Beauty and the Werewolf (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack)

by Kristin Miller

  “Unbelievable,” he breathed.

  The art was exactly how she’d described it. The spires of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral rose up behind a gigantic black-haired wolf. The sky was dark and lumbering with clouds. Regal and robust, the wolf stood proud in front of the cathedral, though there was pain in his shadowed gaze.

  The painting wasn’t a forgery, which meant her father hadn’t destroyed the painting after all. Then where had it been all these years? And how did Isabelle not know it existed?

  Isabelle’s words struck him: It was drawn from a memory…at my mother’s funeral.

  The fear and agony in the wolf’s eyes gripped him. In the painting, her father had just lost his fated mate, the only woman in the world for him. Jack could relate. Wholeheartedly.

  “Nothing will stop me from getting that painting,” he whispered to Branson. “Nothing.”

  “We’ll start the bidding at two and a quarter,” Colin announced.

  Jack flipped his paddle quickly, but the bid rose just as fast as someone in the front matched his bid, and then outdid it.

  Colin’s gaze skimmed the room. “Do we have three million?”

  Jack lifted his hand.

  “Sir,” Branson said, tugging on his suit sleeve.

  “Not now, Branson. Not a single distraction.”

  “But sir—”

  “I said not now.” Jack raised his paddle again as the bid soared near four million. “This is the most important piece I’ve ever acquired. Nothing will—”

  “Sir, it’s her.” He pointed to the front. “Look.”

  Rising off his seat, Jack searched the room, his gaze locking on the bidder in the front row. He could only see the back of her head, but he knew it was Isabelle. Dark locks of hair cascaded down her back and fell over her dainty shoulders. She flicked her wrist to bid again.

  His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. His skin went flush. Breathing….labored.

  He raised his paddle to outbid her and then scooted out from the back row. Everything zoomed far out as he made his way to the front. The auction might not have been happening at all. Voices were muffled, and the floor disappeared beneath his feet.

  Up until this moment, he hadn’t wanted to talk to her. Hadn’t wanted to see her and rehash why they couldn’t be together. Why he had to die for her to be happy.

  But now that she was so close, he couldn’t stop himself from going to her side.

  He slid into the empty seat next to her, absentmindedly raising his paddle to counter her bid. As her gaze caught his, she stiffened in her seat and nervously flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.

  “I’m here for you.” No, damn it. Scratch that. “For the painting,” he spit out. “I heard there was a Bella Nolan piece, and I had to come.”

  “I…” She stopped what she’d been about to say, raised her paddle slowly as the bid raised to God-knew-what, and studied him carefully. “I thought about ringing you when I came into town, but after what happened, the way you just stopped talking to me…”

  He countered her bid.

  “…I didn’t know what to say.” She raised her paddle in defiance.

  God, did she know how badly he wanted to take her hand? How much he wanted to hold her, if only for a second? But what would that help?

  Nothing. It’d only make leaving her worse.

  “How long are you in for?” he found himself asking.

  She licked her lips slowly and let her tongue linger in the corner. Did she know what that did to him?

  “Just for the day,” she said.

  They could do a lot in a day…

  “Going once,” Colin declared from the stage. “Sir?”

  Jack dragged his attention to the painting. And raised his paddle again.

  “I tried to call you,” she whispered. Had her lips always been that delectable? Soft and pink, her lower lip slightly larger than the top. “I’m not sure if you got my message.”

  “I got it, but didn’t listen to it.”

  She nodded, lowering her gaze to her lap. “Then you didn’t hear that my father passed away.”

  “That’s why you called?”

  She nodded. “One of the reasons.”

  “I’m so sorry, Isabelle.” As sadness gouged him, he took her hand and squeezed. Those same telling currents ran over his skin, warming him through. “I should’ve listened to it. I could’ve been there for you.”

  “There was nothing you could’ve done. He passed right after I showed him the exhibit. He enjoyed my art in his final moments, and we shared something special together. I revealed a side of myself that I’d kept hidden from him for so long. It meant the world to me that I was able to do that. And I was there at the end, which meant the world to him.” She looked up at him, blinking through tear-heavy lashes. And ripped his heart clean out of his chest. “We said everything we’d always wanted to say but never could…everything except the one thing I wanted to hear most.”

  She didn’t need to say what that was.

  Her father hadn’t given his blessing for them to be together.

  He took back his hand. For her sake.

  “Jack—”

  “Sold!” Colin announced, cutting her short. “To Mr. MacGrath for eleven million.”

  Wow. Eleven.

  He would’ve paid triple.

  “Well, congratulations,” she said, standing. “It’ll be the perfect addition to your collection.”

  “Wait.” His voice was soft and deep, a loving caress against her ears. Grabbing her by the elbow, he touched her gently. A reminder of the pull he had over her. “Isabelle.”

  She stopped, but couldn’t meet his eye. “What?”

  “Look at me.”

  God, she couldn’t. Every second at his side was a testament to the strength of her will. She yearned to throw herself into his arms. To look into his eyes and see their future: a bonding ceremony, children, a home in the castle in Ireland. But those things would never be. Especially not now that her father had died without giving his blessing.

  She had to put space between them. Be clearheaded about this whole thing the way she hadn’t been before when she’d gotten lost in their connection, in their heat, and gone to bed with him.

  Exhaling heavily, she turned and opened her eyes. “What do you want?”

  His gaze bore into hers. “You have to know…”

  She couldn’t take much more of this. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “That’s exactly why it had to end the way it did.”

  She felt her face frown. “Wait, did you—”

  “Ms. Connelly?” Colin’s crackly voice rang out, stopping her. “May I speak with you a moment?”

  “Now’s probably not the best time, Colin. May I call you when I’m on the road?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid this can’t wait.” He wrung his hands in front of him. “This concerns you and Mr. MacGrath. Since you both happen to be here together, it appears now would be the best time.”

  As they followed him behind the stage, Jack said, “Is this about the painting?”

  “Aye.” Colin removed Werewolf in Dublin from its stand and brought it into a back room with them. “It is.”

  She eyed the painting as he handed it to Jack. Its beauty struck her even now. The colors were vibrant and crisp, her father’s pain visceral as he stood in front of the cathedral.

  “It looks exactly as I remember it,” she said, stroking her hand over the top edge. “What’s wrong?”

  Jack eyed the back. Frowning, he pulled off an envelope and held it up.

  “This was stapled to the frame,” he said. “It has my name on the front.”

  Her breathing quickened. “What is it?”

  Colin put up his hands, as if he was an innocent bystander in some elaborate heist. “The painting arrived here weeks ago with explicit orders to have the auction today, and the envelope was ordered to be sold with the painting. Other than th
at, I don’t have a clue what it’s about.”

  “Who would give instructions to have it sold today, specifically?” she thought aloud, and then turned her attention to Jack.

  He tore through the top, pulled out a piece of paper, and skimmed to the bottom. “It’s from your father.”

  “My—but how could he?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “Will you read it aloud?”

  “My dearest Isabelle, I trust that Colin informed the proper people to get you and Jack to the auction house today, and I thank him dearly for that. I’m glad you were able to share your love of painting with me before I passed on. When you first gave this painting to me, I thought it was your way of saying you were turning away from the pack. Please forgive me for jumping to conclusions and ignoring your passion when you tried to present it to me. Though even in my anger, I couldn’t destroy the piece. It was too beautiful and too perfect, much like you. After behaving so badly, I didn’t know how to tell you I’d kept it. So I cherished it in solitude and kept it locked away. Until now.”

  She swallowed back a flood of tears as Jack read on.

  “Jack, when I told you before that I’d never met a MacGrath who put another’s happiness before his own, I wasn’t lying. But now, I can honestly say that I know one who is good and decent, and loves my daughter wholeheartedly.” Jack’s reading pace slowed as his eyes tracked disbelievingly over the words. “The night you came to the museum to declare your love for my daughter—”

  “You came?” she interrupted, her skin chilling. “To Ireland? The museum?”

  He nodded without answering, and read on. “I knew you were there. I saw you hesitate, and ultimately decide that it was better for Isabelle to make her own path, to lead the pack, and to earn my respect. Well, Jack MacGrath, you have mine. Any man who would put his woman’s happiness above his own life is a good man—one deserving of a father’s blessing.”

  Even though Jack had read the words loud and clear, Isabelle couldn’t wrap her head around what her father had said. Jack had come to see her, to fight for her, and then left? He’d seen the display? And then walked away so she could make her father proud?

  He’d left so she wouldn’t have to make the impossible choice…

  “Jack…”

  “There’s more,” he said, his voice full of sorrow. “This painting has always been one of my most treasured possessions. And I have cherished my daughter from the first day I held her in my arms. Now, I entrust them both to you, son. Take good care of them.”

  “Oh…God.” She couldn’t breathe. “I can’t believe it.”

  Folding up the paper slowly, Jack replaced it in the envelope. “But how could he have been sure we’d be here, and that one of us would be the final bid out of everyone in the auction hall?”

  Isabelle’s gaze snapped to Colin. He winked and then backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

  “You came to Dublin,” she said, stepping closer. “You were in the museum that night…why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something?”

  Jack leaned the painting against the wall. “Your father and I know why. And that’s all that matters.”

  “And you got to talk to him?” She brushed her hand along the stubble on his jaw and then cupped his cheek in her hand. “It wasn’t at the museum, so it had to have been beforehand. At the castle?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you saw my home,” she said, warming from the inside out.

  A smirk pulled at his lips. “Guess you could say I was given the extensive tour of the castle. From the ground up.”

  Frowning, she smoothed the stress lines as they appeared around his eyes. “Whatever that means.”

  Coiling his arms around her back, Jack tugged her against him. This was where she belonged, and wanted to be until the day she died.

  “The most important thing is that your father gave us his blessing.” Jack held her tight and nuzzled into her neck. His breath was warm and sweet and perfect as it blew into her hair. “We can finally be together…if you’ll have me.”

  “Oh, Jack.” She rose up on tiptoe and stamped her mouth to his, kissing him with every ounce of promise in her body. “Nothing would make me happier than being your wife and your bonded mate.”

  “I love you so much, Isabelle.” Stroking his hands up and down her back, Jack squeezed her against him. Until they couldn’t be closer without being one. “It was painful being away from you. I was physically ill…but nothing compared to the hole carved in my heart. You took a piece of me with you when you left.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said, brushing her lips against his. “I left a piece of my heart behind with you in San Francisco. In your arms is the only place I feel whole.”

  He rested his forehead against hers and breathed in deeply. “I’m suddenly dizzy.”

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling back to get a good look at him. He was pale. “Is it a lack of adrenaline?”

  “No, it’s you.” He tipped her chin up with his fingers and then kissed her, making the world and everything else around them disappear. “If I said you strengthen me and weaken me at the same time, would you understand what I mean?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. But if you take me home, you can explain it to me all night long.”

  “And tomorrow, too,” he promised, kissing the tip of her nose. “And the next day, and the one after that.”

  “I love you, Jack.” Her heart beat strong and true. “Always.”

  “Come on,” he said, tucking her under one arm and the painting under the other. “Let’s go home.”

  “Which home will that be?”

  “Ireland, of course. Your place is there, ruling over the pack. And my place is with you.”

  He was a great man. It was a good thing her father got to see that before he passed.

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said, heart fluttering with excitement. “But would you mind if we stopped by your place first? There’s something I want to show you.”

  He glanced down at her. “At my place?”

  She nodded. “A little surprise. I had it delivered this morning. I tried to catch you there, but apparently you’d already left for the auction.”

  “You never cease to amaze me.”

  Wait until he saw what was in his driveway…

  Chapter Twenty

  “I told you I’d replace it.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Turning into his driveway, Jack stared at the massive marble fountain that’d replaced his last one. “Is that…Aphrodite?”

  Isabelle nodded excitedly and leaned over him to point out the driver’s-side window. “She’s bathing.”

  “She’s naked.”

  “Is that all you see?” She smacked him playfully in the shoulder. “She’s graceful and elegant, and so much classier than your last one.”

  “I agree with you there,” he said, shrugging, “but did you have to buy one so…big? Look at her. She’s massive. Over eight feet tall, at least.”

  “Yes, but she’s also the goddess of love. She deserves to be the focal point of your yard. Besides, this place could use a woman’s touch.”

  He gave a groan as he took her hand and placed it over his heart. “Speaking of needing your touch…”

  Heat sparked through his palm and splintered into his chest as she rested her head on the seat back and nailed him with a lustful stare. And then, tantalizingly slow, he moved her hand lower, down his abs, to the ridge of his slacks. She sat perfectly still, her gaze raking up and down his body, drinking him in.

  Leaning over, he closed her mouth over hers, gently grazing his teeth against her lower lip. She mewed in response and slid her hands around his neck. Urging him on. He wanted to taste more of her, all of her, right here in this car.

  “We should get inside,” he said, and nearly leaped out of the car.

  The second he met her around the other side, he dragged her against him and closed his mouth over he
rs. Guiding her back, back, back, he held her tight as he stepped up the stairs and pushed through the doorway of his home. Branson had taken her car from the museum, parked it in his garage, and left the door open for them. Jack had told his friend to “take a walk,” which meant he and Isabelle had the place to themselves for the night.

  Which is exactly what he needed.

  By the time the night was through, Isabelle would be screaming his name.

  She would be his, body and soul, forever.

  Kicking the door closed, Jack pinned Isabelle against the wall with his hips and held her hands over her head. Possessing her mouth, he tangled his tongue with hers and explored the deep, wet recess of her mouth. The primal urge to claim her, here and now, fluttered through him and then caught.

  “We should get upstairs,” he said between ravenous kisses. He skimmed a hand down her lean body, stopping over the flat span at her belly button, and then gripped her hip. “Before I take you against the wall. This wasn’t the romantic encounter I’d envisioned for tonight.”

  She grinned against his mouth. “You had no idea I was coming. How could you have planned something romantic?”

  Now it was his turn to smirk. Using two fingers against her chin, he directed her attention to the stairs. He’d had hundreds of red and white rose petals laid out. Candles flickered from every stair, winding up to the second floor. It was as romantic as he could arrange in the brief thirty-minute drive from the auction hall to his front door.

  “Wow.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “It’s…magic.”

  Actually, Branson had set it up.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I do, I love it. But I wasn’t talking about the roses.” She spun back into his arms. “You are pure magic.”

  He smudged kisses down the silky-smooth curve of her neck. “Me?”

  “What you do to me.” Leaning her head back against the wall, Isabelle panted for air. “You melt me, Jack. One kiss and I can’t breathe.”

  On command, he brushed his lips against hers, and then plunged his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, a soft, seductive sound that tested his control.