A Mate's Forgiving Touch

by Merryn Dexter

  “Should be okay. Is there something specific you need me to do?” Stretching up to his full height of six feet four, he folded his arms across his chest, turning his full attention on Dale. Beads of sweat popped on the other man’s forehead, and he laughed nervously.

  “Nah, man. I don’t need you to do anything other than exactly what you are right now. Did anyone tell you, you are one scary-looking bastard? One of the suppliers is dicking me around. I need to remind him who he’s dealing with.” Dale held up his hands in surrender when Connor glared harder. “Nothing bad, I swear. Just turn that evil eye of yours on him, and he’ll fall in line. He’s holding back on an order, demanding more money. It’s going to cost us our finishing bonus.”

  Seemed like the whole damn town was on the take one way or another. Whatever beef Dale had with the guy, it wasn’t his business. He needed the bonus, though, so he could glare a bit if it meant he got paid. “Okay.”

  The rest of the crew piled out of the king-cab truck outside the bar on Main Street, and Dale floored the gas the moment the back door slammed shut. He steered the truck to the end of the road, turning left down a side street then sharp left along a service alley running behind a group of businesses. Suspicion grew in Connor when Dale parked the truck in a dark corner, glancing around before hurrying to the back of one of the buildings. Following at a slower pace, he hesitated when Dale hammered on a door marked Staff Only. An older man—mid-fifties by his thinning hair and the start of a paunch—yanked open the door.

  “What do you want, Thomson? I already told you, I run a respectable business and I won’t fudge the paperwork.” He glanced up when Connor approached, the color draining from his face. “Now, hold on, boys. I don’t want any trouble here.”

  The sour taint of his fear turned Connor’s stomach. He felt like twelve kinds of asshole for scaring the human. “No trouble, sir.”

  Dale dug him in the ribs. “No trouble, Mac, but Bailey Clarke will be very unhappy at your unwillingness to cooperate.”

  At the mere mention of the name, Mac went from pale to translucent, and Connor had to turn his face away from the stink in his scent. Connor knew he intimidated people, but it seemed he had nothing on this Bailey guy. The nasty grin on Dale’s face pissed Connor off, and he regretted agreeing to accompany him. Dale had fed him a bullshit story. He should have known better, given the way the foreman extorted money from his own crew.

  Mac sighed heavily. “The goods will be ready for pickup first thing Monday morning. I’ll make sure the invoice reflects what we discussed.”

  Guilt stabbed Connor at Mac’s look. The man stank of defeat. His father would be ashamed of him for getting involved in something so underhanded.

  They headed back to the truck and climbed in. Dale turned to Connor, laughing so hard tears rolled down his pasty cheeks. “Did you see his face when you stepped up? Man, I thought he’d piss his pants. Stubborn old bastard could have avoided all this if he’d just played ball in the first place.”

  “Who’s Bailey Clarke?” Connor asked. The laughter on Dale’s face vanished immediately. Interesting.

  “Bailey Clarke is someone you don’t want to get on the wrong side of, trust me on that. Come on, I’ll drop you off.”

  Thankfully, Dale kept his mouth shut for the short drive to the boarding house. Connor stared out into the night, wrestling with his conscience and the driving need to beat the living shit out of the miserable bastard next to him. Whatever had just happened wasn’t his problem, wasn’t his business. The wolf stirred inside him, and he sighed inwardly. Being a man of integrity sucked, but it went against every natural instinct to prey on the weak. Dominant wolves protected those who couldn’t protect themselves.

  The truck pulled up outside the well-kept white clapboard house. Connor opened the door and climbed out. Bracing his hand on the frame, he ducked his head back inside the cab. “Pick me up before you see Mac. You might need me with you in case he changes his mind over the weekend.”

  Dale grinned, shifting the truck into gear. “Good idea, Connor. I knew you were the right kind of guy the day we met.”

  Connor slammed the door and stepped back. Wheels squealing, the truck peeled away from the curb. Dale Thomson was a gullible fool. A poor judge of character to boot. Shaking his head, he shouldered his work bag and trudged up the front steps. For the first time in months, earning the money he needed to get home would have to take second place. The town of Franklin had a big problem. He suspected the key to solving it meant dealing with Bailey Clarke.

  Chapter Two

  Bailey fought the urge to lift the patch over her right eye and rub it as she studied the printouts in front of her. Something didn’t add up. She couldn’t figure out the problem, and it pissed her off. Shaking her head, she focused on the job costing report in her hand. All the transactions were correct; she’d personally checked the paperwork against the figures, but her gut said something wasn’t right. The margins on this group of jobs were down compared to others, and it bugged her. Dale Thomson ran a tight crew. They performed well, meeting their deadlines with few complaints. So, why were they making less money than a couple of the less efficient crews? Her father had ceded day to day control of the business to her eighteen months previously. A few idiots had presumed to take advantage of the change, trying to rip her off with price increases and substandard materials. They’d soon learned, to their bitter cost, that Donald Clarke had been a pussy cat compared to his daughter. She snorted at the imagery. Whatever the fuck she was, it wasn’t a goddamn feline.

  A soft tap on her door heralded the arrival of her secretary, Gina.

  “The new guy is here to see you, Bailey.”

  Color spotted Gina’s cheeks. Bailey noted her heart raced a little faster than usual. “Is there a problem?”

  Gina grinned, shaking her head. “No, no problem. It’s just…well, you’ll see for yourself in a moment.” She swung the door wider. “You can go in now, Mr. Burrows.”

  Bailey rose from her seat, straightening the black pencil skirt she’d teamed with a cream silk blouse. Her patent leather stilettoes added an extra couple of inches to her five-foot-four frame. Rounding the desk, she leaned against the front of it, crossing her legs at the ankles, arms over her chest. She’d heard good things about the new addition to Dale’s crew, but she didn’t like anyone working for the company she hadn’t personally vetted.

  The door swung open. Every ounce of moisture fled her mouth as the most magnificent example of masculinity crossed her threshold. The width of his shoulders filled the frame, the plaid button-down shirt he wore strained at the seams. His dark-brown hair lay close against his scalp. Cool-gray eyes returned her challenging stare. There weren’t many men who could meet her stare, but Connor Burrows had no trouble at all. His scent hit her next, clean citrus with a dark-musk undertone. It tickled her senses, causing things to tighten low in her belly. He smelled unique, other.

  Impossible!

  The door to her office closed beneath his firm touch. It took all her hard-earned poise not to retreat as he stalked across the room toward her. Those gray eyes of his darkened, and he drew a deep breath, a low sound rumbling in his chest. The beast beneath her skin stirred. She shoved it away hard. Now was not the time to get her freak on.

  “Who is your alpha?” His gravelly voice sent a shiver down her spine. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled.

  “Excuse me?” Desperate to shield her primal reaction, she summoned her iciest tone. It had earned her the nickname “Ballbreaker” amongst the men who worked for her, and she’d cultivated her reputation carefully.

  “I wasn’t aware of the existence of another pack so close to the Black Hills. I would never have entered this territory without extending the proper courtesies. I need to know the name of your alpha, and their contact information, so I can apologize for my inadvertent intrusion.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. There are no packs or gangs h
ere. Franklin is a respectable town. I am the general manager of Clarke Construction. You don’t need to speak to anyone other than me.” His closeness unsettled her, and she attempted to move past him. Their arms brushed, the rich thread of musk in his scent deepening at the slight contact. Fur brushed beneath her skin. Her eye beneath the patch itched uncontrollably.

  Moving faster than she could comprehend, he pinned her against the desk. His big frame draped over her back, holding her in place. He pressed his nose hard into the side of her neck. “You smell so good, lover. Like cherry blossom and marzipan. I could lick you all up.” Wet heat bathed her neck from ear to collarbone, and the length of a very impressive erection nestled against her ass.

  “Get your damn hands off me!” She snarled, shoving her hips back in an attempt to put some distance between them.

  He didn’t move, and her ass rubbed against his cock. He moaned in her ear, and she growled in fury. She had always been strong, freakishly so, although her father had taught her at an early age to conceal it. The man at her back held her in place with no apparent effort, and, to her horrified embarrassment, it turned her on. Her nipples peaked against her blouse. She could scent her arousal pooling between her thighs. His moan of approval echoing in her ear, he bit down on the pulse point jumping in her throat.

  “What’s your story, little wolf? You smell so delicious, I’m half out of my mind for you, and yet there’s no trace of pack on you. No scent of any male on your skin either, which is good because I’d hate to have to kill someone for touching what is mine.” Such dark, violent words should have disgusted her, but they didn’t. They spoke to the animal instincts she’d battled against her whole life.

  Wolf.

  He used the word so casually, as though shifting from human to beast was perfectly natural. Nothing to be ashamed of, not the dirty secret she’d been raised to see it as. “What are you?” She gasped, but, in her heart, she already knew.

  He gripped her chin in a fierce hold, twisting her neck to the edge of pain so he could stare her in the eye. “I am a wolf, the same as you. A member of the Tao pack. We reside deep in the Black Hills.” His eyes narrowed, the cool gray darkening to charcoal. “You must recognize one of your own. My wolf knows yours, lover. Knows you are our mate.”

  She wrenched her chin from his bruising hold, bracing her hands against the edge of her desk. She shoved hard until the huge antique piece scraped against the burnished wooden floor. The gap she created offered an escape route, and she leapt away from the decadent heat of his body. The scent, the feel of him scrambled her brains. She held out her hand to ward him off when he started to approach. “Stay back, just stay back and let me think, goddammit!” His eyes fixed on her heaving chest as she panted, and she snapped her fingers angrily. “Hey! My face is up here!”

  A slow, lazy, grin curled his plump lips, drawing her attention to their softness. They were the only soft-looking thing about him. His big body looked carved of pure muscle, his thick arms and legs straining the seams of his clothing. He had a presence about him, too, a surety and confidence in the way he held himself. She found his arrogance equal parts annoying and fucking delicious.

  “What’s to think about, lover?” His voice purred in his chest, and her nipples pebbled in response.

  “Don’t call me that! It’s never going to happen!” Her nose twitched at the stink of such a blatant lie. She wanted this stranger. Craved him more than any other man she’d met. Taking advantage of her distraction, her wolf surged. The tips of her fingers burned where her nails twisted into claws. Pain rippled down her spine, and she arched, crying out in agony.

  “Bailey! Bailey, focus on me!” The pain receded when he grabbed her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. They shone like burnished gold, like the wolf eye she kept hidden behind the black leather patch, and a heavy presence burned in his intense stare. A whine spilled from her throat, her wolf responding to their dominant. “Not yet, sweetheart.” He growled. Her wolf whined again, begging to be free. “Poor baby, go and rest now. We’ll play together soon, I promise.”

  She gasped in relief when the wolf retreated, allowing her to regain control of her body. Connor blinked once, the gold shifting back to charcoal.

  “How do you do that?” she breathed. “How do you control your beast so easily?”

  He frowned, and she pulled against his hold on her face, the urge to duck away from his disapproval rode her hard. He tightened his grip, surprising her when he leaned forward to brush his nose against hers in a tender gesture.

  “I’m going to forgive you because you don’t know any better, but my wolf is not a beast. It’s a fundamental part of me, the other half of my soul. What were your parents thinking, raising you to believe otherwise?”

  Pain sliced through her, an old pain, as familiar to her as breathing. “There is only my father. He has done his best to help me control the animal. He built a safe place for me to shift.”

  “A safe place?” Anger vibrated through his body, and she flinched in the face of it.

  “Yes. In our basement, for when the full moon forces me to change.” His anger made no sense to her. “What do you do to protect people when your beast breaks free?”

  His strong arms banded around her back, threatening to squeeze the breath from her lungs, and he lifted her against him. “My poor darling. My poor, poor darling.”

  Tears thickened his voice, and the wetness of them trickled down her throat. The need to sink into his arms, to wallow in the sympathy he offered her, gnawed at her heart. The hardest lesson she’d learned growing up, the one that still served her today, was never show any weakness.

  “Get off me.” She struggled against his hold, ignoring her instincts to trust this man who offered the tantalizing opportunity to be her true self for the first time in her life.

  He held her for a few moments longer before he sighed and stepped back. Not far enough for her liking, but at least she could breathe again. She shook her head, settling the heavy page-boy cut framing her face, tucking her rumpled blouse back into the waistband of her skirt. Ignoring the urge to curl into his embrace, she stalked across the room to straighten her desk. The strain in her arms as she heaved at the solid wood vanished the moment Connor tugged the opposite corner.

  “I don’t need your help,” she snapped, instantly regretting the childish outburst. She needed to regain her equilibrium, get control of the situation. Taking a seat behind her desk, she pointed him toward a brown leather bucket chair then folded her hands in front of her. He shrugged and dropped his big body into it.

  “So how long do you intend to stay in town? I’ve got a lot of jobs on the books, and I need to fit the right crews to each task.” If she ignored the slight rasp in her voice, maybe he would, too. Business. They had nothing to talk about other than business.

  “I’ll be around for the foreseeable future.”

  “That’s it? Could you be any more vague?”

  “I can be real specific, but I’m not sure you’re ready for it, lover.” He smiled so insolently, she wanted to crawl across her desk and slap his beautiful, sexy face until his ears rang.

  “Try me.” He challenged her at every turn, so unlike the men she usually dealt with. The need to control the conversation made her push back, even when she suspected she would regret it.

  His expression shifted from relaxed to deadly focus in an instant, gold washing across his irises. “I’ll be in town for as long as it takes to claim you as my mate, and for you to settle your affairs before I take you home with me.”

  The arrogance of the man! She forced a laugh, cringing at the hollowness of it. Who the hell did he think he was, waltzing into her life, expecting her to drop to her knees before him? Don’t go there! She tried to force her mind elsewhere. Too late! The image of him towering above her, one hand popping open the button of his fly, flooded her brain. Liquid soaked her panties, and a deep growl rumbled in his chest.

  Rising from the
chair, he braced his hands on the desk in front of her. “What are you thinking about, lover?” His wicked voice stroked her senses, like rich chocolate melting on her tongue.

  “I have a date tonight. I’m thinking about him.” She choked out the lie. His lip curled in a brief snarl then settled into a smug, self-satisfied grin.

  “You can tell me about it later. I’ll pick you up at seven.” His eyes bored deep into her, daring her to lie again.

  “I don’t date my staff. It’s a rule.” Damn the quiver in her voice!

  “You know what they say about rules, lover. I’ll make it more than worth your while to break this one.” His musky, citrus scent rolled her mind.

  She licked her lips nervously. “Why are you doing this to me?” Anguish and desire laced her words.

  “Because I can’t not, Bailey. Fight it all you want, I’m a very patient man. You are mine now. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you see it.” He leaned forward, pressing the softest of kisses to the corner of her mouth. His lips were gone before she could do something stupid, like kiss him back. He strode toward the door, pausing as he gripped the handle. “Wear something pretty for me, lover. I’ll leave my number with your secretary. Text me your address. See you at seven.” And, without a backward glance, he was gone.

  Crash! Glass shattered against wood. His laughter echoed through the closed door, accompanying her frustrated scream. The remains of her favorite paperweight glittered on the floor, and she dropped her head onto the desk in front of her.

  The door opened.

  She lifted her head to watch her secretary tiptoe through the shards on the floor. “Not a goddamn word, Gina.” She growled as the older woman straightened the paperwork on the desk and placed a new glass weight on top of it. Bailey’s foul temper never seemed to faze Gina. “I’ll clean it up in a minute.”

  “Of course, dear.” Gina retreated to the outer office.