by Leslie Kelly
The top and loose skirt hung baggily over her body, concealing much of her shape. But from where he’d been sitting, by the door, he’d gotten a few glimpses of her calves and thighs outlined beneath the filmy fabric. The tight, black leggings she wore beneath the skirt clung to those limbs, highlighting the slenderness, the length.
He’d seen her maneuver through the crowded room with platters of food, serving others, waiting on those far beneath her in stature. He’d heard her snap at anyone who tested her and watched her manage ten tasks at once.
He’d also seen her defend herself against an oaf who had laid hands on her without permission. That was fortunate, for Lucas had been rising from his seat, his hands clenching into fists the moment the stranger’s shifty eyes had hinted at his dark thoughts. A low, black cloud of anger had overtaken Lucas’s vision and he’d almost launched himself across the diner when the bastard had dared to touch her.
But she’d taken care of herself.
Something told him she always took care of herself.
She was also someone who could be taken at her word. Penny proved as much by showing up at the door exactly five minutes after he’d exited. She burst outside. “Okay. You’ve got my attention. Tell me what you want, and then go away.”
Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the door to make sure she didn’t dart around him to go in, and nobody else could come out. Then he answered. “I am indeed going away. Far, far away. And so are you.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. For the first time since he’d seen her, she was entirely speechless. He sensed it didn’t happen often. This was a woman who was seldom lost for words.
She was tough. Ragged. Hard-edged. Outrageously dressed, pierced and made-up. The idea of her presiding over the genteel court of Riverdale was ludicrous. Queen Verona would never accept this woman as the bride for her spoiled Prince Ruprecht.
Which, actually, was a good thing. Because there was no way Lucas could deliver Penny Mayfair into another man’s hands.
Not when he was determined to make her his own.
“OKAY, let me get this straight,” Penny said after the stranger had finished his ridiculous explanation. “You say you represent my mother’s people? And that you have to take me back to her homeland to claim some old inheritance?”
The big, sexy man, whose glorious eyes appeared to have a hint of gold in them out here in the sunlight, nodded, unaffected by her obvious disbelief. “Exactly.”
Though her heart fluttered, Penny quickly stifled her excitement. Because things like this just didn’t happen to her. Life was never this easy, not in the real world. She hadn’t gone on a fruitless, two-year journey of exploration only to have some hot dude in a black leather jacket show up out of the blue to provide answers to all her questions.
“But you won’t tell me where you want to take me or what this inheritance is? Or even who, exactly, sent you to find me.”
“Correct.”
“And you think I’m going to say, ‘Okey-dokey,’ grab my stuff and blindly follow you to the ass end of nowhere.”
He cast a long glance at her, visually assessing her admittedly unusual clothes. For some reason, one corner of the sensual mouth pulled up a bit in what was probably his impersonation of a smile. “You don’t need to pack much. You should definitely come as you really are.”
He said it as if he didn’t mind her wardrobe, which Callie called her Witch-of-the-West look, completed by the ruby-red high-tops.
“You’re missing the point. The issue isn’t my packing.”
“It isn’t? What other issue is there?”
Oh, maybe just the little one that this total stranger thought she would instantly trust him and let him whisk her away to who-knew-where to do who-knew-what.
Well, okay, some of the who-knew-what might be good. But only if she decided she wanted that ‘what’.
“The issue is, you can’t show up here and expect me to follow you like a dumb sheep.”
Though following him would entail walking behind the man. And considering the way his faded jeans hugged those incredible thighs and lean hips, she honestly wouldn’t mind getting a look from—and at—the rear.
“I’m no shepherd,” he said, something gleaming in the depths of those eyes.
“More like the big bad wolf,” she muttered.
For some reason, he suddenly coughed, lifting his fist to his mouth as he turned his head to the side. Finally, after he’d cleared his throat, he said, “We don’t have much time, Princess. We have to go now.”
There he went with that stupid nickname again. She blew out a huffy breath, then curved her hand around one ear, tilting her head to the side. “What’s that? I think I hear something. Oh, yeah, it’s the nuthouse calling. They want you to bring back their straitjacket.”
He merely lifted a brow. The man seemed incapable of being provoked, as if, despite his dangerous looks, he really knew how to hold onto his temper. “What can I say to convince you?”
She hesitated, wanting to walk away, yet tempted—so damn tempted—to listen to what he had to say.
Part of her was dying to know more about who sent him. Her mother’s people? Meaning, people who’d actually known her mother, whom Penny couldn’t even remember? People who might be able to fill in the blanks of her history—tell her why Penny had been able to find no record of her mother’s existence, not anywhere. Maybe explain why there was no proof of her parents’ marriage. No record of where her father had lived for a good ten years of his younger life. Why her own birth certificate hadn’t been filed until Penny had been three years old.
So many questions. No answers.
Until now?
Finally, taking a chance, she said, “All right. Here’s how you convince me. Tell me everything. Every single detail. Let me hear it and then I’ll decide if you’re crazy…or I’m crazier and actually believe you.”
He frowned. Instead of making him look forbidding, it just added to the whole super-hot-bad-boy thing he had going on.
“I can’t do that.”
Stabbed with disappointment, she immediately reached around him for the door handle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say.”
He refused to get out of the way. “You wouldn’t understand, not right now.”
“Look, Mr…. what is your name, anyway?”
“It’s Lucas Wolf.”
An appropriately tough one. Then she rolled her eyes. No wonder he’d reacted when she’d called him the big bad wolf. What was it, the name for words that sounded like what they were? Onomatopoeia? Yeah. That fit. His name definitely fit his whole big, bad self.
Besides, she’d bet he was a wolf as far as females were concerned. He sure had the looks for it, if not the flirtatious charm. Not that he probably needed to rely on charm or seduction. He was all tough, overpowering, alpha man who women flocked to like…well, like sheep.
Women often chose to settle down with nice guys. That didn’t mean they didn’t have fantasies about one last, wild fling with a dangerous, edgy man who was relentless in his pursuit. Many such females would probably have said, “When do we leave?” after hearing his proposition.
But not you.
No. Not her. Parts of her anatomy might already be packing her bags to follow him anywhere. But above the shoulders, she was firmly grounded in reality. She’d sown her wild oats. Big-time.
She’d also followed far too many promising trails that led only to disappointment. She was done with all that. No more expectations meant no more disappointments.
“Well, Mr. Wolf, you’re wasting your time. If you won’t give me any more information, then our conversation is finished. I need to get back to work.”
“Tell me you don’t want to come with me, that you’re not dying of curiosity.”
She hesitated, then finally lied. “I’m not.”
In truth, this tall, sexy stranger probably couldn’t have said anything that would have enticed her more. Still, the fact tha
t he was a stranger—a dangerous-looking one—meant she couldn’t consider going along with what he was asking. Aside from not wanting to set herself up for yet another disappointment, her instincts about people could be wrong this time. For all she knew, he could be the son of the Son of Sam.
“Hello?” a muffled voice said. Someone knocked on the glass door behind Lucas, obviously wanting to exit.
“You should let those people out. And I have to go back in.”
“No.”
He put a hand on her arm, and everything…changed.
Sizzling heat and pure electric energy erupted at the spot where hand met arm. More, though, there was a strange sense of recognition. As if confirming that she knew him far better than she should after such a brief acquaintance.
There’d been interest from the very start. This was something different. Something much bigger.
Penny sucked in a slow, uneven breath, astounded by the rush of pleasure that came with the unexpected contact. Her loose, gauzy shirt was thin enough to feel the indentation of each strong finger, though he didn’t clench them. It didn’t hurt in any way, yet she felt almost branded by the fire of his touch.
Claimed.
As crazy as it sounded, she felt as if she was finally discovering who she really was, where she belonged. Just the pressure of his grasp, that hint of restrained power, affected her like no other touch she could remember.
It was disconcerting, unnerving. Good, but also too surprising to deal with on the spot.
Somehow, she managed to keep still, merely staring at him until he silently unhanded her, the reluctant gentleman inside winning out over the overpowering male.
Well, maybe not a gentleman. But a decent guy.
Stop it, you don’t know that. You can’t be sure!
Even after he’d let her go, their eyes remained locked, and confusion flashed briefly in his. As if he, too, had been taken by surprise by an instant rush of feelings.
“My apologies.” He stepped aside to let the customers out.
Penny frowned. His speech was so strange. He was rough-looking, but could also be polite, almost old-fashioned. He used normal words, yet once in a while something sounded off.
A family eased out, casting curious stares at Penny and the stranger before heading up the block. The second they were out of earshot, he put his hand on her again, clasping her shoulder with determination.
So much for thinking he’d decided to be a gentleman. She shivered, though whether it was because she was glad or worried, she honestly couldn’t say. “Didn’t you apologize for grabbing me?”
“No. I was apologizing for accosting you in front of the door where people could see.”
“And now what, it’s accost away?” Her words lacked anger. She didn’t feel a bit accosted. Just warm and tingly again.
“I have you alone and I need you to agree to come with me.”
She cast a pointed stare toward the windows. Lucas turned, blocking her view…and blocking her from view of those within.
“Say you’ll come.”
“And if I say no, are you gonna tie me up and toss me into a big bag, tough guy?”
His response flew out of his mouth so quickly, she didn’t believe he planned it. “If I were to tie you up, Princess, I wouldn’t be tossing you anywhere but flat onto your back.”
Whoa. Penny swallowed hard, hearing the frustration in his voice, that note of bare, thin restraint. The cords of muscle in his neck flexed and he was breathing hard through obviously clenched teeth. Everything about him screamed at some supreme effort to remain in control.
She knew what he was trying to control. Oh, did she ever.
The man wanted her, and he’d been trying to keep himself from doing anything about it. When he’d touched her, he hadn’t been surprised by his reaction, but by the fact that she felt the same way.
Before, there had been attraction. Now there was pure hunger.
The claiming she’d sensed earlier hadn’t been about making demands of her…but of demanding her.
She knew that given half a chance, he would take her wildly. Passionately. He wanted to back her into the alley between the diner and the shop next door, yank her clothes out of the way and plunge into her, right up against the side of the building.
Or that’s what she wanted. Whatever.
It was instantaneous. Primal. Completely instinctive.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
Frowning, as if he didn’t like this thing that had sprung up between them, he said, “The man you’ve been waiting for.”
The man she’d been waiting for. Forever?
Her body reacted both to his visible lust and her own mental response. Even as Lucas dropped his hand again, as if already regretting being so blunt, Penny’s nipples tightened and swelled with need. They were super sensitive anyway, and now, at the thought of those big hands touching her and that hot mouth tasting her, all her nerve endings practically sat up and begged. She wanted to rip her own shirt off, to tweak and stroke, to gain some relief.
He noticed, his hot stare zoning in on the swell of her breasts. No way could he not see how he affected her. The want in those eyes made it seem for a second as though he could peer all the way through her clothes.
“Princess,” he groaned, low, cautionary. It was as if he was begging her to stop tormenting him.
Huh. Him? She was the one who was suddenly being betrayed by her body. The one whose feminine impulses, so long dormant, had awakened with a vengeance.
She had to clench her thighs together to keep them from trembling and to try to contain the swelling of her rapidly moistening sex. That only served to tighten the pressure around her clit, which already throbbed with need.
Funny that she hadn’t even thought about sex in months. Now she suspected she wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about it until she’d had it—with this man—at least a dozen times.
Her heart began to thud, her skin to prickle with anticipation. Each breath she drew was filled with his scent—earth and musk and sweat and man.
Lucas closed his eyes, visibly trying to regain his calm. He seemed deeply affected by the subtle changes in her body, each hidden sign of feminine desire. His deep breaths and the faint flare of his nostrils made her wonder if he could actually catch the aroma of arousal that seemed to permeate her every pore.
He shuddered slightly, licking his lips. As if he could taste her on the air. Which simply inflamed her all the more.
Are you insane? They were standing outside the diner, in broad daylight. Even if the people inside couldn’t see her, anybody walking up the street certainly could.
This crazy interlude—which was like having sex without a single intimate touch—needed to stop. Now. And she knew how to stop it. Sheer bravado had gotten her out of many tough scrapes.
“So, uh, do you have a thing for tying girls up, hotshot? Does that make you feel strong?” she finally asked, intentionally baiting him. Her tone wasn’t suggestive and there was no purr of invitation that said she wanted him to subdue her. Even though you do. She was all gruff, bitchy attitude, albeit her voice was a tiny bit weak and breathy.
“Only those who need to be,” he growled. “And the thought of having you held in place, forced to lie back and be pleasured, doesn’t make me strong, it makes me weak in the knees.”
Oh, shit. Talk about out of the frying pan. Her own knees knocked together and she wobbled, needing to stick a hand out to steady herself. That hand landed on a big, broad chest.
“Stop it,” she whispered. “This is crazy.”
“Trust me,” he urged.
“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”
“Yes. You do,” he insisted. “Deep down, you know you do. Give me a chance. Come with me.”
She swallowed as he stepped closer. So close his boot slipped between her feet, his jean-covered leg sliding temptingly between her thighs. Hot and hard and so overwhelmingly male it was all she could do not to sink down
and straddle him, ride him, use him to gain some much-needed release.
Gazing at the hint of skin revealed by the white shirt beneath his jacket, Penny’s mouth went dry. It had been a long time since she’d run her lips along a ridge of hard muscle or tasted salt-tinged male flesh.
That flesh was darkly tanned, the neck powerful with cords of muscle that met solid-granite shoulders. A hint of curly dark hair on his chest made her wonder how low it went, if it narrowed to a thin line down a flat, rippled stomach before disappearing into the waistband of his jeans.
“Please.”
For a second, she wasn’t sure if he’d whispered that word or she had.
Shaking her head hard, she forced her thoughts back where they needed to go. On the safe and normal present. Not on any wild, crazy adventures with Mr. Shagalicious Hotness.
“I can’t listen to this any longer. It’s crazy in there.”
Crazier out here.
He hesitated, glanced over his shoulder toward the restaurant full of angry, impatient customers. Sighing heavily, he narrowed his eyes and stepped away. “All right. We’ll talk after you’re finished work.”
She let out an unamused laugh. “I’m not going to be out of here until 10:00 p.m., at the earliest.”
His jaw, which looked even swarthier than it had twenty minutes ago inside, clenched. “Ten o’clock? At night?”
“That’s generally what 10:00 p.m. means.” Realizing she might have sounded as though she was asking him to wait for her, she quickly clarified, “That wasn’t an invitation to come in and wait.”
“I don’t intend to.”
So much for convincing her. Penny couldn’t help wondering why the abrupt comment stung a little. “Whatever,” she said, stepping around him and tugging the door open.
He cleared his throat before she could step inside. “Nights are…” He looked up into the sky and rubbed a hand against his jaw. A big, strong hand. That stubborn, hard jaw. “…not good.”
Funny. She sensed a night with this man could be very good.
No. No thinking that way. “I can’t do this. Not here. Not now. Please let me go,” she said.