by Marie Harte
She’d been open about her motives. Well, as open as she could be about ruling the pride. To help, not to lord herself above everyone. But she hadn’t told him everything just yet. She didn’t think he’d take it well if she told him she intended to claim him too.
She walked across the estate toward the main house. A five-thousand-square-foot virtual mansion that had all the amenities a spoiled Miami cat might need. A chef’s dream of a kitchen, widescreen televisions, whirlpool tubs and rain shower fixtures in the bathrooms, expensive furniture that was classy, comfortable and modern. She heartily approved.
As Joy had said, a mass of bodies crowded the hallway and spilled into the enormous living room. Cats milled about, sprawled out on sofas and chairs while watching some mindless daytime television. A couple of them read, while another dozen waited in line along the hall wall to see Miles.
Moving past them, she smiled at a few older men then pushed open the closed door and entered. She shut it behind her and saw Miles, Quince and Ellis respectively listening, writing and typing. Miles sat in a large chair adjacent to the couch currently occupied by an older feline who hadn’t stopped talking yet, despite her interruption.
Miles frowned at her, but she ignored him and sat in a chair on the other side of the coffee table, directly across from him and next to the couch.
Ellis winked at her then resumed his work on the computer. Quince sighed and glared at her to behave herself but said nothing.
“Hi, Mr. Werner,” she said to the older man in the midst of what sounded like a rant.
He spared her a glance. “Zoe.” He turned back to Miles and in his next breath continued complaining about his human neighbors. “I think they’re cooking meth over there. I swear, Miles. We need to do something about that.”
Miles didn’t respond at first, and Zoe wondered how he remained calm. Her blood boiled at the thought of some druggies making a problem for poor Mr. Werner. Though he lived in a quiet, respectable part of town—if she remembered correctly—methamphetamines appeared anywhere these days.
“Caleb, remember we talked about this? I personally went over to the Nolans and checked out their place. They make handmade soaps, not drugs.” Miles sounded too calm. Ah, there was that tick in his forehead.
Zoe bit back a grin.
“Yeah, Caleb.” Quince looked up from whatever he’d been writing. “Jace checked last month, and I went again last week, like you asked. They’re making soaps, using lye and food coloring, growing some herbs. Not meth. I did a thorough sweep, just in case they were covering up. Nothing but cleaning products.”
“Friggin’ hippies.” Caleb scowled. “Well okay, but I’m keeping an eye on them.” He stood with the help of his cane and ambled toward her. “Zoe. Don’t you look pretty today. Tell your Mama I’m still waiting on that date she promised me at the diner.”
Zoe smiled. “I will, Mr. Werner.” Then she leaned closer, fully aware of Miles watching her. “If you want, I could have Mama do a little spell to keep the druggies out. Then you’d know for sure you were safe.”
He brightened. “That would be just fine. Tell Esmie I’ll see her soon, then, yeah?” He left with a spring in his step.
“Nice.” Quince nodded. “I should have thought of that.”
Miles didn’t thank her. The jerk stared at her until she lost her smile. She wished he’d stop growing more attractive each time she looked at him. “What?”
“Why are you here?”
She had a hard time glancing away from his mouth. And it unnerved her to see him doing the same to her. The attraction went both ways. But did the growing affection? “I wanted to see how you run your office hours. I thought this was an open dictatorship?”
Quince snorted. Ellis chuckled.
“It’s not a dictatorship.” He was enunciating again. God, even snotty he was cute. “It’s a dreaded necessity.” He paused. “Good thinking using your mother with Werner. He’s been bugging me incessantly about the druggies next door.”
“It’s his thing. Going on a year now,” Quince sighed. “The Nolans are just some nice people from the West Coast who want to grow their own food and make their own crafts. Caleb is beyond paranoid. Last week he also accused his paperboy of being a wolf spy because he always smells like dog.” Quince’s huge grin said otherwise.
“Oh?”
Miles answered sourly, “The boy’s father runs a grooming service. They aren’t spies. Just canine hairdressers.”
“Ah. I see.” She tried not to laugh.
“It’s not funny.” Miles growled and lowered his voice. “I deal with a dozen Werners a day when I have more important things to do, and Wednesdays are the worst. I should be taking care of issues involving the whole pride, not an old man’s delusions.”
She frowned. “That’s not nice. Everyone in the pride deserves your time.”
“Hell. I like Caleb. I don’t mean him any disrespect, but while I’m dealing with him, I’m no closer to firming our border dispute to the west with the foxes. And our club in the northeast isn’t doing as well as it should. Ellis is taking forever to gather votes on the extension to the House, and Quince—”
“Okay, okay. I get the idea.” Zoe hadn’t realized Miles really was trying to fix other pride problems. She’d thought his main concern had been to get back to his personal business.
“Quince what?” Her brother growled at Miles. “I’ve been busting my ass to help out, Your Highness.”
“Please. Lately you can’t seem to look past my sister’s ass. Talk about distracted.”
Despite the irritated pinch to his lips, Miles continued to draw her gaze. He exuded confidence and sex appeal, and the charm he normally flashed on those he apparently deemed worthier than her was enough to make a girl jumpy.
“Does Miles always complain so much?” she asked the guys.
“Yes,” they answered simultaneously.
Before Miles could comment, someone knocked at the door.
“Come in,” he barked.
Amelia Belder and her husband entered with an angry teenager in tow.
“Not a word,” Miles warned her in a low voice.
She arched a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. She’d speak when she damn well felt the need to. Just to be contrary, she whispered back, “I live to obey, sweet cheeks.”
Ellis choked on a laugh, while her brother groaned.
To her surprise, Miles’s lips curled and he chuckled. “You are such a pain in my ass.” Then he turned to the Belders. “Mickey, Amelia.” Then he sighed. “Julian.”
Mickey nodded back while Amelia glared at her son. The three sat and Amelia proceeded to apologize to Miles for the egging of his car and the broken window in the main house.
“Julian?” Amelia encouraged. “Don’t you have something to say?”
Julian, like most males his age, had focused on her, a sexy female in close proximity, and sat staring. Unfortunately, so did Mickey until his wife cleared her throat and he turned away with a flush on his cheeks, his gaze centered again on his son.
“Julian.” Amelia said his name again, then smacked him in the back of the head.
“Ow, Mom.”
“Well?”
He flushed and turned to Miles with a sulky frown. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” Miles didn’t even pretend to feel for the kid.
“I said I’m sorry I damaged your property. I thought you tricked Quince out of pride rule. But now I know you didn’t.” He gave Quince a half smile. “Hey, Quince.”
She could tell Quince fought not to smile. “Julian.”
Another boy looking up to her brother. From what her mother used to tell her, from what Esmie heard about the pride, Quince had helped foster many of the juveniles needing parental support. Considering he’d gotten into more than his fair share of scrapes when younger, he seemed to have a soft spot for the kids often caught doing what they shouldn’t.
Julian was adorable, and he looked so miserable. She f
elt for him.
So did Quince, because he grinned. “Egged his car but good, huh?”
Julian’s cheeks grew redder. He slanted a glance at Zoe before centering on Miles once more. “It, um, came off, right?”
“Yes, thanks.” Miles watched him, his stare predatory. Dark.
The cat impressed her, she had to admit. He had the presence to be pride leader, if only his heart was in it.
Julian squirmed. “I mean it. I’m really sorry. I want to own up and make amends.”
Miles watched him for a moment. Then he nodded. “Fine. See Zoe later this evening, and she’ll have something for you to do.”
Me?
The glare Miles shot her cautioned her to remain quiet.
Amelia and Mickey nodded. “Thanks, Miles. He’ll be by to see you, Zoe. We promise.” His parents stood with him.
Julian smiled shyly. “I’ll see you.”
“Seven, in the kitchen. Okay?” She smiled back at him, and he tripped over his feet on the way out the door.
Amelia smiled tightly and tugged Mickey with her, who’d also paused to smile at her.
The minute the door closed behind them, she turned to Miles. “Now you’re ordering me around?”
“Hey. You say you want to take over. Well, this is part of it. Besides, he’s got a crush. I don’t need a fourteen-year-old glaring at me while I make him write, ‘I will not egg Miles’s car anymore’ a hundred times. Come up with something creative that punishes him. You’re good at being bad. Besides, it’ll do you good to bond with the pride.”
He smirked at her again, and she wanted to punch him as much as she wanted to hug him. This was the first time he’d sought to actively include her in things besides sticking her with his sister, far away from him. The warm light in his eyes turned her belly aflutter. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw genuine affection shining…for her.
Quince frowned. “What’s this about being bad? What did you do now, Zoe?”
The wicked look Mile shot her caused her cheeks to heat. Damn it. Zoe didn’t do embarrassed, but having Miles flaunt their time together at her was like waving a red flag—because she wanted a repeat performance like nobody’s business.
“Never mind,” she muttered, then yelled, “next!”
Chapter Eight
Miles hadn’t thought having Zoe by his side through the tedium of Wednesday’s open office hours would relax him. If anything, he would have thought the opposite.
Though she wore a pair of white linen capris and a red silk tank that covered her respectably, he had the uncomfortable urge to strip those pants and shirt off her to see what she wore beneath. Another thong like the one she’d worn in the club? Or like the barely there bikini she’d teased him with unmercifully the past weekend?
Crap. Not a good time or place for a hard-on. Not with people coming in and her brother sitting nearby. So he concentrated on those needing his attention and kept the lust, if not away, at bay. The problem was, his feelings for the female continued to grow.
More families entered, then some individuals—all with actual problems needing resolution. It didn’t take long before Zoe offered her advice, free of charge. And he found himself agreeing with her. Before long, he was asking her what she thought. She gave solid counsel to which the petitioners seemed to respond. Then too, none of the men were able to look away from her sultry beauty. Not that he could blame them.
The Zoe currently sitting across from him seemed less a minx out for trouble and more like a leader one could turn to for help. She radiated genuine caring, and from what he’d seen of her the past two weeks, he knew she meant what she said. Zoe didn’t dance around issues. She smelled of confidence, strength and power. Very much a take-charge feline.
Emotions aside, Miles did what any smart businessman would do. He used her skills and guided the remaining cats to her, to let her solve their issues while he sat there, offering ideas here or there to complement her. To his bemusement, they worked well together, as if they’d been co-counsel from day one.
He liked her tenderness with the more vulnerable members, as well as her heavy-handed attitude with the more unruly males. The woman was smart and it showed.
After three more hours passed, he realized she now had Julian, Sparks and ten other troubled souls to look after. And the woman was smiling. A true expression of joy that made his heart race and his palms sweat.
“That was fun.” She laughed.
Ellis and Quince groaned behind him.
“We had more petitioners today than any day since I stared,” Quince complained. “I blame you. Did you notice that after Julian, almost all of the pride visiting were male?”
“So?”
“So, that excuse for a bikini you wore on Saturday increased our numbers today,” Miles said dryly.
“Wow. Should I feel flattered you remember what I was wearing?”
Ellis snorted. “Try not wearing. Hell, I think everyone committed it to memory. I know I did.”
Miles glared at him, and Ellis ducked his head down and went back to work on the computer. “You’ve been bitching about helping more for a while now,” he said to Zoe. “Here’s your opportunity.”
“I don’t know that I’d say I was bitching—”
“Let’s see how you handle some of our more mundane problems, hmm?” He pretended to dismiss her as he turned to ask Quince a question. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her frown. Then she ran an assessing gaze over him that he felt to his core.
Unfortunately, that need she’d stoked with her play in the shower had done nothing but grow despite their time apart. He couldn’t close his eyes without thinking about how much he wanted to bury himself inside her. His hand wasn’t the respite it should have been either. Even more concerning, the thought of taking care of his desire with another female held no appeal at all. Yet it was the thought of holding her close after sex that befuddled him. He liked the feel of her, the notion that he could stare into her eyes for hours on end and still find her the most fascinating creature on the planet.
His cat had made it plain that he wanted Zoe. Miles did too, but he had enough intelligence to know it would take a while to make sense of his needs. Time—he had less of that commodity than he could handle just now. After office hours, he had a business call scheduled to deal with investors out West. Joy still wanted to talk to him about the photo shoot set up next week to see what her design would look like on an actual body—on Zoe.
He swallowed a groan, her bathing suit ingrained in his mind’s eye.
Miles had more important things to worry about. He still had an itch about those raptors. That they’d been quiet this long, and not one of his people had seen or heard from them since the altercation in the Coconut Lounge. That absence hinted at trouble to come.
He checked the time and stood. “Another stellar Wednesday afternoon.” He glared at Quince, who smiled at him.
“Doing a great job with things, boss.”
“Shut up.”
Quince chuckled.
“I’ll be in my office for the next hour or two if anyone needs me. Don’t wait dinner on me.” He paused to look again at Zoe. She stared at him with golden eyes, and to his dismay, he felt a shiver. A combination of arousal, affection and oddly enough, wariness. She seemed to have her sights fixed on him, the way a panther stared down a tasty rabbit.
He frowned at her, feeling no better when she gave him a toothy grin. Muttering under his breath about sly felines and their obnoxious brothers, he left to discuss business with his sister in Montana and their new West Coast friends.
The discussion went better than he might have hoped, and he signed off for the day feeling a return to his appetite. It helped to have accomplished something more than adding worry to his plate. With Stacey firmly in place to deal with any issues that might arise before he could fly back out there to check on their new warehouse, he contented himself with a job well done. He deserved the dinner his stomach demanded he find. Preferab
ly a nice juicy steak. He was tired of chicken, because every time he thought about birds, those aggravating raptors came to mind.
When he entered the kitchen, he found a plate waiting for him in the microwave.
“Ah, June.” He smiled, loving the housekeeper—a bonus for having to temporarily give up his private residence. He didn’t see anyone in the main living area, for once, and after reheating his porterhouse steak complete with sweet-potato fries and a nice salad, he sat in the living room, turned on the stereo for some smooth jazz, and started to eat.
He’d just about finished his meal when he smelled her. High-end perfume and sultry cat.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Alissa Roberto said as she entered the room, her heels clicking along the tile. She wore a rose-colored halter dress that clung to her curves, accented by strappy heels that only emphasized her sleek calves and the lean muscle in her shapely body. No two ways about it, Alissa was all woman. She batted her eyes and gave him a shy smile.
A month ago, he would have pegged her as sincere. Tonight he simply stared at her, unspeaking.
She huffed and skirted the couch to sit adjacent to him in a plush leather chair. “Not you too.”
He raised a brow and continued to finish his meal.
“I thought you of all people would understand.” The sly mask of innocence slid off her face to be replaced by the real Alissa. An intelligent, hard woman with something to prove. “I’m truly sorry about before, Miles. Harming Quince or you was never my intent.”
She didn’t smell of lies, but then her perfume made it difficult to detect the subtle nuances of emotion. Miles had a keener nose than most, but he’d already been fooled by Alissa once. He had no intention of making that same mistake again.
“Then what did you have planned, Alissa? Because Lex nearly ruined the pride. Then Greg Ayers tried to do the same, splitting us down the middle while you played power games.”
She flushed. “I’m a poor judge of character, I admit.” She sighed. “All I ever wanted was to help the pride.”
