“Simon?” The voice on the other end of the phone drawled Simon’s name with an amused authority that had Max’s eyebrows rising into his hairline. He waited for Simon to put the woman in her place.
Simon rolled his eyes. “Hey, Emma.”
Max blinked. Emma? Emma Carter?
“Your stained glass Madonna is late. Reverend Glaston is getting antsy.”
Max blinked again. That sexy voice was Emma?
“I’ve been…distracted.” That last was said with a quick glance at Max. He’d been the one keeping Simon busy. As Beta, Simon took care of a great deal of Pride business, something Emma wouldn’t know about.
“Well, could you please ask your distraction to go home so you can finish the reverend’s window?”
Her tone of voice raised Max’s brows back into his hairline. His Beta’s reaction had his jaw nearly dropping open.
“Emma,” Simon nearly whined, “I’ve been working night and day, here. Give me a break!”
Emma?!? Plump little wallflower Emma?
“Just who have you been working, Simon Holt?”
Emma, who couldn’t look him in the eye, making double entendres?
“No one, damn it! I’ve been working on…other things.” Again, Simon shot Max a quick, furtive look.
Emma? Emma had his Beta shaking in his sneakers?
“Well, get your thing back under control and finish the reverend’s window, okay?”
The irreverent authority in her voice stirred his interest. A vision of a dark-haired girl in a sunset colored prom gown flashed through his mind.
“Damn it, Emma!” Simon sighed, leaning back against his workbench. “Where’s Becky?”
The entreaty in Simon’s voice barely registered. Max was waiting to hear Emma’s voice again.
“Oh, no, don’t think you can get out of having that window finished today by sweet-talking Becky. I’m on to your tricks, buster.”
Simon winced. Max’s cock twitched.
Emma?
Hmmm. Emma.
“Okay, okay. I’ll have the damn window done today. Anything else, Little General?” Simon’s shoulders were quaking with laughter, his voice filled with respect. Max frowned at the affection in his Beta’s voice.
“Mm-hmm. Becky and I will be going to the masquerade. Just thought you’d like to know.”
Emma would be at the masquerade? Suddenly he was dying to see her. How had she turned out? Was she as sexy as her voice implied?
“Oh, yeah.” The purr in Simon’s voice had Max frowning. The small, predatory smile had his eyes flashing gold in protest as a wave of possessiveness rose inside him. The owner of that voice was his.
“Mm-hmm. See you later? With the window?”
“Count on it. Bye, Emma.”
“Later, Simon.”
Simon hung up the phone, that sexy smile still on his face. When he turned back, Max had himself back under control, merely raising a brow at Simon.
Simon flushed. “What?”
“When are you delivering that window?”
Simon looked over at the window waiting for its finishing touches. “Probably just after lunch. Why?”
“I’m going with you.” Max grinned.
Simon straightened up, frowning slightly in confusion. “Why? I thought you had some other things to deal with.”
“I want to check something out.” At Simon’s raised brow, Max’s grin widened.
“Man, I’m not sure you want to go there.”
Max’s grin faded. “Why not?”
“Because Wallflowers has been known to suck the testosterone out of every single male who’s ever entered.”
“Huh?”
“It’s pink. And frou-frou. And lacy. And pink.”
Max laughed as Simon shuddered. “If your masculinity can handle it, so can mine.”
Max watched his friend work on the stained glass window, his mind once again turning to Emma.
He hadn’t seen her in eight years. She’d been seventeen, just about ready to graduate, smiling and laughing at the prom in a way he’d rarely seen her do. She’d been striking in her dress, a one-of-a-kind done in the colors of a rich autumn sunset, a strapless number in reds and golds with a sweetheart neckline and flaring skirt. He’d had a hard time keeping his eyes off her, but he’d been with Livia, and Max was not a man who cheated. By the time he’d broken up with Livia it was time for him to leave once again for college. Between earning his doctorate in optometry, his internship and residency, and learning from Jonathon how to run the Pride during his summers off, Emma had been quickly forgotten. Going out of state for college had been the right choice for him, and he’d been lucky that Jonathon agreed with him. Now, with his partnership with Adrian and Jonathon’s official retirement he could finally start looking for his Curana. And he had a feeling he knew just who he wanted for the position.
She’d been sweetly innocent back then; slightly overweight, but with serious curves. It had been that innocence, and Livia, that had held him back.
She didn’t sound so innocent now, and Livia was nowhere in the picture.
It was definitely time he got better acquainted with little Miss Emma.
Emma watched as Simon’s shiny red pickup truck pulled up to the curb of Wallflowers. She grinned, knowing Becky had hidden in the back office to avoid meeting up with Simon. Simon was the only person on the face of the planet who made Becky lose the power of speech. In an odd, karmic sort of way, Emma had no problem handling the hunky Simon, laughing and chatting with him with ease.
Emma watched Simon climb out of the truck. The passenger side opened up as well, and a familiar tall blond got out, a grin on his face, his unbound hair blown about by the cool autumn breeze.
Emma was horrified. Oh, no. Not him! She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She was no longer the shy teenager he’d once known; she was a grown woman with a shop of her own. She could handle Max Cannon.
Then he grinned at something Simon said, and her hands began to shake. She took another quick breath and blew it out, trying desperately to steady her racing heart.
The two men wrestled the stained glass window out of the flatbed of the truck. With care, they got it to the door of the shop. Emma rushed to open it just as the reverend arrived.
Reverend Glaston smiled at the two men. “Hello, Simon, Max. Is that the church’s window?”
Emma smiled at the reverend. He was a kind soul, with smiling whisky brown eyes and balding gray hair. He never failed to make Emma feel comfortable, and she was counting on that now to get her through his presence.
“Sure is, Reverend. Let’s get it inside so I can show it to you.”
Simon’s deep voice reverberated through her, making her shiver a little. If she weren’t so hung up on the blond hunk behind him, she’d have made a play for Simon a long time ago. Although, considering how Becky had always reacted to him…
“Becky? Can you come give me a hand with this?” Emma yelled into the back, struggling to hide her grin when Simon’s gaze glued itself to the curtained off area that led to their office. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have gone after Simon.
She heard Becky’s muttered oath as she stomped into the front room. Simon’s gaze never left Becky as he and Max maneuvered the window into the store. His dark brown eyes heated as Becky scowled at him and took a step back.
“Becky?” Emma asked, waving her forward. With a false cheerfulness, Becky smiled at Emma, then joined her by the propped up window.
“Emma?” Emma turned to Simon, who was staring at her now. “You remember Max, right?”
He’s kinda hard to forget, Emma thought as Max stepped forward.
“Hi, Emma.”
She looked up, getting a quick peek at the face that had starred in every single one of her naughty fantasies before lowering them to the scar next to his nose. “Hi, Max.”
He cleared his throat, a sound filled with amusement. She glanced back up at him to see him staring at her with a raised b
row. Looking down, she noticed he’d held out his hand. With a false smile she took it, pumping it up and down twice before dropping it like a hot potato.
Her heart fluttering from just that simple touch, she turned to Simon, the lesser of the two threats. “So, Simon, are you ready to unveil your masterpiece?” Her smile for him was genuine; she truly liked Simon. His work was exquisite. On top of that, he had one of the best senses of humor she’d ever seen. It felt like having a brother, something she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing, being an only child.
He lifted one brow, grinning at her. “Yes, Little General. Right away, Little General.”
Putting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. Although, from the twitching of his lips, he wasn’t all that impressed. “Now, Simon.”
She could hear the reverend coughing on a laugh behind her. Simon just rolled his eyes and began unwrapping the window.
When it was finally unveiled, Emma was astonished. It was easily one of Simon’s finest works. The Madonna sat, her blue robes gently waving around her, a small Mona Lisa smile on her face as she stared down at the dark-haired baby held gently in her arms. The Madonna was beautiful, but it wasn’t a classic beauty. It was the gentleness in her face, the love she so obviously bore her child that made it so special. He’d managed to capture that special smile that new mothers everywhere gave their newborns, and it took an otherwise normal face and made it radiant.
“My God, Simon. It’s gorgeous,” Max breathed from right behind her.
“Thanks.” Simon’s eyes didn’t rest on the Madonna, though; they were on Becky, who stared at the Madonna with something akin to awe. “Becky?”
Becky’s gaze went from the Madonna to him. The reverence on her face seemed to stun Simon, who drew in a quick breath.
Emma felt Max stir behind her. When one of his hands came to rest at her hip, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Well!” She clapped her hands, moving away from the dangerous heat of the man behind her to go to the reverend. Not surprisingly Becky, after nearly jumping out of her skin, refused to meet Simon’s eyes again.
“What do you think, Reverend?” She put on her best salesman’s voice, for once not flustered to be using it in front of real people.
The reverend’s slow smile was all the answer she needed.
Hot damn, Max thought, watching the little dynamo that was Emma in action. Why the hell didn’t I stop here sooner? He’d been busy setting up his practice, true, but you’d think he’d have made the time to stop by. Be neighborly.
When Max had stepped out of the truck, he hadn’t really been expecting much; after all, most women couldn’t live up to the voice Emma had. It was slightly husky, like she’d spent the night moaning in some man’s arms, a visual Max could do without. She managed to infuse it with an authority that had his Beta jumping to do her bidding, something that spoke to the Puma in him. Max wondered if she’d try to take the lead in bed, as well. A challenge, that; he loved taking a strong woman and reducing her to a quivering, begging mass of bliss.
Her straight, dark brown hair was caught up in a ponytail that hung to just between her shoulder blades. Big brown eyes dominated her face, artfully made up to accentuate them. Her lips were slicked with a pale rose. Her features weren’t classically beautiful, but something about the animation in them drew Max like nothing else ever had.
And her body…
Hell, her body…
The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, something he normally wasn’t attracted to, but on Emma it aroused protective instincts he didn’t even know he possessed. She had the most sweetly rounded ass encased in tight black jeans and the most magnificent breasts Max had ever been privileged to watch bounce under a lacy rose camisole. With a real waist and hips a man could grab on to for the ride of his life, she reminded him of an old-fashioned pin-up girl, all soft curves and feminine strength. Then she turned, laughing up at something Simon said, sensuous and innocent at the same time, and Max was a goner.
Holy. Fucking. Damn.
Emma. Little Emma Carter sure as hell had grown up.
His hands burned to touch her again. That fleeting touch she’d allowed him had merely whetted his appetite. He longed to rip that camisole off her body and feast at her breasts, hear her moans as he slipped her jeans down those incredible, edible legs, her soft cries as he feasted on her juices.
She would scream his name as she came.
He would tie her to his bed, torture her into ecstasy, and then start all over again. He’d bend her over the arm of his couch and take her from behind over and over until she begged him to come, biting into her shoulder and marking her as his for all to see. The thought of slipping his cock into that luscious ass nearly made him come right there in the middle of her store.
When she laughingly hugged Simon, he nearly went for his Beta’s throat.
Mine!
Only Simon saw the way his eyes gleamed gold, heard the low, purring growl that erupted from his throat before he could stop himself. Sucking in a breath, Max turned away, desperately trying to get himself under control.
He’d been told he’d know his mate when he met her; now he knew what they meant. He’d spoken to Emma when she’d been a teenager, felt a little spark of something, but had dismissed it as nothing serious. Just young lust. Now he knew what that spark had been and wanted to kick his own ass. Not all Pumas got lucky enough to find his or her mate; to know he’d not only met her, but walked away from her, hell, forgotten her, galled him.
He forced himself to look around her shop, at anything but the laughing group of people around the Madonna, before he walked over there, plucked her up and carted her out of her shop to somewhere private.
She’d done well for herself. Emma’s stamp, mixed with Becky’s, created an atmosphere both women seemed at home in. He could see women flocking to the store, much to the horror and amusement of their male companions. He walked over to the mantelpiece, seeing a silver picture frame his mother would probably appreciate as a gift for her birthday. Something about the picture in it drew his attention. He leaned forward, trying to see why the Victorian lady in it looked so familiar when he felt a small hand touch his arm.
“Is everything okay between you and Simon?”
That husky voice, combined with her soft touch, had his cock once more threatening to burst out of his jeans. He looked down into her face and saw nothing there but concern. Before she could move, he put his hand over hers, trapping her at his side. He was ridiculously pleased when she didn’t try to pull away. “Everything is fine between me and Simon.” As long as he keeps his paws off of you.
She looked away, back towards the group, and bit her lip. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Her voice was hesitant, shy in a way she wasn’t when she talked to Simon or the reverend, but her expression begged him to say yes. A fierce wave of protectiveness rose in him, and his hand tightened over hers. He nodded.
He allowed her to pull them to the side, quiet and private but still in plain view. She looked up at him again, obviously uncertain before she focused, damn it, back on his scar. “Um, do you have any idea how Simon feels about Becky?”
She peeked up at him again before dropping her gaze once more. A flush rose in her cheeks and she bit her lip again.
He took a deep breath, striving to control the possessiveness that roared through him. “Not a clue.”
Her softly muttered “Damn” had him nearly smiling, it was so filled with aggravation, but the possessive monster in him couldn’t get past her possible interest in his best friend. “He’s not for you.” He could feel wisps of his power flowing out of his control, trying to force her to acknowledge the truth of his words.
Emma looked him full in the face for the first time since he’d entered the store. He knew he sounded like a caveman, and probably looked like a jealous jackass, but he couldn’t help it; little Emma did that to him.
Then she laughed at him. Not one bit intimidated, frighte
ned or cowed.
“Not me, you idiot.” His eyes widened in astonishment as she turned back to the group around the Madonna. “Becky. She’s had a thing for him since high school, but she can’t seem to act on it and he’s never shown any real interest.” She looked back up at him. “Until recently, that is. So, I wanted to know, you being his best friend, if you know how he feels.”
He felt his whole body tense at the devilish calculation on her face. “What are you planning?” He maneuvered his body, and hers, until they were in the corner, effectively cutting her off from the crowd behind them. His power was back under control, but his curiosity was roused.
She puffed out an impatient breath, focusing once more on him. Some of her shyness had evaporated, but in its place was an irritation he wasn’t used to seeing in feminine eyes. “Becks and I are going to the annual masquerade. Mr. Friedelinde invited us, for the first time. I’m hoping I can get either Simon or Becky moving in the right direction, but I don’t want Becky hurt or embarrassed if Simon isn’t really interested.” She looked up at him, her little chin tilted as she demanded a response. “So. Is he?”
Max turned back to look at his Beta. From the way Simon was sniffing the air around Becky, he’d say Simon was very interested. He looked down at Emma, who was tapping her foot impatiently. “Yes.”
Relief flickered across her face and her body relaxed as if he’d lifted a weight off her shoulders. “Thank God. They’d be perfect together.”
“What makes you say that?” Truly curious, he watched as she turned thoughtful.
“Simon knows he can have any female he wants just by snapping his fingers, but Becky backs away from him every time he approaches. He’s never quite certain where he stands with her. He gets bored so easily with the ones that fall in the palm of his hand that he winds up dumping them pretty quickly. He can’t predict what Becky will do, so she’d never bore him. Also, Becky loves his work and understands how much time and devotion it takes to make the kinds of things Simon does, so she wouldn’t resent that if she knew he’d be coming home to her. She would challenge him; keep him on his toes, while he would cherish her like she should be cherished. No one’s truly loved her before, or shown her her own worth.” Emma focused on him again, her expression gleefully vengeful. “But if he hurts her, I’ll scoop out his nuts with a grapefruit spoon.”
The Wallflower Page 2
