
WEREWOLF IN GREENWICH VILLAGE
A Wild About You Novella
Vicki Lewis Thompson
New American Library
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Any self-respecting female werewolf knew how to walk into a nightclub by herself. Nadia Henderson had mastered that skill so well that she made walking into a nightclub alone look like her preference.
That talent would come in handy tonight. She wasn't about to give up an espresso martini at her favorite club because her assistant, Sherry, had decided she would rather see an obscure Broadway play than accompany her. Nadia had been anticipating her martini ever since leaving Chicago. And while she enjoyed her nights out with Sherry, she certainly didn't mind going to the club, Jessie's, alone.
The powerful Wallace pack owned the members-only club located in the heart of Manhattan. An elegant black enamel door at street level admitted members to a small ground-floor lobby. Jessie's was one flight up, accessed either by a red-carpeted stairway or a walnut-paneled elevator.
Although the membership consisted solely of Weres, human guests were allowed. The Wallaces insisted on a strict no-transformation policy while in Jessie's, so the guests had no idea they'd entered a wolf den.
The continued business success of Were packs all over the world depended on that kind of secrecy. If humans ever discovered that werewolves lived among them and controlled much of the wealth in several large cities, panic would ensue.
Stepping out of the car she'd hired for the length of her stay in New York, Nadia thanked the driver, who'd come around to open her door. She'd managed to find a company progressive enough to offer hybrids, but the driver was old-school, which she appreciated.
As the driver got behind the wheel again and took the car back into traffic, Nadia snapped open her evening bag and pulled out a key card. The Wallace crest on the front of the card reminded her of how drastically her future plans had changed in less than a year. Just last January she'd rescinded a lifelong pledge to mate with Aidan Wallace, elder son of the Wallace pack alpha.
Given mirror-image names, Nadia and Aidan had been promised to each other at birth in hopes of uniting the Wallace pack of New York with the Henderson pack of Chicago. That hope had died when Aidan had fallen in love with a human. Initially everyone in the Were community had been horrified for both political and security reasons. Everyone except Nadia.
Once she'd seen how much Aidan and Emma loved each other, she'd known they had to be together. And she knew Aidan well enough to trust them both to work out a life together that wouldn't jeopardize the fate of all Weres. Releasing Aidan from his pledge had been the right thing to do. The affection she felt for him was a pale emotion compared to the passion he and Emma shared.
But this was her first visit to Jessie's since Aidan and Emma's wedding last spring. She'd dressed carefully in one of her organic cotton creations, an autumn-orange wisp of a dress that was perfect for a warm fall evening. She'd left her black hair loose and it cascaded to the middle of her back.
As she gazed at the street door leading to Jessie's, she admitted that coming to a nightclub that reminded her of Aidan had been a test to see whether she could carry on with style, as if her life hadn't undergone a major sea change. Until Aidan met Emma, Nadia's future had seemed secure.
Although no date had been set, she and Aidan had planned to take a werewolf oath of fidelity when the time was right. The fact they'd never managed to set a date should have warned her that the plan was flawed.
Now she had no idea what the future would bring. Her father was the Henderson pack alpha, and he'd begun hinting that Nadia would inherit that role instead of her only brother, Theo. She'd always known she was more alpha than Theo, and recently Theo had become far too unbalanced to lead the pack. If Nadia had mated with Aidan, she would have become part of Aidan's pack, forcing her father to choose an alpha outside the nuclear family. But now she was free to serve instead of Theo when the time came.
As she started toward the door, she heard a car pull up to the curb. The soft purr of the engine suggested it was a luxury car. She glanced back and her pulse rate spiked. Aidan's chauffeur drove a black Town Car much like this one.
Aidan could have scheduled an intimate evening at Jessie's with his new wife Emma. Nadia hadn't factored that into her plans. Pausing on the sidewalk, she turned and took a steadying breath.
After years of visiting New York, she knew most of the Weres who lived here, and she'd likely recognize the Town Car's passengers. They'd know her, too, so walking away would be rude.
If Aidan and Emma climbed out of the car, she'd greet them with a smile. If they invited her to share their table, she'd accept. She genuinely liked Emma, who agreed with many of Nadia's green initiatives.
And deep in Nadia's heart, she knew that Emma was a better mate for Aidan than Nadia would have been. Nadia and Aidan were too much alike, both mired in tradition. Emma forced Aidan out of his comfort zone.
But when the Town Car's back door opened, Nadia's Were sense of smell told her Aidan wasn't there. Instead Aidan's brother, Roarke, stepped out. Another Were male was in the car, as well. She couldn't see him clearly yet, but his scent was disturbingly familiar.
Roarke grinned and hurried toward her. "Hey, Nadia! I didn't know you were in town."
"Just got in." Roarke was the kind of brother she wished she had as opposed to Theo, who was a royal pain in the ass. Roarke had the same great physique and chiseled profile as his older brother, but Roarke was blond instead of dark-haired like Aidan. Still, no one seeing them together would doubt they were closely related.
Roarke gave her a warm hug. "That's my good luck, then. Come on up and have a drink with Quentin and me."
The tension that had drained from her at Roarke's arrival rushed back with a vengeance. So Quentin Wallace, Roarke and Aidan's cousin, was the other Were she'd scented.
Each time she'd met him at pack gatherings, she'd been swamped with lust. The werewolf code encouraged single Weres, even those who were pledged as Aidan and Nadia had been, to explore their sexuality before committing to one mate for life. But Nadia hadn't liked the idea of having an affair with the cousin of her mate-to-be, so she'd armored herself against Quentin's powerful appeal.
She suspected he'd felt the same sizzle whenever they'd met, but he'd never acknowledged it, either. It was bad manners to covet the female intended for the crown prince. Quentin hadn't stayed long at Aidan and Emma's wedding reception, so this was the first opportunity for Nadia to spend time with him since being released from her pledge.
He walked toward her with the lithe grace of a werewolf in his prime. As a contractor specializing in remodeling, he usually smelled liked fresh-cut wood with an underlying aroma of sensual musk.
"Hello, Nadia."
His deep voice plucked at her tightly stretched nerves. "Hey, Quentin." She gave him a breezy smile that she hoped disguised her gut reaction to him. He looked . . . incredible. Most Were males were broad of chest and lean of hip, but Quentin elevated that eye-candy potential to a whole new level.
His somewhat careless choice of clothing only emphasized his innate virility. He'd dressed as she would picture him on the job. He wore a soft blue chambray shirt, collar open and cuffs folded back, along with a pair of jeans that fit him with heart-stopping precision.
By today's standards, he needed a haircut, but the russet hair that brushed his collar only made him look sexy and unconventional. Quentin's style was in stark contrast to his cousin Aidan, the Were she'd thought would be her mate for life.
While Aidan favored Armani suits, regular trips to a barber, and chauffeured Town Cars, Quentin looked as if he'd be happiest wearing a leather jacket and riding a Harley. Nadia wondered if that contrast might be part of Quentin's appeal for her. She glanced into his hazel eyes and wished she hadn't. They burned with the same fire that threatened to consume her.
"I don't know about you two, but I'm dying of thirst," Roarke said. "And Quentin's buying, so let's get a move on." He gestured toward the door.
"You're buying?" Nadia congratulated herself on sounding as if she were one of the guys joining in the fun instead of a woman wallowing in a hotbed of hormones. "What's the occasion?"
"Roarke's flying to Oregon in the morning to take on Bigfoot. I offered to buy him a drink at Jessie's before he left. He can think back on it while he's trekking through the woods searching for that smelly animal, with not a single bar in sight."
Nadia glanced at Roarke as he ushered her through the door ahead of him. "Somebody's spotted Bigfoot again?"
"Unfortunately. Some old guy in Portland saw a mated pair, and the local pack asked me to use my cryptozoology credentials to discredit his discovery."
"That seems kind of mean, Roarke, picking on an old guy like that." Nadia's four-inch heels sank into the plush gray carpet as she crossed the small lobby and started up the stairs.
"I know it sounds cold, but Bigfoot fanatics are overrunning the Were's estate and threatening security. Besides, the Sasquatch shouldn't be wandering around so close to civilization. Maybe I can move them to a more remote location."
She glanced over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. "What about your classes at NYU? Didn't the fall semester just start?" The mellow notes of a saxophone solo drifted down the stairs.
"Yeah, classes are in full swing," Roarke said. "Fortunately I have a great TA and I don't expect to be gone long. But Quentin sees my trip out there as some sort of major deal, so don't disabuse him of that. I want my free drink."
"It is a major deal," Quentin said as he walked up the stairs behind them. "I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Bigfoot, and I don't like the idea that this mated pair might be turned into a tourist attraction."
Nadia had no trouble picturing Quentin as a defender of the big, hairy creatures that had little sense of self-preservation. She admired his good heart and his disinterest in lavish living, although he could well afford any luxury he desired.
She looked forward to sharing a table with him for a couple of hours. Judging from the way he'd looked at her when they'd met outside the club, he might be interested in more than that. Now that she had no ties, so was she.
At the top of the stairs stood a tall reception desk manned by Sylvester, Roarke's and Quentin's uncle. Tall and silver-haired, Sylvester looked as if he'd been born to wear a tuxedo. He set the perfect tone for Jessie's sophisticated ambiance.
He smiled in welcome. "I noticed you didn't arrive together, so was this a planned meeting or a happy coincidence?"
"Happy coincidence," Roarke said.
Until that moment, Nadia had forgotten about the discreetly positioned security cameras focused on the street. Anyone in the vicinity of Jessie's would show up on a monitor tucked behind Sylvester's reception desk. The Wallace pack was extremely security conscious.
Nadia wished the Henderson pack would follow suit, beginning with their principal loose cannon, her little brother Theo. He was under house arrest for attempting to breach pack security last winter, but Nadia suspected Theo had figured out how to outsmart the outdated security system installed years ago at the Henderson mansion.
Sylvester checked the seating chart on his computer. "Will anyone else be joining you?"
"Not unless Nadia's meeting someone here." Roarke glanced at her. "I didn't even think to ask."
"Nope, I'm here alone. I invited my assistant, Sherry, along, but there was a play she was dying to see tonight."
"A table for three, then." Sylvester moved out from behind the reception desk. "Follow me."
Walking behind Sylvester, Nadia moved through the arched doorway and sighed with delight. Jessie's was like no other nightclub she'd ever seen.
Although she knew they were inside a brick building deep in the bowels of the city, her senses told her that she'd stepped into a forested glade. The Wallaces had connections in Hollywood, and they'd hired a special-effects team to create Jessie's.
Trees arched overhead, and through the leafy branches glittered a star-filled sky. Loamy scents of moist earth mingled with evergreen and cedar. The rustic chairs looked as if someone had made them from twigs and branches found on the forest floor, and the tables were slabs of unfinished wood still ringed with bark.
A jazz trio perched on a grassy knoll filled the air with seductive music that beckoned patrons to an intimate dance floor. Nadia imagined herself dancing with Quentin, his muscled body brushing hers, and a wave of heat washed through her.
He probably wouldn't ask her, though. He'd invited Roarke to have a drink with him, and dancing with her would mean leaving Roarke to drink alone. Not good form.
Sylvester pulled out a chair facing the dance floor and the jazz trio. It was also the middle chair. "It's a pleasure to have you here again, Nadia."
"About time, too." Roarke rounded the table to sit on her left and Quentin took the chair on her right. "I distinctly remember telling you at the wedding that you should call whenever you came to town. I can't believe this is your first trip since then."
"Actually, it is." She used to visit New York more often when she'd thought it would become her home. Now that she wouldn't be basing her clothing business here, she no longer had to scout out potential office and warehouse space.
Roarke settled into his chair and lowered his voice. "I'll bet you've stayed close to home because of pack business. Rumor has it that you'll be the next Henderson alpha."
"You will?" Quentin seemed surprised. "I didn't hear that."
"It's possible." Nadia kept her voice low, too. Although she hadn't scented any humans in the nightclub, they could walk in at any moment, so all Weres in Jessie's had to be discreet. "My father's always favored Theo for the job, but even he now realizes Theo's not a good candidate."
"No, he's not." Roarke shook his head. "I know he's your brother, but he's . . ."
"I think the clinical term is manic-depressive, but my parents haven't accepted that quite yet. Still, my dad has listened to his advisors, who've convinced him that turning the pack over to Theo at any point in time would be a disaster."
"And you'd be great in the position. I have always--- Excuse me a minute. My phone's vibrating." Roarke pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the readout. "I need to take this. Order me an espresso martini, okay? I'll be right back." He left the table, walked across the room, and exited through the arched doorway.
A cocktail waitress dressed as a wood sprite arrived and took their order. Nobody mixed an espresso martini like Frederick, the bartender at Jessie's, and Nadia looked forward to the treat as she ordered one for her and one for Roarke.
Quentin, obviously not a martini fan, chose Scotch and soda. After the waitress left, he turned to her, his expression polite but guarded. "You're looking great." The heat had mysteriously disappeared from his hazel eyes.
"Thanks." Maybe she'd imagined how he'd looked at her out on the sidewalk. Maybe the lust wasn't mutual, after all. "I didn't get a chance to talk with you at the wedding reception."
"Yeah, well, I . . . I'm not into formal events."
Come to think of it, she had usually talked with him at more casual gatherings like picnics and barbeques. "Not much for suits and ties, huh?"
"Not much. So how's your business going?"
"Terrific. Sherry and I are meeting with a buyer from Saks tomorrow. Organic cotton clothing is a hot topic these days."
"Good to hear."
"How about you? Keeping busy?"
"I am. I'm juggling two jobs for clients, plus I'm . . . well, that's not really interesting. Tell me more about this appointment with the Saks buyer."
"There's nothing to tell. What did you start to say?"
He shrugged. "It's nothing monumental. In my spare time I'm remodeling a loft in the Village on spec. Might even live in it myself for awhile."
"I've always wanted to design my own living space." She guessed that he wouldn't have told her about the loft if she hadn't prodded him. "I'll bet that's fun to do."
"It is. Usually I don't allow myself to get attached to a project, but this loft is different. I'll still probably sell it because it's too big for me."
"Sometimes extra space is nice, though." Her female intuition kicked in. If he had a girlfriend, that would explain the hot glance in the beginning followed by a definite cooling-off period. Instinct had been replaced by reason. Being male, he might not realize the significance of his decision to remodel a loft that was too big for him.
But if his single life should come to an end in the near future, then presto! He'd have the perfect living space. If Nadia's suspicions were correct, she hoped the Were who'd caught his attention knew how lucky she was.
"This is more than a little bit of extra space," Quentin said. "I'd rattle around in this loft." He glanced toward the bar area as their server started toward their table with three drinks balanced on a tray. "Looks like our order."
"Frederick's not only good, he's fast." She vowed to drink her martini and get her libido under control.
If she was right about Quentin having a girlfriend, that was just as well. She really should be looking for her future mate instead of getting sexually involved with someone who could never fill that role.
She would likely succeed her father as pack alpha and looked forward to doing that. Quentin was a nonconformist who never participated in pack politics. Even if he should choose to, his station as a pack member was far below hers as the alpha's daughter.
Roarke returned at the same time the drinks arrived. He didn't sit down, though. "Try not to take this personally, but I'm leaving."
Quentin laughed. "It's your loss, buddy. What's up?"
"Apparently Cameron Gentry, the pack alpha in Portland, thinks tomorrow afternoon isn't soon enough. He wants me to fly there tonight. He sounds like something of an alarmist, but I'm going to humor him because my dad is worried about the situation out there."
Nadia was sorry to see him go. She'd missed talking with him. "Couldn't you stay for one drink?"
He shook his head. "I'm hoping to take the controls during the flight, at least for the first couple of hours, so no espresso martini for me. You're welcome to mine."
Quentin stood. "Guess I'll have to buy you that drink when you come home."
"That'll work." He clasped Quentin's outstretched hand. "Take good care of Nadia, cuz. She's a gem."
"I'm well aware of that."
Nadia told herself not to read anything into Quentin's comment. It was the polite thing to say, nothing more. Pushing back her chair, she went over to give Roarke a good-bye hug. "Have a safe trip."
He hugged her back. "You bet. And don't be such a stranger. Things didn't work out with my brother, but I'd still like to stay in touch."
"Okay." She smiled up at him. "I'll call you first thing next time I'm in town."
"You do that." He released her and stepped back. "See you folks later. Try not to get into too much trouble without me." Roarke turned and walked away.
"He knows me too well," Quentin said.
"Oh?" Nadia glanced at him.
"Never mind. Listen, now that we're both standing up, would you like to dance?"
Quentin took Nadia's hand, the skin-to-skin contact giving him a jolt of sexual awareness, and led her to the small dance floor. She moved into his arms with a natural grace that heated his blood and stirred his loins.
From the moment he'd spotted her standing on the sidewalk in front of Jessie's, he'd promised himself that before the night was out, he'd at least treat himself to one dance. This was a golden opportunity he wasn't willing to pass up after all the years he'd lusted after her.
In fact, he'd been spinning some hot fantasies that involved using this trip of Nadia's to finally act on that lust if she had time and was willing. Then he'd been abruptly reminded of her station in life---heir to the Henderson throne---and realized that whether she was pledged to Aidan or not, she was still out of his league.
If Quentin had made some effort to keep up with pack politics, he would have heard the rumors that her father wanted her to take over. But there was another major difference between him and Nadia---he didn't give a damn about pack politics and never would.
Now that he'd been reminded of the chasm between them, he'd made every effort to douse the flame of lust that ignited every time he came within ten feet of her. But then they'd ended up alone, without the presence of Roarke to mute the attraction.
Under these new conditions, self-restraint was difficult to come by. Her hot body moved in perfect time with his. He wasn't surprised. They'd match each other's rhythm in bed, too. Or out of bed, if they chose to come together as Weres.
Her smooth cheek nestled against his and her warm breath caressed his ear. "Tell me about your girlfriend."
He pulled back to stare at her. "My what?"
"Girlfriend. I have a strong suspicion that you have one. And because of that, we probably shouldn't even be out here on the dance floor together. The Were community is small. Wolves gossip, and she'll find out."
"I don't have a girlfriend." He wondered how in hell she'd jumped to that nutty conclusion.
Her gaze locked with his. "You're not involved with anyone?"
"No." How he'd dreamed of looking into those beautiful gray eyes as he held her close. He pulled her back into his embrace and twirled her around the dance floor.
"I thought you might be."
"Why?" The female mind was a fascinating puzzle. The female body, especially hers, was fascinating in a different way, but he probably should dial back his reaction to her by several notches or he'd embarrass himself.
"When we first met outside, I thought you looked at me with . . . interest."
"There's an understatement. That orange dress is killer. You look like a runway model in it, especially wearing those silver heels. You're sexier than any woman I know." He probably shouldn't have added the last part, but when he did, she sighed and melted against him the way hot wax slipped into a mold.
"So I didn't mistake that look you gave me," she murmured.
"No." He tightened his grip as their bodies aligned. "You knocked my socks off."
"But then afterward you seemed way more reserved. How come?"
"I've always known you were several steps above me in the hierarchy, but I hadn't heard that you're in line to become the Henderson alpha." Her hips fit neatly against his and no doubt she knew exactly how she'd affected him. "A Were in your position . . ."
"Should be celibate?"
His heart raced. Yeah, if they had sex, she might consider him the equivalent of the pool boy, but was he going to quibble about that? No. "Careful might be a better word. You have to be careful who you get involved with."
"I'm always careful."
"Glad to hear it." And he would be, too. If they used this opportunity to get cozy, he'd make sure he remembered his place in the pecking order. He wouldn't start dreaming impossible dreams.
The heat between them had reached the point where they might be wise to leave the dance floor, though. The music wasn't over yet, but unless he put some distance between them, he was liable to lead her off the floor, out of the nightclub, and into the nearest cab bound for his place.
She might even let him do that. But he thought they should both be clear about their motivations before, and if, they surrendered to this attraction.
"We need a time out," he said. "Let's go back to the table, drink our drinks, and talk."
She laughed softly. "Okay." Easing away from him, she walked back to the table, hips swaying provocatively.
Sucking in a breath, he followed her. Yeah, he could be her pool boy for a couple of days. He was willing to be used for sex. At least then he'd finally, finally have some real experiences to thread into his fantasies about her.
By quickening his pace, he managed to round the table and help her into her chair. Her glossy hair smelled like wildflowers, but he also caught the scent of arousal.
Any Were who walked past the table would pick up on it. Add that to the way they'd been plastered together on the dance floor, and logical conclusions would be reached. Fortunately the nightclub was nearly empty. Still, Nadia was right about gossip, and he didn't want to unthinkingly subject her to that, considering her standing in the Were community and his lack of one.
When he sat down, he moved his chair further to the right, away from her heat.
"You're doing it again."
He glanced at her. "Doing what?"
"Pulling back. Look, if you have a girlfriend, but you're still attracted to me, I understand. It happens. We'll have our drinks and go our separate ways."
He met her gaze and wondered why she was stuck on this girlfriend subject. He couldn't think of anything he'd said that would lead her to think he had one. "Nadia, I promise you I'm not involved with anyone, human or Were." He picked up his Scotch and soda. "Here's to . . . friendship."
She regarded him with a bemused expression. "To friendship." She touched her martini glass to his tumbler and sipped her drink while gazing at him over the rim.
He swallowed a hefty amount of the smooth Scotch. It was put up or shut up time. "I'm sure it'll come as no surprise that I've been attracted to you for quite a while."
"As you could probably tell, it's been mutual."
He fought the surge of desire that threatened to block out all logic. "I thought so, but . . ." He couldn't hold back a grin. "It feels great to get confirmation after all these years."
"You were Aidan's cousin, and I didn't think---"
"Same here. It would have been a really bad idea." He took another gulp of the Scotch.
She wanted him and he wanted her. Could anything be simpler . . . or more complicated? They could walk out of here, and if they took a cab instead of a hired car, the Were community wouldn't have to know where they went or what they did after that.
No, that wasn't true, either. Sylvester would know they'd taken the same cab because of the security cameras trained on the sidewalk. Okay, if they wanted to be discreet, they could take two cabs and meet somewhere.
That should be her call because she had the most to lose if gossip became a problem for her. Whether they kept the liaison secret or not, they could agree they were merely scratching an itch, nothing more. His ego would appreciate that kind of understanding.
"I can almost hear you thinking." Her voice had a teasing lilt to it. "I'm curious as to whether we're thinking the same thing."
He realized he'd been staring into his drink and glanced up. "I was thinking that you're not pledged to Aidan anymore."
Amusement flashed in her eyes. "No, I'm not."
"And you're not the pack alpha yet."
"Nope. Any other thoughts?"
"Yes. You're royalty and I'm a peon. But I want you anyway. How do you feel about that?"
She leaned forward. "I've been trying to talk myself out of having sex with you because I should start thinking about my future. But then I wonder who would care if we enjoy ourselves for one night?"
He was on fire for her. "Probably no one."
"I think you're right."
"Then I think we should get the hell out of here."
She laughed. "Good call." Setting down her drink, she pushed back her chair.
Blood rushed in his ears. This was it. She'd just agreed to go home with him. Feeling a little shaky from the adrenaline pumping through his system, he stood, pulled out his wallet, and tossed some money on the table without bothering to count it.
As she moved around the table toward him, he resisted the urge to touch her, because he wasn't in total control of himself. "One cab or two?"
She looked up into his eyes. "I don't care who knows. Do you?"
"Not if you don't." His throat felt tight. "My place then?"
"Actually, I want to see your loft."
For reasons he didn't fully understand, he resisted. "Nadia, that makes no sense. It's not finished. There's sawdust, and stacks of lumber, and plumbing supplies, and . . . it's not safe. You could trip on something, or get that beautiful dress dirty if you brushed up against---"
"You'll watch out for me." She reached up and cupped his cheek in her very warm, very soft hand. "Please take me there."
He forgot how to breathe. Please take me there. He wondered if she'd meant that literally. Judging from the gleam of passion in her beautiful eyes, she had.
And, God help him, he would.
Nadia couldn't say what drove her to uncover Quentin's secrets, but she thought this loft was one of them and she wanted to see it. On the silent cab ride to Greenwich Village, he held her hand, his strong, slightly calloused fingers interlaced with hers.
She was a little out of practice in this business of taking a lover. In her early twenties she'd been a free spirit, but as she'd approached the time she'd expected to settle down with Aidan, she'd lost her taste for casual flings.
This one with Quentin might be her last before assuming her duties as the next Henderson pack alpha. If so, it was an appropriate way to bid farewell to her carefree days. She couldn't remember ever being this excited about having sex.
But before she abandoned herself to the sensual pleasure she knew they'd create together, she wanted to see his loft. Seeing it would expand her knowledge of him and she felt the need for that. The artist in her wanted to know what excited the artist in him.
He'd always been something of a mystery to her. While all Weres tended to seek privacy in their personal lives, Quentin seemed more diligent about that than most.
He had no brothers or sisters, and although he socialized with his pack, he also seemed to treasure time alone, which wasn't particularly wolflike. She had that same tendency toward solitude. His self-sufficiency might be why she found him so intriguing and sexually exciting.
He helped her out of the cab in front of a massive old brick building that stood three stories tall. The large windows indicated that it might have been used as a warehouse or factory at one time.
Lights shone from the first and second floor, but the top floor was dark. Laughter and the sound of a boisterously played piano spilled from the open windows of the second floor corner unit.
Quentin glanced up. "Sergei must be having a party."
"Your neighbor?"
"Only if I move in." Taking her hand, he led her toward a doorway and punched in a code. "For now he's a tenant."
"You own this place?"
"Since about six months ago. The previous owner ran out of money before he renovated the top floor, so that's what I'm doing." He opened the door and released her hand so she could enter ahead of him.
Walking inside, she paused in wonder. Soft lighting illuminated a hallway covered with murals---cityscapes blending with rural scenes in a colorful and fanciful montage. "Wow. Who did this?"
"The residents and some friends of theirs. This building seems to attract artists. That's one of the reasons I bought it."
"That's an interesting reason."
"The thing is, I like . . ." He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I like being surrounded by creativity. It energizes me."
"Me, too." She felt as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. Maybe it wasn't just his toned body and noble features that had drawn her to him. Maybe she'd sensed a kindred spirit, someone who thrived on inspiration, both in his work and the work of others.
"Ready to go up?"
"Yes."
He held out his hand, and she slipped hers into his large, capable grip. Safe. The word popped into her mind, surprising her.
Because she was Were, she seldom felt unsafe physically. But she sensed that Quentin offered a different kind of safety. He would understand the creative impulses that were the bedrock of her existence.
That was heady stuff, and as they stepped into the cage-like freight elevator and he closed the door, she wondered if she'd started something that wouldn't be all that easy to end. But she didn't want to turn back.
She was doubly curious about the loft. At the thought of making love to him there, she grew dizzy with anticipation. Wild horses couldn't drag her away until she'd satisfied her curiosity and her lust.
The elevator lurched to a stop and Quentin opened the door with a screech of metal. "I'm warning you that the place is a mess."
"I can't see whether it is or not." She peered into the large, shadowy interior of the third floor. Faint light from the street filtered through the huge windows. "It's too dark."
"Just hold my hand and walk close. The light switch is a little bit beyond the elevator."
She followed his instructions and stayed by his side as he took three steps out of the elevator and reached to his right. A soft click was followed by . . . rainbows.
Her breath caught as she lifted her gaze to the most amazing crystal chandelier she'd ever seen, and she'd been in some pricey establishments. The chandelier hung from a long rod attached to a beam at least ten feet over their heads.
She stared in awe. Hundreds of faceted crystals reflected the light, glittering above them and throwing splashes of colored light into the far corners of the cavernous space. "Where did you---"
"A dilapidated mansion in the Hudson River Valley was being torn down and I had exactly one day to get this out of there. I thought of putting it in storage, but . . ." He shrugged. "I needed a light in here. Yeah, it'll get covered with construction dust and I'll have to clean it when the project's done, but so what?"
"You figured why put up with a bare bulb when you could have this?" Her hand still clasped in his, she turned to smile at him.
He smiled back. "Right."
As they stood looking at each other, she couldn't remember ever sharing a moment of such perfect understanding with anyone. In his world, as in hers, beauty came first, and practicality came second. The sense of connection gave her goose bumps that had nothing to do with sex. Well, maybe a little bit to do with sex.
He squeezed her hand. "Now that you're here, you might as well have the grand tour."
"I'd love that."
He took her around the perimeter and pointed out the chalk lines where walls would go. He'd roughed in one bathroom and installed both a toilet and sink, but he had yet to add the claw-foot tub he'd bought.
His explanations grew more animated with each section of the tour. He'd laid out an eat-in kitchen and he planned to build his own cabinets from a cache of recycled barn wood he'd found in upstate New York.
The master bedroom included a large window shaded by a venerable oak. Quentin spoke with enthusiasm about how the light came through the leaves and how beautiful that would be as they changed color in the next few weeks.
"And you're making the entire top floor into one unit?"
"That's the plan."
"Pricey rental." She didn't think for a moment that he was going to rent this loft. He'd designed it for himself and some lucky lady yet to be identified.
Whoever he ended up with, that Were had better understand his creative spirit. She'd better know exactly why he'd chosen to hang the chandelier instead of putting it into storage, or Nadia didn't give them much chance at happiness.
"It won't go cheap," he said, "but the right person, or the right couple, won't balk at the price. And I haven't shown you the best part. This next area is actually furnished." He took her to a back wall where the light from the chandelier didn't reach.
She made out the vague outline of a spiral staircase. "I thought we were already on the top floor."
"Ah, but there's a roof, and whoever lives on the top floor has access to it from this stairway."
"Excellent."
"I'll go first. Just stay close."
"Can I leave my purse down here?"
"Sure. Hang it on the railing and we'll pick it up on the way down."
Hooking the purse strap over the rail, she followed him up the metal staircase. Cool air rushed out when he opened a door at the top of the tiny landing. He stood outside on the roof and made sure she didn't trip on the sill as she stepped through.
Just like that, she was outside and four stories above the bustle of the city. Because she was in New York City, a town bristling with lights, she couldn't see stars overhead. She could barely make out the moon, but it was there, a silver crescent shining directly above them.
She smelled freshly turned earth and blooming plants before spotting the shadowy outline of a roof-top terrace. Four sturdy posts supported a lattice cover that would provide dappled shade by day. The terrace was furnished in rustic cedar, including a small table, two chairs, and two lounges.
Stepping onto the wooden decking, she marveled at the array of fragrant flowers in pots and young trees in oversized planters. Quentin must have hired a crane to get the trees up here. Canvas cushions on the chairs and lounges smelled and looked new.
"Hang on a second." Releasing her hand, he opened a small chest that served as an end table and took out a butane lighter. In seconds he'd lighted several votives. "That's better."
The flickering candlelight allowed her to see the yellow of the cushions and the color of the flowers, which were vivid red, yellow, and purple. She turned to Quentin, who looked quite pleased with himself. "This is a very romantic spot, you know."
"Thanks."
"If there's no girlfriend, then I assume you're looking for one so you can wow her with this hideaway." Nadia hoped that future girlfriend would appreciate how much work had gone into Quentin's little bit of paradise on the roof.
He laid the butane lighter on the chest and drew her into his arms. "Maybe I just want to wow a prospective tenant."
"If I thought I'd spend enough time in New York to justify the cost, I'd rent it from you in a heartbeat. You had me with the chandelier."
He nestled her closer. "So do it."
He was aroused, his erection straining the denim of his jeans. Moisture gathered between her thighs as her body reacted to his. She wound her arms around his neck and breathed in his woodsy male scent. "I won't be here often enough." Although more frequent trips would be a great excuse to see Quentin . . .
He cupped her bottom and brought her in tight. "I could make it worth your while."
Heat flooded through her at the thought of coming to New York to enjoy more nights like this. "You're tempting me."
"That's the idea." His mouth found hers, and the time for discussion was definitely over.
Kissing Nadia was like Christmas and his birthday rolled into one. Quentin had fantasized about kissing her for so long that the reality could have been a letdown. It wasn't.
Savoring her mouth and using his tongue to tell her of his ultimate intentions, he gave thanks for his dual nature. Being able to take either human or wolf form meant he'd have twice the pleasure of making love to her.
Weres enjoyed a rich sex life. Besides being able to experience both wolf and human sex, Weres had no need for condoms. They were immune to disease and couldn't create offspring unless they'd committed to a mate for life.
He wanted to begin their sexual adventure in human form so that he could appreciate her hot mouth and her soft skin. But he also craved the deep satisfaction of joining as wolves. That might not happen tonight, but maybe, just maybe, there were other nights in their future.
Having her rent this loft was a new and exciting concept, one that could work out nicely for both of them, at least until she chose a mate. In the meantime, he could be her very accommodating landlord.
But that was a future dream. The present was far more tantalizing as he began undressing her. She was heaven to touch as he skimmed away the orange number that had been driving him crazy all night.
It came off easily, as if she'd designed it that way. After he'd unfastened a couple of ties, it slid down to pool at her feet like melted sherbet.
Releasing her for a brief moment, he leaned over, gathered up her dress, and laid it on the arm of a chair. Something that special should be treated with care.
He turned back to discover that she'd unfastened her bra. His breath caught. Holding his gaze, she slowly revealed her high, perfectly formed breasts. They quivered slightly as she tossed the bra to the same chair that held her dress. Her lithe beauty robbed him of speech.
As he watched in total fascination, afraid that at any moment he'd awake from this dream, she shimmied out of her silk panties. They joined her other clothes on the chair.
That left her standing before him, a vision of rosy skin and dark glossy hair, wearing only her very high, very sexy, silver heels. She started to slip them off.
"No, don't." His voice was hoarse with lust. "I love those shoes on you."
She laughed, a husky sound filled with feminine power and desire. "I thought you loved the dress on me, too."
"I do, but the dress was in the way." His gaze swept over her, memorizing each slender curve gilded by candlelight. "The shoes aren't."
"If you say so." She gestured toward him. "You're way behind."
"Easily fixed." He pulled his shirt over his head without unbuttoning it and nudged off his loafers.
"Wait."
"Wait?" He paused in confusion.
"What if I want you to keep your shoes on?"
She was teasing him, and that was okay. They probably needed to dial back the intensity if they expected to come out of this in one piece, able to walk away from each other when circumstances changed. "You wearing high heels while I do you is provocative. Me wearing loafers while you do me, not so much." He unzipped his jeans.
"Says you."
"Says anybody with any sense." He shoved his jeans and briefs down over his almost painful erection and stepped out of them. Then he quickly pulled off both socks, which weren't any sexier than the loafers had been.
Her eyes shone as she gazed at him. Then she took a long, shaky breath and smiled. "You're right. Don't change a thing."
A gentle breeze swirled around them, immersing him in her exotic scent. If he were in wolf form, he would have howled at the moon. Then he could have taken her without worrying about where they were standing.
But he was not a wolf at the moment, and that meant they needed a soft surface. "Sorry, but I have to change one thing."
"I hope you're not planning to tie me up, because wearing my heels is about as far into kink as I go on a first date."
He snorted with laughter. "No ropes." Turning toward the chaise, he pulled the yellow cushion off and laid it on the cedar decking.
Then he held out his hand. Despite the way she'd joked around earlier, her hand trembled in his. He focused on her beautiful gray eyes as he guided her down to the cushion.
Her hair spread out over it, strands of black silk against the yellow canvas cushion. He marveled that she was here, and that a moment he'd decided might never happen was unfolding.
Leaning over her, he began a slow exploration with his mouth and tongue. All the while, her heady fragrance assailed him, tearing at his careful restraint. Then she began touching him, stroking with her magical, creative hands.
She caressed his shoulders and ran her hands down his biceps as he braced himself above her. With deliberate intent, she pressed her palm to his heart. "Your heart's beating very fast."
"I know." He looked into her eyes. "I've wanted this for a long, long time. I've dreamed of you, Nadia."
She brushed her thumbs over his nipples. "Wet dreams?"
"Wench." Laughing, he lowered his head to her breasts, but as he kissed her there, all laughter faded. She was amazing, and she'd allowed him to worship her naked body. He was humbled.
But not so humbled that he couldn't enjoy the bounty she offered him. Arching upward, she lifted her breasts as if begging for more.
His cock ached with the need to bury itself deep within her, but he held off so that he could feast upon her breasts. He felt himself going a little crazy as he nuzzled her satin skin and the nubby enticement of her nipples.
She'd opened the gates to her private playground, and he wanted to sample every wonder there. Kissing his way down the valley between her ribs, he flicked his tongue into the tiny indentation of her navel and was rewarded with a soft moan.
She might expect him to seek the treasures beneath her dark curls next, but he wanted to save that for last. Instead he nibbled the inside of her thighs and caressed the length of her slender calves until he reached . . . the shoes.
They were designed with a series of straps that left her toes bare. Kneeling by her feet, he circled her ankle with his fingers and lifted her foot so that he could plant kisses on each delicate, polished toe.
Her giggle turned to a sigh as he slowly unbuckled the shoe and slipped it off. Massaging her feet, he ran his tongue between each toe and listened as her breathing grew ragged.
"That's . . . nice," she murmured.
"Glad you like it." He lowered her bare foot and moved to the base of the cushion before he grasped her other ankle and lifted her toes to his mouth. By the time he'd removed her second shoe and had used both thumbs to massage the soles of her foot, her body had become languid and ripe for total surrender.
That was exactly how he wanted her as he slid back up the cushion between her parted legs. He breathed in the rich scent of desire and touched his tongue to her moist heat.
She groaned. "Please," she murmured. "Oh, please."
As if he would stop now. Bracketing her hips with both hands, he held her steady as he pleasured her. She writhed in his grip and her soft cries grew in intensity. He trembled, fighting the pressure of his own climax, wanting to give her this before he lost control.
Tunneling her fingers through his hair, she pressed against his scalp, arched off the cushion, and came in a glorious rush. He savored the nectar of her orgasm until the need for release drove him to rise to his hands and knees.
Panting, he lowered his hips, sought her slick entrance, and pushed deep. She clenched around him and he sucked in a breath, determined not to come until he'd coaxed her to a second orgasm.
Struggling for sanity, he looked into her amazing gray eyes. He'd imagined those eyes in the midst of lovemaking, but his imagination hadn't gone far enough. Her eyes gleamed with a fire so intense it stole his breath.
Her fingertips dug into his shoulders. "Quentin."
His world shifted. This was not some unfocused desire on her part. She wanted him. Her passion---hot, dark, potent---shook him to the depths of his soul.
Drawing back, he began to thrust. Nothing mattered but the need to pound into her, to feel her squeeze his cock again and again. She caught his rhythm and rose to meet him as the small garden filled with the sound of their joy.
They reached the summit together, in perfect sync, and he held her tight as their bodies bucked and quivered. At last, gasping for breath, he lowered her gently back to the cushion. He sank down with her, sated in a way he'd never been before.
So good. And yet . . . so bad. Nadia was supposed to be a sexy diversion. After what they'd just shared, that concept was laughable. She was more, so much more. And he wasn't laughing.
Nadia lay staring up through the lattice above her at the inky sky. Quentin's head rested next to hers on the cushion, his breath warm against her ear. He was mostly relaxed, but as she stroked his muscled back, she felt the slight tension caused by keeping his weight from crushing her.
Besides being a glorious lover, he was a considerate one, too. Dear heaven, she'd never had sex like this. She wanted to credit the seductive atmosphere---the scent of flowers, the glow of candlelight, the unseasonably warm night. But she knew it was all about Quentin.
His lovemaking was pitch-perfect. He'd excited her as no one had ever done, and she wasn't sure why, exactly. But every move he'd made had felt so right, as if she'd finally found someone who knew what she wanted, what she needed, without having to ask.
"Are you okay?" His murmured question tickled her ear.
"Yes and no."
He raised his head and peered down at her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Not a single thing. And that's . . . a potential problem."
His chest heaved. "I understand."
"I didn't expect . . ."
"Me, either." He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "I mean, I knew we'd be good together, but . . ."
"Not this good."
"Right."
"Maybe . . . maybe I should go back to my hotel." She didn't want to leave. Not ever. That was another sign that she was in trouble.
"Yeah. Big meeting tomorrow." He gazed down at her. "When do you go home?"
She reached up and finger-combed his tousled hair in an age-old feminine gesture of affection. "I'll be here two more nights, if that's what you're asking."
He smiled down at her. "That's what I'm asking. I know you have to leave now, but I'm hoping we can do this again. And the sooner, the better."
"Aren't you worried about getting really attached to each other?"
"Hell, yes, I'm worried. But just so you know, I'm not the cautious type who will forgo present pleasure because it could lead to future pain. You, on the other hand, said you're always careful. So maybe you don't want to risk---"
"If I'm going to be in the same city with you tomorrow night, I want to be in the same bed with you."
"That's what I like to hear." He leaned down and kissed her, taking his time about it.
Her body began to respond, and she cupped his face, forcing his mouth away. "I really do have to go."
"I know. Sorry. But when I kiss you, I seem to forget everything else."
"So do I."
He eased away from her. "I promise not to do it again until we both have our clothes on and I've called a cab."
"Tomorrow night we can plan better." She sat up.
"We'll go to my place." He held out his hand and helped her stand. "If you bring what you need for the next day's schedule, you won't have to go back to the hotel."
She laughed as she picked up her underwear and started putting it on. "Oh, yes, I would."
"Why, because of your assistant?" He pulled on his briefs and reached for his jeans.
"No. We each have our own rooms, but even if she knew I'd been with you all night, she'd never consider questioning that. But I should go back to the hotel to get some sleep, so I can function the next day."
"I'd let you sleep. I'm capable of leaving you alone so you can rest." He put on his jeans.
"Maybe I wouldn't leave you alone."
He glanced up and grinned at her. "That good, huh?"
"You know you were."
"I was hoping so." He zipped his jeans. "I'd hate to be the only one here who was blown away."
"You're not." She stepped into her dress and pulled it up over her hips. "And I'm not sure how we're going to deal with that, but let's postpone the heavy discussions and just be together." She fastened her dress and picked up her shoes. "If that works for you."
"It works." He flashed her another smile before he pulled on his shirt and slipped his feet into his loafers. He picked up his socks and shoved them in a back pocket before pulling out his phone.
As he ordered the cab, she felt him watching her as she sat down on one of the chairs to put on her shoes.
He tucked the phone back in his pocket. "I don't think I'll ever look at silver strap-on heels again without thinking of you."
She finished buckling them and stood. "I won't be able to wear these without thinking of you, so we're even."
"I guess we could blame it on the shoes."
She met his gaze. "You could try."
"It's not the shoes," he said softly. "Come on. Let's go down."
She followed him toward the roof-top door. "Your socks are hanging out of your pocket like a tail."
"That's my subtle way of signaling what the next round will involve. I live near a park."
"I see." Excitement fizzed in her veins. If he wanted to make love Were-style, she was all for it.
He opened the door and glanced over his shoulder. "If that works for you."
She had to clench both fists to keep from dragging him away from the door and ripping off his clothes. Why wait until tomorrow night? To hell with the cab. To hell with sleep.
But she needed to wait until tomorrow night, if only to prove to herself that she could. She swallowed. "It works."
Nadia had fully intended to sleep once she returned to her silent and sterile hotel room. But instead she was filled with energy and new design ideas popped into her brain, ideas that wouldn't let her sleep.
So she spent the rest of the night with a sketch pad that was synced to her computer. By dawn she'd roughed out enough designs to keep her shop busy for weeks producing what would be a great beginning for her spring collection.
She'd taken her inspiration partly from the murals in Quentin's building, and partly from the chandelier. She envisioned vibrant colors and crystal beads. And seductive designs, which owed much to Quentin, himself. Several times she'd caught herself looking at a concept through his eyes and knowing instinctively that he'd approve.
Coffee, adrenaline, and a chocolate croissant provided by Sherry got her through the morning. The Saks appointment netted an order for several designs, so Nadia suggested a celebratory lunch at one of her favorite bistros. They both ordered a Kobe beef filet along with the restaurant's signature salad.
Sherry picked up her goblet of Perrier and offered a toast. "To us. We rock."
"We do." Nadia touched her goblet to Sherry's. She'd chosen her assistant well. Sherry was only twenty-six, but she had solid design skills and loved to dress the part of a fashionista.
Today she wore a tight black skirt and black knit top paired with impossibly high heels and enough silver jewelry to fill a display case. Her blonde hair was cut in a short, choppy style, with a little burgundy woven in by her favorite hairdresser.
Sherry's hair seldom looked the same two weeks in a row. As a Were, she had somewhat unremarkable butterscotch-colored fur, but in human form, she took full advantage of the chance to be outrageous.
"I want to show you something." Nadia pulled her small laptop out of her satchel and turned it on. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I worked on some things for the spring collection." She handed the laptop to Sherry.
Her assistant scrolled through the drawings, her green eyes intent.
"They're still rough, but I---"
"They're awesome." Sherry looked up, her small features alight. "I love these. I adore the drape of the fabric on that first dress, and that jacket paired with the cropped cargo pants would be an instant hit."
Nadia beamed with pleasure. "Good. I really liked them, but I did them in such a rush that I wasn't completely sure about them."
"I've never known you to knock out this many designs in a few hours. Something must have really inspired you."
"Something did. And someone, actually. At Jessie's I ran into Roarke Wallace and his cousin Quentin. Roarke had to leave, but I spent some time with Quentin, and . . ."
Sherry laughed. "I think that's what they call a pregnant pause. I take it this Quentin is a special sort of Were."
Nadia could feel herself blushing. "He is."
"Well, if he inspires you to create designs like this, I'm all for him."
"We both know it's a temporary relationship. He's settled here and I'm likely to end up the Henderson alpha. But for now, we're not thinking too hard about all that. I'm planning to see him again tonight, if you won't feel abandoned."
"Are you kidding? I could spend every night at the theater and not get sick of it. Besides, I wouldn't want to stand between you and your muse. Go for it."
"I wouldn't say he's my muse, but he certainly puts me in a terrific mood."
"That's worth a lot." Sherry raised her goblet again. "To Quentin."
Laughing, Nadia lifted her goblet. "To Quentin, source of many good things."
Their order arrived, and although Sherry wanted to continue discussing Quentin, Nadia changed the subject. She didn't want to give Sherry the impression she was seriously involved with him.
But she'd cleared the way for her to spend the evening at his place. Back at her hotel late in the afternoon, she stopped short of packing an overnight bag. She'd save that for another time, and the way she felt about him, there would be another time, and another, until her obligations forced her to give him up.
He'd called to provide his address and she discovered he did indeed live near a park. Central Park, to be exact. His apartment had a doorman and a magnificent view of the park and the New York City skyline.
He seemed almost apologetic about it as he handed her a glass of champagne. "It's overpriced and not my first choice," he said. "I bought it planning to renovate the place and sell it. I had a buyer, but he went to jail for insider trading. I decided to live in it until the market picks up a little more."
She sipped her champagne as she stood by high windows overlooking a green canopy of trees lit by the setting sun. If his suggestion of making love in wolf form involved going into the park, they'd have to wait until dark.
His offer of champagne and hors d'oeuvres was a classy way to spend time until then, though. She glanced at him. He'd dressed in navy sweats and T-shirt, perhaps because they'd be easy to take off once they reached the park.
She'd brought nothing but dresses to New York, so she'd worn the most casual one she had, made from a soft material in a subtle pewter and black pattern. Tonight her heels were black.
"Have you ever had a permanent home?" she asked.
"Not since I left the Wallace compound. My parents still have their stone cottage there, but that hasn't been my home for years." He walked over to stand beside her and slid his hand under her hair to cup the back of her neck. "Where's home for you?"
"I have an apartment in a high-rise overlooking Lake Michigan." It seemed strange that he wouldn't know exactly where she lived after they'd shared such explosive sex the night before.
His casual caress was the first time he'd touched her since she'd walked into his apartment. The hours they'd spent apart had created a subtle barrier of unfamiliarity and hesitancy. Now they needed to rediscover each other.
But rediscover each other they would. She imagined them strolling through the park tonight and finding a secluded spot to undress and shift into wolf form. Sexual tension coiled within her as she imagined how Quentin would look as a wolf, his fur a rich blend of russet and gold.
He massaged her neck, his fingers strong and sure. "This place is probably more your speed than the Greenwich Village loft."
"Not at all. I can imagine how that loft will be once it's finished, and I'm sure I would like it very much."
"Then rent it from me." He looked at her. "Give yourself an excuse to stay in New York every couple of weeks."
She thought about Sherry's comment that he was her muse. "How soon will it be ready?"
"If you're serious about renting it, I'll throw all my resources behind the project. I could have you in there before Christmas."
"Christmas . . ." She shouldn't be thinking of spending Christmas with Quentin in the loft, but the prospect was too delicious.
He continued his slow massage of her neck. "I'll even bring you a giant Christmas tree and a holly wreath. We could decorate the tree together."
Her heart lurched crazily as she imagined that cozy scene. She couldn't think of a holiday plan she'd like better.
"I'm planning to install a fireplace. I forgot to tell you that."
"Wood burning?" She pictured the two of them taking a walk in the snow before coming in to snuggle by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate. Heaven.
"I'd planned on that, but if you---"
"I love a wood-burning fireplace, love the smell."
"Good." He sounded pleased. "Then wood-burning it is. I'll supply you with firewood whenever you're there in the winter."
She turned her head to look at him. "Quite the accommodating landlord, aren't you?"
He met her gaze and smiled. "Why not? I've found the perfect tenant. I want to keep her happy." Draining his champagne flute, he set it on a table by the window.
He could be referring to her sexual happiness, but Nadia didn't think that was all that concerned him. He seemed to savor the prospect of making her happy, period.
"How did your meeting with Saks turn out?"
"It went very well, considering I didn't sleep, after all."
"Sorry about that." He looked pleased with himself. "But not too sorry. It's a compliment, in a way, to have you tossing and turning, missing me. I didn't sleep much, either."
"Oh, I didn't toss and turn. I worked. I designed most of my spring collection."
"Wow. I didn't realize you had to work last night. I can't regret what we did instead, but---"
"Oh, it wasn't something I had to do. But I was inspired and couldn't help myself."
"Yeah?"
"The mural and the chandelier were creatively stimulating." She paused. "And so were you."
"I was?" He smiled with obvious pleasure. "Now that's a compliment. When are you going to show me the designs?"
"When they're more polished. But I think I should rent your loft, Quentin." She felt like a cliff-diver saying that, but staying part-time in the loft and being with Quentin held such wonderful possibilities that she had to go for it.
His hazel eyes shone. "Great."
"If nothing else, I'll keep you from leasing to someone who doesn't appreciate it. That would be a travesty."
"You're right. And this way, you can have input as I finish the place so it will suit you even better." He lifted her champagne flute from her hand and set it on the table next to his. "We need to kiss on it."
Heat rocketed through her, leaving her moist and trembling. "We might get carried away."
"I sincerely hope we do." His lips touched hers.
With a soft moan, she relaxed into the kiss and heard music. Unfortunately, it was the cell phone in the purse she'd left on his sofa, and the ringtone was her mother's.
Her mother believed cell phones should only be used in an emergency, which meant that a crisis had erupted at the Henderson estate. Nadia didn't need much imagination to figure out that the crisis somehow involved Theo.
Selfishly, she wished she'd turned off her phone. She'd thought about it, but considering her unfolding position in the Henderson pack, she'd thought that would be irresponsible.
Reluctantly she drew away from Quentin's hot kiss. "Sorry, but I'd better get that."
"Okay." He didn't argue, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes. He probably thought she should let it go to voice mail.
"It's my mother," she offered by way of explanation as she walked to the sofa and took her phone out of her purse. Tucking her hair back, she pushed the connect button and put the phone to her ear. "Hi, Mom."
"Nadia, you have to come home." Her mother's voice trembled.
A chill ran up her spine. "What's wrong?" Head down, she walked out of the living room and into the foyer. This promised to be an emotional conversation, and she felt protective toward her mother.
"Theo challenged your father this afternoon, Were to Were. He won the fight, Nadia." Her mother started to cry.
"Is Dad okay?" Her world spun. Her father couldn't be---
"He's . . . he's okay." Her mother gulped for air. "Physically. But mentally, he's not. Theo says he's the alpha now, and the pack's . . . the pack's in an uproar. Some side with him, most don't."
"I'll get there as soon as I can." She thought quickly. The corporate jet was at LaGuardia and she'd given the small crew a few days off to explore New York. They'd have to cut their holiday short.
"You need to challenge Theo."
"I know, Mom."
"He's my son, but he's not fit to---"
"I'll handle Theo." Her jaw clenched as she thought of Theo challenging his own father. The days when a physical battle determined who would become the alpha were supposed to be over. Not for Theo, obviously. "You take care of Dad."
"I will, but the pack's counting on you, Nadia. And so am I."
"I won't let you down. Hang in there, Mom." She disconnected the call and stood in the foyer taking slow, deep breaths. Then she called the pilot and told him to round up the crew and meet her at the airport. Next she left a voice mail for Sherry instructing her to handle their remaining appointments as best she could and book herself a first-class seat on a commercial airline when she was ready to come home.
After one more deep breath, Nadia walked back into the living room.
Quentin turned from the window, his expression troubled.
"You probably heard my side of that conversation," she said.
He came toward her. "I tried not to, but---"
"It's okay." She ached to be held, to be comforted, but she was about to become the Henderson pack alpha, which meant she needed to be tough and strong. "Theo defeated my dad and declared himself the alpha. Now I have to go home and challenge Theo."
He stiffened, as if he himself had taken a blow. But then his gaze locked with hers. "You'll be fine." He eliminated the space between them and folded her into his arms. "You'll be fine, Nadia."
"I know." She laid her head against his broad chest and hugged him, grateful for his solid warmth and his unquestioning acceptance of this sudden turn of events.
He didn't whine about putting an end to their evening. He didn't cast doubt on her ability to triumph over her brother. He was concerned but not afraid. He believed in her. That was pure gold.
He stroked her hair. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Yes. "Thank you, but no. I'm the only one who can handle this."
He pulled back to look at her. "Just to be clear, I'm not offering to fight Theo. That's your job. But if it would help to have a friend in your corner, I'd like to be that friend."
She allowed herself to consider it, just for a moment. He was a friend, someone who had only her best interests at heart. She knew instinctively she could trust him, and she was about to go into a situation where a trusted friend, one with no agenda beyond her happiness, would be a real asset.
But it wouldn't be fair to him. "I can't expect that of you."
"Why not?"
She hated what she was about to say, but it was time to face facts. "Once I've ousted Theo, the pack will expect me to start looking for a mate."
"Yes, it will."
"That can't be you."
"I know." He sounded very sure of that. He'd probably realized it long ago, when he first knew they were attracted to each other.
Disappointment tasted bitter on her tongue. "I should scuttle the idea of renting your loft, too."
He shook his head. "Not if you want a spot to relax when you come here on business." His grin was a little off-center. "I promise not to gouge you on the price."
"But the whole idea was to create a special place we could share, and I can't---"
"That wasn't the whole idea. It was part of the idea. If being there is good for you, then you should still plan on it. I can be your landlord and friend without making love to you."
She gripped his broad shoulders and relished the sturdy comfort he provided. "I don't know if I'm that strong. This wanting is very powerful. I might have to stay away from you completely."
Sadness flickered briefly in his eyes and was gone. "Let's not worry about that now. You need to get home, and I'd like to come along and give you whatever support I can."
"I'm not sure that---"
"Let me do this, Nadia. If we have to part ways after it's over, I'll understand. But it's not in my nature to let someone I care about go off alone to face the enemy."
A lump lodged in her throat. "He is my enemy, and I hate that. Theo and I should be on the same side."
"Which makes it so much harder to deal with."
She let out a long, shaky breath and looked into his eyes. She needed him right now, and so she was going to be selfish and take advantage of his offer. "Please come with me, Quentin."
He smiled gently. "You bet."
As the Learjet took off from LaGuardia, Quentin adjusted his seat belt and wondered if he should have his head examined for inviting himself along on this trip. But he'd told Nadia the truth about his motives.
Letting her go back alone to face her brother would have been torture for him. He couldn't step in and help her subdue the little creep, because that would undermine her authority. In fact, he wasn't sure exactly what he could do that would be of help except to be there.
Yet he didn't underestimate the importance of moral support. His cousin Roarke had never overtly helped him with anything, but Quentin had always known Roarke liked him and wanted him to succeed. That had meant a lot over the years.
Quentin didn't have to wonder what Roarke would think about this mess in the Henderson pack. If Roarke couldn't be here to go along to support Nadia, he'd want someone to do it. Aidan would feel the same way. And Quentin happened to be available.
Before they'd left Quentin's apartment, he'd changed out of his sweats and T-shirt into his preferred choice of jeans and a cotton shirt. Then he'd thrown a few things into a duffle bag. They'd stopped by Nadia's hotel so she could quickly repack her suitcase.
The private jet was plush, which Quentin had expected. The Wallace pack had a similar plane, and Roarke loved flying it so he'd taken Quentin up a few times as an excuse to play pilot.
On the way to the airport Nadia had mentioned her preference for taking commercial flights. She'd used the private jet only because her dad had complained that he'd lose it as a tax write-off if she didn't start flying in it more often. Quentin wondered if she'd sell the plane and find other tax breaks once she became the pack alpha.
The cabin attendant turned out to be a young guy who looked all of twenty-two. Clearly smitten with Nadia, he knocked himself out providing food and beverages for her. She made sure he didn't forget Quentin, and at one point when the kid wasn't looking, she glanced at Quentin and rolled her eyes.
He swallowed a laugh. He didn't blame the kid one bit. Any male with a pulse would be attracted to someone as beautiful and sexy as Nadia. Quentin had been amazed when Aidan chose Emma over Nadia and had seriously, but privately, questioned his judgment in doing so.
After Nadia had finished her portion of the meal the attendant had provided for them, she smothered a yawn.
"You should probably grab a nap," Quentin said.
"Good idea." She reclined her seat until it was nearly flat. "So should you."
"Okay." He did the same, and there they were, lying side-by-side. It wasn't quite the way he'd pictured they'd sleep together tonight, but at least he was here with her.
She smiled at him. "Sweet dreams."
"That could turn out to be embarrassing," he murmured. "Maybe I should throw a blanket over my lap just in case."
She laughed. "Weren't you the one bragging about how you'd have no trouble just being friends?"
"I would have no trouble." He gestured toward his crotch. "He, on the other hand, is unpredictable as hell in these matters. Got a blanket?"
Smirking at him, she rang for the young kid, who appeared immediately, as if he'd been poised in the back waiting for her next summons. "Jared, would you please bring two blankets for Mr. Wallace and me? We're going to try and catch some sleep."
"Right away, ma'am."
Nadia sighed. "He makes me feel ancient when he calls me that."
"Trust me, he doesn't think of you as an old lady."
"Jared? He's just a kid, not much older than Theo."
"He's several years older than I was when you began starring in my fantasies."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Really?"
"Pathetic, I know."
"It's not. It's flattering."
Jared arrived with the blankets and a couple of pillows. After Nadia and Quentin positioned the pillows behind their heads and spread out the blankets, Quentin made sure Jared had returned to the back of the plane before he spoke again.
Even so, he kept his voice low. No one needed to hear this but Nadia. Fortunately the sound of the jet's engines helped cover their conversation. "I remember first being sexually aware of you at a picnic on the Wallace estate. You must have been about sixteen."
"I vaguely remember that picnic."
"I vividly remember it." After this trip he might never have the chance to talk with her privately again, and it felt good to confess how much he'd wanted her over the years. He literally had nothing to lose.
"Didn't the kids all play volleyball?"
"Yeah, and I couldn't make a single decent play because I kept watching you. You had on a pair of denim shorts, the kind that ride on a girl's hip bones, and a tight knit top. Light green, like spring leaves. When you jumped to spike the ball, I could see your belly button."
"Whoa." She laughed. "Hot stuff."
"Believe me, for a sixteen-year-old hormonal boy, it was very hot stuff. Your hair was loose, and you had a tan. You became my standard of perfection that day."
"That's lovely. Thank you."
"You're welcome. I thought you should know."
She gazed at him and sighed. "Sorry, but I don't remember you at all from that picnic."
"Ouch." But he wasn't surprised. He'd been a gangly teenager tripping over his own feet at the sight of a long-legged, high-breasted, dream girl. An impossible dream---she'd been pledged to his cousin Aidan.
"But the next year, when the picnic was at my folks, I remember you then."
"Oh, God. You probably remember the beer thing."
"Uh-huh. You were the ringleader, as I recall."
"You would remember that." He'd talked some buddies, including Roarke, into making off with a keg of beer. They'd taken it deep into the woods and proceeded to get wasted. "I couldn't have looked very good when I came out of the woods."
Her gray eyes sparkled with laughter. "You looked . . . like you'd be lots of fun to get to know."
"Yeah, right. I'm sure you wanted to get friendly with the boozed-up troublemaker."
"I did. You weren't a mean troublemaker, just rambunctious. My life was so controlled, so completely planned. I envied your spirit. And I . . . thought you were sexy."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better. I was drunk, is what I was."
"Yes, which is probably why you'd unbuttoned your shirt, which gave me a good look at your impressive pecs."
He felt his face grow warm. "I used to work out like crazy back then. I was kind of a show-off. Not a good thing."
"Not for a grown man, but it's wonderful for impressing a seventeen-year-old girl." Under cover of the blanket, she reached for his hand. "I'm glad you grew out of that phase, though."
"Me, too." He laced his fingers through hers, grateful for the contact. It was all they could risk with Jared hovering in the back of the plane. Quentin reminded himself that he was on this trip as Nadia's good friend. Nothing more. But nothing less, either. He would stand by her, no matter what happened once they arrived at the Henderson estate.
Holding her hand, he drifted off to sleep.
When they arrived around midnight, no one was awake in the Henderson household except Nadia's mother, Eunice, who met them in the grand entrance hall. The floor where Quentin placed his leather duffle was Italian marble, and the paneling on the walls featured a blend of exotic wood from around the world. Quentin wondered if Nadia winced every time she thought about the ecological impact of this ostentatious mansion.
Eunice Henderson looked shocked when Quentin walked in the door behind Nadia. He'd expected that she wouldn't be warm and welcoming, and she wasn't. His memory of her from other Were gatherings was that of a tall, regal female, a foreshadowing of how Nadia would look in her fifties.
Eunice still had the high cheekbones and elegant figure, but she no longer looked regal. Her black silk monogrammed robe fit the image, as did her mid-length brown hair which looked as if she spent a fair share of time and money at a salon. But she wore no makeup because she'd obviously thought she'd be greeting only her daughter. Therefore nothing disguised her haggard appearance and red-rimmed eyes. Eunice had just been through a very bad day, and it showed.
No doubt Quentin's presence was both surprising and embarrassing to her. He regretted that, but he was more concerned with Nadia's emotional state than her mother's. Nadia had told him on the drive from the airport that their reminiscing and their cozy shared nap had calmed her more than anything else she could imagine.
Once Nadia had hugged her mother and asked about her dad, who was sleeping, she turned to include Quentin in the conversation. "You remember Quentin Wallace, Roarke and Aidan's cousin?"
"Yes." Eunice summoned a little of her usual gracious manner and extended her hand. "Welcome to my home, Quentin. I regret that you've come at such a difficult time." Her gray eyes, similar to Nadia's but dull with pain and worry, silently asked why he was here at all.
Quentin planned to let Nadia handle that. She knew her mother far better than he did.
Nadia seemed up to the challenge. Her voice was firm and confident. "I happened to meet Quentin and Roarke at Jessie's last night," she said. "Quentin thought I might appreciate having an old friend nearby when I deal with this crisis."
Eunice turned from her study of Quentin and looked at her daughter. "He's a Wallace, Nadia. This is a Henderson matter."
"I almost mated with a Wallace," Nadia said quietly.
"That was different. Aidan is . . ." She glanced at Quentin and seemed to realize that the rest of her sentence would sound elitist and rude.
Quentin finished it for her so they could get that out of the way. "He's the alpha's first-born. I'm not. I have no illusions about my place or my role, Mrs. Henderson. I only care about Nadia's welfare and she seems to appreciate having my support."
"That's right, I do." Nadia maintained her firm tone. She already sounded like the pack alpha. "Quentin dropped everything to fly home with me, so I expect that he'll receive every courtesy while he's here."
"Of course." Eunice moved toward the wall and pressed the button on an intercom before speaking into it. "Brianna." She paused until a sleepy voice answered. "Make up the blue room in the south wing. When you're finished, come down to the main hall so you can guide our guest to his suite."
If Quentin had to guess, he'd say the blue room in the south wing was a prodigious hike from Nadia's room. Eunice might be upset, but she was no fool. And if she had typical mom radar, she knew that Quentin and Nadia had something going on besides plain old friendship.
He was okay with her sensing that, because he wasn't going to mess up her plans for her daughter. Eunice might not believe that yet, but she would eventually. When the time came, he'd bow out of Nadia's life.
"Where's Theo?" Nadia glanced around as if he might round a corner and pounce on her.
Eunice stiffened. "He and the gang of Weres who support his takeover went downtown, no doubt to celebrate their victory. They'll probably be out all night."
"Good." Nadia took a deep breath. "He'll be hung over and I'll be rested. Does he know you called me?"
"I didn't tell him, but he could assume I would. I doubt he cares. He thinks he's invincible. And he's talking crazy. He says---" She stopped and glanced at Quentin. "Well, I'll tell you later."
"Mom, it's not a secret that Theo has radical ideas. Everybody knows. But he talks big when he's in this manic phase, and then he runs out of gas when he falls into his typical depressions. Besides, the Were community won't let him wage some sort of private war against humans. It's not going to happen."
Eunice reached out and clutched both Nadia's hands. "I've told myself that a million times, but then I get scared. I'm so glad you're here. You'll fix this."
"Yes, I will." She squeezed her mother's hands. "I promise."
A young blonde who looked as if she'd hastily dressed came down the sweeping staircase. "I have the blue room ready, Mrs. Henderson."
"Very good. Please take Mr. Wallace up there and make sure he has everything he needs to be comfortable."
"Yes, Mrs. Henderson." She glanced at Quentin. "If you'll follow me, sir, I'll get you settled in."
He picked up his duffle bag. "Before I go, what's your plan, Nadia?"
"I'll contact the sentry at the gate around five in the morning to see if Theo's back yet. If so, I'll go to his room and call him out. If he's not home at five, I'll wait in his room until he gets there. This needs to be dealt with quickly and quietly."
"Text me when you know what's happening."
"I will." She looked over at her mother. "And once this is handled, I'm hiring Aidan's security company to figure out a reasonable and humane way to contain Theo. He's a threat to us all."
Eunice swallowed. "I know. But he's---"
"Family. I get that, but he's dangerous and we can't pretend he's not." She put a comforting arm around her mother. "Go on to bed, Mom. Try to rest. Everything will be fine."
"How about walking me to my bedroom?"
"I can come and talk to you in a few minutes, if you want, but first I'm going to show Quentin to his room. I have a few things to discuss with him about tomorrow morning. Brianna, you can go back to bed. Thanks for making up the room."
"You're welcome, Miss Henderson." Brianna hurried off, obviously happy to get back to her warm bed.
Quentin hadn't expected Nadia to make that move, but he liked it. Obviously Eunice hadn't expected it, either, and he doubted she liked it at all.
She looked at Nadia as if seeing her clearly for the first time. "I always knew you were capable, but I've never seen you act so . . . commanding."
"I couldn't, Mom," she said softly. "That was Dad's job."
Eunice's shoulders sagged. "I hope you'll find a way to help your father feel useful. The way Theo talked to him was humiliating, as if he's old and used up."
"That's nonsense." Nadia gave her mom a gentle squeeze. "Trust me. We'll set things right again."
"I'm sure you will. And you don't need to come to my room later. We should all get some rest." She smiled at her daughter, but before she started toward the stairs, she shot a warning glance at Quentin. "I hope you sleep well."
"Thank you." He waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to Nadia. "She's worried about me. She thinks I'm going to convince you to mate below your station."
Nadia's eyes sparkled. "Yes, but she doesn't know you the way I do. She has no idea what a noble, self-sacrificing werewolf you are."
At the gleam in her eye, his groin tightened. "Not all that self-sacrificing. How remote is your room from the one I've been banished to?"
She grinned at him. "Extremely remote."
"Your mom did that to keep us apart, didn't she?"
"Yeah." She linked her arm through his. "But I think her plan is about to backfire."
Nadia realized that whatever happened the next morning, it wouldn't be a whole lot of fun. She'd worked to sound confident and in control for her mother's sake, but she fought an undercurrent of agitation that meant she wouldn't get much sleep if she went straight to her room.
However, if she went straight to Quentin's room, she might, just might, end up relaxed enough to fall asleep.
"You know I'm shamelessly using your hard body to work off my excess tension," she said as they walked down the long hallway toward the room he'd been assigned.
He laughed. "Yeah, and I'm really upset about that, too. I can't imagine anything worse than having you use me for sex. Oh, wait, yes, I can. Not having you use me for sex. That would be worse."
"I wouldn't put it past my mother to check my room in a little while to find out if I'm in it."
"And then what? Would she traipse all the way down here to confirm her suspicions?"
"No. She hates embarrassing scenes. She'll just find a private moment tomorrow to give me a lecture about your unsuitability and my duty to my pack. I'll assure her that what you and I share is only . . . temporary." She felt a painful little twist somewhere in the region of her heart.
"Maybe she'll believe you. She wasn't about to believe me."
"She was too secure for too long, thinking Aidan and I would be a couple and she didn't have to worry about my future. That's probably one reason she and my dad were so determined that Theo would step up and become alpha material. I wasn't going to be available to fill that role."
"So now she has to be the mother tiger, protecting you from the nasty Wallace cousin who wants to get into your knickers."
"I hope you still do. This is the longest damn hall in the world. But believe it or not, we're here." She walked through an open door on their left and swept her arm in a circle. "Behold, the blue room, a.k.a. Siberia."
He glanced around. "It's not so bad."
"Oh, it's nice. All the guest rooms at Henderson House are nice. But it's far away from everything---the kitchen, the dining room, the library, the pool, the billiards room, the---"
"Which makes it perfect." He closed the door and turned the lock before dropping his duffle. Unbuttoning his shirt, he walked toward her. "We can make all the noise we want."
"So we can." Desire, hot and demanding, took control. She lowered the side zipper on her dress and wrenched it quickly over her head.
His gaze roamed over her black lace bra and panties and he smiled. "For me?"
"No, for me. When I wear these, I feel more seductive." She reached for the front clasp of her bra.
"They might be overkill." His hands closed over hers and his breathing was uneven. "I'm already seduced out of my mind just being alone in this bedroom with you." Gently he moved her hands. "I want to take it off. It doesn't look all that complicated."
"Especially for someone with practice."
He looked into her eyes as he expertly opened the clasp. "Good choice of words. I've been practicing up for you." Sliding his hands inside the black lace, he cupped her breasts. "You're my Carnegie Hall."
She laughed because it was a funny thing to say, a salute to a classic New York joke. How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, practice, practice.
But she was touched, too. He'd said, in effect, that she was his ultimate romantic dream. He cherished being with her in a way that no male---Were or human---ever had. Given half a chance, she could get used to that.
She could definitely get used to the way he touched her, the calluses on his work-roughened hands creating erotic friction as he stroked her breasts. She leaned into his caress like a spoiled kitten. "We were going to shift and make love as Weres tonight." She moaned softly. "I guess we could still---"
"Not now." He stepped closer and lowered his head to her breast. "Next time."
As his mouth---warm, moist, and insistent---settled over her pouting nipple, she wondered if there would be a next time. Then she pushed the thought aside. They had this moment, and she wouldn't ruin it by worrying about the future. Tunneling her fingers through his thick russet hair, she held him to her breast as pleasure rocketed through her.
He cupped her bottom with one hand and slipped the other inside the delicate lace of her panties. She shivered in anticipation as he made contact with her heat. Pressing his thumb against her trigger point, he pushed two fingers into her slick heat.
Her body answered without hesitation as she rocked forward to intensify the sensation. He lifted his mouth from her breast and looked into her eyes as his fingers continued their magic.
Holding his gaze, she allowed him to see her at her most vulnerable because she trusted him as she'd never trusted a lover before. Her surrender drew near. So near.
He was breathing nearly as fast as she was. "I love how your eyes get dark before you come," he murmured. "Like storm clouds."
She gasped. "The storm is . . . close."
"Good." He thrust deeper. "Let me hear you, Nadia. Let me hear you come."
She'd been raised to elegance and restraint, but Quentin awakened something wild and daring in her. She cried out as the first spasm hit, and cried again, louder still, as her climax arrived in all its glory. At that moment, she might have yelled. Yes, she probably did. It was that good.
Dizzy and trembling, she was vaguely aware that he'd lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Tomorrow she would have to be the strong one, the Were in charge, but tonight, she gladly gave control over to Quentin, who seemed to know exactly what she needed and how to deliver it.
In a post-orgasmic haze, she watched him take off the rest of his clothes. The sight of his body---incredibly broad shoulders, massive chest sprinkled with red-gold hair, and a very proud and free erection---made her womb contract in anticipation.
No doubt about it, Quentin enriched her life. Despite her vow to live in the moment, her thoughts strayed to the agony of giving him up when she had to choose between duty and happiness.
Then he joined her on the bed, and she forgot all about duty as he rose over her and buried that impressive cock deep.
"I like this bed." Holding himself still within her, he leaned down and brushed a kiss over her mouth.
"Why?"
He gazed into her eyes, his own bright with happiness. "It has you in it."
As he began to move, his rhythm sure and steady, she realized that she was rather fond of this bed, herself. It was the only one she'd ever shared with him, perhaps the only one they ever would share.
Wrapping him tightly in her arms, she held on as he made slow, sweet love to her. His expression remained tender and his motions controlled as he watched her eyes, waiting . . . At the moment her climax teased her nerve endings, he knew.
Bearing down, he thrust hard and fast, taking her right where they both wanted to go. He urged her on, his gaze intense, his breath ragged. As she arched upward, her world splintering into facets of rainbow-hued joy, he drove into her once more and bellowed with satisfaction.
The air pulsed around them as they lay together and their breathing gradually slowed. Perfection didn't exist. She knew that, and yet . . .
"Perfect," she murmured.
He pressed his mouth against the curve of her shoulder. "Yes."
They hadn't bothered to turn out the lights before drifting off to sleep, so Quentin wasn't sure if it was night or day when he awoke to the sound of the bedroom door being unlocked. Instinctively he pulled the covers over Nadia as he sat up.
She stirred. He laid a warning hand on her shoulder, keeping her down. He'd taken the side of the bed nearest the door on purpose. Yes, he'd locked it, but anyone could have a key.
The door had been unlocked by someone in human form, but when it swung open, a rangy, gaunt wolf with scraggly black fur stood in the doorway. Dark eyes focused intently on the bed. Quentin knew without question that Theo had arrived.
But Nadia's brother wasn't alone. Other wolves, no doubt his gang of rebels, crowded around the doorway, although they seemed to be holding back, waiting for some signal from their leader. Quentin counted five of them.
At last Quentin understood his role in this struggle. Although he had no time to shift into wolf form, he had to buy precious time for Nadia to do so. As a human female, she stood little chance against Theo, and during her shift, she was vulnerable to attack.
He swung his legs to the floor and stood, his gaze locked with Theo's. Behind him, sheets rustled as Nadia began her shift.
With a growl, Theo lowered his head and advanced into the room.
"Stop right there." Quentin flexed his fingers and widened his stance. As a human, naked and unarmed, he couldn't overpower the werewolf, but he could delay him.
Theo feinted to the right, as if hoping to throw Quentin off balance and get around him. But Quentin was agile, accustomed to walking beams and climbing ladders. He easily moved to block the Were.
Snarling, Theo crouched, as if ready to spring.
No doubt the move was supposed to intimidate Quentin into stepping aside. Theo wouldn't want to waste energy fighting Quentin, who was of no consequence.
Quentin had appointed himself as the distraction, so he baited the Were. "Bring it, punk. I'd love to get my hands around your scrawny neck."
Eyes burning with fury, Theo lunged, knocking Quentin backward onto the bed as his front claws raked Quentin's chest. Quentin wrapped his fingers around the Were's neck and held on with everything he had. Even so, the powerful jaws strained ever closer to his throat.
Quentin gritted his teeth and squeezed, but he had no hope of choking the Were to death before Theo struggled free and ripped out Quentin's throat. The fight would only last a few seconds more.
As he felt his fingers start to give way, he thought briefly that this was a stupid way for a werewolf to die. But he'd make the same choice all over again to protect Nadia.
Saliva dripped from Theo's mouth onto Quentin's bare skin as the Were sensed victory. Quentin anticipated the blinding pain and hoped it would be over fast.
It was. One second he was convinced he would die. The next, a large black wolf leaped over his head and rammed into Theo, sending the Were sprawling backward onto the carpet.
Gasping, Quentin pushed himself to a sitting position and gazed in wonder at Nadia's transformation. Over the years he'd seen her many times in human form but somehow had missed seeing her like this.
She was magnificent, her black coat glossy and full, her movements graceful. But there was a look in her gray eyes he'd never seen before, a gleam of controlled fury that sent a shiver down his spine.
She wasn't as big as Theo, but what she lacked in size, she made up for in agility. Although Theo had immediately scrambled to his feet to face his sister, his aggression toward her was wild and unfocused. He leaped and she dodged out of the way. He crashed head-first into a dressing table that splintered on impact.
Nadia waited, muscles coiled, as he staggered to his feet and shook his head. Then she circled him with deliberate intent.
He growled and hurled himself at her again, going for her throat. In a lightning-fast move, she ducked out of the way. Then she turned and clamped his hind leg in her jaws.
Quentin held his breath. If she bit down, she could cripple him, perhaps forever. Theo yelped in pain and then went very still except for his heaving sides and his rapid panting.
The communication between brother and sister was impossible for Quentin to hear in human form, but he knew it was taking place. As Weres, they lost human speech but gained mental telepathy. Even without being able to tune in, Quentin could see from their body language that Nadia had demanded Theo's surrender.
The seconds ticked by, and finally Theo let his head droop between his shoulders. Nadia slowly released her grip on his leg. Theo turned and lowered himself to his belly in acknowledgment of his sister's dominance. She had won.
Catching a movement by the door, Quentin glanced over as Theo's five companions crept into the room and also lowered themselves to the floor. Nadia stood before them, head high, gaze steady, every inch the alpha female.
Then she turned to gaze at Quentin. Although telepathy wasn't possible for him in this form, he saw the gratitude in her gray eyes, and something more . . . an invitation?
With a low whine she tossed her head toward the door. Then she padded quietly out of the room. The newly loyal members of her pack, including her subdued brother, rose and followed at a respectful distance.
Quentin couldn't be absolutely sure, but he thought she'd invited him to follow her, too. Maybe she realized their time was running out. He'd done what he'd come here to do, and he'd vowed to disappear from her life once she no longer needed him.
He'd leave in the morning, but a glance at the clock told him that was several hours away. Dropping to all fours, he began his shift.
Nadia made sure Theo retreated to his room at the opposite end of the house. Then she instructed his former companions to take turns guarding his door to make sure he didn't sneak away or attempt to cause trouble.
She didn't expect him to. She could see that his manic phase had ended. He would be docile and semi-repentant for days, possibly even for weeks.
Depression was the new danger, but fortunately Theo had never shown suicidal tendencies. In the morning she'd seek out a Were physician to evaluate her brother. She expected Theo would need medication, and she would make sure he took it.
She'd also consult with Aidan about a system that would electronically track Theo at all times. In many ways it was a relief to finally be able to do what must be done.
Also in the morning, Nadia planned to meet with her father and assure him he still had a valued role as her advisor. He'd mentioned recently that he was tired of his alpha responsibilities, but couldn't quite make up his mind to step down. Now that the decision had been made for him, he might be relieved, as well, once his bruised ego had healed.
But those were tasks for tomorrow. The rest of the night was hers to do as she pleased, with whomever she pleased. Quentin had risked his life in order to make her victory possible, and she desperately wanted to be with him. She hoped he'd understood her signal.
She sat and waited for him at the foot of the majestic marble staircase. Like all Were mansions, Henderson House had wolf-friendly exits and entrances.
Although many benefits derived from shifting to Were form, a few human abilities were lost. Managing locked doors was one of those. Nadia would have to show Quentin the way out so they could slip into the concealing darkness together.
As she gazed upward, wondering if she'd have to go back and get him, she heard his voice in her head.
Where are you?
A surge of excitement made her tremble. He had understood and shifted. She'd never seen him in wolf form, and anticipation made her giddy. She rose to her feet. I'm at the foot of the stairs.
I'm on my way.
A moment later, a large male wolf appeared at the top of the stairs, his deep-set eyes focused intently on her. They were Quentin's eyes. His powerful shoulders and broad chest spoke of strength and endurance. His luxurious russet coat gleamed in the light from two ornate sconces on the wall behind him.
He was breathtaking. And she wanted him.
She held his gaze. Thank you for saving my life.
You returned the favor. He started down the stairs. I'd say we're even.
She didn't agree that they were even, but she didn't intend to stand here arguing about it. We missed our run in Central Park.
Yeah.
Would these woods do?
Absolutely.
Then follow me. Turning, she headed for what appeared to be a solid piece of paneling. When she pressed her paw against a section of inlaid rosewood, the panel swung inward to reveal a dimly lit tunnel.
She sent a quick message back to him. Hurry. The panel closes in ten seconds.
Dashing through the opening, she loped along the cool cement floor. She'd loved playing in these tunnels as a child. She'd been fascinated by the secret doors, the dank, musty smell, and the green laser beam near the exit that controlled the outside door.
When her nose touched the beam, the door creaked open. Quentin's paws padded softly on the cement as he came up behind her.
Race you to the trees! Nadia put on a burst of speed and ran toward the forest, her legs stretched out and her belly low to the ground.
He passed her several yards before they reached the trees. She increased her pace, but couldn't catch him before he disappeared into the woods.
Quentin?
No answer.
She couldn't see him, but she could smell him. Following his scent, she entered a mossy clearing and paced around the perimeter. Heart pounding from the run combined with the thrill of being alone with him in the darkness, she paused and sniffed the air. His scent was close, but she couldn't quite . . .
Gotcha! He leaped from the shadows and tumbled her to the soft ground. Over and over they rolled, nipping playfully at each other and growling in mock ferocity.
I knew this would be great. He pinned her to the ground, his paws on her chest as she lay on her back panting. You're beautiful, Nadia.
You're not exactly ugly, yourself. She'd imagined how he might look as a wolf but the reality was ten times more impressive.
Then again, her opinion of his appearance could be biased. She knew the strength of his character matched the power of his body. Any female Were would be proud to call him mate. Including her.
If she could abandon her duties and her position, she would beg him to be with her forever. That wouldn't be happening. She was now her pack's alpha and had to forget her personal desires.
But not until the sun came up. She caught the scent of his arousal and whined low in her throat.
With a soft growl, he stepped back and allowed her to get to her feet. Her heart hammered as they circled each other in an age-old ritual.
As her body grew ready for him, she ached for what could not be. We are not pledged. Stating that beforehand was a necessary step in order to keep from being forever joined.
We are not. Tomorrow I will leave you.
She hoped she could bear that. She sent him a message straight from her heart. I don't want you to go.
I need to.
Will you be all right?
Yes, because tonight, we have this. Mounting her, he thrust forcefully, surely.
Intense pleasure battled intense heartache. At the end, she surrendered to the pleasure, but she knew the heartache would be with her for the rest of her life.
The next morning, Nadia arranged for Quentin to fly back on the corporate jet. Their private good-byes had been said in the cool darkness of the forest the night before, so she kept their parting in the morning brisk and businesslike. Her mother and the servants passing through the hallway would never suspect that she longed to hurl herself into his arms and beg him to stay.
Once Quentin was gone, Nadia settled down to the tasks she'd mentally listed as necessary. After a long talk with her father in which she emphasized how much she'd need his advice to help run the pack, she contacted a respected Were doctor who agreed to supervise Theo's medical needs.
She scheduled a pack meeting for the following month and knocked out a tentative agenda with the help of her father. But by the second day she'd handled the immediate concerns and felt a desperate urge to reestablish her normal routine. The spring collection she'd roughed out while she was in New York needed more work, and she was eager to finish up those drawings.
Promising to return in a few days, she headed back to her office in downtown Chicago. She would have preferred to drive herself, but it seemed to make her father happy if she accepted a ride in the company limo, so she did that. Her environmental reforms would have to be gradual.
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 much 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.
Taking one last look through her camera's viewfinder, she was startled to notice that the blond animal was staring at her. Then he wheeled and ran into the trees, moving with a fluid grace that looked far more wild and wolflike than doglike.
What in hell had she seen down there?

