"Strudel and wine?"

Mortimer glanced up from the table on which he'd just set strudel, a freshly opened bottle of wine, and a deck of cards, and considered Sam's expression as she stepped back inside. Her voice had been amused and she was trying to smile, but he could tell by the set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders that the phone calls hadn't gone well. He wished she hadn't insisted on trying Belmont again once they'd finished their meal, but she was a woman who took her responsibilities seriously, and the man hadn't bothered to return her calls since that morning. The least he could have done was check in with her, if only to tell her there was nothing new to report and he was still looking.

"No Belmont?" he asked instead of responding to her comment.

"No," she admitted with disgust, irritation flaring up in her eyes. Shaking her head, she added, "Mr. Babcock was angry enough at the man evading my calls that he's calling some 'friends.'"

"Friends?" Mortimer asked as he pulled out her chair for her.

"Hmm." Sam grimaced as she sat down. "I suspect he'll call the commissioner of the Provincial Police. The commissioner is friends with Mr. Babcock and the Latimers."

"Ah." Mortimer nodded as he moved around to his own seat. "I suspect the elusive Sergeant Belmont is about to find himself in a world of trouble."

"Maybe." Sam sighed. "If so, he brought it on himself, the turkey. Still, I'm sorry I failed Mr. Babcock like this."

"You didn't fail him," Mortimer said firmly. "You've done everything you could, including looking for her yourself. And on your vacation. Sergeant Belmont is the problem here. He really should be keeping in touch with you and letting you know what's going on."

Sam relaxed a little at his words, and then glanced at the goodies on the table and raised her eyebrows as she asked again, "Strudel and wine?"

"I was hungry for dessert, but thought you might need a drink after your phone calls," he explained.

"And the cards?" she asked, glancing at the deck in the center of the table.

"Your sisters sent those. I thought you might like to play something."

"I like cards," Sam admitted, brightening visibly. "What shall we play?"

Mortimer hesitated and then suggested, "Poker?"

"What would we use for chips?" she asked.

Mortimer considered the situation and then suggested, "We could play truth poker."

"What's that?"

"If you win a hand, you ask me a question that I have to answer truthfully, and vice versa."

Sam's eyes widened, but after the briefest hesitation, she nodded.

Smiling, Mortimer collected the deck of cards and began shuffling.

She watched for a moment and then commented, "I've never heard of this version of poker."

"Neither have I, I just made it up," he admitted with a laugh.

"Really?"

Mortimer shrugged. "Your sisters suggested strip poker, but I didn't think you'd go for that."

Sam groaned. "You'll have to forgive them. They weren't raised right."

He grinned at her apology. "Don't they have the same parents as you?"

"Yes, but they didn't listen to them and I did," she responded at once.

Mortimer chuckled and began to deal. When he'd come up with the idea of truth poker, it hadn't occurred to him that he might be causing himself some problems should Sam ask the wrong question. Fortunately, he'd dealt himself a good hand.

"Go ahead, ask your question," Sam said grimly as she scooped up the cards.

He almost teased her, but she was obviously as nervous about what he might ask as he was, so he merely said, "What's your favorite flower?"

"Gladiolas," she answered promptly and offered him a bright smile. Sam was unquestionably relieved that he'd asked such an easy question and was much more relaxed as she dealt the next hand. She began to tense up again, however, when she picked up her cards, and Mortimer soon understood why. She'd dealt herself a horrid hand. He won the round with a pair of threes.

"Go on." She sighed as he began to collect the cards. Despite his first question, it seemed obvious she was expecting a more personal, possibly embarrassing question this time.

"What's your favorite candy?"

Her shoulders slumped and she peered at him with a touch of confusion, as if suspecting he was up to something with these easy questions, but not sure what. Still, she answered, "Hazelnut chocolates."

Mortimer was on a roll and won the next hand too, this time asking what her favorite food was. Sam just shook her head and answered, "Chinese," as she dealt the next round.

This time she was the one to win the round and it was Mortimer's turn to wait anxiously for her question as he gathered the cards and began to shuffle them.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Sam asked after a pause.

Mortimer stilled and then nodded. "Two brothers."

"Really?" she asked with surprise and then bit her lip and muttered, "That's kind of weird, isn't it?"

"It is?" Mortimer asked with confusion.

"Well..." She grimaced and said, "It's just you have two brothers, I have two sisters. Your parents died in a house fire, and mine in a car accident where the car exploded."

"Their car exploded?" Mortimer asked. She hadn't mentioned that earlier, and if she hadn't it was probably because thinking about it upset her, he thought with a frown as Sam nodded in answer to his question. He hesitated briefly, but had to ask, "Were they killed by the accident or-"

Sam shook her head and he didn't bother finishing the question. Her parents had burned to death like his own. And that was about enough serious conversation for one night, Mortimer decided, and reached for the bottle of wine to top up their glasses as he said, "There's a DVD player hooked up to that TV and a shelf full of DVDs in my room, most of them comedies. Do you like comedies?"

"I love comedies," she said, brightening visibly.

"Good. Let's watch a comedy."

"Okay," she said, standing up. "You pick it, and I'll move the wine and strudel over to the table."

Nodding, Mortimer stood and moved up the hall to his room. He picked three or four comedies from the shelf and took them out to Sam. He found her just settling on the small couch with their wine and goodies spread out on the coffee table before her. She considered the movies he held out and, apparently unable to decide, did a quick "Eenie, meenie, minie mo."

Chuckling at her sophisticated selection process, Mortimer turned on the television and DVD player, slid the movie in, then grabbed the remotes and moved to join her on the couch. She was seated primly on one side of the couch, leaving him plenty of room on his own. Mortimer didn't intend to use it, however. He had an urge to cuddle up with her on the little love seat while they watched the show... or maybe didn't watch the show, he thought hopefully, and then caught a whiff of her as he reached the couch. Mortimer froze.

"Mortimer? Is something wrong?" Sam asked when he continued to just stand there, and he felt his mouth twist at the question.

"No," he growled, and abruptly settled on his side of the love seat, as far from her as he could get without actually choosing another seat. The movie had been his idea, he could hardly back out of it now, but the moment it was over he needed to find an excuse to go out. In the meantime, he needed to keep as much distance as he could between them... and maybe try not to breathe in her scent.

Mortimer rolled his eyes at the thought, and then forced himself to turn his attention to the movie as it started, hoping it would be distracting enough to help him ignore the smell presently tantalizing his nostrils. It was a useless hope. Sam seemed to enjoy the movie and laughed several times, but he didn't have a clue what was happening on the screen. His mind was completely and utterly wrapped up in the fragrant aroma wafting off Sam and rolling across the love seat to surround him. Eau de Sam was a heady mix that was making his mouth water to the point that Mortimer feared drooling all over himself.

It was a great relief when the movie ended. He was off the couch and ejecting the DVD almost before the first credit began to roll down the screen. Mortimer popped the disc into its case and turned back toward the couch, his mouth opening, but then paused. Sam was yawning. Beaming at her as if she'd done something clever, he said, "You're all in. I guess we should call it a night."

"Oh." Sam looked startled at the suggestion, but hesitated, and he knew from the uncertainty that crossed her face that she wasn't sure if she should assure him she was fine to continue, or if he wished to end the evening. Mortimer held his tongue, silently praying she'd simply go to bed.

He was in dire need of blood and desperate to get her off to bed so that he could slip out and find some. Between his time in the sun and his head wound, Mortimer had run through the supply he'd brought back with him. The head wound had been much more serious than he'd led Sam to believe. He'd hit the rock under the surface of the water at whiplash speed and suspected he'd fractured his skull. It was why he'd rushed back ahead of her and locked himself in his room. There was no way she would have taken no for an answer about going to the hospital had she seen it.

Mortimer had binged on the blood left in the cooler in an effort to speed along his healing and then managed-with a little help from her boss's phone call-to avoid her just long enough for the bleeding to stop and his head to begin to heal. Unfortunately, that binge had used up the last of the blood.

Mortimer might have been all right and lasted until their return to Magnetawan the next day had he not then burned his hand while trying to light the barbecue. He'd managed to hide that from her as well, and it was nearly completely healed now where he rested it against his leg, but he was in desperate need of blood again.

"I-Yes, I guess I should go to bed," Sam said finally. She paused then, her gaze flickering to him and away.

Mortimer knew she was hoping that he'd give her an excuse to stay up, but he remained silent. Waiting.

"Well." She stood and moved slowly away from the love seat, her tone brisk. "This was fun. Thank you. And thank you for cooking too. I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night," Mortimer murmured as she headed up the hall toward the room she was using. He watched her silently until she disappeared into her room and closed the door behind her, only then allowing himself to breathe out a sigh of mingled relief and regret.

Mortimer hadn't missed the disappointment in her eyes. She was definitely getting mixed signals from him and probably hadn't a clue what to make of his behavior. Last night he'd been an eager, demanding lover, only stopped in his attempt to bed her-or boulder her-by the incident with the leeches. And then tonight... nothing. Not even a kiss good night. But Mortimer didn't dare let himself get that close to her. His hunger could too easily overpower his desire and he might bite her.

Mortimer was sure Sam wasn't ready to hear what he had to tell her. He'd rather wait a couple more days and give her the chance to start thinking of them as a couple. To that end, he was attempting to woo her as she deserved, but wasn't even able to do that properly at the moment.

Grimacing, Mortimer turned and began to pace the kitchen, counting off the passing minutes. He'd wait half an hour to give her a chance to fall asleep, and then he had to go out in search of blood. He was back to feeding "off the hoof."

Sam lay in bed a long time, staring into the darkness with bewilderment as she listened to Mortimer pacing the kitchen. She had no idea what to make of the man. He was driving her crazy with the way he blew hot and cold. The first night he was all over her, and then today she'd received a morning kiss, but then nothing. He hadn't even tried for a good-night kiss, let alone take advantage of the love seat for some serious action. All that just convinced her that she'd been right and that the night before had been an anomaly, something unlikely to be repeated.

She was sighing miserably at the realization when the sound of the cottage door opening and closing reached her. Sam stiffened and sat up. Her first thought was that he might be going for a swim, but then she heard the SUV start up and the crunch of gravel as it drove away.

Sam slowly lay back down, sure Mortimer was going to find the nightlife that he and the others had kept asking about the first night after they'd met. The idea wasn't a pleasant one, but was followed by even more unpleasant ones. She found herself lying there, imagining him walking into some poky little local bar, and dancing with shapely locals and cottagers, then stumbling back to his SUV with his arm around one of them and doing all those lovely things he'd done with her... before she'd been attacked by leeches and made to look like a diseased hooker.

Groaning, Sam turned on her side and punched her pillow, then closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep. However, with thoughts like that plaguing her, she was still wide awake when the crunch of tires on gravel announced the SUV's return and Mortimer slipped quietly back inside. She listened to him move around until the cottage fell silent, and then she listened to that silence for a while before finally drifting off.

Sam had no idea what time it was when she finally fell asleep, but she was awake by nine a.m. Even so, Mortimer was already up and around. She heard him moving about as she collected clean clothes and her sandals. When she then slipped out of her room, it was to find the air redolent with the scent of coffee and cooking bacon.

Inhaling the lovely scents, Sam snuck up the hall in her nightie, her clothes held before her like a shield. At the end of the hall, she peeked around the corner to see him frying up potato wedges at the stove with his back to her, and quickly ducked into the bathroom to take a shower.

Ten minutes later, she presented herself in the kitchen, dressed, damp hair brushed back off her face, and completely makeup-free. Mortimer did not run screaming from the cottage.

"Good morning," he greeted, smiling at her widely.

"Morning," Sam mumbled, and started to move past him, only to gasp in surprise when he caught her arm and pulled her close for a quick, but very hard and thorough kiss. When he released her and turned back to his cooking, Sam was left panting and at a complete loss as to what to make of that.

Honestly, she had no idea what the man was about. One minute he was hot and passionate, the next just friendly and treating her like a buddy or kid sister. Then he landed a good-morning kiss on her that was definitely not what one gave to either a buddy or a kid sister. He had her thoroughly confused now.

Sam stood there fretting about that until he announced that breakfast was ready and she should grab a plate. Shaking her head, she grabbed them both a plate and moved to his side so he could serve up the food. Once he was finished, she carried them to the table. Sam sat down before she really glanced at her breakfast. The bacon was burned to a cinder, the eggs not quite cooked, and the potatoes were blackened... and she knew it would still be quite the most delicious breakfast she'd ever been treated to just because he'd gone to the trouble to make it.

Smiling wryly at herself, Sam picked up her fork and dug in. They ate in silence at first, and then Mortimer began to chatter cheerfully away about things they should do that day. He carried the conversation alone at first and didn't seem to mind. It wasn't until she joined in with suggestions of her own and noticed the way he relaxed that she realized her silence had bothered him. They chatted easily after that, sticking to topics like the weather, foreign politics, the sorts of books they each liked to read, what types of movies and music they enjoyed, and so on.

Once the meal was finished, they did the dishes together, she washing and he drying until her cell phone rang. Mortimer continued on as she stepped outside to take the call, finishing the dishes and then washing down the counters and stove too while he waited. He had it all done by the time she snapped her phone closed and stepped back inside.

"The Latimers are supposed to land at four-thirty this afternoon," she announced, passing on the information Clarence Babcock had given her. "Mr. Babcock's son is picking them up from the airport and the three of them are driving straight up here."

"That gives us the day to play, then," Mortimer said lightly as he turned back to set the washcloth on the sink. He then leaned against the counter, incredibly sexy in his jeans and black T-shirt, looking good enough to eat.

Flushing as that thought crossed her mind, Sam turned away. "I'd better call Belmont and see what he's doing about finding Cathy so I can report to her parents when they arrive."

"Good idea," Mortimer murmured. "I'm just going to take a quick shower while you do."

Sam watched him walk up the hall and disappear into his room, a small sigh slipping from her lips, but then forced herself to turn her attention back to her phone. She punched in the number and leaned against the counter as she pressed it to her ear, her eyes shifting to Mortimer as he stepped out of the room. Her eyes widened to drink him in as he came back up the hall. He'd stripped off the T-shirt he'd been wearing and was now bare-chested and barefoot in jeans, fresh clothes held in his hand.

Sam stared, automatically responding to his smile as she watched him duck into the bathroom and close the door. The phone continued to ring in her ear, but she hardly noticed. The walls in the cottage were incredibly thin. Sam could actually hear the ratcheting sound of Mortimer's zipper going down and then the rustle of cloth from behind the door as he stripped. Her mouth went dry as her mind produced a picture of what was happening, and then the hiss of the shower sounded and she imagined him stepping naked under the warm spray.

Suddenly hot, Sam began to fan herself, but then realized it was her phone she was fanning herself with and that it was speaking to her. She quickly shifted it back to her ear. She had a job to do and shouldn't allow herself to be distracted. Not a work-type job, per se, but she'd promised to ride herd on the police until her boss got there, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Mortimer took one look at Sam's furious face when he stepped out of the bathroom and knew the call hadn't gone well. After a pause, he moved to snatch up his sandals and carried them to one of the chairs at the small kitchen table. He sat down and began to pull them on as he asked, "What did Belmont have to say?"

"Oh," Sam said with obvious exasperation. "He avoided my call again. He's supposedly out 'investigating another incident.' I'm sure he's there though and avoiding me."

Mortimer raised his eyebrows. "Who did you speak to then?"

"No one," she said dryly. "Apparently there was no one available to give me an accounting of what's being done, again. I guess Babcock's call to 'friends' didn't help at all."

"It's early yet," Mortimer pointed out. "It may still work."

"Hmm," Sam murmured.

Finished donning his sandals, Mortimer stood, caught her hand in his, and led her to the door.

"Where are we going?" she asked with surprise.

"To walk off some of that worry and anger I see bubbling under your skin," he said dryly.

Sam opened her mouth, probably to protest that she should stay at the cottage as she had promised to do, but he forestalled her by adding, "You have your cell if someone calls, and it's better than pacing this tiny cottage waiting to hear something."

She glanced down at the phone in her hand with surprise. Apparently she hadn't realized she was still clutching it in her white-knuckled fingers. Sam stared at it briefly and then gave in with a little sigh and slid the phone into the pocket of her shorts.

Mortimer felt himself relax at her easy compliance. He'd expected a bit more of a battle, but he would have won it anyway. He could be stubborn when he had to be, and it seemed to him, Sam needed someone to be stubborn with her. From what her sisters had said and what he'd learned from her in their conversations, it seemed obvious that she worked too hard and played too little. She could do with a little fun and relaxation, and he was just the man to give her that.

Well, at least he wanted to be, Mortimer thought wryly. He wasn't exactly a party animal himself. In fact, both those comments could have been applied to him as well. But he didn't like seeing it in Sam. He wanted to ease her burden a bit and see her happy, Mortimer thought as he led her along a trail near the cottage. "You were out last night," Sam continued several minutes later.

Mortimer glanced at her, happy to see that she was beginning to let go of her anger and looked a little more relaxed. The walking strategy was working, though it had taken a bit of time to do so. They were a good distance along the trail he'd chosen, one of many they'd found wended through the property. The cottage was out of sight now, and all he could see were trees and more trees. Those trees were she only reason he was out here. They were like a canopy overhead, protecting him from the sun. He could safely be out in the daylight here, which was a nice experience.

"Mortimer?" Sam said, reminding him that he hadn't replied to her comment.

Mortimer hesitated about how to respond, and then finally said, "I was restless. I thought a drive might relax me and help me to get to sleep."

"It was a long drive," she muttered, and he didn't deny it. It had taken forever for him to find the four donors who supplied him with enough blood to make him feel safe to be around Sam again. He couldn't tell her that, though.

"If you heard your return, you must have still been awake too," he said instead.

Sam flushed. "I had trouble getting to sleep."

"So did I, despite the drive," he admitted wryly, and then unthinkingly added, "I'm not used to going to bed so early."

Sam's eyebrows flew up. "Really? It must have been after two or maybe even three o'clock in the morning by the time you returned."

Mortimer was grimacing over his slip when she added, "Although I guess being in a band must be a wild life-style. You're probably all hyped up after a show, too wound up to sleep. You guys probably party until dawn when you're on tour."

Sam was looking troubled as she said that, probably comparing their very different lifestyles, he realized, and then acknowledged to himself that their lifestyles were very different. But no for the reasons she thought. He was constantly on the road, chasing after rogues or performing some other task for the Council, while she lived in Toronto and worked at the same place every day. He fed on the blood of mortals, and she was one of those mortals he fed on. In fact, if she'd ever donated blood, he might very well have ingested it at some point. That wasn't likely, but it wasn't impossible other.

"You must find it very boring up here," she commented suddenly, sounding worried.

"Boring?" Mortimer came to a startled halt and pulled her in front of him. Releasing her hand then, he clasped her face between his palms and assured her, "I haven't had a boring moment since meeting you."

Sam's mouth parted in pleased surprise at the words, and Mortimer immediately took advantage. He covered her mouth with his, his tongue immediately slipping out to move between her parted lips. Much to his satisfaction, she didn't resist, but breathed a little sigh of pleasure and slipped hands around his shoulders as he shifted his own arms around her waist to draw her closer.

Mortimer deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth until she moaned and tightened her arms eagerly around his neck. When she shifted, her pelvis rubbing against him, Mortimer couldn't resist letting his hands drop to her behind to clasp her there. He pulled her up tight against himself until he was holding all her negligible weight and her feet dangled just above the ground. He then eased slowly forward off the trail, aiming for the tree he knew was just a few feet behind her.

When he felt the bark of the tree brush against the backs of his hands, he shifted his hold and pinned her up against the tree with his lower body so that she had no doubt of his complete lack of boredom and his hands were free to explore.

Mortimer had done a good deal of exploring their first night here, and he was eager to strip her naked and look her over in daylight. He didn't want to rush and scare her off, however, so started by shifting his hands between their upper bodies to cover her breasts through her T-shirt.

Sam immediately groaned into his mouth and arched, pushing the tiny buds into his touch. When he concentrated on the nipples, tugging at them lightly through the cotton, she gasped and then began to suck almost frantically at his tongue, pulling on his hair at the same time. Mortimer chuckled, enjoying how responsive she was, and then slid one knee between both of hers and urged it upward until his upper thigh rubbed against her core through her shorts. That made her go a little crazy. He could feel it, her exploding desire flowing into him and exciting him as well.

Little mewls of pleasure were slipping from her mouth to is as she moved her hands down to clasp his ass and urge him on until the scent of her excitement permeated the air around them. Mortimer inhaled that scent and then broke their kiss and reached for the button of her shorts, asking in a growl, "Have you ever made love in the woods?"

Sam shook her head breathlessly.

"Do you want to?" he growled as the button slid free. She started to nod, but then paused, eyes widening, and shook her head frantically.

"No?" Mortimer asked with surprise, his hand freezing on her zipper.

"Bare," came her answer in a squeak.

"Yes, we'd both have to be bare," he said with a laugh. "Not bare naked," she gasped. "Bear bear. Furry bear. Bear!"

Mortimer turned to look where she was pointing. For one moment, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was a bear. The damned thing wasn't ten feet away. How the hell had it gotten so close without his hearing?

"Mortimer," Sam hissed, bringing his attention to the fact that he was just standing there, staring at the creature who-while much larger than a leech and much less slimy-was ruining yet another attempt to make love to Sam. Would he never have her?

"Hell," he muttered, and briefly considered doing something to scare the animal off. Something like punching it in the nose would be good, he thought viciously. Frustrated and mad as he was, Mortimer was sure he could take the bear. He was so pissed at that moment that he thought he could take a pair of them, but doing so would reveal more to Sam than he was ready for, and the moment was ruined anyway. She wasn't likely to want to continue out here in the woods whether this bear was gone or not. Another might come along, or the sky would open up and dump dead frogs on them, he thought dryly. He just wasn't having any luck at all with the outdoors.

"Mort-" Sam began, but he brought an end to this latest hiss by whirling back to face her. Catching her by the waist, he hefted her over his shoulder and then headed back the way they'd come at a dead run, hoping that Sam was too distracted by her worries of being bear brunch to notice that he was moving much faster than a mortal should.

"You... can't... out... run... bears," Sam managed to get out as she bounced along over his shoulder and Mortimer took a moment to hope that he wasn't doing her any damage jarring her repeatedly in the stomach like this, but then decided if she could talk, he probably wasn't hurting her.

"Do you see the bear?" he asked in response to her question.

There was a pause, and he felt her nails dig into his back as she tried to lever herself up to look back up the trail behind them.

"No," she admitted, managing to sound surprised despite her position.

"Good," Mortimer muttered, and wondered if he'd outrun the bear, or it just hadn't bothered to give chase. He suspected it was the latter. The bear hadn't looked terribly aggressive, just kind of hungry and maybe a little curious as it had ambled toward them. In truth, he didn't care either way how it had been left behind.

The damned animal had already done the damage and wrecked what had looked to be a very promising moment.

Sighing, he adjusted his pace, slowing to a jog, then a walk before stopping and easing Sam off his shoulder and back to her feet.

Eyeing her flushed face with worry, Mortimer steadied her as she swayed before him, and asked, "Are you all right?"

Sam clutched at his arms for balance as she oriented herself, but nodded. "Yes. Fine," she breathed, and then added wryly, "I'm alive and uneaten, at any rate."

Mortimer smiled at her quick recovery, but gave her another moment to regain herself before slowly urging her to start walking. They had taken several steps when a groan from her drew his attention. Glancing down, he noted her miserable expression. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she assured him, and then admitted, "But Mother Nature seems to hate me. Perhaps we should avoid doing this sort of thing out of doors from now on."

"Amen to that," Mortimer muttered, and then laughed at himself and the situation and pulled her into his side for a hug, before urging her to move again. They had walked another few feet before he teased huskily, "In that case, I'd really like to get back to the cottage."