by Jodi Redford
“I was hungry.” She plunked her hands on her hips. “Why am I explaining myself to you? And why are you here?”
Rather than answer, Dante stalked to her side and without saying a word, upended her into his arms and carried her back to the chair. Giving him an indignant look, she struggled to lift her butt from the cushion, only to be thwarted when Dante plopped the bag of Brussels sprouts back in place on her ankle. His eyes flashing a warning, he straightened. “Unless you have to pee, you’re staying put.”
“What if I do?” She huffed a peevish breath when he gave her a questioning look. “Okay, I don’t. But that mess on the floor isn’t going to clean itself up.” Figuring she’d outsmarted him on that one, she reached for the Brussels sprouts.
“I’ll take care of it.”
She blinked at him as he pivoted and made tracks for the kitchen. This was all very…weird. With the way Dante stormed out on her earlier, she’d figured she wouldn’t see him anytime soon. Or at least not until she tracked him down so she could plead her case about the land deal for the gazillionth time. She certainly hadn’t been expecting him to barge in on her and start bossing her around again. And while she appreciated his efforts at giving her a hand, she couldn’t help being suspicious at his possible motives.
Had he returned thinking he could sweet talk her into jumping into the sack with him despite her resolve not to? If so, he had a rude awakening coming his way. She could see right through his surly attempt at being neighborly and considerate. Her panties were staying firmly in place, damn it.
The wolf in question sauntered back into the room carrying the wastebasket from beneath the kitchen sink and a wad of paper towels. He placed both items on the floor next to the spilled remains of her snack before shrugging from his jacket. His muscular shoulders shifted enticingly under his flannel shirt, and a hot, prickly wave of heat shimmered through her. She bit back a whimper and wiggled uncomfortably in her seat. “Look, I appreciate you helping out and all, but in the twenty minutes since we last discussed it, I haven’t changed my mind about us having sex.”
He dropped his jacket on the couch and swept her with a penetrating look that she swore possessed the power to burn through her clothes. “I have a proposition for you.”
“If it has anything to do with whipped cream and handcuffs, I’m not interested.” Hoo boy. Was that ever a fat, hairy lie.
Dante’s eyes darkened as he licked his lips. “Not what I originally had in mind, but now that you mention it…”
She stacked her arms over her chest—as much out of frustration as to hide the perky saluting of her traitorous nipples. “Could you please keep your dirty mind on track?”
“You’re the one who brought up the whipped cream and handcuffs, kitten.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What did you just call me?”
He chuckled. “Don’t get your fur in a tizzy. I could have said pussy.”
“You would,” she grumbled.
His grin—a sight practically rarer than Bigfoot when it came to being directed at her—stoked another of those horribly delicious flutters deep in her core. Damn it, she really wished he’d amp up his usual obnoxiousness so her libido could get a much-needed break. Attempting to be as covert as possible, she pressed her thighs together in an effort to relieve the ache. Little good it did. “Can you get to the point of whatever it is you want? It’s not like I’ve got all night, you know.”
Dante offered her a droll look. “Yeah. Sitting in that chair is damn time consuming.”
Shit. The much-hoped-for irritation wasn’t nearly strong enough to combat her escalating horniness.
“I’ve thought about what you said about that land rightfully belonging to you.”
His statement was so not what she’d been expecting, it took her a moment to find her tongue. “And…?” she asked, almost too afraid to hope for the impossible. Her heartbeat quickened, pounding in her ears.
“You might be right. I’ve decided to let you have the acreage.”
The pent-up breath escaped her in a rush. Joy. Happiness. Triumph. All three were an intoxicating melody. Completely forgetting about her injury, she scrambled to jump to her feet. Worry and consternation darkening his rugged features, Dante gently pushed her back in place and settled onto the end of the ottoman, presumably to block her from moving again.
“You have no idea what this means to me, Dante. I know we’ve had our issues in the past, but I swear you won’t regret this.”
A sardonic smile tipped one corner of his mouth. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“No, I promise you won’t.” Feeling like she needed to make some offer of goodwill in return for his change of heart, she scooted closer to him and without thinking, draped her hand over his much larger one. “I’ll also make sure your cousin gets top priority when it comes time to choose a contractor for the building construction. You can count on it.”
Dante stared at their joined hands for a long moment before slowly lifting his gaze to hers. “Lilly, you haven’t heard what my asking price is for the land.”
Her heart skipped a beat as she read the wary determination in his eyes. Refusing to bow to the sinking feeling in her gut, she shook her head. “As long as it’s not an unreasonable sum, my colleagues are prepared to make it happen.”
“I don’t want money.”
She gaped at him, certain she’d misheard. “Pardon?”
“Hell, I’ve got plenty of that. What I need is a little more…complicated. And you’re the only one who can provide it. Not the lynchats.”
“I don’t understand. What could I possibly have that you suddenly need?” And why the hell couldn’t he have come to this epiphany—whatever it was—eighteen months ago? It would have saved her a mountain of trouble and endless stress-related headaches.
Dante’s hand shifted beneath hers so that they were palm-to-palm. The warmth of his work-roughened skin seeped into her, stirring her pleasurable tingles into overdrive. She tried to ignore the sensation, but it became impossible when his fingers enclosed hers.
“I need you to be my wife.”
Her eyes widened, and she choked on a series of coughs. Dante’s free hand came around and thumped her on the back. She scowled at him. “I always knew you were an asshole, but really, this is taking it too far, you son of a bitch.”
It was his turn to blink. “Why the hell are you so angry?”
She turned up her glare by several degrees. “How can you even ask that? Are you such a rat bastard you don’t see how cruel it is to lead me on the way you just did?” Shaking with fury, she poked a trembling finger in the center of his chest. “Your wife? I’m surprised that was the best punch line you could come up with.”
Wincing, he carefully pried her finger away from his sternum. “It’s not a joke, Lilly. I’m dead serious.”
She was about to deliver a blistering retort when she noticed the gleam of determination in his eyes hadn’t departed. If anything, it’d intensified. The furious words dissolved on her tongue, and she stared at him, stupefied. She almost expected Rod Serling’s voiceover to float on the air, preceded by the Twilight Zone theme. Suddenly reminded of the seductive heat of Dante’s palm beneath hers, she jerked her attention to their linked hands. An alarming sense of recognition ricocheted through her, adding to the already staggering level of insanity she’d just been dropped into the middle of. She attempted to wrench out of his hold, but he only tightened his grip. Her pulse beat in triple time. “Have you lost your freaking mind?”
“At least hear me out before you accuse me of being crazy.”
“Why? Nothing you say is going to convince me otherwise.”
“It’s strictly a business arrangement. You become my wife and get the land. I get my dad off my back about marrying Anna Gifford.”
“Who the hell is Anna Gifford? And what does she have to do with any of this?”
“She’s the top bitch of the Gifford pack. Trust me, calling her that is an insult to all bitche
s.”
“Why does Foster want you to marry her?”
Dante’s face tightened. “Forced pack merger.”
She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. The power dynamics of werewolves and their pack systems was pretty much a mystery to her. Other than her assuming their rituals involved something so astoundingly twenty-first century as holding belching and farting contests to choose their leaders, she had no idea what really went on. “I take it that isn’t a good thing?”
“Shit no. Why the hell do you think I’m proposing to you?”
“This is a proposal?” It took every ounce of her willpower not to laugh in hysterical disbelief. “Telling me you need to get out of marrying another chick? How romantic.”
“Lilly, I told you this is business. Nothing romantic about it.”
She met his gaze. “Oh my God. You really are serious.”
“This can be advantageous for both of us.” His eyes sparkled with temptation. “You know you want that land. So bad, you can taste it. Well, here’s your chance.”
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Was it wrong to even be considering this? If she said yes, she was in essence selling herself for a piece of land. How pathetic and immoral did that make her?
Then again, there were plenty of people who got married for the wrong reasons. At least this way she knew what she was getting herself into. And really, it wasn’t like she had to worry that she was missing out on meeting the husband of her dreams if she accepted Dante’s unconventional proposal. She’d known for a long time she wasn’t exactly marriage material—which made this conversation pretty damn ironic, now that she thought about it. But the truth was she loved her independence. Embraced it with every fiber of her being. Not to mention she was far from being the June Cleaver domestic goddess that most men out there secretly desired for a wife.
She gave Dante a suspicious glance. “Hypothetically speaking, if I agreed to this ridiculous proposition, you wouldn’t expect me to be your live-in maid, right?”
“I already pay my cousin Tess to clean for me once a week.”
Okay, that answered that question. “I don’t mind cooking—once in a while—but I’m much better at dialing up takeout. Especially if it’s Thai or sushi.”
“We don’t have a damn sushi restaurant up he—” Dante must have correctly interpreted her arched eyebrows because he growled before quickly smothering it. “Fine. I’ll do most of the cooking. I enjoy it anyway.”
“I wouldn’t give up my career. Or my house downstate.”
Dante grunted. “Good. I’ll look forward to my brief reprieves from your nagging presence.”
She tossed him a saccharine smile. “Same goes here, wolfman.”
Thick silence stretched between them while he gave her a prodding look. “Is that a yes?”
She chewed her lip again. “Would it have to be permanent? Our marriage, I mean?”
“Looking to divorce me already?”
“I just want to know exactly what I’m getting into here.”
He nodded. “Or at least for as long as I’m head alpha. Once I retire and choose my replacement, you’re free to do whatever you want.”
She grimaced. “Wow. That’ll really give me something to look forward to when I’m eighty.”
Dante’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Actually, I wasn’t plannin’ to retire until ninety.”
“Even better.” She gave him another distrusting stare. “This isn’t some Victorian arrangement where you expect me to bear you an heir, is it? Because I’m drawing the line on that one, buddy. This womb is not for rent.”
Dante tweaked the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry. I’m not looking for a brood mare.”
“Good.” She squinted. “Just so we’re clear, this marriage would be strictly in name only? You’re not thinking you’re going to get side benefits, right?”
“We’d have sex, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
The arrogant assurance in his voice made her teeth grind. “Do I get a vote on that?”
“It’s nonnegotiable. The only way my pack will accept you as my wife and their leader is if we’re mate-bonded.”
“Mate-bonded?” It was yet another foreign term that was out of her vocabulary, but she knew enough about how wolves mated to be concerned.
Dante’s thumb brushed hers. More than likely he’d meant it to be reassuring, but it practically made her jump out of her skin. “Fortunately my pack doesn’t use the sexual act itself as part of the ceremony.”
Another choke lodged in her throat, and Dante gave her a quick thump on the back again to release it. She gaped at him, her cheeks burning. “Thank God for small miracles.” She considered herself far from being a prude, but the idea of having sex with him in front of an audience was enough to give her performance anxiety. Without warning, an image popped into her head of her straddling Dante, impaled on his fat cock while his hands massaged her jiggling breasts.
A strained noise broke loose from the back of her throat. She tried to cover it up by coughing. Dropping her arm to her lap, she fidgeted with the top button on her pants. When Dante’s focus drifted to her zipper, she jerked her hand to safer quarters. “I—I don’t understand why we wouldn’t be able to fake the mate-bond like the rest of the marriage. If your pack isn’t going to witness it, what difference does it make?”
“They don’t have to. They’ll know we didn’t do it if they don’t see my mark on you.”
“Your mark?” Oh for Pete’s sake. Could anything be more Neanderthal? “So tell them it’s in a private place that I have no intention of showing off.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Lilly. A wolf marks his mate to make it clear to all that she belongs to him.”
“Why don’t you just pee on me and get it over with?”
“You’re making more out of this than there needs to be.”
She tossed her arms up. “Sure. Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’d be marked and branded like damn cattle.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. You won’t actually belong to me.”
“Your pack will think I do. That’s just as bad.”
His eyes momentarily closed as he dragged in a deep breath and released it in a weary gust. When he looked at her again, his frustration was palpable. “Why do you have to be so mule-headed?”
“What? I’m stubborn because I think your sexist werewolf rules are stupid?”
“It’s not sexist. There are female alphas who bite their mates in the same fashion. And there are even couples who give each other matching marks.”
His pronouncement gave her pause, and she eyed him in contemplation. “Can I mark you?”
“Babe, you’re not a wolf.”
“You’re not a cat, and I’m—possibly—going to let you mark me. Fair is fair.”
She could hear his molars grind. “I’ll think about it.”
“Either you will or you won’t. That’s my terms.”
They stared each other down for an interminable time, their silent battle of the wills more epic than Custer’s last stand at Little Bighorn. She was fairly certain if she listened closely enough, she’d hear war drums in the distance.
A prominent muscle tic twitched at the corner of Dante’s eye. “Fine. But I get to be on top.”
Yeah. Definitely one hell of a romantic proposal. She gnawed her thumbnail, her heart racing at the ramifications of what she was about to commit to and the fear that she would ultimately live to regret it. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
A relieved breath gusted from Dante.
“I expect a written contract between us.” There was no way she’d be so foolish to take his verbal word about the land.
He nodded. “I’ll have it written up before we get married on Sunday.”
His easy declaration squeezed the oxygen from her lungs. “Sunday? As in four-freaking-days-from-now Sunday?”
“I know it’s last minute, but I don’t have any choice. The deed has to be done be
fore next week.” He leaned down and squeezed her hand. “It’ll work out, Lilly, I promise.”
She stared at their linked fingers, imagining a pair of matching wedding bands. What the hell have I agreed to?
Chapter Six
After their negotiations, she fully expected Dante to shrug his jacket on and head home. Instead he surprised her—yet again—by announcing he was going to make lunch for her. Bemused, but not about to turn down his offer, she tugged a blanket over her feet to combat the icy effects of the thawing bag of Brussels sprouts. Her cell went off just as she was beginning to relax into the chair. Leaning sideways, she snatched her parka from where it’d fallen to the ground earlier and dug her phone from the pocket. A quick scan of the display announced that the caller was Kinsey.
Oh God. Kinsey. How the hell was she going to explain to her sister this business with marrying Dante for the land? She knew Kinsey would be adamantly against it and would no doubt have all kinds of unsavory ways to describe what they were doing. All of which would likely be no less than the truth. But that didn’t mean she wanted to listen to Kinsey chastise her for the next sixty years about the boneheaded mistake she was committing.
Deciding to postpone that inevitable argument, she let the call go to voicemail and stuffed the cell back in her coat pocket before dropping the garment onto the floor again. Despite her best efforts to ignore the nagging doubts building in her mind, she couldn’t completely block them out.
What the hell am I doing? This whole plan is nuts. She ran both hands down her face and smothered a groan. Dante chose that moment to walk back into the living room.
Awarding her a cautious glance, he plopped a plate loaded with a fresh bagel sandwich and chips on her lap. “Everything okay?”
She swallowed past the lump of worry lodged in her throat. “No one is going to buy this—you and I.”
“That’s why we have to make it convincing.”
“Trust me, I’m not that good of an actress.”
Dante rubbed his jaw. “Well, my old man already thinks we’ve got something going on.”
“Great. One down, a couple hundred more people to go. And that’s just counting your relatives.” She snatched a chip and nibbled its crinkled edge listlessly. The healthy appetite she’d possessed minutes ago seemed to have disintegrated. She dropped the half-eaten chip back onto the plate and exhaled heavily. “Speaking of relatives…I know my sister will never believe we’ve suddenly fallen madly in love. Crap, just yesterday I told her you were a perverted peeping Tom.”
