Caleb Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Praise for Promises Reveal

  “Few writers can match the skill of Sarah McCarty when it comes to providing her audience with an intelligent, exhilarating Western romance starring two likable protagonists. The fast-paced story line hooks the audience.”—Midwest Book Review

  “Entertaining and kept this reader turning the pages. I’ve got a soft spot for Western historicals, with their hard times and smooth-talking cowboys. Ms. McCarty delivers on both of those fronts.”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  “I absolutely adored the chemistry and witty banter between these two spicy characters, and the sex, as always, was titillating, sizzling, and realistic . . . I don’t know how she does it, but I want more and more and more. You will, too, once you read this fantastic tale.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  “A must read . . . Enticing and erotic . . . I am already craving more!”

  —Romance Junkies

  “Highly entertaining . . . Plenty steamy . . . and a great compliment to the series.”—A Romance Review

  “A delightful tale with lots of intense passion . . . Outstanding! Not to be missed by fans of historical Westerns who enjoy a strong dose of erotic fiction.”—The Romance Readers Connection

  Praise for Running Wild

  “[Sarah McCarty’s] captivating characters, scorching love scenes, and dramatic plot twists kept me on the edge. I could not put it down.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  “McCarty . . . skillfully brings out her characters’ deepest emotions. Three strong heroines and three mouthwatering heroes . . . will tug at your heartstrings, and the well-written sex scenes will not disappoint.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Sarah McCarty entices and enchants . . . and has taken paranormal romance to a whole new level.”—Romance Junkies

  “You are going to love this . . . Entertaining and passionate . . . Fast-paced story lines and super-hot sex scenes . . . Sarah McCarty definitely takes you on a wild ride and . . . weaves a fascinating paranormal.”

  —Lucrezia Magazine

  “This one is a scorcher. If you’re looking for a romance to raise the temperatures, then look no further than McCarty’s Running Wild!”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  “Provide[s] werewolf romance fans with a strong, heated collection. Fans will be Running Wild.”—Midwest Book Review

  More praise for the novels of Sarah McCarty

  “[A] pulse-pounding paranormal.”—Road to Romance

  “Masterfully written.”—The Romance Readers Connection

  “Powerfully erotic, emotional, and thought provoking.”—Ecataromance

  “Has the WOW factor . . . Characters that jump off the pages!”

  —Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  “Toe-curling.”—Fallen Angel Reviews (recommended read)

  “Ms. McCarty is a genius!”—Romance Junkies

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2009 by Sarah McCarty.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY® SENSATION is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / October 2009

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  eISBN : 978-1-101-14064-2

  1. Vampires—Fiction. 2. Werewolves—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3613.C3568C35 2009

  813’.6—dc22 2009024269

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To Katie,

  Caleb’s Irrepressible Woman of Wit.

  Thanks for the smiles and the inspiration.

  Hugs to your little Caleb

  with his bright grin and adorable ways.

  May laughter and joy find you

  and your family every day.

  1

  SEDUCING a man wasn’t supposed to be this hard. Allie glanced at the clock on the wall, grabbed the tray of muffins from the cooling rack, and moved them to the display case. If she were to believe the women’s magazines, a few strategic double en tendres slipped into the conversation, a couple pouty smiles flashed at carefully chosen moments quickly backed by some searing come-hither glances, and she should be in gravy with any man of her choosing. Except—she dropped the aluminum tray onto the shelf where it landed with a satisfying clatter—she wasn’t. Which was why she’d gone a bit more hard-core in her advice seeking, and shelled out some serious bucks investing in her catch-a-man arsenal. All because one devastatingly sexy, infuriatingly never-anything-but-polite rancher could throw her second chakra into overdrive with nothing more than one of those unfathomable glances from under the brim of his battered black Stetson.

  Allie closed the bakery case door, wincing as the underwire of her bra cut into her chest. A Thanksgiving turkey couldn’t be trussed up any tighter than she was, but if there was any truth in advertising, Caleb Johnson was finally about to perk up and take notice, because thanks to one carefully selected push-up bra, she magically had the blessing of cleavage. Seductive, dark, mysterious, drool-your-heart-out cleavage. Now, if she could just get the man to look when he got here, she just mig
ht have the satisfaction of watching his jaw drop. She glanced down at her display. Things looked impressive from this angle, but maybe she should undo another button just in case . . .

  “You should lock the door.”

  That low drawl rolled over her like a first kiss—sweet, hot, and tempting, catching on her nerve endings. She took an extra second arranging the yin-yang doilies on the counter, indulging in a few soothing tantric breaths, seeking calm with the same intensity she sought that addictive scent she associated only with Caleb. “Why? I knew you were coming.”

  He arrived every morning promptly at 5:30 a.m., just before she opened.

  “You didn’t hear me come in?”

  “I never do.” She straightened and turned, keeping her back to him under the guise of getting his coffee. No sense diminishing the impact of the “grand display” by bestowing sneak peeks.

  Behind her, the stool squeaked as he slid onto it. “Which proves my point. I could be anyone.”

  She grabbed a deep black cup emblazoned with the Chinese characters for peace off the stack and reached for the coffeepot. “But you’re not.”

  She flashed him a smile over her shoulder, her peripheral vision gifting her with a brief image of broad shoulders, deep green eyes, and a simmering energy that tempted her inner slut to howl with anticipation. “And one of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you get past the bell without making it ring.”

  The heavy leather of his coat whispered a protest as he shrugged. “That bell’s annoying.”

  Which didn’t answer her question. The man never answered questions. Just showed up like clockwork to wreak havoc on her equilibrium. She put the pot back on the warmer and brought his cup over to the counter where he sat, front and center, casually overwhelming the small space with the sheer force of his presence.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” With his hat brim blocking her view, she couldn’t tell if he’d looked up, but as there were no physical signs of male interest, no stiffening, no catching of breath, she was going to assume he hadn’t.

  She opened the case and took out the two bear claws, heavy with extra icing, that she’d prepared earlier and passed them to Caleb, making sure to lean in as she did, treating him to a nice view of her button-popping cleavage. This close she couldn’t miss his scent as it mingled with odors of cinnamon and sweet dough. He smelled of the forest, of wildness. Of heaven.

  Good grief, was there anything about the man that didn’t make her mouth water?

  Caleb hooked a finger on the edge of the plate and pulled the offering toward him, the creases beside his mouth deepening just a touch. With amusement or irritation?

  “Thank you.”

  His deep baritone stroked along her senses, adding an excited flutter to her already jangled nerves. “You’re welcome.”

  He didn’t look up, just nodded and wrapped his lean fingers around the coffee cup and took a drink. This close she could count the dust particles clinging to the brim of his black Stetson but could see absolutely nothing of his expression. Not that she needed to see it to know the man obviously wasn’t impressed. Nothing in his body language said he registered a half-naked, slightly-curvier than-was-stylish brunette standing before him. Which was more than a little insulting. She wasn’t fashion-model pretty, but she also wasn’t hag-of-death ugly. And honestly, from her observations of her brothers, when it came to breasts, men simply didn’t have standards.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, bending unnecessarily to align another tray under the glass countertop just in case he truly hadn’t noticed.

  “No, thank you.”

  She blew her bangs off her brow as she straightened. This was not encouraging. They’d had this same conversation for a month now, and the lack of variety was seriously making her question the wisdom of her interest in Caleb Johnson. After all, a body to die for, high cheekbones, forest green eyes, and more testosterone than one woman should have to endure without a tranquilizer could only carry a man so far. And Caleb had about maxed out the mileage on his assets as far as she was concerned. To the point that there was absolutely no reason for her to have this interest in him. Except she did. Way down deep where it wouldn’t be denied.

  She suppressed a sigh. She really should give up and accept that the big rancher just didn’t have the hots for her the way she did for him. She should, but she wouldn’t for the simple reason that her gut instinct indicated otherwise. And her instincts were never wrong.

  The bear claws disappeared with smooth efficiency. So did the coffee. Caleb wiped his mouth, the white of the paper napkin startling against the darkness of his skin. He placed a ten on the counter, then tilted his battered hat back and met her gaze dead-on, the darker green flecks of his eyes somehow blending into shadows that shifted and moved, beckoned.

  The impact of that look ripped through her like a bolt of lightning, immobilizing her muscles and trapping her breath in her lungs.

  “Enjoy your day.”

  If she’d had to say anything but another knee-jerk “thank you,” she wouldn’t have been able to manage it. Thank goodness for the manners her mother always said could carry a woman through any stressful situation, because trying to maintain a civilized conversation while suppressing the urge to melt into a puddle at a man’s feet had a way of taking a woman’s stress factor from zero to ten in less than six seconds.

  Allie smothered a sigh as Caleb headed toward the door the same way he’d done every day for the last month—head up, shoulders back, with that rolling stride that made her knees weak. Oh heck, everything about the man made her knees weak, and he treated her with the utmost courtesy and respect. She grabbed his plate and coffee cup off the counter and dumped them in the rubber tub. Damn his hide!

  The bell jingling over the door startled her into looking up. Caleb stood in the opening, shoulders filling the expanse, one hand on the door, a ghost of a smile hovering around his wide mouth as he touched the brim of his hat with the side of his finger in an amused salute. “See you tomorrow.”

  She stood there grinning like a fool as his richly textured drawl wrapped around her in a seductive pulse of sound. Such a simple thing, but the man ringing her bell was the most she’d had in the way of overt encouragement to date. Well, that and the fact he kept showing up like clockwork.

  The door closed behind him. As the last jingle of the bell faded, so did her smile. She was pathetic. Just because the man deigned to let the bell on her door ring as he passed through did not mean he was interested in ringing her bell. With a disgusted grunt, she reached behind her and unfastened the clips of her push-up bra. With three deft twists, she slid it free of her arms and out from under her white baker’s smock. A flick of her wrist sent the instrument of torture into the trash.

  Damn it, she’d paid good money for that bra and the implied promises that came with it, endured two hours of painful constraint in the hope that someone—specifically Caleb Johnson—would at least flick an eyebrow in appreciation at her newly blossomed cleavage. But all she’d gotten for her money and her effort were breasts that ached and quarter-inch depressions in her sides from the band.

  Tossing today’s hopes into the trash alongside the discarded bra, she buttoned up her smock, flipped the closed sign to open, and set another pot of coffee on to brew. Today had been a bust, but tomorrow was still there, as always, just brimming with opportunities. And maybe over the course of the day, she’d think of a new way to exploit them.

  OPTIMISM and her feet were shot by the end of the day. Her stomach was gnawing on her spine, she had a mother of a headache, and it was getting dark. She wanted nothing more than to go home, scarf down a low-carb frozen dinner, and crawl into bed. But first she had to get there. Which meant she had to walk, thanks to her I’m-turning-thirty-and-I-can’t-afford-to-ignore-my-cardiovascular-fitness-anymore birthday gift of health to herself. Ordinarily, the walk wouldn’t bother her. She closed the bakery at four o’clock, and it was a
n easy mile to her home. But today the dishwasher threw a hissy fit, and she lost track of time while coaxing it back into a cooperative mood. So now she was going to walk home in the dark. Damn. Some days it didn’t pay to get out of bed.

  She hit the lights and shrugged into her wool coat. Moonlight illuminated the street with a bright glow. At least she wouldn’t have to walk in complete darkness. She grabbed her keys out of her pocket. Just as she reached for the door, a swirl of leaves flew into the glass pane. She shrieked and jumped back, bumping into a chair and toppling it over, feeling foolish as the chaotic swarm rustled their way to the ground before meandering off down the street. She needed to get a grip and get it now. She was too darn old to be afraid of the dark.

  She locked the door and stepped out into the crisp evening air. No boogeyman jumped out of the shadows to attack her. No monster leapt onto her back as she turned the key in the lock. Still, if Dunnesville, Montana, had taxi service she would have called it. And if her only friend in town hadn’t left town to attend a wedding, she would have called her. Nighttime always gave her the creeps. Even in a tiny, friendly town with an ongoing crime rate of zero.

  Tucking her hands into her pockets, Allie headed west. All she had to do was clear one town block, pass one happy, innocent playground, stroll along a quarter mile of pretty woods, and she’d be home. Not much to that. Fifteen easy minutes of beneficial exercise and the soothing opportunity to absorb the beauty of nature all dressed up to impress.