you’re a werewolf?” she
asked.

Maybe there was way she could talk him out it, because it
was such a waste of a great body, lovely voice and handsome face.

“It’s not a matter of belief. I was born a werewolf rather
than made.”

Liv emptied half her glass in one gulp. “You can make a
werewolf?” She refrained from adding—with a ball of wool, a bit of fake fur and
a piece of cardboard?

“By biting.”

She glanced at her arm. The crescent marks were barely
visible. She always healed quickly.

Cal searched the cupboard for plates and put two on the
counter. “The fact that I was born and not made means my…body fluids are very
potent.”

Unfortunately, Liv had just taken another mouthful of wine
and almost spat it out. Her next thought didn’t help.
I have condoms.

But potent body fluids didn’t sound good. Potent did, and
body, and fluids but not the three combined.
Is potent the same as virile?
Liv
tuned back in.

“What I’m trying to say is if my saliva entered your
bloodstream, you’ll have been infected with the werewolf virus and because it’s
a full moon tonight, you’ll change into a wolf. I know I said I only
might
have infected you, but my teeth broke your skin, I’m pretty sure it’s a done
deal. Sorry.”

Liv nodded. What a twerp. Still, he was cooking, he’d
brought wine, given her flowers and he was a real hunk, though a grasp on
reality would have been a bonus. She found her gaze sliding down his shirt to
his—and dragged it back up.

“Any questions?” he asked.

Liv stared in disbelief at the huge slabs of meat he’d
placed on the counter. “Are you going to eat all that? A quarter of one will be
fine for me.”

He sighed. “I mean questions about what might happen.”

“Oh right. Er… Are you going to turn into a wolf and eat
me?”

He let out a strangled groan. “No. The steak will be
plenty.”

Except he stared at her in a way that implied he might like
her for dessert.