Eric opened the wrapper on her desk and looked at the mess inside. “Is this what you’re eating?”

“I was.”

“What did you do, sit on it?”

Iona slammed the paper back over the sandwich. “Will you go before someone sees you?”

“Come with me. I’ll buy you lunch.”

Iona’s eyes flared hunger. That hunger touched Eric like a flame.

“Can’t. Too busy here, and we’d have to find someplace where no one knew me. Plus, you’re obviously a Shifter.”

Eric shrugged. “I go where I want.”

“No, you don’t. Plenty of places don’t allow Shifters.”

“You allow them.”

She made a noise of exasperation. “No, I don’t. One just keeps barging in.”

He held back his laugh. “Why don’t you throw me out, then? You could call your security guards or the police. Why haven’t you?”

He saw the catch in her breath, the tightening of her eyes. “I can handle you myself.”

“Sure about that?” Eric leaned to her again.

“Will you stop smelling me? It’s just weird.”

“Have you closed yourself off to using your scent-sense? That’s dangerous, love.”

“I had to. It was driving me crazy.”

Eric had some sympathy. Scent could be powerful, triggering emotions and sense memory, as well as physical hunger and mating need. The smell of burned matches took him back to the Second World War when he and his sister Cassidy had slunk through the night carrying explosives to sabotage the German army. The smell of strawberries transported him to the happy days when he’d first met Kirsten, his mate, passed long ago now. Iona, untrained and trying to deny her natural instincts, must be going insane.

“That roast beef smells good, even all squashed, doesn’t it?” Eric asked, glancing at the wrapped sandwich. “If you were in your panther form, you wouldn’t worry. You’d gulp it down and spit out the paper.”

Iona’s hunger came to him again. “That’s why I have to ignore scents when I’m in my human form. I’d make a complete idiot of myself.”

“Don’t ignore them. Control it.” Eric spread his hands on the desk. “Starting now. Use your nose on me and tell me what it tells you.”

Iona stared at him, her fear as palpable as her hunger. Then she swallowed, her slender throat moving, and she leaned to him.

Eric held himself still as her nose brushed the line of his hair. His impulse was to grab her, shove the sandwich remains and blueprints from the desk, and lay her across its top, spreading her and letting his body and hers do what both truly wanted. The coupling would be good. Intense. Memorable.

Instead, he made himself stand still as she roved his face to his neck, br**sts lifting as she inhaled.

“You had eggs for breakfast,” she said. “You’ve been riding around on your motorcycle, farther than just between here and Shiftertown, and you’ve been very close to at least one other Shifter. You were also extremely angry this morning.” Iona lifted her head, puzzlement in her eyes. “Angry about what?”

“Not angry,” Eric said. “Frustrated. What kind of Shifter?”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“You’ll know. Come on. Give it your best shot.”

Iona leaned closer, her eyes closing as she drew in a long breath. Her hair brushed his cheek, and Eric’s body tightened.

“Felines,” Iona said, opening her eyes and drawing back. “And another kind, but I don’t recognize it. I’m only familiar with Felines.”

“Lupine,” Eric said. “The Felines were my sister and son at breakfast. I hugged them both before I left. The Lupine is Graham McNeil, the ass**le who’s being shoved into my Shiftertown. Which is why we need the new houses.”

“Which you want constructed to your specifications.”

“Without mentioning it to anyone,” he said.

Iona drew back. “How am I supposed to have my crew build houses without them noticing what they’re building?”

“You’re having your sister’s house remodeled without telling her.”

“Only until she and her husband get back from their trip. I think she’ll notice the guys hammering and sawing and putting up walls then. It can’t be done.”

He liked the way she stood and glared at him, not bowing her head and meekly promising him whatever he wanted. She was strong, this lady. A survivor.

“Find a way,” he said. “I’ll keep my Shifters from you, and the humans from finding out about you, and you alter the plans to my specs without telling anyone. All right?”

“And if I refuse? You’ll expose me?”

“You think I’m threatening you?” Eric came out of his nonchalant, Eric-is-everyone’s-friend stance, and leaned over the desk to her again, not stopping the predator. Iona stood her ground, but her eyes widened, and her wild scent washed over him.

“I don’t need to make deals with you, Iona. You’re an unmated, unprotected female in my territory. I could make you mine right here in this office, carry you home, and sequester you, and you couldn’t do anything to stop me. Could you? You’d fight, but in the end I’d win.”

He leaned closer, the desk no barrier, and she stepped back, catching herself on the chair behind her. Her eyes flickered, and he smelled her fear, but she wouldn’t look away.