The Big Bad Wolf Tells All

by Donna Kauffman

  “What, I’m Gunther Gable Williams now?”

  “Tanzy—”

  “No. You don’t get it. I don’t want to tame them. In fact, it’s precisely the untamable ones I do want. I’m not cut out for anything more complicated. It’s genetic.”

  “So you say, but Sloan told me—”

  “Don’t get me started on Sloan. You were on your honeymoon during that travesty of a dinner party, so you have no idea.”

  “She said Alec was a total alpha.”

  Tanzy sighed. “Alpha, no. Neanderthal, yes. Rina, you should have seen this guy. He had more body hair than King Kong.”

  “Again I’m forced to say, Eww.”

  “Gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘running my fingers through his hair.’ “

  Rina was laughing and gagging at the same time. “Okay, okay, I surrender.”

  “Thank you. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Don’t forget to talk to Sue about the baby shower.”

  Tanzy agreed, then clicked off and tossed her headset on the passenger seat. Thank God, she thought with a heartfelt sigh. No more Special Dinners. No more dinners, no more nooners. Of course, all this was a great relief, but it didn’t solve her dating dilemma.

  The bar circuit was simply not happening. Even in her twenties she’d never been one to troll for . . . well, other trolls. Which left the party circuit. The gang would still be hitting the seasonal social highlights, but it was different now. Instead of palling together to this charity event or that opening, they’d all be attending with their respective spouses. And she’d be arriving alone. How grossly pathetic. Mostly she loved being self-employed, but there were times when coworkers—namely single male coworkers—would have come in handy.

  Someone pulled out right in front of her, but rather than swear and make rude hand gestures, Tanzy neatly dovetailed her little sports car onto Maiden Lane and into a newly vacated spot, smiled smugly, and strolled guiltlessly into the nearest store. Even the most dedicated shopper had to bolster her holiday buying stamina with a little self-gratification.

  And if her only other gratification was going to be the kind that came with double A batteries, she certainly deserved a kick-ass Prada bag in the meantime, didn’t she?

  Riley groaned and circled Union Square. Damn, but what in the hell did she need to go shopping for? He’d already scoped out her closet—in the name of surveillance, of course—and for someone who was just visiting, she had a stunning number of designer clothes, all arranged in amazingly neat rows in the ample walk-in closet.

  He did have to admit that his football jersey fantasy had taken a slightly twisted turn when he’d spied those ice-pick red heels tossed carelessly in the corner. Hey, it could work. And frankly, who cared if it didn’t?

  His cell phone buzzed just as he turned off on Maiden Lane and double-parked. He scooped it up, thankful for the distraction despite the phone number he spied on the display. “Hey, Pop. How’s it going?”

  “I got another two days on this detail in Santa Rosa. Mr. Shackelford wants me to stick with this a little longer.”

  “I thought you’d pretty much proved Mrs. Shackelford was on the straight and narrow.”

  He could picture the deep lines that bracketed his father’s mouth sinking even deeper as he grinned. “They’re paying, I’m staying.”

  Riley frowned. “They?”

  His father cleared his throat and Riley’s frown deepened.

  “So, how goes it with the rich and famous?” Finn asked, before Riley could jump in with questions of his own.

  “I can name every shoe store, crystal emporium, and lingerie department in San Francisco, but otherwise, fine.”

  “No action from Ernie on the perv?”

  “We’re pretty sure the guy works for the service provider the emails are being sent through, but tailing him beyond that is going to be almost impossible. One break is that it’s a local outfit, so I’m hoping to get over there as soon as Ms. Harrington is otherwise occupied.”

  Finn chuckled. “According to her column, that shouldn’t be a long wait.”

  It made no sense whatsoever, since Riley had just been thinking the same thing, but the comment jerked his chain. “She’s not like that.” When Finn snorted in disbelief, Riley added, “From what I’ve read about her, she’s a lot of bark, but from what I’ve seen, she’s not as much in the bite department.”

  “She’s doing Santa. That’s bite.” He laughed again.

  “Dad, really—”

  “I’d love that detail you’re on. Some of my best jobs involved—”

  “Yes, I know. We really don’t want to have that conversation.” Again, Riley added silently.

  “Fine,” Finn said, in a tone that indicated it was anything but. “Have it your way. But you’re missing out on some of the best perks of the job.”

  Riley bit back his retort. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. “Trust me, I’m getting mine. I’m sleeping in feather down your dear ma would have cried for, and eating food fit for a professional wrestler.”

  “That’s my boy. You still thinking you’ll wrap this up by Christmas?”

  “I hope so. I’ve got to phone in a report to Ms. Harrington Senior this evening.”

  “Fine, fine. You’ve got my number here if you need anything.”

  There was the sound of a woman’s deep, throaty laugh in the background, then a rustling sound. Riley sighed.

  “Listen,” his dad said, suddenly in a hurry, “I’ve got to, you know, go take care of things.”

  “Please God, just tell me what you’re taking care of isn’t named Patsy Shackelford.”

  “Why, Riley James Parrish, I—”

  “You’re doing what you always do.” When his father said nothing, Riley sighed again. More in weary resignation than any real disgust. “Just make sure you don’t get into trouble.” Finn started to splutter, but Riley talked over him. “I’m not jeopardizing this job—this well-paying job—by having to come and bail your ass out of jail. Or worse, the hospital.” He clicked off before Finn could reply. Not that it would have mattered.

  Riley scrubbed his face and sucked down the last of his cold coffee. Just when had he become the parent? Actually, he knew when, and the day had been long enough without reminiscing over that bit of painful history.

  Tanzy saved him by popping out of the store just then.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, spying not one, but three shopping bags dangling from her fingers. Good thing Millicent provided her only grandniece with a bottomless pit where money was concerned. All he cared about at the moment, however, was that she’d made as much of a dent in it today as she planned to.

  He blessed the fates, the gods, and anyone else who might be listening, when she turned her little deathtrap of a roadster toward Presidio Heights. Now all he had to do was keep up with her and beat her home.

  And he thought beating a three-on-one defense had been tricky.

  Is it fear of gift giving that drives wolves into seclusion over the holidays? The inability to find that special gift that says, “I just want to have fun without worrying you’ll start looking at minivans.” Well, I’m going to do you wolves a favor.

  All we want is to not be alone over the holidays. Not because we think being alone reflects poorly on our self-worth. But because the only thing worse than Special Dinners are Special Holiday Occasions.

  If you really feel the need to give, an expensive bottle of champagne with dinner would be fine. Or a ski weekend at Taos for those who like the Grand (but commitment-free) Gesture. That will give you a place to wear that tasteful, yet totally nonintimate thick fleece pullover we’ll be buying for you.

  Chapter 5

  Good evening, dear.”

  Tanzy transferred the cell phone to her other ear as she juggled the handles of her shopping bags. The second major spree in the past week. Christmas shopping was hell, but someone had to do it. “Hi, Aunt Millicent,” she said, bumping her hip against Big Harr
y’s front door. “How is Frances?”

  Riley appeared as she stumbled into the foyer, just as he had after the last foray. She smiled and mouthed “Thanks” as he helped unload the packages from her arms. Such a well-trained sheep. Leave it to Aunt Millicent. She wondered absently if he would do the actual shopping for her as well. Now, that was a worthy sheep perk.

  “Not too well, dear,” Millicent was saying. “That’s why I’m calling.”

  Tanzy sank to the lower step of the grand staircase. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Really sorry. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is. Before leaving, I was able to cancel all my engagements but one. I had arranged for Walter Sinclair to take my place and make the presentation, but—”

  “Presentation?” Tanzy glanced over to see Riley lining her packages up inside the tiny elevator tucked behind the staircase. He gave her a questioning look, but she just nodded and waved him on. “What presentation?”

  “My annual scholarships at the Crystal Charity Ball.” She sighed. “I do so dislike using that term, charity. Those children have had enough misfortune without being tagged as a charity.”

  Tanzy merely nodded as Millicent continued to wax rhapsodic about tapping into the energies of youth. It was truly wonderful what her great-aunt did for San Francisco’s underprivileged, but she’d heard this speech many times. It was Millicent’s version of the “I walked five miles uphill in the snow to school” speech that all elders felt genetically compelled to pass down.

  Tanzy wondered absently what her speech would be. Or if there would ever be anyone to give it to. For some reason her gaze drifted to Riley as she forced her thoughts in a different direction. Namely coming up with substitutions for good old Walter Sinclair, who was cofounder of one of Millicent’s many foundations. Because she knew where this was headed.

  “I’m certain your calendar has been booked for months, but this is vitally important and I’d appreciate it if you’d clear your slate for this event.”

  Tanzy felt the tiniest flush darken her skin. In fact, she’d turned down several major seasonal events in the last week. She simply wasn’t up to facing the whirl with her arm unadorned by a man. Not that she couldn’t handle going solo. Under normal circumstances. But her conversation with Rina regarding Special Dinners last week hadn’t done a lick of good. They’d merely moved on to Special Holiday Occasions and ambushed her there. And with her social circle all but dancing the Rite of Spring around her, the last thing she wanted was to broadcast in any way that she needed pairing up.

  Usually in cases like this, she called on Carmine. He of the dashing manners and the tailor-made tux. Carmine was hands down the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. He was also gay and deeply incloseto. But the Rite of Spring had apparently sprung him, too. The last she’d heard, his latest lover, Brice, was looking pretty serious. Tanzy privately bet Brice would have Carmine dancing out of the closet by Valentine’s Day if not before.

  Which left her with no backup. She’d meant to get around to that, but she wasn’t up for faux fun with unavailable men this year anyway. Again her gaze strayed to Riley.

  “I’ll fax you the words I’d prepared for Walter. Of course, feel free to edit and revise, dear. You’re the professional, and I’m sure you can say what I mean better than I can.”

  Tanzy opened her mouth to suggest any of three or four other perfectly suitable candidates, but what she said was, “I’d be honored to, Aunt Millicent.” She smacked her forehead repeatedly with her palm.

  “If you have no special suitor or beau, I’m certain Riley would be happy to escort you.”

  Tanzy clutched the phone a little tighter and tried to get as tight a grip on her control. Had it really come to this? Now even her eighty-two-year-old aunt was setting her up. A fate she’d thought she was eternally, blessedly immune to, considering Millicent’s matchmaking history.

  Millicent had never forgiven herself for being the one to pressure Penelope into dating Frank deLange, who came from the Right Family and had Good Prospects. Unlike the rough crowd that Penelope tended to run with under Millicent’s brother’s supervision.

  Millicent’s attempt at dragging Tanzy’s mother into the realm of respectability had instead ended with Penelope knocked up and alone, while Frank flitted off to Europe to finish his education, only to wind up married to some French heiress instead.

  Tanzy had met Frank, whom Penelope had always referred to as “the sperm donor,” once. Which had been enough. It was one of the few times she’d agreed with her mother.

  “I’ll work something out,” she assured Millicent. “Just send me your speech and the foundation contact and I’ll set everything up. When is it?”

  “This Sunday, dear.”

  Tanzy gaped at the phone. That was three days away.

  “I’m sending Clarisse over with some dresses for you to look at. Consider it my holiday gift to you.”

  Tanzy gritted her teeth and said, “You’re so thoughtful, but honestly, you don’t have to do that.” Please, dear God.

  “Which is precisely why I am. Don’t sound so horrified. I’m not sending over old-lady fuddy-duddy clothes. Clarisse is quite avant-garde. And we both know a woman can’t have too many lovely things, so accept the gift gracefully, dear, and have a wonderful time. Oh, and she’s been instructed to bring along a few things for Riley as well.”

  “Really, Aunt Millicent, that’s not necessary. Besides, I hardly know him—”

  “Well, that didn’t seem to be a deterrent with Santa Claus, now, did it, dear?”

  Millicent rang off, leaving Tanzy openmouthed and speechless. Would she forever be punished for that one indiscretion?

  “I trust everything is going well with Madame Harrington?”

  Tanzy snapped her mouth shut and stuck her phone back into her purse. “Oh, she’s in fine form, all right.” She stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her suede slacks. “Woman will likely outlive us all. God help us.”

  Riley raised his eyebrows behind his Coke-bottle lenses and nodded sagely. “I sent your bags up for you. Have you eaten?”

  “Thanks, and no, I didn’t. But I’ve got to answer some interview questions for an online thing and return some calls.” Martin had beeped her three times today while she’d been out. Very un-Marty-like. She shook her head and said, “My editor has apparently decided to adopt me now that he’s sent his youngest off to college.” Riley didn’t respond to that conversational gambit, so she sighed and said, “I think I’m just going to heat up one of Helen’s dishes and take it upstairs with me if you don’t mind.” All of which was true. But it wouldn’t have killed her to sit in the kitchen with him for one meal. She still hadn’t done that, despite her excuses to Rina last week.

  She wasn’t exactly certain why. He seemed nice enough. Maybe it was because, while they were cohabitating fine, doing so from a distance seemed easier on both of them. At least that’s what she was telling herself anyway.

  “I hope that doesn’t ruin anything you might have planned,” she added, although she doubted it. He didn’t seem too choked up about it. But then, how could she tell? He had one expression. Shuttered.

  “No, not at all,” he said smoothly, reinforcing her opinion. “I’ll be in my rooms if you need me.”

  She was tempted, for just a brief moment, to ask him exactly what sort of needs he’d be willing to assuage. He was so uptight, the urge to tease him was almost overwhelming. Play nice, Tanz. She just wanted to see if she could make him blink. But she didn’t think he’d appreciate the humor in it. A more dry, self-controlled individual she’d never met.

  “Are you in for the evening, then?” When she looked surprised by the question, he added, “If so, I’ll go ahead and secure the house now.”

  She wanted to ask him what century he was from, but she was forced to admit that with all the hectic shopping and generally crazed holiday atmosphere out there, his calm, if dated, demeanor, inside a house tha
t had the same eccentric blend of old and new that he did, was somehow oddly reassuring.

  “Actually, I’m expecting a guest a little later. Millicent is sending over a designer with some dresses I’m supposed to look at. I can handle it, though, so don’t worry about anything. I’ll lock up the fort when she’s gone.”

  Riley held her gaze for a fraction of a second longer than was entirely necessary and Tanzy felt a surprising little spike of tension. Which made no sense whatsoever. Probably it was a trick of the light on those thick lenses of his.

  “Fine, then,” he said, his tone as even as always. “I’ll leave you to your business. Have a pleasant evening.”

  Tanzy watched him disappear down the hall toward the kitchens and shook her head. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about Riley niggled at her. She was almost tempted to follow him, nudge him a bit, see if she could push him, just to loosen him up a little, that was all, nothing more. Certainly nothing sexual. Just . . . because. Then she remembered that limp handshake, which led to images of what else would likely be limp. And she lost interest. Okay, so maybe the urge to provoke had been a teensy bit sexual. Apparently she was having Santa setbacks. It was that voice of his that prodded her, that was all.

  She did smile a bit wickedly as she started up the stairs, unable to keep from wondering what it would be like to press his personal keypad number later and see if she could engage him in some hot phone sex.

  “Yeah, so he could ‘bid me to come’ or something equally ridiculous,” she murmured, then shook off the odd direction her thoughts seemed to take around him of late. She only had an hour or so before Clarisse showed up, which gave her an hour to get her work done and find herself a stand-in date for the ball.

  Riley downed the rest of his beer in one long pull. He considered having another. Hell, he considered downing the entire six, but he closed the door to the monster fridge and leaned back against it. Tanzy Harrington was a piece of work. And then some. He’d run himself ragged tailing her all over town. Who knew buying Christmas presents could be a full-contact sport?