Four

The wind whipped Jacob's shout of frustration into nothing as pulled onto the exit ramp. He' d decided that today was the day to make direct contact; enough road tag, but the touseled honey- blonde was not complying with his timetable.  It was driving him nuts. He was ravenous. Didn't she ever eat? Since the day he found her after many years of looking for his mate, he sworn never to live her.

He park his bike and stalked into restaurant, grumbling as he yanked off the helmet. He was restless and jazzed, and that taunting kiss she' d blown him from the pickup had given him a raging hard-on. Something about the way that luscious pink mouth puckered up just got to him. She seemed to like yanking his chain.

He ordered steak, salad and a baked potato, and pulled the crumpled Kentucky road map out of his pocket to gauge how far out of his way he 'd gone in his wild pursuit. Not that he 'd really had any destination to begin with. He kept his vacation plans deliberately to find his mate after serious discussion with his friend, since he was only one without mate because of his company and many contracts he was handling, he never had chance for himself , figuring that it would do him good to practice spontaneity. Well he was practising it now, with vengeance. It had started at a restaurant off 1-95, right after Philadelphia. The sight of her walking out of the ladie's room had hit him like a fist. He found himself staring helplessly at the fit of her jeans, deliciously snug over her round, lush rear. And those cute little nipples, poking out of the tight T-shirt, bouncing and quivering as she moved.

She hadn't seen him. In fact she'd noticed barely anything. She'd walked like a woman in a dream. She looked tired. Her heavy waves of honey-blonde hair covered side of her pale face, her gray eyes haunted and vulnerable. Like she needed someone to cheer her up, make her laugh. Chase those shadows away from her eyes. He'd left his uneaten food on the table and followed her like a man under a spell. She hadn't even noticed him until Charlottesville, Virginia. That had been his first victory. He knew where she hiked, where she camped, where she stopped to pee, where she got gas. He hadn't approached her yet, sensing that the moment wasn't right, but no one else had gotten close to her without him knowing about it, and he was cheerfully prepared to tear any guy who bothered her to pieces. He couldn't really blame her for not stopping. But it still drove him nuts. He was just following his instincts, like he always had. Following his instincts was what had made him a successful man. His instincts had served him both in his pack and company dutifully whenever he'd called upon them. He wasn't used to thrashing helplessly in their grip.