Irene shut her eyes against the image but said, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” He placed his napkin on the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a minute.” Then he was up and gone. She really hoped he would come back, because she had only five dollars in her pocket. Not enough to cover the bill. Of course, she could accost the agent outside. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d used the fact that she’d spotted them to her advantage. She didn’t necessarily think it was the right thing to do, but it was fun.

The food had arrived by the time Holtz slid back in the booth, and Irene had successfully wrangled her emotions so that she once again had herself in complete control.

Holtz took the ketchup from her and poured an obscene amount on his burger and over his fries.

“Everything okay?” she asked, picking up a fry and forcing herself to eat.

“It is now.” He put the ketchup back in the middle of the table and picked up his burger. “But, Irene, from now on you have to tell me this stuff.” When her eyes narrowed, he shook his head. “No. Not about that. I mean about when you’ve got people following you.”

“Why?”

His mouth full of burger, he mumbled, “How else can I ensure your safety if I don’t know what’s going on?”

“Ensure my safety? Why would you need to ensure my safety?”

“Don’t piss me off, Irene. I’m already irritated because you didn’t tell me about this before. Protection is not something the Van Holtzes play around with.” He took another enormous bite and she realized he’d most likely devour that humongous burger in the next sixty seconds. “But you’re covered. Starting Monday. Until then you’re with me anyway.”

Irene didn’t like the sound of that. “Starting Monday what?”

“You’ll have protection.”

“Protection? I don’t want protection.”

“But you’re getting it.”

“But—”

“There’s no arguing this, doc. If the government feels it’s necessary to have you watched, then you need protection and I’ll make sure you have it.”

Irene dug her hands into her hair and stared at the Formica table. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand?”

“Everything. I mean, why are you doing this? What do you care if I have protection or not?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Do I look like I know?”

He grinned. “Nah. Ya look kind of pissed. You’re cute when you get like that.”

“Thank you,” she said flatly. “So explain to me why you feel the need to protect me?”

His sigh was long and exasperated. “Because as my lifelong mate and eventual wife, I need to make sure you’re protected.”

“Your . . . your wife?”

“Of course. The Van Holtz wolves marry, baby. Unlike the Magnus and Smith wolves, my children will not be bastards.”

“Children?”

“Yup. Remember? Two minimum. Although I’m leaning toward three or four total. But we can figure that out later.”

Irene stared at Van Holtz with her mouth open and her mind suddenly, blissfully blank. Years later she’d call it that “brief catatonic thing I had in the eighties.”

Holtz grinned at her, ketchup in the corner of his mouth, and glanced down at her food. “Hey, you gonna eat those fries, baby?”

Nine

“Explain to me how you get yourself into these situations.”

“Don’t start.” Irene stopped in front of her office door, pulling her keys out and maneuvering her backpack so it didn’t suddenly swing down and hit her in the face—as it had done many times before.

She’d finally finished her classes and, to quote one student, “Yay! She’s released us from our bondage of despair!” Damn smartass physicists. She’d been worse than usual, she knew. But she blamed one man for her recent less-than-pleasant attitude.

“I just don’t understand, Irene. Paul and I take off for three days to Mexico and we come back to you engaged.”

“I am not engaged,” she snarled. “The man is delusional.”

Irene stormed into her office, Jackie right behind her. She dropped her backpack on the floor before moving over to her desk.

“I swear the man is on me like an isotope. I literally cannot remove him.”

“I warned you about wolves.” Jackie threw herself into the chair across from Irene’s desk, planting her feet on the worn wood. “They’re certifiable.”

Irene practically fell into her desk chair. “He’s driving me insane, Jackie. I mean . . . really. He suddenly decided that I’m . . . what are you staring at?”

“What’s that behind your head? On your cork board?”

She didn’t even have to turn around to look. Instead Irene simply sighed. “That’s a picture of him, isn’t it?”

“Paul and I were wondering why we found them all over the house.”

“How does he keep getting into the house? And my office?”

“There’s no self-respecting wolf who can’t pick a lock.”

Irene put her head on her desk. “I don’t understand, Jackie. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were never . . . he and I . . . he can’t seriously think we—”