The Lone Wolf's Craving

Kate looked at him sharply, wondering if the amusement in his voice was in regard to the food or if he was talking about something else. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached for her napkin, using it to dab the still-burning corners of her mouth. The words had stung, but only because she’d let them.

Her mom had been a wonderful, loving mother, but she’d also been impulsive, throwing her whole being into whatever caught her interest. That had tended to change weekly—even daily. When she’d found Nick’s note in that shoebox, it hadn’t been the only “call me later” letter. There’d been others. Many of them. If not for the fact that her baby picture had been stapled onto a corner of one of the envelopes, which contained a picture of her mother with a much younger Nick, along with his note, she might never have wondered if the man she’d known as her father was actually her biological father.

Her mom’s impulsiveness hadn’t been restricted to hobbies and charities, it would seem. It had spilled into other areas. And she’d left a trail of broken hearts along the way. Her dad never seemed to indicate she’d strayed during their marriage. Or maybe he didn’t know. Kate had never doubted his deep love for her mother, though. He’d been devoted to her. Her death had devastated them both. She was thankful she’d found that box and not her dad. She’d hidden everything except Nick’s letter and her photo, which had been when her father had broken down and admitted he’d adopted her after he’d married her mother. She’d been two years old at the time.

All those men. Several of them had clearly not understood why her mother hadn’t returned their calls. And she’d kept those letters. Why? As reminders?

God. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt anyone like that.

She glanced at Luke. He seemed well able to take care of himself. Their little fling in the storage closet probably hadn’t left the slightest scratch.

Unlike she herself, who was still reeling from her actions. They’d been totally out of character for her.

Or were they? She didn’t know anymore.

Dropping her napkin back in her lap, she feigned a sweet smile. “I always say if you’re going to do something, you might as well make it worth your while.”

He nodded at her plate. “Even if it stings.”

“Maybe that’s the goal.”

His smile faded. “To do something that hurts you?”

“Better than hurting others, don’t you think?”

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her for a few seconds, his expression grim. “Absolutely.”

What was he thinking about? It didn’t matter. The sooner she got this question-and-answer session over with, the better. The man had the ability to get under her skin, and she didn’t like it. She’d never had casual sex before, and the last thing she wanted to do was look her mistake in the face repeatedly—no matter how handsome that face might be.

“So, you said Nick put me down on his list of relatives. What made him decide to do that?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask him. But I assume it’s because you’re his daughter, and he’s happy to have finally met you.”

Something pricked at the back of her mind, raising her suspicions. “At the hospital, you said you weren’t Nick’s doctor anymore, so why are you the one filling me in on his condition? Why not his current doctor?”

“Because he asked me to.”

“Why would he do that?” Her brain worked through the possibilities and came up with the most obvious choice. “You know him, don’t you? Outside the hospital, I mean.” It seemed like Nick knew everyone, except her.

“Yes.”

She picked up her fork but didn’t use it. She just stared at the gold-rimmed plate for a moment or two. “Did he know about me at all? Or did my mom never contact him again after their...time together?”

Did she want to know the answer to that? Not really, but she couldn’t crawl back inside her shell and act like the past six months hadn’t happened. Just like the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, what was known couldn’t be unknown ever again.

A warm hand reached over and covered hers. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I do know that Nick’s a good man.”

Really? She’d thought her mother had been a saint, too, until a couple of months ago.

“So you know everything about him, do you?” Nick hadn’t seemed all that thrilled to find out he’d fathered a child after a one-night stand. And he’d never mentioned whether or not he’d been married to someone else at the time he’d slept with her mother. Please let it be no. She didn’t want that hanging over her mother’s memory, as well.

Everything inside her was so jumbled right now. She didn’t know what to do or think. Her world had ceased making sense the moment she’d peeked inside that shoebox.

What was the big deal, anyway?

Nick had just had a one-night stand. Okay, well, she’d had a one-day stand. So who was she to judge anyone?

Luke’s eyes hardened, and he let go of her hand. “No, I don’t know everything about him, but I can tell you he once saved a self-destructive dumbass from himself.”

She tried to work through what he meant. Who...

Before she could finish her thought he dragged a hand through his hair and blew out a rough breath. “This dumbass owes him one. Big time.”

Oh...oh!

She caught his hand, the same way he’d caught hers a few minutes earlier. “You’re talking about yourself.”

He wrapped his fingers around hers, holding her in place and sending crazy tingles skittering up her arm. And that slow, sexy smile was back full force. “Which word gave me away, Kate? Self-destructive? Or dumbass?”

“Neither.” She was about to lay herself bare before him, and she had no idea why. “It was the talk about owing him. You’re not the only one who does. I owe him, too. For my very life.”

CHAPTER FOUR

WHY THE HELL had he said anything?

Driving back to the hotel after their meal, he cursed himself for revealing so much. She’d already been warming up to the sparkly image of Nick he’d tried to paint, without needing any additional props. So why had he admitted to owing him?

The second he’d seen the confusion in her eyes, heard the raw vulnerability in her voice, he’d been lost. He’d kept up his crusty, uncaring shell through the rest of the meal, but his insides had turned into a gloppy, gooey mess. Like a marshmallow held a little too close to the fire.

Kate didn’t owe Nick. Not the way he did. Yeah, his friend may have donated a few thousand sperm to the making of her, but that had been a rash, spur-of-the-moment act. What the man had done for him had been far different. Luke had been awake long enough after his injury to hear brief snatches of a heated argument between Nick—who’d been an army medic at the time—and someone else, their accents placing them as English.

“He’ll die, if we don’t clamp those vessels right now...”

“...give me a few more minutes here.”

“...lose the leg, but save his life...”

“...get your bloody hands off my patient, and give me some room!”

“...Americans would rather have him back alive than in a body bag.”

The second Luke’s eyes had opened again, and he’d spied the familiar walls of a field hospital, his hands had gone straight to his leg. The sense of relief that had swept through him when his fingers had met thick wads of bandages—instead of empty air—had been enormous. Until he’d seen the actual damage and heard the grim prognosis.

He hadn’t been out of the woods, and his leg, even if it could be saved in the long run, would never be the same.

Well, the appendage was still with him, but he wondered sometimes if the trade-off had been worth it.

Even as he thought it, his hand came off the stick shift of his car to massage the twisted muscles, but he stopped short. Kate didn’t know exactly how Nick had saved his life. For all she knew, he’d simply kept him from doing anything stupid. No reason for her to know the literal truth.