Werewolf in Greenwich Village: A Wild About You NovellaAn eSpecial from New American Library

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Nadia relished the chance to dive back into the work she loved. At the end of a long and satisfying day at the office, she took the train back to her apartment. Tonight she would put the finishing touches on her designs.

  She spent the next three nights working on her designs while dealing with meetings and paperwork at the Henderson Organic Clothing office during the day. She searched fruitlessly for the inspiration that had moved her to create the designs so she could refine them in a way that would do them justice and add several more. Instead she seemed to be stamping out every original concept and replacing it with dreck.

  Finally, frustrated by her lack of progress and desperate for a second opinion, she asked Sherry to come by her apartment over the weekend to take a look at the designs.

  Sherry breezed in wearing her weekend casual clothes of jeans and a white cowl-necked sweater, but her high-heeled boots and the rhinestones decorating her jeans added the flair Nadia was used to.

  “I’ll bet what you’ve done is fabulous and you’re too close to see it.” Sherry set her denim purse on the glass-topped table in Nadia’s entryway.

  “I hope you’re right.” Nadia led her through the living room toward her office. “I really should have gone back to my folks’ house this weekend to handle more details of the changing of the guard, but these designs . . . I want to get them right before I launch myself into pack business again.”

  “Good. I’m glad Henderson Organic Clothing is still a priority.”

  Nadia glanced at her. “You were worried about that?”

  “Not me. The staff was a little worried, but I told them you were a pro and you wouldn’t let the business languish because of new responsibilities. You’re proving my point, being here working instead of at your parents’ house.”

  “Or trying to work.” Nadia took a deep breath as they walked into the office. “I definitely need another set of eyes on this project. Go ahead and sit.” She gestured for Sherry to take a seat in front of the computer.

  Once Sherry was settled, Nadia leaned over her and clicked on a file. “Here’s what I’ve done with the concepts so far.” Nadia felt like she’d stripped naked as she turned the mouse over to Sherry.

  Sherry scrolled through the work, and went back and scrolled through again. “Hm.”

  “I knew it.” Nadia began pacing. “Whatever I latched onto in New York is gone. The original concepts are on life support.”

  “Maybe it’s not that bad.” Sherry swiveled the chair to face her. “You might need a break. A vacation to, oh, let’s say New York, so you can recapture the mood you were in when you did the first drawings.”

  Nadia met her assistant’s perceptive gaze. “That’s not possible.”

  “Why? Did he leave the country?”

  “No, but I’ve said my good-byes. It was getting way too serious, and I’m the alpha, now. He’s an inappropriate choice for someone in my position.”

  Sherry studied her for several long moments. “Let me look at those first sketches again.” Turning back to the computer, she clicked on the folder containing the original work. After scrolling through it several times, she turned back to Nadia. “You want the good news or the bad news?”

  “The good news.”

  “You’ve done some great work in the past, but this is the best stuff you’ve ever produced.”

  Nadia swallowed. “I guess that’s good news. So what’s the bad news?”

  “This is only my opinion, but if you give up the guy, I think you’re closing yourself off from a tremendous source of inspiration. I’m not in your shoes, so I probably shouldn’t say, but I think that would be a crying shame.”

  Nadia groaned. “But I can’t have him! He’s not—”

  “So you’re going to sacrifice the creative possibilities of being with him?” Sherry pushed back the chair and stood. “I’m not very high on the pack totem pole, but for what it’s worth, I’d rather have an alpha who’s happy and fulfilled and making piles of money with her business than one who’s martyred herself to tradition and may never achieve her potential as a result.”

  Nadia felt as if she’d been hit by a stun gun. As the truth of Sherry’s statement registered, Nadia began to smile. “Are you saying that if the alpha ain’t happy, ain’t nobody gonna be happy?”

  Sherry laughed. “Pretty much.”

  This woman was definitely getting a big, fat raise. “So, can I quote you on that?”

  Her assistant shrugged. “You can, but nobody cares what I think.”

  “I do.” She felt like running around the room shouting with joy, but she settled for giving Sherry a fierce hug. Then she stepped back and grinned at her assistant. “Why didn’t I realize it sooner? That’s all that matters! After all, I’m the pack alpha.”

  Meeting Nadia at Jessie’s was probably a stupid idea, but Quentin had known from the minute she’d called to suggest it that he’d be there. She’d used the argument that they’d been friends before they were lovers, and she’d hate to think they couldn’t be friends again.

  That whole idea was bullshit as far as he was concerned. Now that he’d made love to her, he wouldn’t be able to occupy the same room without wanting her with the heat of a thousand suns. But maybe she had more self-control.

  If so, he’d let her think they’d returned to the status quo if that would make her happy. God, he’d do anything to make her happy. And seeing her again, especially in Jessie’s, would be torture, but a sweet kind of torture.

  Naturally, being the eager one, he arrived early and had polished off a Scotch and soda before she walked in. She looked fabulous as always, dressed in purple with her hair down. He glanced at her feet, and damned if she hadn’t put on the silver heels. No fair.

  He stood as Sylvester escorted her to his table, the same one they’d shared before. “You look great.”

  “So do you.” She thanked Sylvester as he held her chair.

  Quentin doubted that he looked great. Every morning when he glanced in the mirror his reflection seemed to sag a little more. Life without Nadia was like life without oxygen, but he kept on keeping on because he had no choice.

  “Let me get you a drink.” He signaled to the waitress. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  His gaze snapped back to hers. “Excuse me?”

  “You.” She looked into his eyes. “Forever, if you’ll have me.”

  He glanced around, waiting for the scene to dissolve and for him to wake up in his bedroom. “This isn’t happening.”

  “Yes, it is.” She reached across the table and took both of his hands in hers. Then she lowered her voice. “I’m asking you to be my mate, Quentin. I realize that you don’t care about pack politics, and I’ve figured out how we can—”

  “Would you care to order a drink?” asked the waitress who had appeared at their table.

  Nadia glanced up. “Not right now, thank you.” Once the wood sprite left, she gazed at him. “Where were we?”

  He gripped her hands hard, as if to verify that she was real. “You just asked me to be your mate, but I must be hallucinating, because that’s not possible.”

  “It is possible.”

  He felt dizzy. “But I’m not good enough for you.”

  “Actually, you’re extremely good enough for me. As a wise woman pointed out recently, you’re my creative muse. Remember the spring collection I designed after our first night together?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “It seems that once you were out of my life, that inspiration faded. For that reason alone, I should beg you to consider my offer. But there are so many other reasons, like your courage, your loyalty, and your . . . um . . . other assets.” Color tinged her cheeks and her eyes sparkled.

  He kept holding onto her, his heart pounding, as he struggled with the idea that she was presenting. “You know how much I want you, but your family would have a fit.”

  “That’s handled. Tradition is all well and good, but Aidan chose happiness over
tradition, and the Wallace pack came to accept it. The Henderson pack will do the same.”

  “I don’t want to make life more difficult for you, Nadia.”

  “Quite the opposite.” She smiled, a warm light in her eyes. “You’ll be my ally as I lead my pack into the twenty-first century. This will be good for everyone, Quentin.”

  A glimmer of hope penetrated his confusion, but still, there were so many obstacles. “Are you asking me to move to Chicago?” He’d probably do it, but he needed to know the level of sacrifice expected of him.

  “Absolutely not. In fact, I’m hoping we can consider your loft our special retreat. You can come to Chicago if and when you choose, but mostly I want us to be together here and call the loft home. I plan to have a satellite office in Manhattan.”

  He looked into her eyes. Things this wonderful didn’t happen, at least to him, but it seemed as if maybe, on this special night, they did. “I love you.” It tumbled out before he could think about it.

  “That’s good, because I happen to love you, too.” She squeezed his hands. “So is that a yes?”

  He held her gaze, his heart overflowing. “That’s a yes, and a hallelujah, and a let’s-get-out-of-here.”

  “The loft?”

  “Yeah.” Still holding her hands, he drew her out of her chair. “But first, I do believe I’m going to kiss you, right here in the middle of Jessie’s.”

  She smiled up at him. “You know how Weres gossip.”

  “I’m counting on it.” He drew her into his arms and his mouth hovered over hers. “In fact . . .” He kissed her lightly and drew back. “Tomorrow I’m renting a billboard in Times Square.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I am. It’s not every day you get a permanent booking at Carnegie Hall.” Then he kissed her again, this time with enough heat to reach the cheap seats.

  Dear Readers,

  Werewolf in Manhattan launched the Wild About You series this year, and your response has been wonderful! I’m thrilled that you’re having fun with my rich and sexy werewolves. So am I!

  At the end of Aidan and Emma’s story, many of you asked about Nadia. After all, she took the news of Aidan and Emma so well that she definitely deserved a reward. As you see, she got Quentin! As rewards go, I think he’s pretty special.

  Checking in with Nadia also allowed me to give you a sneak peek at Roarke Wallace’s coming misadventures as the Wild About You series continues next month with Werewolf in the North Woods. Roarke is heading off to Portland, Oregon, to track down Bigfoot, but he hasn’t factored Abby Winchell into his plans. A rugged werewolf, a smelly Sasquatch, and a curious woman. What could go wrong?

  Thanks for all your enthusiasm for the Wild About You series. And stay tuned for more Wild About You excitement in 2012!

  Wildly yours,

  Vicki

  * * *

  Read on for the next full-length novel

  in the Wild About You series

  by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  WEREWOLF IN THE NORTH WOODS

  Available from Signet Eclipse in October 2011.

  * * *

  Maybe Bigfoot was watching her.

  Abby Winchell had loved imagining that from the time she’d been old enough to wander alone on her grandfather’s property about thirty miles outside Portland. As she trudged through the early morning mist, damp leaves squished under her hiking boots and the evergreens dripped in a steady, familiar rhythm. Otherwise the forest was quiet, but she kept her hand on the camera tucked inside her jacket pocket, just in case she saw something big and furry.

  Ten days ago, after a lifetime of fruitless searching, Grandpa Earl Dooley had seen not one, but two big furry creatures. A Bigfoot mated pair! But his evidence was maddeningly inconclusive. His single grainy shot could easily be a picture of two very tall hikers wearing hooded sweatshirts. Two exceedingly smelly hikers. Grandpa Earl claimed the stench had been overpowering, even from a hundred yards away.

  While Earl had struggled to attach his zoom lens, the creatures had loped off. Earl’s arthritis had kept him from giving chase, and a heavy rain had washed out any footprints. That left Earl with only one bad picture to corroborate his story.

  It had been enough for the Bigfoot faithful. Earl had made the trip to town and told everyone down at his favorite bar, Flannigan’s. News had spread quickly among the cryptozoology crowd. As happy as he’d been about finally realizing his dream of a Bigfoot sighting, Grandpa Earl hadn’t been all that pleased with the consequences.

  With the exception of Abby, his family down in Arizona thought he was losing his marbles. Curiosity seekers had trespassed on his property. And his wealthy neighbors, the Gentrys, had flown in some big-deal NYU professor to label the sighting bogus. Having Dr. Roarke Wallace challenge Earl’s claim had cut down on the trespassers, but Abby’s grandfather smarted under the insinuation that he was either gullible or a nutcase.

  Abby had volunteered to take a week off from her job as an insurance claims adjuster in Phoenix to check on Grandpa Earl. She’d promised the rest of the family that she’d convince him to sell the land and the general store with its attached living quarters so he could move to the desert where his loved ones could keep an eye on him. He might have agreed to do it, too, now that he’d seen Bigfoot and possibly Bigfoot’s mate.

  But that damned professor had gotten her grandfather’s back up and he wanted to prove the stuffed shirt wrong. Grandpa Earl was also convinced the Gentrys were smearing his reputation on purpose because they hoped he’d leave and they could buy his land. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

  Abby didn’t blame him. The Gentrys had been trying to buy out the Dooleys for at least seventy years. Both pieces of property backed up to a wilderness area, so if the Gentrys got Grandpa Earl’s land, they’d be sitting on one of the most secluded private estates around.

  And the Gentrys loved their seclusion. She could imagine how horrified those high-brows must have been to hear about the Bigfoot sighting. Flying in a Ph.D. from some Eastern school fit the Gentry mentality. No doubt the guy was a condescending jerk.

  The Gentrys were like royalty in Portland, and as a kid Abby had often climbed a rocky promontory on Dooley land because it provided a view of the obnoxiously huge Gentry mansion. She decided to do that again this morning for old-time’s sake. The estate was off-limits to all but a select few, so spying on them had always appealed to her sense of mischief.

  Other than this view from the promontory, the heavily wooded estate couldn’t be seen except from the air. A tall iron gate at the main road barred anyone from driving up to the mansion unannounced, and a sheer rock wall dropped fifty feet below the promontory. The steep cliff continued along the property line for about half a mile, neatly dividing Gentry land from Dooley land.

  Grandpa Earl’s property ended at a rushing stream that tumbled over the cliff in a beautiful waterfall. The far side of the stream marked the beginning of the wilderness area. That’s where Grandpa Earl had spotted the Bigfoot pair.

  Abby was puffing by the time she reached the top of the outcropping, which meant she’d spent too much time sitting at a desk lately. Looking across to Gentry land, she noticed lazy curls of smoke rising from two of the Gentry mansion’s six chimneys. Trees hid a good part of the building, giving it an air of mystery.

  Abby trained her camera on the mansion and zoomed in to admire the stonework and the massive bulk of the place. Surely a family this powerful wouldn’t sabotage some old guy’s reputation in order to get what they wanted. They already had plenty of holdings in the Portland area.

  Standing on the rocky outcropping looking down at the mansion, she wondered why the Dooley land was so important to the Gentrys. Maybe they knew something Grandpa Earl didn’t, like the presence of mineral deposits. Or what if the prize was this very spot? What if they hated the idea that someone could watch them from here?

  Fascinated by that thought, Abby began scanning with her zoom to evaluate how m
uch she could see of the place. A cherry red Corvette convertible sat in the circular cobblestone drive, but no people were around. Slowly she panned toward the back of the house, with its formal gardens, neatly trimmed hedges and a large collection of marble statuary. As she did, she caught a movement in the trees.

  Focusing on that spot strained the limits of her little camera, but she managed to identify what looked like a large dog. It behaved more like a wild animal than a domestic dog, though, as it glided through the trees. A coyote, maybe? No, it was too big, and its coat was an unusual pale blond.

  The body shape reminded her of a wolf, but that was impossible. There were no wolves on the west coast of Oregon, and even if one had somehow migrated over here, it wouldn’t be this color. She’d heard of white wolves, but not blond ones. Knowing the Gentrys, the animal could be some sort of exotic hybrid.

  Grandpa Earl wouldn’t be happy if the Gentrys had decided to keep dogs on their property. Her grandfather and great-grandfather had always avoided adopting any because they didn’t want dogs around to scare off Bigfoot. In all her visits to her grandfather’s place she’d never heard the sound of barking dogs coming from the Gentry estate, either.

  She snapped a couple of pictures, even though she knew they wouldn’t be very clear. Grandpa Earl would want to know about this. Maybe the wolf-dog was another tactic to annoy him.

  As she considered that, she deleted the pictures. No sense in stirring up her grandfather even more. That wouldn’t fit with the plan that was gradually forming in her mind.

  Much as she’d love her grandfather to stick it to the Gentrys and stay on the land for another ten or fifteen years, that wasn’t in his best interest. His arthritis wouldn’t bother him nearly as much in Arizona and she sensed that Grandma Olive’s death a year ago had left him lonelier than he’d admitted.

  Therefore she needed to contact the stuffed-shirt anthropology professor and convince him to change his tactics. If the professor would support Earl’s belief in Bigfoot instead of challenging it, everyone might get what they wanted. Grandpa Earl would relax, sell his land, and move to Arizona, and the Gentrys would get her grandfather’s property. Grandpa Earl said the professor was staying with the Gentrys. But Abby didn’t relish driving up to the gate in Grandpa Earl’s ancient pickup with the battered camper shell on the back and asking for admittance to the estate. Too demeaning. But she was a member of Rotary Club International, so she could attend a meeting today at a hotel in Portland, where the guest speaker just happened to be Dr. Roarke Wallace.