Red Velvet Moon

by Theodora Lane

  God, he could be such a prick. “If he comes near her, I’ll…” Tony cut off the next words.

  Diego’s teasing echoed in his ear. He shut the phone and then tucked it into the pocket of his dress slacks. “Sorry about that. One of my brothers.”

  She smiled. “Which one?”

  Oh God, he’d die if she were interested in Diego or Max and not him. After all, she’d come in on Max’s day to work, not his.

  “Diego, the middle one.”

  “And you’re the youngest.” Not a question, more a statement of fact. A fact he hated at times—well, most of the time. Being the youngest of the family had made him the butt of endless pranks and the recipient of countless noogies and wet willies by both his older brothers.

  “Right. Now, back to the dress.” If she thought she’d distract him with small talk, she didn’t know him well. She didn’t know him at all, especially about his wolf, and for now, he wanted to keep it that way. Telling her about his family’s secret before she was ready was a surefire way to send her running. “What happened, and who needed killin’?”

  ∙•∙

  Daphne groaned. What had made her say that? She’d fallen into those dark, dreamy bedroom eyes of his, soothed by his sultry voice, and it had just slipped out. But she’d meant every word of it—the jerk had needed killin’.

  What was Antonio doing there? Just her rotten luck, of course. How could she tell him the truth? It was too embarrassing. She’d been such a fool to think she could bring her fantasy to life. Thank God she’d had enough sense to try it on her trip back home to Houston and not right there in town. She would have rather packed her bags and left than face the entire town of Sleeping Dog, knowing what a fool she’d been.

  Antonio leaned toward her, gazed into her eyes, and every single naughty image she’d ever had about him came flooding back to her in a rush of toe-curling heat that threatened to rob her of the ability to speak and remain upright.

  “I made a mistake; that’s all.” She braced herself on the counter. God, he smelled so good, she could barely keep from flaring her nostrils as she drank him in. He’d asked for the truth, and right now, that was as close to it as she could get.

  If he knew, he’d never ask her out. Not that he was going to; it had become apparent to her a month ago she’d have to give up her unsuccessful attempts to flirt with him. They had only made her look like a fool and feel like a big, fat failure. Literally.

  “A mistake? What, you didn’t finish him off?” Antonio cocked his head and grinned at her.

  She couldn’t help but burst into laughter. He was gorgeous, sexy, smart, and he made her laugh. Now, if he could salsa dance, she’d know he was the man for her. But without him doing anything to encourage her, she wasn’t going to inch out on that frail emotional limb. Nope, she’d done that before and look at what had happened.

  The damn limb had broken under her weight.

  Her face burned, and she looked down at the dress. No other dress had made her look so good or feel so sexy. She’d known it the first time she’d tried it on in the vintage clothing store in Houston. You only found a dress like this maybe once in your life, and when you did, you didn’t let it go. Ever.

  Not even if there was blood all over it.

  “I didn’t have to. He got the message.” She pushed the garment toward him. “So, when will it be ready?”

  He held it up again and did that weird thing where he sniffed it. Maybe some sort of dry cleaners’ trick of the trade to evaluate a stain. Or maybe it turned him on to smell her clothes.

  Just the thought of him taking secret whiffs of all the clothes she’d brought in got her excited. Did that mean he’d know the scent of her body? And that he liked it? Got off on it? For some reason, the thought, incredibly erotic and intimate, skittered up her spine as if he’d drawn his hot tongue over her bare skin.

  Had he ever jerked off using her clothing? Wanted her so bad he’d done it right there, in the cleaners, after she’d left? Behind the counter, risking someone seeing him? Her nipples pulled to tight, hard, painful points as her pussy clenched. She shifted from one foot to the other, the now-damp cotton panties she wore clinging to her. She’d add that image to her sexual daydreams about him—watching him, unleashed, lust-filled, jerking off using one of her silk shirts. She’d pay to see that.

  A soft animal moan rumbled in her throat.

  He glanced up at her, the dress still held to his face. Their gazes locked as if they could read each other’s minds, and his face turned nearly the deep red of the dress. He cleared his throat and dropped it as if it were on fire.

  “Hard to say. Without more information, I’m not sure.” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

  “What kind of information? Blood type?” She chuckled.

  He leaned on the counter. “I have the feeling there’s more to the story than you’re telling me.”

  “And that would help you get the stain out how?” Somehow, she didn’t quite believe him.

  “Well, it might.” He paused as he took a deep breath. “How about discussing it over dinner? Tonight?”

  All the air froze in her lungs. He’d asked her out. Finally. The urge to smack him upside his head nearly overpowered what leaped out of her throat.

  “Oh God, yes!” she shouted, as if she’d had an orgasm. Quickly, she coughed and ran her hands over her sweater as she tried to gain composure.

  ∙•∙

  Tony whimpered at the sound of release in her voice, making his cock a steel rod. She had to stop doing that, moving her hands, touching herself. Images of her, gloriously naked, running her hands over her breasts, plucking at her nipples as she straddled him.

  He inhaled and caught her scent, but this time it was richer, deeper, primal, and he just knew she’d creamed her panties. The urge to get on all fours, rip the thin cloth from her body with his teeth, and lick her clit until she screamed nearly dropped him, but he slammed his hands down onto the counter to stay upright, fighting his wolf.

  Thank God the counter was between him and her, and she couldn’t see the evidence of his arousal pressing painfully against the zipper of his slacks.

  “Great!”

  “Great!” she echoed.

  His brain dragged another erotic image to his mind. This time, his hands glided over her soft skin, learning every inch of her as she rode his cock.

  She tilted her head at him like a bird. Waiting.

  For him to…to…to get a grip and pull himself together.

  The phone, nestled in his pants pocket next to his stiff shaft, buzzed, and he jumped backward away from the counter. “Whoa!”

  She glanced down. Then up to his face. Then down again. Then she covered her mouth and bit back a laugh. The phone buzzed again, sending shocks through his cock, making his balls jerk tighter.

  “You going to get that, or just enjoy it?” One of her perfect eyebrows rose.

  “Damn!” He fumbled the phone out and checked it.

  Diego.

  He hit the button. “What now?” he barked.

  “Did you ask her yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she say yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn. Here, Max, I owe you five bucks.” Laughter in the background told Tony both of his brothers were on the end of this call. Typical. Assholes.

  “Details, we want details.”

  “No!” Tony shut off the phone, began to put it back into his pocket, thought better of it, and laid on the counter.

  “Your brother?”

  “Yes. Diego. Again.” He sighed. “Can I pick you up around seven?”

  “Sure. What did you have planned?”

  “Dinner.”

  “I like dinner.” She smiled.

  He wanted to deliver some smooth line like Max would use, one of those “Baby, I can rock your world” statements, but he never could do suave.

  “Great.” He pushed a notepad toward her. “Give me your address and
phone number, and I’ll see you then.”

  She leaned over, giving him another glimpse of the curve of her full breasts peeking out from the V and the thick mass of wavy dark-brown hair that fell over her shoulders as she wrote down her info. This time, he managed to keep the wolf’s whimper inside, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about his dick.

  “Here you go.” She ripped the paper off the pad, put it on top of the dress, and pushed it toward him. “Thanks for agreeing to work on my dress.”

  “Remember, I can’t do a completely thorough job unless I know all the details.”

  “Right. All the details.” She turned and headed to the door as he watched her jean-covered hips sway from side to side. She spun around and caught him staring at her ass.

  “Uh,” he stammered.

  “That’s okay. You can look. If you’re a good boy, you might even get to touch.” She gave him a saucy wink, ran her hand over her hip, opened the door, and left.

  Tony exhaled, groaned, and adjusted his cock to a more comfortable position.

  He’d definitely have to shoot one off before he picked her up, or else he’d embarrass both of them. And damn it, he’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon waiting to close the shop so he could do just that.

  He already knew what image he would use to do it. Daphne in that tight, sexy black sweater. Peeling it off, exposing a black lace bra, slipping it off, her pale cream-colored breasts tumbling out of it, and pink nipples hard points of pleasure. Licking them until she moaned as she rode his cock.

  He whimpered like the wolf he was as she reached down to stroke her clit with her fingers, then brought them to his lips for a taste…

  The door chime rang, and he looked up, half expecting to see Daphne again. Instead an old woman came up to the counter and plopped down what looked like a pair of German lederhosen. He did a double take at the light-brown leather garment, his mind saving itself by refusing to picture her in them.

  “Hello, Rosa. What can I do for you?” He sighed as the elderly lady smiled, completely toothless. She’d forgotten her dentures. Again.

  “Gonna be in the yodeling competition at the German Oktoberfest at the end of the month. Needed to get it out and clean it up. Stinks like mothballs.” After she gave him the once-over, she winked at him. “My, I don’t ever think I’ve seen you so hard!” She pointed to his crotch. “Nice. Good to know you can hold your own with your brothers. Girl that gets a ride on that sausage will be one damn lucky fräulein.”

  Tony pressed himself closer to the counter to hide the bulge.

  “Guess that juicy little peach that just left got your juices up, huh?” She leaned close, smacked her lips, and said, “You gonna get you a slice of sweetness?” as she wiggled her silver-gray eyebrows.

  “Rosa, can you not talk like that? It’s…weird.” He rolled his eyes as he wrote out her ticket for the garment. Forget weird, creepy was more like it.

  “But it’s true, ain’t it? Bet you’re thinking of how much you want to stick your bratwurst into her, huh? Or are you thinking you’d like it doggie-style? Put a little slap on that bootylicious butt of hers.” She pretended to spank the air in front of her, as her hips gyrated to some obscene rhythm.

  Tony froze and stared at her. Good God, how could one old woman be so…so…dirty? Sure, everyone talked about Rosa and her elderly housemate, Cleo, but weren’t spinsters supposed to be all prim and proper? Obviously, the newsflash hadn’t ever reached Rosa, and Cleo was just as bad.

  And how the hell could she tell what he’d been thinking? And what did she mean by “doggie-style?” Did she know about the Lobos family being werewolves? As far as he knew, it was a closely guarded secret.

  She guffawed, slapped the counter, and snatched the ticket he held.

  “Yeah, who let the dogs out? Woof! Woof! Woof!” she sang as she headed out the door, doing a strange little dance, her hips shaking to the tune.

  He groaned and wiped his hand over his face. If he couldn’t keep the truth about his attraction to Daphne from a little old lady, how would he ever keep it from his brothers?

  And if they found out, they’d ruin everything in their efforts to help him. They might even go so far as to show up on his date and drive Daphne away. All in fun, of course, but it’d have the same effect.

  He’d lose the woman he’d finally worked up the nerve to ask out. The only woman he’d asked out in nearly a year. The only woman he’d dreamed of, thought about, longed for, in all that time.

  Could she be his mate?

  Chapter Three

  Daphne twirled, checking out her outfit in the mirror. The soft feminine blouse plunged to a deep V, but its ruffles let only a peek or two of skin show through, depending on how she moved. The mid-calf black skirt slimmed her hips, but still managed to be sexy, with its side slit up to her thigh. Underneath, she’d worn a matching black lace bra, black garter belt and stockings, and no undies because it made her feel seductive and naughty.

  Antonio hadn’t said where he was taking her, but Sleeping Dog wasn’t a big town, so it could be only one of two places. The Casa Garcia, the better of the Mexican restaurants, or the Texas Steakhouse.

  She bet on the steakhouse. For some reason she couldn’t name, Antonio and steak went together, despite his Hispanic heritage. He was a meat eater, no doubt about it.

  Which was fine, because she loved a good steak. Next to Italian—her heritage—it was her favorite meal. And when she combined steak and Italian, she was in heaven.

  After a last check of her makeup, she ran a brush through her hair and then slipped her earrings on. This had been too long coming. She couldn’t be more ready for her big date. Nothing could go wrong tonight, nothing.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  She cringed, remembering the last time she’d said that and the fiasco at the hotel bar that led to her current set of troubles. Yeah, stuff could go wrong.

  For instance, she could spaz out, and Antonio would realize what a klutz she was. She looked down at her shoes, a cute little pair of black kitten heels. She kicked them off, dug around in her closet, found her black boots with the low heels, and put them on.

  There, no trip hazards.

  She might insult him, somehow. Easy, no religion or politics.

  Talk about business, the movies, books. Boring, but safe.

  She could eat too much, always a fear of hers. She’d just watch what she ordered, that’s all. Pick a salad or a soup, skip the main course. Eat like a bird, and hum real loud when her tummy rumbled. Better eat before she went out to avoid any embarrassing noises. She rushed to the kitchen and threw together a sandwich.

  As she chewed, she thought, what if they got to the restaurant and they had nothing to talk about? Nothing in common? Nothing to base a relationship on?

  Not that she was looking for a relationship. Was she? She wanted to sleep with him, that was for sure, but more than that? Well…

  Who was she kidding?

  Yeah, she wanted more with him. He’d been the only guy in a long time to get her stirred up, make her long for him, make her think about a future with a man again, instead of thinking of herself as a woman who’d given up her personal life for her business.

  She loved her business, she did, but she wanted it all—her own restaurant, a husband, kids, and a home. Right now, she had the business, the house, but no man on the horizon and without the guy, no kids. And without those things, a house wasn’t a home.

  The desperation that had sent her running to Houston to fulfill her fantasy engulfed her, nearly choking her. She threw the rest of her sandwich into the garbage pail and then poured a glass of water.

  “Slow down, girlfriend,” she warned herself. “It’s just a date. That’s all.” She downed the glass in one long pull, and then put it into the sink.

  She really was getting way ahead of herself. Tonight, they’d just find out if they liked each other, and if they did, maybe arrange for another date. It wasn’t marriage. Or any kind of
commitment.

  Don’t put the cart before the horse, her mom would say. Daphne smiled at the images of her mother and father—both dead now—and her heart filled with regret that she’d lost most of her family. She truly missed being surrounded by people who loved and accepted her.

  Antonio Lobos was a man to admire. An MBA from Rice, co-owner in his family’s business, handsome, sexy, serious, yet funny. The first time she’d brought in her cleaning to the shop, she’d felt an attraction to him she couldn’t deny.

  Since then, what little she’d learned about the Lobos brothers had been gleaned from her careful inquiries of the townspeople. The Lobos family name went back to before the town was even formed. Nearly ten years ago, the brothers’ parents had been killed in a car accident, leaving them the family business. The three had stepped up, run the business, and Maximilian and Antonio had managed to go to college. Word had it that two of them would be married soon, leaving Antonio the lone single brother.

  Despite his parents’ deaths, Antonio was lucky; he had his grandmother and brothers. When his brothers married, he’d soon be surrounded by sisters-in-law, nieces, and nephews.

  And she’d be alone, with only her business to cling to, not a family. Not a husband or any children. She blinked as tears welled, then shook off her maudlin thoughts.

  She exhaled and headed to her room to recheck her makeup. “Uh-uh, girlfriend. No pity party tonight. I have a date with Antonio Lobos, one of Sleeping Dog’s most eligible bachelors.”

  Daphne smiled into the mirror over her dresser as she reapplied her lipstick. Long-lasting, huh? She closed the tube and then stuffed it into her purse. If it were up to her, this would be a date Antonio would never forget. Tonight, she’d make him so hungry for her that he’d want to keep her all to himself. Forever.

  An image of him, standing over her, looking as if he guarded her body and soul, flashed in her mind—fearless, strong, and determined. She sighed as the arousal swept over her, and she fought the urge to relieve the tension tightening her pussy with her fingers. Already, just thinking of him, she’d grown damp.