Page 21 of Ice Devil

“Oh, baby. Now you’re speaking my language. Although I cannot tell a lie. I am a guy. Seeing you in high heels would spark my… interest.”

“While wearing what with them?”

He lifted a single eyebrow, which created a strange and almost suffocating moment of shared heat between us. “What else would you be doing at this fancy bar?”

“Hmmm. I’d certainly be drinking the most expensive bottle of champagne in the house since the groom to be is a rich asshole. Oops. Did I say that?”

“You did. Does your friend know of your special connection with this man?”

My snort was also unexpected. “I love her like a sister, but she hasn’t and won’t listen to me. The man is cheating on her. I can’t prove it, but I feel it in my gut. The lousy asshole also has bad taste in champagne.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know what you could do.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, you could flirt with him and when he comes onto you, you could take pictures as proof. You might lose a friend at first, but you’d save her from having three kids, a golden retriever, a minivan, and a husband who didn’t give a shit about her. In the end, she’ll thank you.”

“You think so?” His idea had some merit.

“I think that would be delightful.”

“I’ll tell you a little secret. I think he has a thing for hot men instead.” I was teasing, of course, but the serious look on his face was priceless.

“Then you could send me.” For a blip, I thought he was serious.

When I gasped for air, he bumped his shoulder against mine and a shocking wave of electricity jolted every muscle in my body.

“Yeah, on second thought, I’d likely kill the guy.”

“Just like the poor asshole who made the mistake of accosting me a little while ago.”

He had a way of grinning while lifting his eyebrows that made him look like a little boy. “No one touches my wife.”

The crackling air between us was something different. With most men, the air was laced with too much cologne and testosterone. His aftershave was a seductive blend that whispered of Italian leather, a touch of whiskey, and late-night secrets.

“About that divorce. I’ll want to keep the vacation home in Scottsdale.”

“As long as I get full custody of the mountain cabin.”

“Deal.” The role playing was a little too easy, or maybe I was just in the mood to be playful. I threw out my hand and he responded, grabbing mine, the handshake firm. Suddenly I was swept with explosive sensations.

“You drive a hard bargain, lady.”

“And you’re a hot-blooded wolf.” Freeing my hand, I took a step away mostly because I was far too attracted to him and this interaction could go terribly wrong.

“Now that is an accurate statement.” He also backed away, the great big man scanning both sides of the sidewalk. When we both heard a sound, he tipped his head. “Coyote.”

“Really? Are you certain?” I instantly glanced toward the mountains, the mournful sound nothing I heard in the heart of Chicago.

“I am a wolf. I know canines.”

“I’d almost forgotten. Is he a big, bad coyote?” I’d only met a couple of shifters in the years since they’d come out in public, the meetings nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t asked him any questions about being a shifter and what it meant while playing hockey.

Beck had a way of zoning out of the moment. “He lost his mate. She was his entire world and now he doesn’t know what he’s going to do without her.”

“Oh, my God. You’re kidding me? What happened?” I was completely heartbroken hearing that. Without realizing it, I took a few steps toward the mountains, gazing at the shadowed landscape.

A few seconds later and after not having heard a sound, I twisted my body to find him in a full-blown grin.