Chapter 4
Is that what you’re
wearing?” Saul asked as soon as she walked into his living room. He
had all kinds of incomprehensible paperwork spread around him, and
looked harassed.
She looked down at herself. Clean denim shorts,
a navy blue T-shirt. Black suede flats. It was July on Cape Cod;
what else would she wear? “What? What’s
wrong with it?”
“What if he’s planning to take you somewhere
nice?”
She scowled at him. “I’m not wearing a dress or
a skirt and that is that.”
He sighed. “You’re not making this very
easy.”
“Hey, I never said it
would be easy.”
“Yes, you’ve been threatening me with that since
kindergarten.”
“What’s all the stuff?” she asked, kneeling
beside him. “Work junk?”
“Work junk,” he agreed. “New client. Place is a
disaster. I foresee a month of twenty-hour days. Especially now
that you’ve dumped your little project on me.”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” she said good-naturedly.
“Hey, maybe you can fix me up with some of your clients.”
“We only have three werewolves, and they’re all
mated.”
“Rats.”
“‘Rats’ as in ‘Oh, rats’ or rats as in ‘They’re
rats to be married’?”
She pondered that one for a moment, then finally
said, “Both.” She looked around at all the paperwork with distaste.
“Saul, when was the last time you had a vacation?”
“What year is it?”
“If you have to ask, it’s been too damn
long.”
He shrugged. “I like my work.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, but you should think about
settling down, too. You don’t want to be the only one in the old
gang not mated.”
“God forbid,” he said dryly. “Plague and famine
would be more welcome.” There was a polite rap on his door. “Ah.
Prince Charming has arrived.”
“Please God,” Cain said fervently, and went to
answer the door.