She gripped the cold, wet bottle and did her best not to shatter the glass in her hand. Studying him, she tried to steady her breathing and suppress her annoyance that he no longer looked at her, that he had clamped down hard on the desire flaring between them, snuffing it out like a flame between his fingers.

Leaning his elbows back on the bar, he took another long swig of beer. Casual. Calm. She watched, mesmerized by the play of muscles in his throat. God, he was… incredible.

Tearing her gaze away, she tried to shake off this damned attraction for him. In a very short time, she’d either be dead or wimpy again. In either case, Gideon didn’t fit in to the equation, so there was no sense getting worked up over him.

The Eagles crooned “Take It Easy” in the background, mocking her tension. Taking a delicate sip of beer, she wet her lips and asked, “What are we looking for?”

The small sip of the Texas-brewed Shiner rolled down her throat in a bitter trail. She tried to hide her wince, wanting to appear tough, the kind of woman who hung with the guys and tossed back a few bottles. The kind of woman he might like.

He scanned the smoky bar steadily filling to capacity. Attention trained on the room, he pointed his bottle at a distant table. “Look, I’m going to sit over there—you sit there.”

She looked at the two tables he indicated—so very far apart. Her stomach clenched.

“Why?” she asked, alarmed.

“They’re more likely to approach if you’re alone.”

“How do you know they’ll even approach me?” She forced a sip of beer into her suddenly dry mouth, surprised to find that it didn’t taste so bad anymore.

He looked down at his boots. The action was almost guilty—if she could ever apply such an improbable emotion to him, which she couldn’t. There was nothing the least repentant about him.

“They will,” he answered, still avoiding her eyes.

Claire studied him as he rubbed the back of his neck beneath his hair. She got the feeling he hadn’t told her everything.

What was he hiding? And what made him so certain they would approach her?

Shaking her head, she asked, “Why would they waste their time if I’m not in their pack?”

“They will. Trust me.”

She eyed him uncertainly, but accepted his answer. She had wasted too much time already refusing to believe him.

Another question burned on her mind. “How do I know whether someone’s like me?”

“Their eyes will be the first giveaway, unless disguised, but even then you should sense them.”