The Werewolf Wears Prada (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack)

by Kristin Miller

He put on a front, as if nothing bothered him, but every now and again he’d say something that made Melina think otherwise. In the elevator, he’d started to open up. He’d started to talk about stepping into his father’s role and how it was easier said than done.

  There was depth to him, she realized. And his bachelor pad spoke volumes to that.

  After brushing her hands over the piano—it was glossy and clean, as if he rarely played it—and sifting through his stash of alcohol—scotch and vodka, mostly—Melina studied the paintings on the walls. A few frames down, she lost herself in the unexpected blend of colors and brush strokes. She didn’t know art very well, but she knew the collection was contemporary and very expensive.

  One piece of art in particular caught her eye, stirring something in her chest.

  She stopped, and felt compelled to step closer.

  The painting depicted a gigantic gray wolf, standing in the middle of a dark forest. Its coat was full and fluffy with tinges of black streaking through it. Its snout was thick and formidable, and its lips were curled in anger. The ridge on its back was arched, as though ready to attack, but the gleam in its eye was soft. Pleading, even.

  Everything about the wolf was menacing—one she wouldn’t want to come across in the forest—though Melina got the bizarre feeling that the wolf was only dangerous if it was protecting its own.

  How she knew that, she couldn’t explain. She just did.

  Her stomach tumbled as she reached out and brushed her hand over the wolf’s coat. Ridges of the dried oil on the canvas scraped against her fingers. Disappointment, followed quickly by embarrassment, speared through her when she realized it was a painting and nothing more.

  Ridiculous.

  She felt dizzy. Had she been holding her breath? Instead of moving on to another picture, she sat on the ground and got comfortable, crossing her legs. If she fainted, she’d be closer to the floor, too.

  She stared at the painting, at the wolf. Her heartbeat hammered against her ribs. He seemed to be looking back at her, though that was a stupid thought, wasn’t it? He gave off an air of dominance, firm and unyielding, but still, she ached to feel the softness of his fur.

  It was magnificent.

  “What are you doing on the floor?” a deep voice said from beside her.

  Hayden.

  “Admiring the painting.” Jumping to her feet, Melina dusted off her backside and then pointed at the picture. “Who’s the artist?”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Because she wanted to do a Google search for him and ask if he had any other paintings of the animal for purchase. She probably wouldn’t be able to afford it, though. Unless she gave up her monthly shoe allowance. Shrugging, Melina tried to play it cool. “I like this one. It’s not like the others you have up. He’s…cute and cuddly.”

  “Cute and…cuddly?”

  She nodded and clamped her mouth shut, though she wanted to say so much more.

  “I think cold and reckless might be more fitting,” he bit out.

  “What are you talking about?” She glanced back at the wolf. He wasn’t cold at all. She could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. And when had the wolf become a “he” rather than an “it?” “That wolf is not cold. He’s majestic and regal. You can tell he’s the leader of the pack.”

  Hayden grumbled beside her, though she couldn’t take her gaze off the painting.

  “I bet he’d lead effortlessly,” she added. “The other wolves would fall in line and bow down.”

  “Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

  Hayden left her side, and stormed into his office. The sound of drawers slamming closed caught her attention. She followed him, and stopped in the doorway when he jerked open a drawer so hard, it fell to the floor.

  “The council is so full of shit,” he mumbled.

  What council was he talking about? And what did they have to do with the painting?

  “My father painted the wolf, a really long time ago.” He dumped the contents of the drawer into a backpack leaning against the side of his desk. Then with a heavy sigh, he planted his hands on the desk and lifted his eyes to hers. “Things have changed—everything has changed since then.”

  “Your father painted that? Really? He was very talented. I had no idea.” She longed to touch it again. “Was it painted from life, do you think?”

  “Could you not show so much interest in the damned wolf? It’s not a good idea to ask so many questions, and it’s not making this”—he gestured between them—“any easier.”

  Was he talking about the article?

  He slung the backpack over his shoulder and charged past her toward the elevators. He moved like a force to be reckoned with, his hands clenched into fists, his boots thundering against the hardwood.

  He was strung tight, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with fury. Why had he gestured between them? Was it really the article that had him so upset? Was it the meeting he’d just had? A knot in Melina’s stomach warned it might’ve been about something more.

  “Hayden?” Nervous energy shot through her veins. “Make what any easier?’

  He dropped his bag, and turned back. And then he came at her with the same strength in his stride. She didn’t feel fear—far from it. She felt stalked, in the sexiest way. He exuded sexuality and control, a dizzying combination. She shuffled back, resting against the doorframe. He stood in the doorway across from her, his dark eyes burning like coals.

  Something about the way he glared reminded her of the wolf in the painting. His eyes were almost the same shape, color, and depth.

  She was silly to think it, but the thought wouldn’t leave her.

  He sighed, and then clenched his jaw tight. “Would it kill you to not be so—damn it, so…”

  “So…what?”

  “Intense.” His nose twitched. He rubbed it, grimacing. “Can’t you go anywhere without wearing that perfume? You make every single room smell like you after you leave.”

  “I don’t wear perfume.” She pulled a strand of hair to her nose and sniffed. “It must be my shampoo. Is it bad?”

  “Far from it.” He groaned as if a giant burden rested on his shoulders, and his eyes churned with need. “It makes me want to eat you up.”

  A wave of desire rolled over her. She shuddered beneath the weight of his stare, hyperaware that his chest heaved as if he’d lost his breath. She was having trouble finding air, too. He stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. They couldn’t be any closer without meeting hip-to-hip. Wobbly on her legs, Melina leaned against the doorframe, looked up at him, and held her breath.

  Time froze.

  “Don’t move, Melina,” he said, and wrapped his strong hands around her neck.

  She jumped from his touch, and the fire it ignited in her middle.

  “Did you feel that?” he asked, his lips nearly brushing hers.

  She nodded, trembling, reaching up on tiptoe to capture his mouth.

  He sucked in a short breath as if he felt the spark too. He dragged her mouth to his in a seductive rush, ripping the air from her lungs and the floor from beneath her feet. It was a kiss of pleasure and shock, and as his lips parted, her stomach fell. She whimpered as she melted into him. He consumed the little mewing sounds, feasted on her mouth, and hauled her against him.

  She couldn’t detach from him, couldn’t catch her breath, and didn’t want to. Not ever again.

  With a moan, Hayden removed his mouth from hers. His eyes were unreadable, his jaw tight. “You look like innocence,” he said, breathing hard, “but you taste like the sweetest sin.”

  She stared, swaying against the wall and then into him.

  He searched her face, his head tilting, his mouth hovering over hers. “Your heart is racing a mile a minute.”

  “You can hear it?”

  “Every beat. Every promise.” He shook his head as if trying to wake himself from some kind of spell. “If you know what’s good for
you, you’ll write the article as fast as you can and forget you ever met me.”

  Melina’s ego wilted.

  Forget him? Like that could happen. Now that she’d kissed him, her mouth had been spoiled for any other. “Why would you wish something like that?”

  She didn’t know what else to say.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t even matter.”

  Doesn’t even matter?

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I should make an appointment with a stylist. You said that was first, right?”

  “Right.” Reality thundered down around her. “Stylist. Of course.”

  How could one little—smoking hot—kiss make her forget the reason she was hired to be here in the first place? Her assignment had been clear-cut. Clean up his image. Write a killer article. Simple.

  She would’ve slept with him if he’d asked her, she thought with chagrin. But if news got out that she had while on the job, that’d only cement his playboy status rather than improve it. And what kind of journalist would she be then? A slutty one, that’s for sure. A sketchy employee no one would trust. Goodbye Eclipse.

  Regardless, she couldn’t help but want him.

  More than she’d ever wanted anyone.

  Ever.

  “I’ve got a magic worker who’ll do wonders for you,” she said as her heart cracked in her chest. “Clear your schedule tomorrow afternoon.”

  He nodded, his gaze honing on her lips. “Make the call.”

  She couldn’t have misread their connection. Couldn’t have. But if he felt the same thing she did, how could he push her away so easily?

  Holding her head high and feigning confidence she didn’t feel, Melina turned away from him and marched to the elevators. She tightened her bag over her shoulder as the heat of his gaze warmed her back.

  Was he watching her walk away? If he were, wouldn’t that mean he didn’t really want her to leave?

  Don’t look. Don’t look back.

  Curiosity niggled at the back of her mind.

  Slowly, she glanced over one shoulder.

  Hayden stood in the center of the doorway where she’d left him, but now, a stunned expression marred his features. His mouth dropped open. His hands clenched to fists at his sides. Hunger burned in his gorgeous eyes. He looked as if he wanted to eat her up.

  Melina smiled coyly, as if it hadn’t been a big deal to walk away. But the moment she disappeared into the elevator and the doors hissed shut, she blew out a shaky breath.

  “You may say one thing, Mr. Dean,” she said, resting against the elevator rails, “but your eyes say something completely different.”

  Why did he date women left and right, as if he didn’t care for any one in particular, but stand her up the night of the Silverlights? Why did he taste like an intoxicating mix of heat and promise, yet his words were clipped and cold?

  She was determined to figure out why.

  Chapter Eight

  Tuesday afternoon, on the drive from his office to Vision Amore, the stylist’s boutique in Pacific Heights, Hayden mumbled two phrases over and over again.

  Melina Rae is your Luminary.

  Being with her isn’t an option.

  He repeated them to absorb them. So he wouldn’t forget them when he was with her, surrounded by her drugging natural fragrance. Something deep inside him warned it wouldn’t matter how many times he repeated the lines.

  He wanted her.

  The wolf part of him—the crazed, howling part that instinctively wanted to possess her body and bond with her soul—would simply have to cool it.

  The rogues and their threat to her safety were one thing, but beyond that, Hayden had never wanted to find his Luminary. He’d realized early on that it wasn’t in the cards for him.

  His parents, Cara and Angus, had been completely, hopelessly in love with one another. They were one—mind, body, and soul—and had completed the Luminary bond young. But after Cara died, Angus had become a recluse. He wouldn’t eat. He’d hide in his office and stare into the space for hours. Leave in the middle of the night. Find an empty park, and shift into wolf form. He’d howl at the moon until daybreak.

  He was a ghost of a man without his mate.

  Why would anyone jump into that kind of bond, where you’d experience that kind of loss, that kind of soul-tearing pain?

  He didn’t want to find out.

  All the more reason he needed to keep Melina at a distance and forget all about that kiss they’d shared yesterday.

  That kiss…

  As the limo pulled up to the curb, Hayden’s mouth still tingled with the delicious taste of her. Distracted beyond belief, he checked the sidewalk. Quaint neighborhood. Locals crossing the street with reusable shopping bags in hand. Women tightening scarves around their necks. A homeless man begging for money in front of the store next door.

  “Go ahead and return the limo, Eugene,” Hayden said to the driver. “I’ll get back on my own.”

  Glancing through the rearview mirror, Eugene nodded and stepped out.

  “No, I got it.” Hayden shoved the rear door open himself. “Thanks, though.”

  As he charged onto the sidewalk, he dug through his pocket and pulled out a few dollar bills folded over a stack of business cards. Unfolding the cash, he handed it to the homeless man who smiled in thanks.

  “If you’re in the same place later tonight, I’ll send someone back with food,” he said, and then shook the man’s hand.

  As he stood, the bitingly-sweet aroma of vanilla and sandalwood wafted from somewhere behind him, overtaking the smell of the dirt on the man in front of him.

  Melina.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, approaching his side.

  “Helping someone who’s down and out.” It was the least he could do after his father had helped him, pulling him off the streets. He opened the door to Vision Amore. “After you.”

  With a puzzled frown, Melina swept inside, and then waited for Hayden to enter behind her. The narrow shop had a distinct floral scent that tickled Hayden’s nose. Black-and-white pictures of celebrities lined the walls, along with what appeared to be thank-you letters. A long counter had been placed in the center of the shop, separating it into two parts. Behind that, a curtain blocked their view of the back half of the space. And over the speakers, Jeff Buckley played guitar and moaned lyrics in a slow, painful rhythm.

  “Giving money to that man was a front, right?” Melina said as they approached the counter. “Something to help me improve your image for the article?”

  “Is that what you think I was doing? Putting on a show?”

  “Giving to charity was part of the improvement plan we went over,” she said simply. “Maybe you’re a better study than I gave you credit for.”

  The way she said study made Hayden think of tutors and homework and studying late night over coffee. He would’ve done a hell of a lot better in law school had Melina been his tutor. Great. Now he was picturing Melina dressed as a schoolgirl. White shirt knotted below her breasts. Short plaid skirt. Thigh highs.

  “What happened out there had nothing to do with your improvement plan.” He swallowed hard to return the moisture to his mouth. “Dean, Hyde, & Hammer donates millions each year.”

  “I’m not talking about your company. I’m talking about you.” She shook her head. “If what I saw just now wasn’t an act, if you are truly that generous, I wouldn’t have been hired to improve your image in the first place. You wouldn’t need it. It had to be a show.”

  He rang the bell beside the register. The high-pitched sound echoed through the store and pierced his sensitive ears. Someone shuffled around behind the curtain. Must’ve been Oz.

  He snickered inwardly at the thought.

  “You can’t believe everything you read about me in the magazines,” he said. “But you work for one of them, so I’m preaching to the choir.”

  “Tell me one thing we’ve gotten wrong.”

  “Only one?” He tapped his fingers
on the counter, suddenly anxious to get today over with. Their banter only amplified their connection. “According to Celeb Crush, how many celebrities have I dated?”

  “This month?” Melina’s lips twisted into a smile.

  He stared, fighting the urge to kiss that smile.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “Celebrities you’ve dated this year? Probably…twenty?”

  He rested his elbow on the counter. “Twenty? Really?”

  “What’s the real number?” she pressed. “Is it higher?” She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Lower?”

  Before he could answer, a woman pushed through the curtain, living up to the name of the shop. She was a vision in white. Bleached white hair. Pale skin. White pantsuit. The only color on the six-foot-tall woman was her bright red lips.

  “Good to see you, Melina,” the woman said, shaking Melina’s hand. “Hayden Dean. I’m Ruby.” Her red lips spread wide as she set her sights on him. “Pleasure to meet you. I have to say, right up front, if you’re working with Melina, you’re in great hands.”

  Her hands really were great. Delicate and soft.

  Melina Rae is your Luminary.

  Being with her isn’t an option.

  Keep distance. Keep it business.

  “What’s the plan for today?” he asked.

  Ruby shifted her weight side to side, crossed one leg over the other, and then measured him up and down. “I’m thinking Armani. Black on black. A few inches cut off the top. Maybe a facial.”

  “Whoa.” He threw up his hands. “Nobody said anything about a facial.”

  Melina belted out a laugh, and then covered her laugh with a cough. “It’s up to you, but Ruby is the best.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  “It all boils down to how badly you want the position you’re after,” Melina said. “I bet the mayor of the city gets facials.”.

  Son of a…

  He was ready to rule, completely prepared to step into the position of Alpha and bring down the rogues threatening to terrorize his city. Angus wouldn’t have bent to pressure from rogues, and he wouldn’t either. Although they’d threatened to kill turned wolves if he ruled, he refused to live on their terms, fearful of their demands. If the council succumbed now, there’d be no limit to their influence over the pack. What demand would be next? Eliminate all turned wolves from the pack, or else?