would find out.
“Well, you’ve seen me,” she said in a tone so icy that he felt transported for an instant to the cold Aspen mountain slope where they had skied together months before she had disappeared. “Now go back to Denver.”
“I don’t live in Denver anymore,” he told her.
That appeared to shock her. “Really? I thought you loved it there.”
“Too many memories,” he said casually, although he felt anything but casual.
Her eyes closed for an instant before opening again. “I…I’m not sure what to say.”
He regarded her for a minute, not saying anything, either.
She was as beautiful as ever. Her prominent cheekbones underscored deep chocolate eyes that looked even more haunted now, and perhaps afraid as she regarded him warily and, maybe, with a touch of regret—or was he only hoping for that? Her pink lips were less glowing and pouty today than in his memories of her, since she had initially drawn them into a taut line of displeasure while watching him. Now, they were slightly open, all alluring, suggesting silently that he kiss her. Or was that just another thing he wanted to read there?
Her tawny hair was rolled into a knot at the nape of her neck, which suggested it was still long and sexy. She wore a blue shirt and gray slacks, a nice outfit for a schoolteacher, he supposed. As before, she looked slender and sleek. And of course now he knew why.
Had known it for over a year.
Brett had watched Gwynn change, under a full moon, from this incredibly sensuous, attractive woman he had once loved into a wild, stalking cougar. Oh, and not the euphemistic term now used for an older woman who dated younger men.
No, Gwynn was an actual mountain lion. A shape-shifter.
And now he had come to see her for a reason other than seduction and self-satisfaction.
He had a proposition for her. One that would be of great value to her.
He just needed to get her to listen to it.
“You don’t need to say anything,” Brett told her. But she could see in the studiously bland way he looked at her that he blamed her. She’d known so many of his expressions, and blankness on his face was a way of hiding what he really felt.
She had thought she couldn’t feel much worse after running away, knowing she had hurt him. Had hurt herself, too, of course, but that didn’t matter.
The kind of hurt she’d evidently caused him, though—it was more than simply disappearing and ending a relationship that should never have existed in the first place. From what he’d said, she had caused repercussions in his life that she hadn’t anticipated at all.
She had somehow made him move away from the city, and therefore the job, that he had loved.
“Brett, I’m so sorry,” she breathed, wishing there was some way she could make things better for him. She had no illusions that she could ever have made them much better for herself, although she was still weighing options. “I never meant to—”
“Of course you did,” he said easily, as if they were talking about the weather. “Or you wouldn’t have gotten involved at all, under the circumstances. But it’s okay. I’m not here to issue any blame. Or to make you feel bad.”
She stared at his handsome, still-expressionless face once more. She had the irresponsible and inappropriate urge to reach out, touch his cheek where a hint of beard was beginning to grow.
She had done that so often, before. Had loved the raspy feel on the sensitive palms of her hands.
It had always led to his touching her in return. Gently and neutrally, at first. But then they’d stroked each other more roughly. Torn at each other’s clothes…
Why was she doing this to herself? To punish herself even more than just seeing Brett again, knowing what they’d meant to one another—and how she had been so wrong, so cruel, to have gotten close to him?
Right now, she wanted to edge around him. Flee her classroom.
Run away from him yet again.
But she knew that wasn’t possible.
At least tonight was not a night of a full moon. Tomorrow was, though. He must know that and have planned his arrival here accordingly.
But she would have to make certain that he was nowhere near her then. Otherwise, the results would be even worse than the last time, when he’d seen her. Not just dangerous—for both of them—but potentially disastrous.
For now, she moved sideways and sat on one of her students’ chairs. Put the files on its desk arm and lowered her purse to the floor. Sank there, feeling defeated, unsure what to do as her mind flailed for a solution.
“Then tell me,” she nevertheless said calmly, “why are you here? And how did you find me?”
“I came here to change your life—again.” His renewed smile was even more brittle this time. “The way you changed mine, but better.”
“What do you mean?” Gwynn felt a gnawing anxiety inside. Now that he knew where she was, who she was, did he intend to tell the world? That had always been her fear.
That had also been one reason her family had been so furious when she had first made it clear years ago that she had no intention of staying in the San Bernardino Mountains with them. They’d done many terrible things to try to change her mind.
They had tried even harder to prevent her from leaving when she had finally gotten up the nerve and made plans she’d thought would work so she would never have to come back.
How they’d laughed when she had returned with her proverbial tail between her legs. Made her pay for daring to flee in the first place.
Made clear she would continue to pay for her lapse in judgment over and over, for the rest of her life.
She was a shapeshifter, a cougar on each night of a full moon, and so were they. They lived in a world where they were outcasts, bonded uncomfortably together in an attempt to shut out the rest of the world—even though their feline instincts taught them to be loners. Regular humans didn’t believe in them, didn’t understand.
Regular humans ridiculed—and killed—whatever they failed to understand.
Was that why Brett was here?
Not that she expected him to pull a gun and shoot her. But there were other, less direct ways to end a life.
“I mean I have a proposition for you,” he said. “An offer you can’t refuse.” He laughed as he used the old expression that had come to mean that refusal meant death.
She shuddered, doubting she wanted to hear what he had in mind. “How did you find me, Brett?” she asked sorrowfully, as if knowing would somehow make their confrontation easier to bear.
“I’ll tell you that when I tell you the rest. I assume you don’t want to talk here, where your coworkers or some kids
