I was finished with the bar of chocolate and had plowed through half a jar of maraschino cherries—I hadn’t been shopping for a while, and was short on options—when the phone rang again. I picked it up guardedly, half expecting it to be my mother again. Or Luc. Thankfully, it was neither.
“How’s the hottest auditor in the state of Texas?”
“Mark?”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“No,” I said, leaning back against the pillows of my bed. After my dinner of chocolate, cherries, and champagne, I was feeling bloated, and had been debating putting in an exercise video to work off some of it. Not to mention to take my mind off of my aborted meeting with the asshole who claimed to be my father.
But a phone call from Mark was an even more welcome diversion.
“Good,” he said. “So, when are we going to the Howl?”
“Why on earth would we go to the Howl?” I asked. “And how do you know about the Howl?”
“Just one of my little secrets,” he said.
“Some of them aren’t so little,” I said, thinking of his ability to magically appear and disappear. And make big, scary werewolves run off yelping with their tails between their legs. Not to mention the knack he had of sprouting wings and fire.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said with a low, sexy chuckle that sent a current of lust zinging through me. “When can I see you again?
I rolled over onto my stomach. “How soon can you get up here?”
“I can’t make it tonight, although I’m dying to see you. How does tomorrow night look? No hot dates planned?”
“Let me check my calendar,” I teased.
“No second thoughts about Heap?”
“Heath,” I corrected him, feeling a flash of irritation. “And no. Nothing’s changed.”
“Good,” he said. “I hear he’s been seeing someone anyway,” he said.
Despite the fact that I was the one who had broken things off, I felt a flare of jealousy. I’d only broken up with Heath last month. Was he over me that quickly? “Oh, really?” I said lightly. “Who?”
“I think it was that associate of his—Miriam, or something. The blonde one you introduced me to that day at Romeo’s.”
I cringed, remembering the day Mark and I had run into Heath and his new associate, Miranda, at a romantic little Italian restaurant. I had suspected that something was going on between Heath and the gorgeous blonde, who looked like a life-size version of Career Day Barbie. “Oh,” I said shortly. “Good for him.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry to bring that up. We were talking about dinner tomorrow, weren’t we? How about Ruth’s Chris?” he asked.
“No,” I said quickly. That was the last place in the world I wanted to go.
“Not in the mood for steak?”
“Of course I am. I’d just like to try something different. How about Sullivan’s?”
“Everything all right, Sophie?”
“Fine. Why?”
“I just had a feeling earlier tonight that you might be upset.”
I had been, of course—who wouldn’t be? I glanced down at the ring Mark had given me a few weeks ago, wondering if it had forged some sort of psychic connection between the two of us. I was pretty sure it had let him know when I got into trouble. Was it somehow transmitting other information, too?
Still, regardless of its potential occult properties, the band was gorgeous, made of a silvery metal that didn’t burn me, with a full-moon inset of some kind of opalescent stone on the front. My mother still hadn’t figured out what it was, but she didn’t like it one bit; which was the same way she felt about Mark. The problem was, the ring was stuck to me like glue—even when I transformed. Not for the first time, I wondered exactly what its properties were.
“Everything’s hunky-dory,” I lied.
“Good,” he said. “Sophie, you know you can talk to me.”
“I know,” I said, suddenly anxious to get off the phone. “But I’d better get some shut-eye. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning at seven.”
“Any client I should be jealous of?”
“She’s a grandmother, Mark. She runs a garbage disposal company.”
“Then I guess I’m okay. Shall I swing by your office tomorrow afternoon? Make sure Adele knows what excellent service you’re providing?”
“Just don’t lay it on too thick, okay? I think she suspects something already.”
“I’ll be the model of propriety,” he said.
“I hope not,” I said, feeling another little tingle. When I hung up the phone a few minutes later, I was feeling a lot less upset about the crappy dinner with my father—and very excited about my date tomorrow night. Dinner at Sullivan’s, maybe a trip to the Elephant Room… who knew? With Mark, you never knew.
Which was more than half the fun.
I didn’t hear a peep out of Luc Garou the next day—not that I expected to, of course—and as pleased as I was not to have to deal with him, I found myself a tad put out that he hadn’t tried at least a bit harder.
But at least I had an exciting evening with Mark to look forward to. I had just brewed myself a big mug of wolfsbane tea and settled in behind my desk when Lindsey appeared in my office. Closing the door behind her, she eased into one of my visitors’ chairs.
Lindsey was dressed in a clingy charcoal suit that hugged her curves like it was competing in the Indy 500, and her bee-stung lips were freshly glossed. The resemblance to Angelina Jolie was striking, as usual.
“Big date tonight?” I asked.
“Tom’s taking me out after the opening ceremonies are over at the Howl,” she said. “You’re lucky—I can’t go because I’m human.”
“I’d trade with you in a heartbeat,” I said.
“Likewise.” She pressed her full lips together. “I don’t know what your big hang-up is. You’re a werewolf. So what? Why are you so worried about me wanting to take the same path?”
“It’s not a path. It’s a pain in the ass.”
“Whatever,” she said. “I still don’t get what the problem is.”
“The problem is that you seem fascinated with it. And once you do it, you can’t undo it.” Which wasn’t entirely true; Tom seemed to have the ability to “unmake” werewolves. But since I didn’t know exactly what that entailed—for all I knew, it could involve vivisection or eating eye of newt and wing of bat—I wasn’t about to tell Lindsey that.
“Why would I want to undo it?”
“Because it’s a curse!” I said.
At that moment there was a knock at the door; a moment later, Mark walked in, filling the small room with his smoky, erotic aroma. “Did someone mention a curse?” he said, blue eyes glinting. He closed the door behind him and walked over to my desk, giving me a quick, hot kiss that set my heart to pounding.
When I’d caught my breath, I filled him in on the conversation so far. “Lindsey wants to be a werewolf,” I said.
He sat down in my other visitors’ chair and leaned back. “Oh. Is that all?”
“Is that all?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s a pretty big decision, don’t you think?
He shrugged. “Why do you care if Lindsey wants to get in touch with her animal nature?”
“Because she doesn’t know what she’s getting into,” I said. “I’m trying to protect her.”
His eyes roamed up and down Lindsey’s curvy figure. “She looks like a big girl to me.”
“Whatever,” I said, exasperated.
“Are you and Tom going to the Howl tonight?” he asked Lindsey.
“I wish I could. But since I’m not officially one of the club, he’s taking me out when he gets back.”
I turned to Mark. “Did you talk to Adele?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I told her how … delighted I’ve been with your services.” His mouth twitched up into a wicked smile, and I felt the heat rise to my face.
“I think I’ve got some work to do,” Lindsey said, wi
nking at me as she headed for the door.
“What are we doing tonight?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” he said, grinning. “I’ve still got a few things to do this afternoon. Shall I pick you up at your place at, say, six?”
“How should I dress?” I asked.
He grinned more deeply, making his blue eyes glint. “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now, would it?”
He gave me one last kiss, pressing his lean body against mine, his fingers sliding up under the front of my camisole to graze the edge of my bra cup. I sucked in my breath as his fingers circled my breast, touching my nipple lightly.
“Have you ever done it in your office?” he whispered.
“Uh-uh,” I managed to respond. And I wasn’t sure I should; as hot as Mark was, my office wasn’t exactly the ideal place for a tryst. And there’d been a lot of talk of me “belonging to him” lately—I’d been meaning to address that. Although perhaps now was not the time …
“Want to?”
Before I could answer, he reached back and locked the office door. Then he peeled my jacket off and slid the straps of my camisole from my shoulders. He traced the lace trim on my bra, just barely touching my nipples, and then slid his warm hands around my back and unhooked it so that I was standing half-naked in my office. So much for self-control.
As my fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, he lifted me to the top of my desk, his hands sliding up to the tops of my stockings. I shivered as his fingers touched the top of my thighs, parting them gently. He pushed my skirt up until it was around my hips; then his fingers eased up to the waistband of my bikini panties. He hooked one finger under each side and tugged them down, sliding my panties down to my ankles in one swift movement.
“Having fun yet?” he said in that sexy, ironic voice. My hands groped his flat abdomen, pausing briefly as my fingers touched the rough crescent moon on his chest—it matched almost exactly the moon tattoo on my shoulder.
Then he lowered his head between my legs, his tongue lapping at me, gently at first, then more urgently, until he thrust it inside me. I was on the brink of coming when he stood up suddenly and unbuckled his belt.
“Ready?” he asked.
But just before he could thrust into me, there was a knock at the door.
“Sophie?”
It was Adele.
“Ignore it,” he whispered.
And as she knocked again, he plunged into me. I had to bite his shoulder to keep from gasping out loud. His mouth was on my breasts, and his thrusts were almost knocking me off the desk. Waves of pleasure rippled through me, pulsing as he pounded into me, his tongue on my right nipple, and then my body exploded into an orgasm that left me limp on the desk.
“Sophie?”
Mark’s eyes, dark with desire, focused on me then; he raised one finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said. Then he finished with one last deep thrust that echoed the pulsing inside me. “I told her the service was exceptional,” he whispered, and I bit my lip to keep from giggling.
At five forty-five, I was applying a final coat of mascara and checking my legs to make sure I didn’t need to do a last-minute touch-up with my Lady Bic. I had no idea what I was dressing for, so I’d settled on a black pencil skirt and a lacy camisole, made decent by a curvy suede jacket I’d picked up at a Nordstrom sale a few weeks ago. I’d added dark red lipstick and smoky eyeliner to the mix—I was going for the sexy look—but my hair was not cooperating. Thank God for hairspray and curling irons, though; with a half hour of heavy effort, I’d managed to curl and spritz it into submission. When I was satisfied, I hurried to the kitchen to nuke a mug of water. If I was going to make it through the evening without a natural fur coat, it was time for another cup—particularly with the moon waxing.
At five to six, there was a knock at the door, and a delicious shiver of anticipation shot through me. Mark. What was it about him that was so irresistible? As hot as he was—and despite the fact that he was my biggest client—I really did need to tell him to tone down the whole possessive thing. Perhaps tonight…
I gulped down the rest of my wolfsbane tea, paused to touch a bit of Euphoria to my wrists—and between my breasts—and hurried to answer it. The building was supposed to have a doorman, but I’d long ago given up on Frank, who was more interested in HGTV than the parade of people visiting the building.
When I opened the door, the smile died on my lips.
Luc Garou was standing there, dressed in an expensive black leather jacket and designer jeans that looked like they’d been spray-painted on. It was almost embarrassing, really. He was my father, for God’s sake! At least in name …
“What are you doing here?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“You look stunning. May I come in?”
“No,” I said. “I’m on my way out. Did you need something?”
“I came to apologize,” he said, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m afraid I may have been a bit… forceful in my desires yesterday.”
I said nothing.
“Of course I’m proud of you, and of course I want big things for you. But it was thoughtless of me to try to push you too fast.”
“Thank you,” I said stiffly.
“Will you have dinner with me tonight? And promise to stay past the appetizer?” He gave me a wry grin. “I had to finish that entire bottle of Dom Pérignon by myself.”
“The waitress didn’t join you?”
“Well, maybe for a sip or two,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to let it go to waste.”
I’ll bet not. “I appreciate the offer,” I said, “but I have plans.”
“Ah,” he said, glancing down at my rather form-fitting skirt.
He was about to say something else when the elevator door opened, and Mark’s smoky smell joined my father’s rather more animal bouquet.
“Sophie!” Mark was dressed in the same charcoal slacks and white dress shirt he’d worn earlier.
I could sense my werewolf father’s hackles rising. “Who is this?” he asked me, gold eyes burning.
“My client, Mark Sydney,” I said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a … a meeting to attend.”
He arched his right eyebrow. “A meeting?”
“Yes,” I said. “A dinner meeting.”
“Dressed like that?” Luc’s eyes raked me up and down, lingering disapprovingly on my rather low-cut camisole.
“Who is this?” Mark asked, placing a protective arm around my shoulders, which only made Luc Garou’s eyebrow rise higher.
“An old friend,” I said.
“Luc Garou,” he said, thrusting out a hand and staring hard at Mark. “I am Sophie’s father.”
I cringed as Mark turned to me with a look of surprise. “I thought you weren’t in contact with your father.”
“I wasn’t,” I said, “until yesterday. He’s in town for the Howl, and dropped by to say hello.” I tried to mask the welter of emotions coursing through me. Luc Garou was a jerk—that was beyond all doubt—but he was my father. Genetically, anyway. Was there a chance that we might get along after all? Perhaps—but this wasn’t the time to find out. I turned to Luc. “Maybe another time. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”
Luc Garou was still studying Mark. I could see him sniffing, and my face heated up at the thought of what he must be picking up. I’d had a chance to shower since our afternoon encounter, but I was betting Mark hadn’t had the opportunity.
“Where are you taking her?” my werewolf father asked.
“To dinner,” Mark said mildly. The tension between the two men was rising, and I was afraid if I didn’t get out of there soon, they would come to blows. “Unless there’s a problem with that?”
Luc Garou growled slightly and sniffed again. “What are you?” he asked.
“I’m the CEO of Southeast Airlines,” Mark said calmly, ignoring the real question. Despite the reasonable voice, I could see tension in his shoulders. “Now, if you will excuse us, we have dinne
r reservations that we don’t want to miss. Pleased to meet you,” he said, holding out a hand.
My werewolf gene donor took it, and their eyes bored into each other as they shook. Firmly. In fact, I’m pretty sure I heard the crack of knuckles before they released each other. Luc glowered at Mark, and Mark shot a steely gaze right back at him.
“Take care of my little girl,” Luc Garou growled.
As if he had any right to be protective of me, after abandoning me all those years ago.
“I can handle myself,” I said in a chilly tone of voice. Then I turned on my heel and strode with Mark down the hall, glad to be getting out of there. Thankfully, the elevator came almost instantly; I’m not sure I could have stood a longer wait. Still, I’m pretty sure I heard a low growl as the elevator door slid shut behind us less than a minute later.
“No wonder you were upset last night,” Mark said as the elevator descended toward the lobby. “What made your father decide to get in touch with you after all this time?”
I sagged against the mirrored wall. “He’s in town for the Howl, I think, and decided to look me up. Wants to pretend the last twenty-eight years didn’t happen, I guess.” I tried to keep the bitterness from seeping into my voice.
“You resemble him,” he said.
I turned to look at myself in the mirror. Mark was right: I was almost a carbon copy of Luc Garou—only female. I closed my eyes, trying to banish the image of my father’s strangely familiar face. “I know,” I told Mark. “I’m trying to forget.”
“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Mark said. “I think your father must be where your sexy wildness comes from.”
I turned to him. “You think he’s sexy?”
“Not to me personally, of course. You know I have eyes only for you,” he said, grinning. “But I can see how women might find him intriguing.”
If Luc’s effect on the women at Ruth’s Chris was anything to go by, Mark had a point. “That’s how he seduced my mother all those years ago.” I shook myself. “But let’s not talk about that. Where are we going?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
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