A Werewolf in Manhattan (Wild About You #1)(17)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Aidan glanced at her. “Emma, I think you must have had a nightmare.”

“I did not! There was a wolf in my room. I saw it with my own two eyes. A huge wolf with silver-tipped fur. Search the place. It’s probably hiding somewhere.”

Aidan hated what he had to do, but there was no choice. “By al means conduct a search, gentlemen, but I guarantee you won’t find anything. Miss Gavin writes books about werewolves, and she has a very active imagination.”

For the first time doubt flickered in Emma’s blue eyes. “But I saw it, Aidan. It was there, looking at me.”

“I’m sure you thought you did.” He went to her and gathered her close, careful not to make it a sexual gesture. She wouldn’t be in the mood, but he seemed to always be in the mood.

“It seemed so real.”

“I know how that is.” He rubbed her arm in a companionable way. “You’re sound asleep and something wakes you up, like the heat going on. You’re pul ed right out of your dream, and for a moment, you see something that isn’t real y there. It’s happened to me several times.”

“I wasn’t dreaming about wolves. At least I don’t think I was.”

“But it makes logical sense that you might. You’re in a strange place and a strange bed. You’ve had an emotional day, which included confronting an idiot who’s trying to make you believe he actual y is a werewolf.”

She slumped against him. “I suppose you’re right, but Aidan, I’ve never been so frightened in my life. I thought it was truly a wolf. ”

“Well, it wasn’t.” It was a werewolf, aka me.

“Couldn’t find anything, ma’am.” The chubby security guard came back into the living room. “Ed’s making sure nothing’s in any of the other rooms, but we checked everywhere. Opened al the closets, looked under everything, checked in the shower. Looks like just the two of you are here.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said. “I hate that you went to al this trouble for a sil y nightmare.”

The security guard smiled. “Don’t think a thing about it. Part of the job.” He glanced over at his partner. “Al clear, Ed?”

“Al clear, Ken. But if you have any more problems, ma’am, give us a cal . We’re up al night anyway, and checking for wolves in the penthouse is a lot more interesting than anything on late-night TV.”

“I feel pretty foolish,” Emma said. “Someday I’l probably be able to laugh about this and make it into a good story, but right now it’s just embarrassing.”

“Ah, this is nothing,” the guard named Ken said. “You wouldn’t believe the things we get cal ed for. We had a magician whose bunnies and doves al got loose. Took us three hours to corral them.”

Keeping a supportive arm around Emma, Aidan shook hands with both men.

“Thanks for your time.”

“No problem,” Ken said. “Lock up behind us.”

“I will.” Giving Emma a squeeze, he crossed to the door and threw the dead bolt.

“Aidan, I feel like such an idiot.”

“Don’t.” He was the one who felt like an idiot for scaring her to death and making her doubt what she’d seen. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure.”

“I guess.” She gave him a pleading look. “But I real y don’t want to go back in there by myself.”

He’d figured this was coming, and the next few hours would be torture. But he deserved to be tortured after frightening her like that. “I’l stay with you.”

“Thank you, Aidan.”

“But we’re not hav**g s*x.”

“Don’t worry. I’m too spooked to do that, anyway.”

Well, that’s one of us. He turned off the fireplace and the lights in the living room before fol owing her into the master bedroom. The scent of her drew him like a moth to a flame. But he would resist. With luck, his heavy burden of guilt would keep his johnson deflated for the next few hours.

Chapter 13

Emma slept the rest of the night curled against Aidan’s strong body. At his request, she’d put on her pajamas, and he’d left on his sweats and T-shirt. She couldn’t remember sleeping more soundly in her life.

When she woke up, it was with a sense of something missing. Gray light filtered through the crack between the drapes, and as she came ful y awake, she realized what was missing, or rather who. Aidan had left the bed.

The spot where he’d been was stil warm, and she rol ed to that section and sniffed the pil ow. She stil couldn’t identify the brand of his subtle aftershave, although it had a hint of musk. Maybe today she’d ask him the name of it.

In the meantime, she had to get cracking if she expected to make the drive-time radio interview at eight fifteen. She climbed out of bed and headed for the master bath. Water was running somewhere in the suite, but Aidan had left the master bath to her.

Just as well. One peek at him in the shower and she’d jettison her morning appointments. That thought brought her to a dead stop in the middle of the bedroom. Good Lord. Would she real y behave that unprofessional y because she wanted to have sex with Aidan?

Probably. And that was unnerving as hel . She’d worked too hard to get to this point in her writing career to jeopardize it for sex with a man, any man, but especial y this one. Aidan had made it clear that they could hook up, as he’d phrased it, but never have a more long-term commitment than that.

Had she al owed one fabulous night of sex with a talented lover to sidetrack her completely? If so, shame on her. She’d do Wellto get her priorities straight.

Striding purposeful y into the bathroom, she pul ed off her pajamas and turned on the shower. She moved through her routine quickly and efficiently, determined to focus on what was important—namely, promoting Night Shift.

She couldn’t blame Aidan for her lack of dedication, though. He’d resisted her al along. The man had been prepared to walk for an hour in Chicago’s freezing cold rather than take her to bed. She’d asked him to stay.

Apparently she couldn’t handle the heat, though, so she’d best keep out of the kitchen. If one night with him had affected her so strongly, she’d be wise not to repeat that behavior tonight. Time for some old-fashioned self-control.

When she returned to the bedroom after showering, washing her hair, and using the blow-dryer, she noticed a tray on the dressing table. It held an insulated carafe of what smel ed like coffee, a cup and saucer, a smal pitcher of cream, and a piece of chocolate cake that looked almost identical to the one she’d smashed into her turquoise suit yesterday.

No eggs, no fruit, no bran muffin. Nothing that would have been good for her, which was exactly the way she liked her food first thing in the morning. Some men might have taken it upon themselves to provide her with what she should be eating, but Aidan had chosen what she wanted, instead.

Damn him, anyway. Why did he have to be the perfect man? Other than his extreme wealth, of course. But without that wealth, she wouldn’t be enjoying top-notch room service in the penthouse of a very expensive hotel. His money was part of him, and she hadn’t exactly been suffering as she’d enjoyed the luxuries he’d provided so far.

Stil wearing the hotel robe so there would be no chance of messing up her outfit with chocolate cake this morning, she sat at the dressing table and poured herself a cup of coffee. She could devote ten minutes to this indulgence, which should inject enough caffeine into her system to get her through the radio show.

“Can I get you anything else?”

She turned to find him leaning in the bedroom doorway dressed in slacks and another snow-white dress shirt open at the col ar. Her wayward glance went to his belt, and warmth settled between her thighs as she remembered unfastening it, remembered the heft and feel of his cock, remembered how he’d tasted. Oh, he could get her something else, al right, but it would be worse for her than chocolate cake for breakfast.

She toasted him with the coffee cup. “You’re aces for having this brought up.

Thanks for not assuming I needed protein before my big day.”

“I’ve been paying attention.” He looked relaxed leaning there with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, but lines of tension bracketed his mouth.

“Listen, Aidan, about last night, I—”

“The wolf thing? No problem.”

“No, not the wolf thing.” She looked into his caramel-colored eyes. Funny, but his eyes were the same color as the eyes of the wolf she’d imagined standing beside her bed in the middle of the night. Whoa. Had doing it doggy-style made her dream about him as a wolf?

He sighed. “We should probably talk about that, but I don’t want to make you late.

On the other hand, it isn’t the type of discussion I want to have in front of Barry.”

“Let me go first.” She knew for certain he was about to tel her they wouldn’t be hav**g s*x anymore. She wanted to be the one who said that. It was a matter of pride.

“Al right.”

“We can’t have sex anymore. It’s too distracting, and I need to concentrate on my book tour.”

He looked decidedly relieved. “I understand.”

Of course you do, you rat fink. If I hadn’t called it off, you would have. How dare you give me the best sex of my life and then decide we should be abstinent for the rest of the weekend?

But she didn’t say any of that. Instead she smiled at him over her coffee cup, even though that smile took al the will power she had. “It was fun, though. Thanks for a good time.” She knew it was a smartass comment, but he’d been ready to dump her, so she felt justified.

He rol ed his eyes. “That sounds like something you’d write on a public-bathroom wal .”

The eye rol irritated her more than it should have. On some level she acknowledged that he looked way too good leaning in the doorway, and she stil wanted him, which wasn’t a good idea. “But you’d never see it if I did, because you avoid public bathrooms.”

“Damn it, Emma!” He pushed himself away from the doorframe. “I’m sick of your remarks about my money.”

“Maybe I’m sick of being reminded every five seconds that you’re richer than God! Oh, excuse me, that would be wealthier than God. My mistake.”

“Are we fighting?”

“Yes. And it’s about time. Think of it as class warfare.”

“You’re not exactly poor, Ms. Bestsel er.” He pointed a finger at her. “You can afford a loft apartment in the Vil age, and that’s not cheap.”

She lifted her chin. “I like living in Manhattan. I’m closer to my publisher.”

“I doubt that’s the only reason. I think you like the prestige of that loft. And you may ride the subway, but that turquoise suit has a designer label on it.”

“What are you doing snooping through my suitcase?”

“You said you wanted it cleaned. I came to get it while you were in the shower.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She sounded ungracious, but it was tough to be grateful when he was withdrawing access to the one thing that intrigued her the most—his sexy self.

“Because of my name on the hotel registration, you’l have that suit cleaned and hanging in your closet by this afternoon.”

“I appreciate that, Aidan.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s a pricey outfit. Dolce and Gabbana, if I remember right.”

She should have figured he’d have an eye for labels. “How do you know I didn’t get it at Goodwil ?”

“Did you?”

“Well, no, but some of my clothes come from there.”

“Anything you brought on this trip?”

“That’s beside the point.”

He sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. “You’re right. We’re arguing about nothing.”

She couldn’t stand it any longer. Although she’d acknowledged her reasons for staying away from him, he had his own reasons for staying away from her, and not knowing those reasons was driving her crazy.

Taking a deep breath, she faced him. “I need to be clear about something. If I don’t get an answer now, it will bug me forever.”

He looked wary. “About what?”

“Yesterday you implied that we couldn’t expect to have a relationship. I leaped on that and started complaining about your money, but I never gave you a chance to explain. Why couldn’t we have a relationship, Aidan?” She hated the longing in her voice when she said that, but she couldn’t take it back.

He gazed at her for several long seconds, as if considering his answer. “You’l probably think this is medieval.”

“Try me.”

“The truth is, I’m expected to marry someone connected to a family with power and wealth equal to the Wal aces’.”

Her jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I owe my family a great deal, and I intend to do what’s expected of me.”

“What about love?”

“That’s a modern concept, and it’s fine for the masses, but—”

“The masses? Are you listening to yourself? You sound like some prince from a royal family!”

He nodded. “In a way, I am. Love of family, loyalty to family are more important than my individual preferences.”

“I can’t imagine.” She stared at him, unable to comprehend that kind of self-sacrifice. She would never have believed it if he hadn’t told her himself. “I adore my mother, but if she attempted to choose the man I marry, I would shut her down so fast.”

“And there’s the difference between us.” His chest heaved. “You need to get ready, and I need to make a few cal s. I’l meet you by the front door in fifteen minutes.”

“I’l be there.” She drank her coffee quickly while she ate the cake much faster than she would have liked. Then she finished getting ready, al the while trying to assimilate what Aidan had told her. To think of a twenty-first-century man caving to that kind of manipulation boggled her mind.