Blue moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,4

lucky, the occupants were asleep or, even better, not in residence. I didn't want to scare anyone with gunshots outside their new home at 4:00 a.m., but I wasn't going to let my quarry get away, either.

Gun drawn, I advanced.

A single, glistening drop of blood on a leaf made me cock my pistol. The bush stilled.

I was so tense my body ached with it. I couldn't just shoot without knowing what was there. But what if the wolf leaped out, jaws slashing before I could fire?

Decisions, decisions. I hated them. Give me a nice, sure, clean shot any day. Black-and-white. Right and wrong. Good versus evil.

"Hey!" I shouted, hoping the wolf would run the other way and I could blast him.

No such luck. The bush began to shake again, and a shadow lifted, lengthened, grew broader, and took the shape of a man.

A very handsome, well-proportioned, naked man.

"What the - ?"

From far to the north came the cry of a wolf, silencing my question, reminding me I needed to move on.

Ignoring the naked man - which wasn't easy, he was quite spectacular and I hadn't seen one in a long, long time - I searched the ground and the trees for the blood trail. However, it was well and truly gone this time.

"Damn it!" I holstered my weapon.

"Problem?"

His voice was deep, almost soothing, flowing like water over smooth stones. He was taller than me by a good five inches, which made him six-three in bare feet. The moon shone silver across his golden skin, which appeared to be the same hue all over. He obviously had no qualms about going bare-assed beneath the sun as well as the moon.

He stared at me calmly, as if he didn't know, or maybe just didn't care, that he'd forgotten his clothes when he'd stepped outside.

Well, if he could be nonchalant, so could I. "Did a wolf run through here?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps flexed; so did the muscles in his stomach. I couldn't help myself. I stared. Ridges and dips in all the right places. He'd been working out.

"Seen enough?" he murmured.

With no small amount of difficulty, I raised my gaze to his face. I refused to be embarrassed. He was the one standing naked in the night.

"Why? Is there more?"

His teeth flashed against the darker shade of his face. His eyes were black, his hair, too, and nearly as short as my own. A golden feather swung from one ear.

Interesting. Most Native American jewelry was silver.

If he were white, he'd take a lot of heat for that earring in a place like Miniwa. This might be a new millennium, but in small Midwestern towns earrings were for faggots, just as tattoos were for motorcycle gangs. Unless you were an Indian; then folks just ignored you. However, I doubted a man who looked like he did was ignored by the entire population.

"You're after a wolf?"

He stepped from behind the bush, giving me a much clearer view of a whole lot more. My cheeks heated. For all my bravado and smart-mouthed comments, I'd never had much use for men beyond friendship. Probably because they'd never had much use for me.

Still, a girl has needs, or so I discovered beneath the shiny, silver moon.

"You wanna put on some clothes before we chat?" I aimed for a bored, woman-of-the-world tone. I got a breathless, sexy rasp. To cover my embarrassment I snapped, "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm not out anywhere. This is my place, my land. And I don't have to explain anything. You're trespassing."

"Hot pursuit. Exigent circumstances," I mumbled. "Just seems odd to be out in the dark in the buff."

"Why have a cabin in the woods if you can't walk around naked whenever the urge strikes you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe poison ivy in all the wrong places?"

I thought he laughed, but when I glanced at him, he'd turned away. I lost my train of thought again at the sight of his back. The muscles rippled as he moved. Was it hot out here?

"You're chasing a wolf, alone, through the woods in the middle of the night, Officer... ?"

Suddenly he was right in front of me. Had I been so entranced with my fantasies that I hadn't noticed him slip in close? Obviously.

A slim, dark finger reached out; the white moon of a nail brushed the nameplate perched on my left breast. " ' McQuade,'" he read, then lifted his eyes to mine.

I had to tilt