But the music stopped, leaving them breathing fast and laughing as they gazed at each other. Before Emma could gather her wits, the band eased into a slow number.
Aidan closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms. The top of her head would have fit under his chin if she’d allowed herself to snuggle in. She resisted the impulse and gazed up at him. “Nice dancing.”
“Same to you.” He guided her in a lazy waltz, his thighs brushing hers. His touch was steady and gentle as he telegraphed his movements with subtle pressure against the small of her back. As with any talented dancer, he made his partner, aka Emma, look and feel good.
She’d never danced with such effortless pleasure in her life. He was weaving a spell that was a mixture of blatant sexuality and romantic tenderness. Women probably fell all over themselves to become a notch in this man’s belt. Assuming he was a notches-in-the-belt kind of guy.
Conversation might help keep her out of trouble, though. “No fair,” she said. “You’ve had lessons.”
“Not formal lessons.” He brought her a fraction closer, causing her breasts to settle against his firm chest. “I learned at family gatherings.”
“You dance at family parties?” The idea of a family dancing together enchanted her almost as much as the thought of the party itself. She didn’t have those. Her family consisted of her and her mom. An aunt lived out in California and she had some cousins there she barely knew. Her dad had left when she was a baby and had never been heard from again.
“It’s a family tradition to have music at our events, so of course everybody is expected to learn to dance.”
“That’s nice.” The closer he held her, the less she felt inclined to make conversation. He felt so damn good. Worse yet, he smelled good, too. She still couldn’t identify his brand of cologne, but she desperately wanted to nestle her cheek against his chest and breathe in that heady male fragrance. She longed to be seduced.
But she’d hate herself in the morning, so she resisted the snuggle urge. The alternative wasn’t much better. She was left looking up into his caramel-colored eyes like a lovesick teenager, which was pretty much how she felt. Aidan was rich, handsome, and a terrific dancer. What woman wouldn’t want all that in her bed?
“Do you have a girlfriend?” The second the words were out, she wanted them back. No doubt her face was turning red. Lovely. “Cancel that. Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
By now they were plastered together from chest to groin. She could feel the steady thump of his heart, and…yes, his obvious arousal. Easing away from him would be the smart way to handle this. She’d always been a smart girl. But she’d never come up against—literally—the likes of Aidan Wallace. Now that she was in his arms, she never wanted to leave.
When the music ended, he studied her without loosening his hold. “I suppose you should be getting home.”
Wanna come with me? “I suppose.”
Something flickered in his eyes, as if he were wrestling with a problem. Then the sparkle disappeared and his grip loosened. “I should probably be getting home, too. I’ll call Ralph.”
So that was that. When he released her, the cool air of reason caressed her heated skin. Whether he was a playboy or not, he’d obviously decided against playing with her. Time to end this encounter, whatever it was. Time for Cinderella to climb into her pumpkin coach and leave the ball.
Dancing with her had been a bad idea, but Aidan had figured he was about to be pulled off the case and he’d wanted to see her dance in person just once. Fortunately she’d missed seeing him signal the band to play a fast number. She probably thought that was an accident.
No, he’d engineered the whole sequence, and now he had only himself to blame for his present sexual frustration, which could lead to some embarrassing and potentially dangerous consequences. As he rode back to her apartment with her in the cozy rear seat of the Town Car, the backs of his hands prickled and his tailbone itched.
He’d inherited a rare genetic condition that only showed up every second or third generation. If he happened to be in human form when he was aroused with no prospect of satisfaction, his body strained to shift, instead, as a kind of compensation. An orgasm could calm him immediately and stop the process, but that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.
He should have sent Emma home in the Town Car by herself. He could have called Roarke to come and get him. Then again, maybe not. If Roarke had been driving his Ferrari and using the fuzz-buster, he’d probably made it back to the family estate and was enjoying a recreational run through the woods by now.
Okay, so Roarke might not have been available, but there had been other options for him, like commercial limos. Still, he’d felt the need to see Emma safely home to her apartment. Once they were closed inside the back seat together, though, and his teeth ached with the need to sharpen and grow, he realized he was screwed, and not in a good way.
Worse yet, his chauffeur Ralph must have sensed that the air was thick with unmet sexual needs. Any werewolf would be able to pick up on that. That explained why Ralph kept his attention on the road ahead and hadn’t attempted conversation. He might think coupling was about to happen in the back of the Town Car.
Aidan needed a distraction, and he needed it now. He glanced at Emma. “Do you have your phone with you?”
“My phone?” She seemed startled. “Yes, I do, but I turned it off before the signing and never turned it back on. Why?”
“Can you access your email on it?” He knew damned well she could, but he wasn’t supposed to know, so he had to play the game and ask.
“Yes, but…oh, I get it.” She unzipped her purse and pulled out her phone. “You want to see the email from the creepy guy.”
“Just to get an idea of how hard it’ll be to trace.” And to keep me from grabbing you and kissing you until you let me do whatever I want right here in the back seat of the Town Car.
That was the other part of the equation. Judging from the way she’d danced with him, the slightest bit of effort on his part would make her forget all about Dougie-boy. Knowing she wanted him while he could do nothing about that made the pressure to shift even worse. The beginnings of a pelt rubbed against his silk shirt.
“Sure. Just a sec.” She turned on the phone and waited for an Internet connection. Seconds later she handed him the phone. “Here it is.”
He gazed at the small screen and forced himself to concentrate on the words there instead of allowing her scent to pull him into a sensual whirlpool from which there would be no escape. Once they started down that road, they wouldn’t stop until they’d wrung each other out. The dancing had told him that.
If he’d wanted her a little less, he might chance making love to her tonight. That had been his criteria from his first sexual encounter at the age of sixteen. He’d only indulge if he knew they could both walk away at the end of the affair. With his Were lovers, he’d been able to tell them he would have to make a political match someday and therefore couldn’t get serious. They had always understood that.
For his human lovers, and he’d had a few, he’d chosen women who were too focused on their careers to think about settling down with one guy. They’d been attractive and sexy, but not a single one had affected him the way Emma did. And he hadn’t even taken her to bed yet.
Yet. The word flashed like a neon sign in his brain. Had he actually thought such a ridiculous thing? The word yet implied that he saw taking her to bed as inevitable. He didn’t. Damn it, he didn’t.
He could beat this attraction, no matter how strong it seemed now. Just because he wanted to rip that red dress from her body and explore every inch of her soft skin didn’t mean that he would do it. Just because he longed to stroke her pert breasts until—
“Can you see it okay?” she asked. “I can make the text bigger if you need me to.”
“Thanks, but I can see it just fine. I’m thinking.” His eyesight was far b
etter than she would ever know. And he hadn’t lied. He had been thinking, just not about the email in front of him. As a result his pelt had grown even thicker. When he transformed, his fur was deep brown tipped with silver, and he was afraid that some silver fur might be sticking out of the open neck of his dress shirt already.
Once again he focused on the email, and this time he was able to actually read the damned thing.
Hey, babe, I can tell from the way you write about werewolves that you dig them. Girl, you need to get it on with a real werewolf, and I’m the one to show you the ropes. Write back and I’ll meet you whenever and wherever you say. Until then, think of me as always—
Ready Fur U
Aidan growled.
“Aidan? Are you okay?”
Shit! He’d growled and she’d heard him! He made a big production of clearing his throat before he turned to answer her. “I felt like I had something stuck in my throat. It’s gone, now.”
She laughed. “You clearing your throat sounds a lot like a Doberman guarding the front door.”
She couldn’t know how close she’d come to describing exactly how he felt. Some asshole was trying to make contact with her for the purpose of sex. Aidan no longer cared if the guy was a werewolf or only pretending to be so he could meet her. Aidan would track him to his lair, wherever that might be, and put him out of commission.
Emma’s laughter faded. “You’re looking really fierce right now. In fact, you’re scaring me a little.”
Immediately he offered her his most winning smile and hoped to hell his canines didn’t look too frightening yet. “Sorry. It’s just that I hate guys who use the Internet to harass women.”
“Do you think you can find out where he is?”
“Absolutely. And I don’t want to wait until tomorrow to start the process.” As Ralph pulled up in front of her building, Aidan reached inside his suit jacket and took out another card. “If you’ll send the email to that address, I’ll get on it tonight.” Unwittingly he’d created a great cover for the fact that his guys were already working on the trace.
“Now that we’re at my place, why not come up to my loft and use my computer? I’ll make coffee.”
God, did she have any idea what she was saying? He thought maybe she did. Lust shone in her blue eyes. She knew exactly what she was saying, and Doug had mentally been kicked to the curb.
He clenched his back teeth together to keep himself from saying yes…yes to the invitation, yes to the coffee, and yes to the sex that definitely would take place if he stepped foot inside her apartment. He might be able to accomplish the deed without her noticing that he’d become unusually hairy.
But he wouldn’t do it. Roarke was going to be so proud of him. “Thanks, but you need sleep and I can work better on my own equipment.” Saying that nearly killed him, but he felt noble as hell.
“But—”
“Seriously, it’s important to accomplish this, and it’ll all go faster at my place.” Which would be his office instead of his apartment, but she didn’t have to know that. “I’ll email you the results when I’m done so you’ll have the information in the morning and can pass it on to Jenny.”
“Okay.” The word was drenched in frustration and disappointment.
Hell, she seriously wanted him to spend the night with her. And he wasn’t going to. Roarke should give him a damned medal.
“We’ll wait here while you let yourself in and go upstairs,” he said. “Leave your phone on, and if there’s any problem when you get up there, call me.” He pulled his phone out of his jacket and turned it on. “I can be there in no time.”
She gazed at him. “Sure you won’t come up?”
His tail was growing and beginning to bush out. “I’m sure.”
“Then I probably won’t see you again until the next book comes out.”
“Guess not.” He doubted he’d be at her next signing. He could get a book autographed through Roger Claymore. That would be a safer option.
“Thanks for a terrific evening.” Before he could stop her, she leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth. Then she scrambled quickly out of the car, out of his reach, and closed the door.
His mouth felt branded by hers, and he wanted more, much more.
Ralph chuckled. “Guess you have something stuck in your throat again.”
“Listen, Ralph, old buddy, you’d growl, too, if you—”
“Yeah, I know, Aidan. You get major points for not going up there.”
“Mm.” Aidan kept his eye on her window until he saw the light go on. Then his phone rang and he immediately answered. “What?”
“Just wanted you to know that everything’s fine. Good night, Aidan.”
“Good night, Emma.” He disconnected the phone and closed his eyes. “Drop me off in the park, Ralph. And step on it.”
Ralph quickly navigated into traffic. “The park’s risky. Let me take you north to the estate.”
“No. Can’t afford the time.” Aidan gritted his teeth and fought the shift that was coming, whether he wanted it to or not. “I want to make sure the guys are working on that email trace.”
“You’re the boss.” Ralph wove in and out of traffic.
As they neared the park, Aidan began pulling off his clothes. “If I run for awhile, I should be able to shift back in an hour or so. Wait for me.”
“Will do.” Ralph drove into Central Park and cruised along slowly. “How’s this?”
“Good. Not much light. Give me three minutes to finish shifting, and then come around and open the door for me.”
“All right.” Ralph didn’t sound happy about it, but he would do what Aidan asked.
In exactly three minutes, the back door of the Town Car opened. Aidan leaped out and began to run, his paws scattering the remnants of snow left on the ground. He would run until he was exhausted. Maybe then he wouldn’t want Emma with the fierceness only an alpha male could feel toward a woman who’d awakened his instinct to mate.
Chapter Four
Doug called at eight, waking Emma from a hot dream that involved Aidan and a grassy knoll. He was licking up drops of the coffee martini he’d poured all over her naked body and she was…delirious.
She would have loved to find out what happened after that, and now she’d never know. She must have sounded as annoyed as she felt, because Doug immediately became contrite.
“Bad turnout last night, huh?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
His tone changed. “Because you’re in a crappy mood.”
“You woke me up, Doug. I haven’t had coffee yet.”
“Woke you up? It’s past eight.”
Barely. Emma rolled her eyes. Doug kept regular hours and had never quite adjusted to the fact she didn’t. “I slept in.”
“Did you and your mom stay out late last night, then?”
“No, Mom had to leave right after the signing, so I went for a drink with one of my fans.” There, she’d said it. She hadn’t exactly told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but she’d thrown out a piece of information that was correct as far as it went.
“I’ll bet you made her evening, too. See, if I’d gone you wouldn’t have felt free to do that, and I’m sure you girls had a great time sipping umbrella drinks and talking about sexy werewolves.”
If Doug had called at nine, after Emma had brewed herself some coffee and consumed a cup or two, she might not have reacted so adversely to that patronizing remark. But he’d called at eight, when she was involved in a most excellent dream of passion and sexual adventure with a man who made her current boyfriend look like a dweeb. She was at least a quart low on caffeine, and come to think of it, her boyfriend was a dweeb.
“You know what, Doug? I just decided we should take a break from each other.”
“What?”
“A break. A hiatus. A sabbatical. It’s perfect timing because you’re heading into tax season and I’m leaving on a book tour Friday morning.”
“Emma, don’t do this. I know you wanted me to show up last night, but the meeting was important. A couple of members are thinking of giving me their corporate business, and that would be huge.”
“This isn’t about last night.” And it really wasn’t. It was about this morning. Well, it might be about last night, but not in the way he thought. She might not be able to have Aidan Wallace, but she could start looking around for someone who was more exciting than Doug.
Because of her heavy writing schedule she’d allowed herself to settle for someone who was near at hand, even if he did virtually nothing for her sexually. That wasn’t fair to her and it wasn’t fair to Doug.
“Emma, let’s have lunch today. We’ll talk it out. I promise to come to the next book signing you have here in town.”
“I’m not free for lunch, and I mean it, Doug. I don’t think either of us is invested in this relationship the way we should be. Let’s take a step back. After tax season is over, if we decide to continue seeing each other, we can talk about what we each want in a partner.” Unfortunately for Doug, she now wanted muscles on her man.
“You don’t want to see me until after April fifteenth? That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“We have to review your tax picture.”
She almost laughed, but caught herself before she did. Laughing would be mean. The fact remained that he was more worried about her 1040 than their future as a couple. “Doug, you’ve been doing my taxes for five years. I don’t think we need to review them in person.”
“It’s better if we do.”
“You could be right.” Privately she thought Doug liked using the sessions to parade his knowledge and pass out what he considered gold-plated advice. He got to be the authority and the big cheese during those meetings. She’d never enjoyed them much.
“Then let’s set up a time.”
“Let’s not.” She hoped he wouldn’t screw up her taxes on purpose, but she didn’t think he would stoop that low. “We can communicate by email. Have a great tax season. I truly wish you the best.”
Werewolf in Manhattan (Wild About You Book 1) Page 4
