her from feeling guilty.”
“Assuming she even believes it herself. Could be that they were fighting and she crashed the car on purpose to get rid of the guy. Or not,” Drew added as Melanie glared at him.
“One way or another, the poor woman was driving, and she lost her husband. If it was an accident because she thought she saw something, or even if it was due to an angry impulse, she’s probably still grieving.”
He nodded. “I’ve never heard anyone mention the wolf, or, more likely, a dog, that she might have hit on the road that night. Maybe it had a grieving family, too.”
Melanie’s fork stalled halfway to her mouth. That sounded like something she would say. “Guess you’re really an animal lover, too,” she said.
Angie again appeared in the diner. She walked toward them in the crowded room. Melanie’s appetite wavered once more. She’d had enough confrontations that day.
Angie stopped at their table, a sad, sheepish expression on her round face. “Sorry, Doc,” she said. “I know you were just doing your job when you saved that animal. But when I hear certain things…Well, I shouldn’t have gone off like that. I hope you won’t hold it against me. Tell you what. Dessert’s on the house tonight, for both of you. We have some great peach pie. Okay?”
Before Melanie could respond, she saw Angie stiffen and look over her shoulder. Melanie turned.
A tall, thin man had walked into the diner. Melanie saw nearly everyone turn to look at him.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“Nolan Smith,” Angie said. “He’s been on vigil at the hospital with that injured tourist.” She rushed toward the man.
“I’ve heard of him.” Melanie remembered Carla mentioning him. He was the one who maintained Web sites on urban legends…and the Mary Glen werewolves.
Before she could tell Drew, Smith called out, “Hey, everyone.” The room had started to hush when he appeared, and his voice projected easily over the few continued conversations. “Good news. I’ve just come from Sheila Graves’s hospital room. Looks like she’ll be okay.”
It was past 7:00 p.m. by the time they left the diner. Since it was early spring, the illumination outside, along the sidewalk of Mary Glen Road, came from streetlights. The rest came from the moon, which, despite its healthy glow, was no longer full.
Melanie was glad. No one should imagine seeing a werewolf tonight, thank heavens. Less chance of another poor dog getting shot when not even the credulous could believe werewolves were on the prowl.
“Nope, no supposed werewolves for you to heal this evening,” Drew said.
Startled, Melanie turned to him. Surely, he hadn’t read her thoughts.
He laughed, a low, deep and somehow seductive sound. “I saw you staring at the moon. Not much of a jump to imagine you had shapeshifting creatures on your mind.”
“I guess not.” She forced a smile. Okay, so her musings were predictable. Even so, with all the talk of things supposedly supernatural around here, she was feeling spooked.
Not to mention turned on by this strangely compelling man.
Shivering slightly in the cool evening air, Melanie picked up her pace. She needed to get back to her clinic and check on her overnight charges.
She couldn’t ignore Drew’s presence as he kept up with her. If he was chilly in just his musclehugging T-shirt and jeans, he didn’t show it.
“So…where are you parked?” she asked.
“Near your place.”
Okay. They were heading the same direction. No need to inflate this friendly dinner into something it wasn’t.
Still, it had been a pleasant evening. Mostly. But also uncomfortable at times, and not just because of the werewolf lunacy. Partly—largely—because of Drew.
The guy made her think—constantly—of passionate nights. She, who had sworn off men. Who’d had no trouble at all swearing off sex, too.
Till now. She was fully aware of his tall, stimulating presence. Only, she had no intention of following through, even if Drew had similar ideas.
Although if she were so inclined, she suspected that hard, muscular body of his would be worth falling off the wagon for once or twice.
The silence between them grew, broken only by an occasional car driving by, and the whisper of a breeze disturbing the trees along the street and behind the buildings. Not a lot of traffic in little Mary Glen, not even along the main street.
The stores they passed were dark. Shadows ruled, despite the moonlight and artificial street lamps.
Presumably, the nuts around here wouldn’t shoot at something they chose to perceive as a werewolf tonight. Still, she’d been reminded that she had saved the creature that the credulous believed to be a shapeshifter.
Was she in danger of being stopped—permanently—from doing it again?
Maybe it was a good thing to have a military man walk her home. Even if his presence did churn her insides into steamy liquid.
“So what do you do on the base, Major?” she asked to break the silence.
He walked close enough that she thought she felt his body heat radiating in the cool air of the spring evening—even though they weren’t touching, and he wasn’t dressed warmly enough. Her imagination, of course. Her over-libidinous imagination.
“Classified stuff, mostly related to the units training K-9s at the base,” he said.
That didn’t tell her much. And classified stuff? Of course. He had a professional reason to keep secrets. And he obviously excelled at it.
Maybe that was a good thing. She despised secretive men…as her fiancé had been. He’d owned the veterinary clinic where she worked. Gave her lots of experience running the place.
And, while supposedly working on a hush-hush veterinary research project for a local university, took the lady professor in charge of the project as his lover.
That should keep her from wanting to see more of closed-mouthed Drew.
Instead, she focused on what was really important to her. “So how many K-9s are there on the base?”
“A dozen or so.”
“Without a resident vet?”
“Their handlers are trained in animal first aid. And despite what happened to Grunge, the dogs rarely get ill or hurt.”
“So they’re taken care of better than the people?”
“Absolutely.” But he’d spoken a little too quickly. Was he holding something back?
Something about the animals’ welfare?
“Why don’t you let me schedule a check-up
