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He rolled his eyes. “The old dear gets very touchy-feely. You know that, don’t you?”
“Most of our other customers do, too. We cater to werewolves—it goes with the territory.” I dropped another kiss on his lips, then added with a grin, “And you can thank your lucky stars you’re such a good chef, or we’d have you out there charming the customers at every shift.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” He half spun around, then waved me forward. “You’d better get going, or your mom is going to be calling to see what the delay is.”
He had that right. I grabbed a cardigan to put over my semi-transparent shirt, then headed out.
After doing a quick check for bugs, I climbed onto my bike and started her up. It didn’t take me long to get into the city, but parking was hell. Ever since they’d made the inner-city area a car-free zone, the outer streets had become more clogged than ever, which meant parking had been banned twenty-four/seven. So parking lots were like gold. I ended up in one outside the central-city area—past Jeff’s Shed, in fact—then jogging back.
Southern Cross Station, with its undulating roofline that always reminded me of mounds of snow, came into view. I found the information desk and, through them, the locker area. But I didn’t go over there immediately, instead hanging around the station to see if there was anybody—other than me—lurking about suspiciously.
No one seemed to be, and I couldn’t sense or smell anyone who set off internal alarms. After taking a deep, somewhat shaky breath, I headed in.
There were several other people present, either retrieving or depositing goods. I ignored them, though my nose registered their scents and I was hyper-aware of every move they made. Locker 97 was easy enough to find, and there was nothing outwardly suspicious about it.
I shoved the key into the lock and opened it. Inside sat a folded piece of paper. I opened it. Explanation at one A.M., it said, Sandpiper’s Inn, Charles Street, Seddon. The back door will be unlocked. Come alone, or I won’t appear.
And that was it. No name and no clue as to who had sent it. But it was in the same bold writing as the letter that had held the key, so I guess that was something.
I closed the locker, pocketed the note and the key, and headed out. If I wanted an explanation as to what was really going on, then I had no option but to do as the note asked. But it was risky given I had no idea just who might be behind it.
And the whole come-alone thing only emphasized the danger.
It also meant I’d have to rebook my date with Lucian, and that was something I was sorry about. And not just because I hungered for his touch, but because I actually enjoyed his company.
I blew out a frustrated breath, then got out my phone and called him.
“Risa,” he said, his bright eyes crinkling with warmth. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. Anything wrong?”
“I’m afraid I can’t make our date tonight. Something’s come up that I can’t get out of.”
He tsked. “That, my girl, is completely unacceptable. Especially given the challenge you threw out only yesterday.”
“Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry—”
“What about this afternoon?” he cut in.
I blinked. Talk about eager! “I have a lunch date, and I start work at five.”
“Which, presuming lunch will be finished by two, gives me at least two and a half hours for my sexual performance to match our kisses.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “With a promise like that, how can I resist? When and where?”
“Well, the restaurant is open today, so my place won’t be very private.”
“And mine is never private.” Which was a lie, because all the bedrooms were soundproofed. But there was still the possibility of the building being watched, so the fewer people I brought there, the better. Stane was risky enough. “We could go to Franklin’s, which is a very discreet, very exclusive wolf club on Lonsdale Street. It offers both private dining and privacy booths in the main dance area.”
“I take it exclusive means it requires membership?”
“Which I have, so no problem.”
“Oh yeah?” Lucian said idly, a smile teasing his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. “And do you have a regular partner there?”
“And what if I did?” I said archly. I did, of course, because that was what Franklin’s specialized in—providing partners for those who didn’t have them, or for those who wanted nothing more than unemotional, mind-blowing sex. And Zane had certainly provided that. Although right now, he was off visiting his pack. Hence my frustrated state pre-Lucian.
“Meaning you do,” Lucian said. “I’ll have to size up the competition.”
I laughed. “Franklin’s is a service club. No one employed there is going to get emotionally involved with customers. It’s against the rules.” I glanced at my watch and saw it was nearly twelve. I really needed to get moving. “Shall we say two, then, out front?”
