A Werewolf in Manhattan (Wild About You #1)(33)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Wine flowed during dinner as it had before. His parents were excel ent hosts, and Aidan remembered many a dinner party where the entire table had been fil ed …

with Weres. After dinner the tradition was for pack members to shift and take a run through the woods.

As the plates were cleared after dessert and the after-dinner liqueurs were being savored, Aidan’s mother rose and came around to his chair. “I’m sure Emma must be tired.”

Aidan glanced over at Emma. “Are you tired?”

“Not particularly.”

“Even so.” Fiona’s voice was gently insistent. “I think it’s time Aidan showed you to your room.” The message was clear. It was time for the outsider to make herself scarce.

Aidan braced himself for an argument from Emma. To his surprise, she smilingly agreed and pushed back her chair with a convincing and ladylike yawn. The tension eased from his shoulders. If she’d take al her cues that will ingly, convincing his parents to grant her freedom might not be so difficult.

Aidan tucked his linen napkin beside his plate and stood.

“I had Angelina put Emma’s things in the blue room,” his mother said.

“Al right.” The blue room was at the opposite end of the house from his room, and his mother had surely done that on purpose.

“What a fabulous meal,” Emma said as he walked with her toward the winding stone staircase leading up to the second floor. “I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.”

“Did you think we’d throw some bloody bones on the floor and start gnawing on them?”

“No, of course not.” She glanced at him as they mounted the wide staircase side by side. “Well, maybe. You’re free to do whatever you want here, after al .”

“And what we want is a civilized meal, complete with the good silver and excel ent wine. We gave up raw meat two hundred years ago.”

“I didn’t mean to be insulting.”

“No insult taken.” But he was in a mood, and he knew it. He was facing sexual deprivation, and he’d discovered that he didn’t like the idea one damned bit.

“Aidan, I know this must be awkward for you. Just so you know, I plan to keep Wellaway from you for however many days I’m here.”

They reached the top of the stairs and he turned to her. “That won’t be hard to do.

The bedroom my mother chose for you is at the end of the hal going that way.” He pointed to his left. “And mine is at the end of the hal going that way.” He pointed to his right.

“And there are hidden cameras in the chandeliers.”

“Uh-huh. Placed there by yours truly. Unless I want to be caught on camera, I won’t be paying you a visit tonight.”

“That’s for the best.”

“Easy for you to say. Come on. I’l show you to your room.” He started down the carpeted hal way lined with antique sconces and old photographs.

“Oh, wait!” She paused in front of a sepia-toned picture. “This looks like a bunch of prospectors!”

“My prospecting ancestors. The Alaska Gold Rush made them rich.”

“These prospectors are werewolves?”

“A little-known fact of history. Or make that a careful y guarded secret of history.

Werewolves make excel ent prospectors and miners. They can smel the gold, and they have the endurance to live under primitive conditions.”

“So who’s this guy?” She pointed to a formal picture of a man in a gray morning coat and pin-striped trousers.

“That’s Irving Gentry. He moved his pack from Alaska down to the Portland area around the turn of the twentieth century. Made a mint in shipping. His descendants are involved in several Pacific Rim business ventures.”

“Do the Gentrys own a chunk of Portland, then?”

“I think that’s fair to say. They’re pretty influential there, and I think a branch of the pack is now in Seattle, too.”

“What other cities are dominated by Weres?”

He hesitated. “I wonder how much of this I should be tel ing you.”

“You brought up trust earlier today. It goes both ways, Aidan. You have to trust me, too. After monitoring my life for three months, you must have some idea of my trustworthiness.”

“You’re right. I know you’re trustworthy. I just have some other people to convince.”

“I know.”

“Anyway, to answer your question, San Francisco and Denver. The Stil mans have holdings al over Colorado, in fact. I’ve heard rumors of a Stil man split because one faction wants to expand to Salt Lake City and another one likes the Jackson Hole area of Wyoming. Weres go where there are deep woods and plenty of economic opportunity.”

Emma nodded. “Makes sense.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Are there werewolves in Congress?”

That made him laugh. “No. We contribute to campaigns, but we stay completely out of politics.”

“Why?”

“Think about it. The media fol ows politicians everywhere. We don’t need that kind of attention.”

“No, I suppose not.” She wandered to the next picture. “Who’s—”

“Emma, I don’t mean to hustle you along, but unless I’m back downstairs soon, I’l be asked what took me so long. Then I’m screwed no matter what I say. If I tel them the truth, they’l worry that I’ve given you too much information about our history. If I’m evasive, they’l think we were up here making out.”

“Then let’s get going.” She turned immediately and started down the hal . “Is it the room on the left or the room on the right?”

“On the left.”

“Oh! Does that mean I have a balcony?”

She sounded so eager about it that his foul mood lifted a little. “Yes, Juliet, you have a balcony.” And that gave him an idea that lifted his mood a little more.

Cameras were trained on the house, of course, and on each balcony, as Well, but the lens didn’t pick up every single inch of the railing. And he knew where the blind spots were.

Chapter 26

Aidan left without kissing her, which Emma thought was very wise. He didn’t need to go back downstairs with extra hair curling out the front of his shirt. These people—or rather, these werewolves—were his family. They knew better than anyone that he had a genetic predisposition to shift when aroused.

Poor werewolf. Guys had it tough anyway, having to worry about whether a tel tale bulge in their jeans would announce their intentions. In addition to that, Aidan had to worry about growing hair and fangs.

Closing the door to the room that had been assigned to her, Emma took a look around. Now this was what she cal ed a bedroom. A large and ornate four-poster with a canopy was to be expected in a mansion, she supposed. The deep blue velvet hangings tied back with gold cords that could be released to create a cocoon of luxury must be standard mansion decor.

But the bed was only the beginning. It took up about a third of the space, which left room for a cozy seating area in front of a blazing fire. Bookshelves on either side of the fireplace contained both leather-bound classics and current bestsel ers in hardback. Many of her favorites were there, along with some she’d been meaning to read.

The blaze in the marble fireplace was real, and a smal supply of wood in a copper tub on the hearth invited her to enjoy the fire through the night. Two wingback chairs upholstered in a blue-and-white print flanked a smal walnut coffee table. The table held a tray containing an insulated carafe fil ed with—if her nose didn’t deceive her

—fresh coffee. A smal pitcher of cream sat next to the carafe, along with a plate of six chocolate truffles on a white paper doily. Emma bit into one and discovered it was her favorite flavor, espresso. Aidan had indeed been paying attention during those three months of surveil ance.

Taking another smal bite of the truffle, she wandered over to the door leading into the bathroom and sighed with pleasure. A claw-foot tub was another item on her wish list, and this one looked deep enough for her to sink up to her chin in bubbles.

A dark wood and marble vanity surrounded a sink hand-painted with forget-me-nots.

Al the amenities she could ever want were clustered in a basket on the vanity, including bubble bath. A thick white robe hung on a hook next to the tub. If she couldn’t have Aidan tonight, she could relax in a warm bath and sit in front of the fire with a book, a cup of hot coffee, and the rest of the truffles.

She might as Wellunpack and get comfy. Back in the room, she opened a closet and found her orange suitcase and her laptop case on a shelf. Her clothes had been neatly hung in a row, with the exception of what she’d already worn. No doubt, those items were in the mansion’s laundry being washed and pressed.

Because her makeup bag was nowhere in sight, she returned to the bathroom and opened a drawer in the vanity. Sure enough, there it was, along with a hair dryer. She’d bet the mansion had its own generator and water supply so that the place could be total y self-sufficient.

She was literal y out in the middle of nowhere. No one—not her mother, her girlfriends, or her publisher—knew where she was or would even be worried about her. They thought she’d been spirited away to a tropical island by one of NYC’s most eligible bachelors.

Her isolation wasn’t causing her to freak out exactly, but she was impressed by how thoroughly the Wal aces were able to close themselves off from the rest of the world, except … for the Internet.

Racing back to the closet, she flung open the door and grabbed her laptop case where it sat on the shelf next to her suitcase. It felt too light. Heart pounding, she unzipped it, knowing that she’d find it empty. They’d taken her laptop.

She checked the pocket where she kept her backup flash drive, and that was gone, too.

Not cool. They’d stolen her book ideas. They’d swiped her research notes and e-mails, which she needed to answer, and … damn it! Taking her laptop and flash drive was like ripping out her heart, and she wasn’t putting up with that for even one second, let alone a whole night.

She’d been a good sport up until now, but they were going to give her back that laptop, and they were going to do it tout de suite or heads would rol . She didn’t care whether Aidan’s mother had implied that Emma should go to her room like a good little girl and stay there until morning. She wasn’t going to rest until she had her laptop back.

As she walked into the hal way, she listened for the sound of voices and heard nothing. But the house was huge, so not hearing voices didn’t mean the place was empty. She’d start with Aidan’s bedroom.

Marching to the end of the hal , she took her best guess and opened the door to her right, which would be the other balcony room. The minute she stepped inside, she knew it belonged to Aidan. She was no werewolf when it came to scent, but she’d grown fond of his, and she picked it up immediately.

A light was on beside the large bed, a four-poster and canopy similar to hers. The room was appointed much like hers, too, although manly greens and browns predominated. Aidan had a balcony, too, and a fireplace with two wingbacks and a coffee table arranged in front of it. Logs were laid for a fire, but it wasn’t lit, and the room felt vacant.

Even so, she cal ed his name. No one answered. Then she noticed something she’d missed in her first scan of her surroundings. The white dress shirt and dark slacks he’d had on when he’d left her in her room were draped across the end of the bed.

But there was no light on in the bathroom and no sound of splashing water. Then, from somewhere outside, she heard a wolf howl. She ran to the French doors leading to the balcony and found them unlocked. With the best security system money could buy, the Wal aces didn’t need locks.

She opened the doors and stepped out, gasping as a cold wind sliced through her.

Below her on the cobblestoned driveway, three wolves paced restlessly by the front door. She forgot the cold as she stood watching them, total y mesmerized.

Only a short while ago, she’d sat at an elegantly appointed table and held a conversation about world events with these three. And now … they were wolves.

Despite never seeing any of them in this form, Emma instantly identified each one.

Howard had to be the large white wolf, who kept watching the front door, while Fiona, smal er and sporting a gleaming black coat, stayed close by. Roarke’s blond fur made him look ghostly white in the lamp’s glow as he romped around in playful abandon, as if enjoying the fresh night air. The white wolf howled again, impatiently.

Then Aidan joined them, his dark brown coat tipped with silver, looking as magnificent as she remembered. He hadn’t come through the front door, so she had to assume there was another way in and out. Instead of a doggy door, they must have a wolfy door.

One of these wolves knew where her laptop was, but she couldn’t exactly cal out and ask them. Making her presence known at al might cause al sorts of bad things to happen, including imminent death, which she would very much like to avoid.

Aidan wouldn’t kil her, but she wasn’t so sure about the other three.

As if some signal had passed through the group, they loped off into the dark woods, with the white wolf in the lead. Aidan was easily as big as his father, and Emma found some comfort in that. Howard had seniority, though, and in a wolf pack, that counted for quite a bit. She’d researched it.

When they were out of sight, she retreated into Aidan’s bedroom and closed the French doors. Man, it was cold out there. How could they stand it? But she supposed as wolves they had those gorgeous fur coats.

If they’d gone for a run in the woods, that gave her a chance to search for her laptop. Moving quickly, she left Aidan’s bedroom and headed for the stairs. During dinner she’d learned the mansion had ten bedrooms in addition to the obligatory bil iard room, library, and conservatory, which she had to assume contained a bunch of exotic plants. She felt like Miss Scarlet in a game of Clue.