Werewolf in Manhattan

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Of course they are.” She threw up both hands. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Give yourself time.” Aidan was struggling not to laugh. “You’ll get the hang of this.”

  “No, I won’t. I’ll never get the hang of how the other half lives. It’s crazy.”

  “Here’s the thing, Emma. By traveling with me, you’ll be safer than you would be if you traveled by yourself. That’s part of the security service. The resources of Wallace Enterprises will create a protective barrier around you while you’re in Chicago, where this Theo character lives.”

  “All this for a nineteen-year-old. If he knew, he’d be so flattered.”

  “Trust me, he will know. One of the tactics will be letting him think you’re engaged to me.”

  “Hey! You can’t just spring something like that on me, Aidan. I should have something to say about it, don’t you think?”

  “If we were really engaged, you’d have everything to say about it. But this is a security measure that has nothing to do with reality. All you have to do is go along with me on it.”

  She walked in silence beside him, her back rigid.

  “Emma? Will you roll with this concept or not?”

  “You could have warned me. How long have you been planning to handle the weekend this way?”

  He hesitated to tell her that he’d come up with the idea before they’d left New York. He’d been trying to figure out how to tell her and had hoped he could do it over cake.

  “Not long,” he said. “Until just recently, I was still working out the details.”

  “How recently?”

  “This morning on the way to the airport.”

  She stopped so quickly a man behind her almost ran over her. He muttered curses as he swerved around them. “Are you telling me you’re making this up as you go along?”

  “No! Look, I haven’t had a lot of time to work on the strategy and I’m refining it as ideas come to me. At first I thought being your media escort would be the perfect cover, but then I realized Theo wouldn’t be put off by a media escort. A fiancé, though, is another story.”

  “As I’ve said before, Aidan, I don’t need all this firepower. Chances are we won’t see Theo at all, but if I’m wrong and he shows up at the autograph table with a lewd suggestion, I’ll tell him to get lost. That should take care of it.”

  Barry turned around with a questioning glance. “Mr. Wallace? Will you and Ms. Gavin be coming with me, then?”

  “Yes.” Aidan cupped Emma’s elbow and guided her toward the exit. Touching her at all sent shivers of awareness through his system, but they needed to get moving. “We’ll talk more in the car.”

  She allowed herself to be hustled along. “We can do that, but I really don’t like the fake engagement idea. I realize authors aren’t front page news, but if there’s even the slightest chance word could get back to my mother, then—”

  “Does she know about the emails?”

  “No, and I don’t want her to. She has a tendency to be overprotective as it is. When I first moved out of her apartment and into my loft, she checked on me twice a day. That’s tapered off some, but if she thinks I have some cyber-stalker on my trail, she’ll camp out in my living room for the duration. I love her to death, but she could make my life a living hell.”

  Aidan wondered what Betty Gavin would do if she discovered her daughter was about to spend the weekend at the Palmer House with a werewolf. “So that means she doesn’t know I tagged along for your Chicago leg of the book tour, either?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Just asking.” He broke the connection between them so they could each navigate the revolving door leading outside.

  “I didn’t tell her I broke up with Doug, either. The combination of that announcement and telling her I need you as a bodyguard on this trip would make her assume I got rid of Doug because you and I are lovers. What a disaster that would be.”

  “Oh?” That pricked his ego more than a little.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m not sure I do.” He handed Barry his computer case and the chauffeur loaded it and Emma’s case into the front seat of the Town Car.

  “I’m just saying that it would be bad enough if she thought we were lovers when we’re not. If she hears through the grapevine that we’re engaged when we’re not—well, I can’t even imagine the fallout.”

  “I can see the problem.” And he did. What had seemed like a brilliant plan during the plane ride now looked less than brilliant considering how Emma’s mother might react if she accidentally heard about any of this. Aidan understood the tricky nature of family dynamics. The Wallace pack had its share of issues.

  Barry held open the back door of the Town Car and helped Emma inside. Aidan followed her in and noted the interior of the car smelled like chocolate. This trip was becoming more complicated by the minute, so he hoped that at least the cake would be good.

  “I can’t believe this.” Emma stared at the silver tray Barry settled on her lap. In the center sat a large wedge of chocolate cake with dark chocolate frosting, topside up, no less, on a crystal plate. At least it looked like crystal. Considering how the trip had gone so far, she’d be willing to bet it was. An ornate silver fork lay on a linen napkin beside the plate.

  “Bon appetit,” Barry said as he closed the passenger door. “I’ll be right back with your luggage.”

  “That won’t work.” She glanced over at Aidan. “He can’t leave the car parked here while he gets the luggage. We’ll be ticketed.”

  “Trust me, we won’t be ticketed.”

  “What do you mean? Of course we will! Or worse yet, we’ll be hooked up to a tow truck and…” She trailed off as Aidan simply smiled at her. “Did you bribe someone?”

  “Not necessary. Barry propped the sign with the Wallace name on it in the front window.”

  She looked at the front windshield and sure enough, that placard was leaning against it. “So what, the Wallaces have diplomatic immunity or something?”

  “Or something. Aren’t you going to eat your cake?”

  She gazed at the piece of cake, which had those clever curls of shaved chocolate on the top layer of frosting and one perfect, red strawberry nestled in the curls. A strawberry in February.

  Her tummy growled. “Yes, I’m going to eat this cake before Barry gets back, so I won’t end up with it in my lap when he starts going eighty on the Outer Drive.”

  “He won’t go eighty.”

  “Sure he will.” She picked up the fork and unfolded the napkin in the little strip of her lap that wasn’t covered by the tray. “I’m sure nobody will ticket him for speeding, either. I’m surprised there’s not a little Wallace family flag suction-cupped to the car.”

  “There is.”

  “No way. Where?”

  “It’s on the back fender. I guess you missed seeing it when we got in.”

  “I most certainly did.” Emma picked up the heavy silver tray and handed it to him. “Hold this. I have to see the flag.”

  Aidan obligingly took the tray while she unbuckled her shoulder harness and turned around so she could get on her knees and peer out the back window. “I’ll be damned.” She studied the purple flag, which was suitably small and tasteful at about nine inches square. Because there was no breeze, she couldn’t see the crest clearly, but it was definitely a family crest.

  “What’s on it, a pile of gold bullion?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m sorry.” She looked over at him. “That was snarky, and you don’t deserve snarky when you went to all the trouble of getting me that cake.”

  “Which I’m patiently holding for you. And Barry will be back any minute.”

  “You’re right.” She slid back down to her seat and refastened the shoulder harness. “Thanks for holding my cake.” She took the tray and felt the brush of his fingers against hers. Zing. She was aware of him all over again. At least she had cake to eat.

  Sh
e picked up the ornate fork, which looked as if it came out of an antique set of silverware. “Eating in front of you feels very rude.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m not a chocoholic.”

  She sliced down through the moist layers. “Are you implying that I am?”

  “You sure reacted like one when I mentioned rich chocolate cake.”

  “Then I might as well confess. Coffee and chocolate are my two favorite vices.” She took the first bite and moaned happily.

  “Good?”

  “Mmmm. She savored the taste and decided it might be the best chocolate cake she’d ever had in her life.

  “Rich?”

  That made her laugh. “Yes, and moist, and decadent, too. It’s a crime to eat a dessert like this fast. A person should take her time and draw out the pleasure. I hate to just wolf it down.”

  He glanced out the window, as if searching the sidewalk for Barry and her suitcase. “Then don’t. Even if Barry does eighty, we won’t get to the bookstore for awhile.”

  “Yes, but I’d like to get to the bookstore without chocolate smeared all over myself.”

  Aidan made a funny little noise in the back of his throat.

  She glanced over at him. “Is anything wrong? Are you hungry?”

  “I’m fine.”

  But he didn’t look fine to her. He looked sort of feverish. And the backs of his hands—had they always been that hairy? Maybe she’d been so fixated on the watch she hadn’t noticed. He was a manly guy who probably had lots of healthy hair on his chest and his legs. He might even have hair on his back, although she hoped not. That was a turnoff for her.

  As if that mattered. She wasn’t going to be seeing his naked back, so whether he had hair growing there or not was a moot point.

  About that time Barry arrived pulling her orange suitcase. At the time she’d bought it, she hadn’t been worried about whether the suitcase was stylish. Her goal was to own a suitcase that didn’t look like every other one circling the belt in baggage claim.

  She’d succeeded in that goal. Neon-orange with little pink hearts on it, the suitcase could put your eyes out. She hadn’t wanted to mention the little pink hearts when she’d described the suitcase to Barry earlier, and after all, the predominant color was orange. Very orange.

  “Your luggage is here,” Aidan said.

  “Kind of hard to miss seeing that.” She took another big bite of cake. “I’m afraid I left my Louis Vuitton at home.”

  He turned to her and smiled. Fortunately his eyes had lost that feverish look, too. “You don’t have any Louis Vuitton.”

  “No, but I had to say that and see if you were paying attention.” As Barry loaded her suitcase in the trunk, she scarfed up some more cake. It was a darned shame to gobble a cake this fine, but she didn’t trust herself not to make a mess.

  Barry climbed behind the wheel. “All set. Ready to roll back there?”

  “I still have cake, Barry. If you can avoid quick lane changes while I’m finishing it, I’d be most appreciative.”

  “I’ll do my best, Ms. Gavin.” He pulled away from the curb slowly.

  “Barry, are you going to be our driver for the entire weekend?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

  “Then please call me Emma. I have a feeling we’ll be old friends by Sunday.”

  Barry’s smile was reflected in the rear view mirror. “That would be nice. I’ve only met a couple of live authors before.”

  “Met any dead ones?”

  Barry chuckled. “Good comeback. No, I haven’t met any dead ones, but I have a friend down in New Orleans who swears he has.”

  “I like New Orleans. It’s a great town.” She looked over at Aidan, thinking to include him in the conversation she’d started with Barry. “Have you been there?” She took another good-sized bite of cake.

  “No. Wallace Enterprises contributed quite a bit to the rebuilding effort after Hurricane Katrina, but I’ve never been there.”

  “You should go sometime.” The chocolate cake was improving her mood by leaps and bounds. “It’s sort of spooky, but then I enjoy spooky, as you can imagine considering the books I write.”

  “You mean pretend spooky.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess so. It’s fun to scare yourself a little with imaginary things.” She dropped a glob of chocolate frosting, which landed on her napkin, fortunately. Next time it could land on the front of her turquoise suit jacket, though.

  She studied the situation and decided she’d do better if she picked up the plate and held it closer to her mouth. She had about a third of the cake to go, and Barry had promised to drive carefully. She sliced off another chunk.

  “Damn it!” Barry swore at the same moment he slammed on the brakes. “Sorry about that, Emma, but this jerk in front of me cut me off!”

  “That’s unfortunate, Barry.” She put the empty plate back on the silver tray. “Because now I’m wearing the cake.”

  Chapter Eight

  From the moment Emma had mentioned getting chocolate smeared all over herself, Aidan had wondered if he’d pay for this ego trip of providing her with cake. Now it seemed that he would pay dearly. She’d managed to get both cake and frosting all over the front of her turquoise suit jacket and the white lace camisole underneath. Worse yet, it was smashed into her cleavage.

  The fantasy picture of her naked and smeared in chocolate had somewhat come true, but not in a good way. The erotic overtones would all be there with no possibility that he’d be able to satisfy the lust they would inspire. Double whammy.

  She glanced down at the mess before looking over at him with a bemused expression. Then she began to laugh.

  That only made things worse. If she’d ranted and raved about her ruined outfit, or if she’d blamed him for coming up with the stupid cake plan in the first place, he’d have been able to bury his cravings under the weight of her anger. But no, she’d chosen to be a good sport about it, and he was a sucker for a good sport.

  Now he wanted to laugh right along with her and then lick the chocolate from her cleavage. He might not be a big fan of chocolate. A rare steak was more his idea of a treat. But if he could be allowed to clean that chocolate off her breasts using only his tongue, he’d take that assignment in a heartbeat.

  Just his luck that wouldn’t be happening. Still, he had to help her figure this out. Barry was casting worried glances in the rear view mirror and sending out a stream of apologies, despite Emma’s amused reaction.

  Aidan chose the solution that he would have wanted for himself. “Barry, reprogram your GPS and take us to the nearest Nordstrom’s.”

  “Cancel that, Barry.” Emma gulped air and sank back onto the seat. “No shopping trips. I have something in my suitcase that will work fine. I just need a plan for changing out of this and into that.”

  “Gas station?” Barry suggested.

  Aidan shook his head. “No.”

  “Yes, Aidan. A gas station restroom will work fine.”

  He grimaced. “But it might be cramped and…” He gestured dismissively.

  “And dirty? It might, but you don’t have to go in there, and my sensibilities aren’t as delicate as yours. However, before I get out of the car, I should probably wipe some of the cake and frosting off. Otherwise I’m liable to get it on the upholstery and then it’ll spread everywhere.”

  His libido presented him with a graphic picture of chocolate everywhere on the seat because he’d proceeded to take what he wanted, spreading the chocolate, spreading her legs…

  “I’m afraid the napkin’s compromised and I don’t have any tissues in my purse.”

  Thankfully she seemed oblivious to his mental state.

  “Do you by chance have a pocket handkerchief that wasn’t hand-sewn by Swiss nuns?”

  Maybe his sense of humor would save him. He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief. “I’m sure the Swiss nuns would approve of using it to aid a damsel in distress.”

  “A
s Barry would say, nice comeback.” She took the handkerchief. “Thank you. Wow, this is really soft material.”

  “It’s woven from the hair of sacred llamas cared for by extremely devout monks.”

  She grinned at him. “Okay, okay. I’ll lay off the smart remarks. It’s just that I’m still thinking about that watch and shaking my head.”

  He should concentrate on the intricate workings of his watch, Roarke’s watch, any damned watch. Something mechanical instead of a warm, willing, moist woman. He didn’t know if she was moist yet, but she would be if he could have a few seconds of her time.

  “This gas station looks as if it might be halfway decent,” Barry said. “If it’s not, we’ll go somewhere else.”

  “It’ll be fine. Let’s stop.” Emma unfolded the handkerchief and glanced at the monogram. “What does the F stand for?”

  “Faolan. It’s a family name.” A family name that meant wolf. Instead of giving first names that referenced wolves, the Wallace pack chose to give middle names with that meaning, to make the connection more subtle. There was nothing subtle about his wolf self right now, though. He was ready to howl with frustration and he could feel hair sprouting on the backs of his hands.

  “I like it.” She dipped her head and began wiping up some of the chocolate.

  Barry pulled the car up to the convenience storefront located beside the gas pumps. “I’ll get your suitcase out of the trunk.”

  “Great, thanks. You know what I hate about this the most, Aidan?” She picked up a glob of icing from between her cleavage and licked it from her finger. “I’m wasting almost a third of this luscious cake.”

  He had to look away. His chest had begun to itch and within thirty seconds he’d have a start on his pelt. “I’ll wash out your handkerchief in the bathroom, but it’ll take more than a quick rinse to get the chocolate out, I’m afraid.”

  “No problem.” He was trying to focus on something besides her breasts, but when he looked to his right, he was presented with the image of some guy shoving a gas pump nozzle into the tank of his car. Aidan had never thought of that behavior as particularly sexual, but in his present mood it didn’t take much to evoke the image of body parts connecting.