An Alpha's Heart

by Sara Allen

  He stood out in such a way that I couldn’t tear my eyes from him. Towering over everyone else in their select little band, including the enigmatic man still wearing shades, who walked a few paces in front of him. Although he was covered in tattoos from his thick neck to his large hands, he had a vibe about him that made you wonder where else those tattoos were sketched. I knew from experience that someone as heavily inked as he was, usually wore them everywhere and had a story behind them too. But the tats weren’t all that drew my eyes. His face was set in a frigid frown, looking neither left nor right. He walked with his eyes straight ahead aimed in the direction he was going. I got the impression that nothing missed those uncovered hawk eyes of his.

  As they walked past my position at the bar, I couldn’t help leaning out and inhaling a whiff of his cologne. My eyes closed appreciatively and my mouth filled with longing. I wanted to plant my nose in the crease of his neck and pull all that goodness deep into my lungs and savor that delight for the next few days.

  I’d always felt there was something dangerous about a man who was too handsome, as though there was a flaw there somewhere that his beauty hid. And that had to be the case with this guy, whoever he was. He emanated a dangerous aura, holding it like a shield around himself that made me think it was to keep people at arm’s length.

  Close-cropped hair graced the back and sides of his head, in a low fade that stopped just below the crown where he sported thick, black hair in a loose top-knot. Hooped earrings hung from his earlobes and the lip-hugging clasp that sat at the corner of his mouth told me too much about his attitude to society, but barely enough about the man. I knew men’s attitudes to wearing jewelry had changed, but he made a statement with the choice of the thick, silver adornments. He also sported a thick ring in his left nostril and low-cut facial hair that made my mouth water just looking at him.

  He was without doubt every woman’s wet dream with those expressive lips and searching, all-seeing eyes. However, you could tell he ignored the ones who tried too hard and didn’t see the ones who dared not try hard enough.

  “Don’t worry, darling.” The bartender didn’t quite laugh at me, but he had trouble keeping the grin off his face. “You ain’t the first to have that reaction to him.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” I evaded.

  “Sure.” He sniffed as though he hadn’t heard me. “And pigs might fly.”

  I threw him an annoyed look. “I was just looking. Jeez.”

  “Listen, I've seen women drop at his feet, stare up at him with adoring eyes, while he walked right over them and continued on his way.” He snorted and rubbed a spot on the bar.

  “That may well be.” I gave him my full attention. “But I can tell with just one look what he is.”

  “You still want a taste, though, don’t ya?”

  This motherfucker was goading me!

  My gaze shifted back to the object of our conversation and I had to admit, even to myself, that I wouldn’t mind. Not one little bit. There was a rigid immobility in his shoulders that told me he wasn’t to be trifled with, not by the likes of me. I was far too innocent in his eyes to play games with the open flame that he represented.

  I watched his silk shirt shift as it hugged his thick arms and ripple across his back as his muscles eased and settled underneath. He was a ball of contained energy that looked as though it would burst out at the slightest provocation. And even though he had his back to me, I got the feeling he was listening in, hearing everything I had to say about him and more.

  “So, what if I do?” I challenged. “I’m smart enough to know when I’m out of my league.”

  “I hope you remember that the next time you look in his face.” The bartender’s eyes flicked to the side. “Someone is coming to get you.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re here for a meeting, right?”

  “Y-yes…” I stammered.

  “Then you’ll have to meet the boss sooner or later, right?”

  I nodded, completely flustered.

  “Hey, chill, sweetheart.” He rested a hand over my own shaking one and squeezed. “I’m Danny, by the way. Come see me when you’re finished.” He gave me a cheerful smile and walked away.

  I heard a cough beside me and turned, startled. “Miss Rowanne Wilson?”

  “Th… that’s me.” What was wrong with me? I breathed out slowly and tried again. “Yes, I’m Miss Wilson.”

  “Mr. Sherwin is ready for you now.” He held out a hand. “Please come this way.”

  I jumped down off the stool and followed where I was led. It wasn’t a big establishment, but the rear seating area was slightly raised from the main floor and had a secluded feel to it that made my mind whirl at the possibilities of the design Sherwin would ask for. A short flight of stairs led to where Sherwin was seated, and I waited for their boss to finish his call. He turned, phone still pressed against his ear, and threw me a hundred-watt smile that would have stunned any other woman.

  Returning a tight smile that didn’t show my teeth, I held out my hand. “I’m Rowanne Wilson. Mr. Andrew Sherwin?”

  He laughed. “Relax, honey. I don’t bite.” His brows bobbed, and I had to hold myself firmly so as not to roll my eyes.

  “I’m sorry, but my boss said you needed a consultation urgently, so here I am.” I really didn’t have time for this. Plus, the giant stared at me with narrow eyes until I became flustered.

  The smile slipped from Andrew’s face slightly, but he made a good recovery. “Fine. Can I get you a drink?”

  “No, thank you,” I replied. “I had a spritzer while I was waiting at the bar. But please don’t avoid it on my account.”

  Andrew shook his head. “I asked your boss for the best architect he has, and they send me you?”

  “I’m sorry.” My hand found my hip, an unconscious reaction that had gotten me in trouble too many times. “I wasn’t aware you needed to see my credentials. If my boss sent me that’s what you asked for.” I bit my lip in annoyance at his sly grin. “But I see you don’t need me. So, have a nice evening.” Turning, I headed for the few steps that would take me back to the bar.

  “Okay, Miss Wilson, hold up.” Andrew laughed. “You’re a touchy, little thing. Pretty, but all on edge.”

  I sighed. “My abilities aren’t measured or lessened by how I look, Mr. Sherwin.”

  “Okay, okay, I get that.” He raised his hands, placating. “Please take a seat and let’s see what you have for me.”

  That my head shook wasn’t my fault. It was a natural reaction to people who underestimated me. I weighed whether I could get away with blowing him off or have to suffer listening to my annoying boss chew me out the next day. I opted for compliance and took a seat.

  “So, what have you got for me, Miss Wilson?” Andrew asked.

  “I thought my boss spoke to you.” I looked at him with a sigh. “I don’t work like that.”

  “Oh…” He looked taken aback. “So, how do you work?”

  “Tell me what you have in mind,” I told him. “How would you like the space to work for you? What would you like included? Are there are any features you can’t do without? I need you to tell me about things.”

  He appeared stumped as though he was used to having people give him their best and he’d throw everything out the window and tell them to try harder. I’d learned the futility of allowing someone to dismiss my labor. The need to see what he had in his mind and where he hoped to go with this build was a necessary part of the process.

  As an award-winning architect, my job was to bring the client’s vision to life, not give them what they thought they wanted. There was always a part the client had to play and that started from day one. Before I ever put pencil to paper and created a design concept, I wanted to know how far their imagination could stretch. Then I’d stretch it more.

  “I want a house built,” he said, seeming a little unsure.

  “I know that, but what kind of house?” I nudged him to explain.
“What’s it for?”

  “To live in, of course,” he snapped.

  I wasn’t discouraged. “Who’s going to be living there?”

  He looked at me as though I was stupid and pursed his thin lips. “Are you sure you’re an architect and not some kind of idiot?”

  Scratching my forehead, I bit down on the annoyance. “Mr. Sherwin, I could give you a hundred pre-drawn plans and none of them would be exactly what you want, which would be a waste of your time and mine,” I explained. “But if you can give me a few ideas of what you see when you talk about building this house, I can work with that and create something that may fit your dream.”

  He considered what I’d said, his vision shifting as though he was looking at a sight no one else could see. and a slow smile crossed his lips. I reached for my notebook and waited, pencil poised.

  2

  Him

  My gaze landed on the full-figured beauty and moved on, dismissing her. She wasn’t my type at all. For me, women had distinctive formulas that fit them into a category from the start. This honey was a class three, the type that would be a pleasant pastime, but could never be anything more serious. I’d assessed her as a class four when I first spotted her, an avoid-at-all-costs type, but my impression was slowly shifting to a three. And I knew from past experience those that changed mid-stream were the most dangerous.

  It meant I didn’t have a solid handle on her at all and anything could happen. She was too intellectual, too self-assured, and put together like an artist’s masterpiece. Here was a woman who’d see right through me the minute her eyes took a cold, hard, look. For some reason, this annoyed the hell out of me. So, I played it cool and ignored her and made it seem as though she hadn’t caught my eye at all. That was until I realized she was the architect Andrew had asked to see. What the fuck was I gonna do now?

  I’d seen her as we entered, sitting on that high stool like a queen on her throne. And she’d pulled it off too until she’d leaned over as I walked past. That little move of her’s was just too much. Even the inhalation and smile across her face was so blatant that I smiled inside and kept my gaze straight ahead. She wasn’t the first to try that stunt and probably wouldn’t be the last, but I had to give her points for holding down her interest. At least she didn’t fall right out of her seat like the last chick who’d tried it.

  Trying not to be too obvious about getting a better look, I eased backwards into the shadows. Her short, cropped hair and oval face grabbed me, holding my interest from the moment I’d seen her. The short, cropped hair and round, cherubic features threw me off. She looked like a little boy with her mix of masculine and feminine attire, that was appealing on a deeply sensual level.

  The baggy denim shirt, that looked like she’d borrowed it from her brother, was tied at the waist. She’d rolled the sleeves almost to the elbows and her wrists sparkled with bangles and charm bracelets. The black, ankle-length, figure-hugging skirt caressed her hips and thighs, and her heels moved her delightful ass from side to side which had too many men turning to give it a second glance.

  Yeah, she was put together just right with a certain amount of meat on her bones too, which was something these skinny-ass girls didn’t seem to appreciate at all. In my opinion, there was supposed to be cushioning on a woman. After all, no one wanted to hold on to a bone.

  My eyes didn’t stray from the cozy little huddle as Danny held her in conversation while I wished I was a fly on the wall. With a flick of her eyes I knew it was about me, and my interest piqued. If I had the time or the inclination, I’d tell her everything she wanted to know and then some. That was until Andrew sent one of the boys to go fetch her and then all I could think about was avoiding her at all costs. This woman was going to cost me too much if I ever thought of getting involved with her.

  Looking back, I knew I should have stuck to my guns. But I was never one to listen to my own good advice, especially those times when it really mattered, and this turned out to be one of those times.

  She wasted no time in calling Andrew out on his idea for the house he wanted and forced him to think about it in real terms of what he actually wanted, which in the history of Drew Sherwin, was a first. The architect reeled him in on a fishing line, pulling on his senses until his mind shifted and the ideas began to flow. As quick as you please, she was jotting it all down, pushing a little here and there to get a clearer idea as well as nudge Drew’s focus.

  I'd ignored them for the most part until she leaned forward to show Drew an idea she’d scribbled and her shirt eased open to reveal the edge of a lacy, black bra against soft-looking caramel skin. My instincts instantly flared and my dick rose up in a salute. I had to shift my stance slightly so as not to bring attention to myself, acting like a teen with a porn magazine. Yet those warm eyes turned and regarded me with a concerned twist of her head. Biting down on my lip hard so I didn’t smile to reassure her I was okay, left me tasting the tang of blood in my mouth. A quick swig of the drink I hadn’t wanted washed away my concentration, sweeping me up in a dream where warm caramel thighs gripped my waist, and ruby red lips caressed my neck.

  “I’d like to get a look at the space you want to build on.”

  The words registered in my hearing, but made no sense.

  “Sure, I think I can get one of the boys to take you up there,” Drew answered.

  “Would it be possible to go tomorrow?”

  There, that warm voice carried me away again, instead of paying attention like I should have been. If I’d been mindful of what was going on, I wouldn’t have gotten myself thrown in at the deep end.

  “I think Ash can take you,” Drew said with a smile on his face, “can’t you, Ash?”

  “Huh…” I actually stammered like a fucking rookie fresh off his mama’s tit. As though I’d never held a decent conversation in my life. I, with all this long-ass height and fuck-no attitude, couldn’t keep my mind on straight.

  Andrew’s grin was far too smug. “Right, that’s settled then.” He reached for his glass. “Ash will take you to see the site tomorrow.”

  “Drew, darling, who’s this?” The voice threw my mind back into clarity.

  Sam, Drew’s fiancée, a woman who had no idea how to keep her jealousy in check and allowed it to hang out on show like the desperado that she was. It didn’t matter that she had good reason. She’d managed to hog-tie the motherfucker into submission, so she clearly wasn’t without skills. However, it wasn’t Sam who made me want to run out of there. It was her bestie, that red-headed vixen and ultimate pain in the ass, Kelley. Damn fool me, had made the mistake of thinking she wouldn’t try to cling. But like all the bad decisions I’d made in my life, boy was I mistaken. Kelley looked at me as the plus to her minus, the hooks to her Velcro-covered ass, and she was sadly barking at the wrong mailman.

  “Ah, Sammy, this is the woman who's going to be designing and building our dream home.” Drew waved a hand in the architect’s direction. “Why don’t you say hello?”

  “If I must, honey,” Sam oozed. Walking over, she held out her hand and gently touched the architect’s.

  “Oh, if the house is your dream,” the architect responded, “would you mind telling me what you can’t live without in your home,”

  “Sorry?” Sam said. “I don’t understand you.”

  “It’s Rowanne,” the architect said with a disarming smile. “And as you’ll be living there, it’s only right that you have a say in what goes into it, right?”

  The architect had a beautiful smile that had me holding my breath so I didn’t blink and miss anything. Until Red walked in and eyed the group with her cynical-ass attitude.

  “Well, this is cozy,” Kelley said with a tight voice.

  “Oh, look, Kells,” Sam said, clearly on a buzz. “She’s gonna build my dream home. How cool is that?”

  The smile on Kelley’s face was too fake and I wondered how I was the only person to see through her veil.

  The bitch spied me looking at her and
gave me a wink, sidling over like the plague and settling her half-dressed butt beside me.

  “How you doing, Ash, sweetheart?”

  I didn’t buy into her act, not one bit. She was so obvious with her maneuvering that it was tragic and damn annoying. Giving her a thorough once over from her mustard-colored shorts suit to her red-soled heels, I had to admit that the outfit was appealing. But that’s all it was—an outfit. Looking like they’d both walked straight off of a catwalk, she matched Sam’s longer trouser suit perfectly. They reminded me of two women who were so close they barely knew how to think for themselves.

  Sam’s animated conversation in the background was loud enough to hide my remarks.

  “Still the lackey, I see.” My eyes turned away, looking out at the other patrons in the bar. Giving Kelley too much attention would make her think she’d cracked my armor, and that one time was a calculated misjudgment that was backfiring to this day.

  “Still the go-fetch, errand boy, I see,” Kelley replied with a sneer.

  “It pays the bills.” I shrugged my shoulders. “But at least I ain’t eating out of an open hand.”

  I saw the sting of my words in her pinched lips and flared nostrils, but I didn’t give two fucks. Her eyes narrowed and her teeth clung to her bottom lip like a vice.

  Pushing a hand through the mass of fire-red curls, she turned on me with a smile. “Go fuck yourself, Ash,” she snarled quietly. “As we both know you only love one person, so that should be a pleasure for you.”

  “Why thank you, bitch. I think I will.” I gave her a two-fingered salute and walked out of the private area, heading towards the bar. I knew I was being a jerk, but she brought the worst out of me. Inhaling a few calming breaths before my feet stopped at the place the architect had been seated earlier, I spotted the glass of wine she’d been sipping still on the bar.