A Werewolf in Manhattan (2 page)

“
If he took her, there would be no turning back. A werewolf mated for life.”

As would he. The crown prince of the Wallace pack was expected to choose well and cement either a financial or political alliance with one of the other great werewolf families based in North America. His brother, Roarke, might have more leeway, but Aidan’s path was preordained.

Barring some misstep, he’d end up with Nadia Henderson, daughter of Leland Henderson, alpha leader of the pack based near Chicago. Aidan and Nadia had known each other since they were young, and he liked her. She didn’t excite him sexually, but that wasn’t the point. Uniting the New York and Chicago packs through marriage would create a powerful dynasty.

Because Emma stirred him more than any human female he’d ever met, he was wary of her. At thirty-two, he was fast approaching the time when he’d have to commit to Nadia, and he prided himself on honoring his commitments. Love and passion, the kind Emma wrote about, wouldn’t factor into it.

Distracted by that thought, he missed the end of the reading and the beginning of the autographing session. A line had formed by the time Aidan stood, and the woman in the black suit had stepped in to slip promo material into each copy before handing it back to the buyer.

Holding the hardback he’d purchased earlier in the evening and folding his topcoat over one arm, Aidan headed to the back of the group. He hated lines, but he would stand in this one because it would give him a rare chance to talk with Emma face-to-face. Maybe he’d learn something important.

He hadn’t sensed any other werewolves in the crowd, which was a disappointment. He’d thought her informant, if she had one, would want to attend the launch of her book tour.
Apparently not.

He recognized a few faces from the previous two signings. Her mother was here, of course. Betty Gavin had taken a chair in front and was near the head of the line.

Her blond hair was mixed with gray, and she carried a few more pounds than her daughter, but the resemblance was striking. She worked as an administrative assistant for a group of lawyers. Aidan had checked her out thoroughly, too, and hadn’t found anything suspicious. Obviously she thought her daughter had hung the moon.

Aidan settled in to wait and tried to block out the sensory overload created by a pack of humans. Perfume, aftershave, and deodorant assaulted his nostrils, while a cacophony of voices, cell phone chimes, background music, and shuffling feet battered his eardrums.

He longed for the stillness of the forest or the hushed ambience he’d achieved in his Central Park West apartment with triple-paned glass and yards of moss green carpet. A flat-screen in every room ran continuous forest-scene footage to give him the illusion of the deep woods—even in the heart of the city—and he kept a jungle of plants healthy with the help of a plant sitter.

Silence was another thing he appreciated about Emma. She didn’t make unnecessary noise, except once in a great while when she’d crank up the volume on her iPod speakers and dance around her Greenwich Village loft. She knew some sexy dance moves that he’d have been wise to forget about.

She didn’t wear perfume, either, which allowed him to pick up her true scent. Unfortunately, he was drawn to it. He understood the power of pheromones and recognized that he had a significant problem with Emma in that regard.

Her beguiling aroma reached out to him, penetrating the maze of competing scents, taunting him from thirty feet away. He’d met her up close only twice before, both times when she’d autographed books at this store.

The first time she only smiled and thanked him for coming. But the second time she’d asked enough questions to find out he was a member of the well-connected Wallace family. She’d seemed a little surprised, yet pleased, that Aidan read her books.

He figured she’d already spotted him tonight. After all, he was one of a handful of men in the audience. He’d bet he was the only one who knew how she took her coffee—no sugar, two creams—or what color sheets were on her bed—hunter green. Seeing her tonight was a completely different experience for him now that he knew so much about her. He’d have to be careful to keep all that intimate knowledge under wraps when he spoke to her.

For three months, he and his staff had monitored her activities through wiretaps and hidden cameras in her loft. He’d personally followed her whenever she left her apartment for lunch dates with her mom, her agent, or a girlfriend.

Her lifestyle wasn’t all that different from many women in their late twenties. She was an environmentalist, which prompted her to take public transportation to save fossil fuels. She drank organic coffee, but she drank too much of it, which had turned her into an insomniac. Or maybe it was all the organic chocolate she ate along with the coffee. More than once he’d cringed as he’d realized her dinner had consisted of those two items.

But he understood the food, or lack thereof, more than he understood her choice of boyfriend. As he moved closer to the signing table and the pull of pheromones grew stronger, his thoughts understandably turned to her sex life, or what passed for her sex life.

The way he figured it, a woman who could dance, a woman who could write creative sex scenes that left him hard and aching, would require a dynamite lover. Instead she had ... Doug, who was also her CPA. Doug might have been world-class when it came to preparing her tax returns, but apparently he didn’t know jack shit about pleasing her in bed.

Doug had spent the night at Emma’s loft exactly four times in three months. Aidan had balked at putting a camera in her bedroom, both to respect her privacy and protect his sanity. But the audio from the living-room camera had picked up the sounds of a couple having sex in the bedroom. Sad to say, he hadn’t detected much excitement. Doug seemed to have the energy quotient of a stale bagel.

Emma deserved somebody more inspired, somebody more ardent. Aidan wondered whether she was so busy with her career that she simply lacked the time to search out a better alternative to Doug. Then, too, her taxes were probably complicated, and a good CPA was hard to find.

As Aidan contemplated Emma’s sorry excuse for a sex life, Betty Gavin walked past him, holding her signed book.

She paused. “Aren’t you Aidan Wallace?”

“Guilty as charged.”

Betty smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Emma’s mother. She told me you read her books. I think she’s proud of that.”

Aidan shook her hand and took note that Betty had a firm grip. His contacts had assured him that, in the office where she worked, she was a force to be reckoned with. “Your daughter’s a gifted writer.”

It was the right thing to say. Betty beamed as if he’d handed her an Academy Award, and her blue eyes, so like Emma’s, glowed with pride. “She’s amazing. I don’t know where she gets all those ideas.”

That was the very question that had the Wallace pack so agitated, but he couldn’t say that. “I guess she’s just creative.”

“Yes, she certainly is.” Betty looked over toward the bookstore entrance. “I was so hoping Doug would surprise her at the last minute and show up.” She glanced at Aidan. “That’s her boyfriend. But he had a Rotary meeting tonight.”

“You’d think he’d want to be here.”
No, shit—he should be here.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you? Emma just finished a book early this morning, and she likes to celebrate after turning in a manuscript. I wish I could stay and party with her, but my office called an early meeting, and if I don’t head home I’ll sleep through it.”

“Maybe her boyfriend will show up.” Aidan wondered how tuned in the guy could have been if he didn’t know about Emma’s habit of celebrating when she met a deadline.

“Maybe he will. Anyway, I have to go.” Betty patted his arm. “It’s almost your turn, anyway. Thanks for coming to her signings. I know she’s thrilled about that.” She walked away clutching her book.

Aidan figured she’d paid full price for it, too, because she wanted to support her daughter’s career. He admired that kind of loyalty.

Just then, the woman in front of him walked away with her signed book, which left him as the only autograph seeker in the vicinity. Emma’s scent hit him full force, and he steeled himself against the urge to reach across the table and pull her right out of her chair and into his arms.

That the thought crossed his mind was a warning signal. Years of training had subdued his animal instincts, but no amount of training would eliminate them completely. He would be careful.

“Aidan Wallace!” Emma smiled as she stood and held out her hand. “I saw you in the audience, and I was hoping you’d stick around.”

Aidan put down the book in order to take her hand. “Had to get an autograph before you head off on your tour.” Her hand was ice-cold, and he unconsciously sandwiched it between both of his.
Not good.
He released her hand and cleared his throat. “Congratulations on your new book.”

“Thank you, Aidan.” Her blue eyes sparkled in welcome, but her makeup couldn’t disguise purple smudges underneath those incredible eyes.

She needed a vacation, not a book tour. He thought of his ancestral home near Sitka, Alaska. The remote lodge, surrounded by cozy log cabins, was his favorite retreat in the world, and he had the insane urge to take her there so she could rest. Ah, but they would do more than rest. And there was the rub.

So instead he made pleasant conversation. “I hear you’re headed off to Chicago in a few days.”

“Right!” Her enthusiasm didn’t ring true, but if she dreaded the tour, she couldn’t very well mention that in front of her publisher’s representative. She turned to the woman in black. “Jenny, this is Aidan Wallace. Aidan, Jenny Dunn handles PR for the company and was kind enough to come with me tonight.”

“It’s the least I could do, considering how hard Emma works.” Jenny shook hands with Aidan. “It’s nice to meet you, Aidan. I’ve seen your father a few times in the office.”

Aidan nodded. “He and Roger Claymore go way back.”

Emma braced both hands on the table as she gazed at him with a bemused expression. “I didn’t realize your father and Roger were old friends. Your father should have snagged you an advance copy of the book.”

“He did.”
All in the name of research to supplement Emma’s growing file.

“And you’re still buying one?” She pushed it gently back toward him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I do.” He gave the book a nudge back in her direction. “The copy I read was one of those softcover deals.” And he’d marked it up looking for clues that she’d hooked up with the werewolf world. “I want an autographed hardback for my bookshelf.”

Jenny nodded in approval. “Very cool.”

“Yes, it is.” A soft light came into Emma’s eyes as she looked at him. Then she sat down and picked up her pen. “I’m honored to have a place on your bookshelf.”

Aidan felt a stab of guilt and quickly reminded himself that he’d been a fan before he’d started spying on her. He really did want an autographed copy for the section of his bookshelf devoted to her, but coming to the reading tonight had been primarily to see whether any werewolves showed up.

Jenny began gathering bookmarks and flyers from the table. “I hope you two won’t think I’m rude, but my daughter has a cold, and my husband’s home with her. If you’re okay with it, Emma, I’d like to get back and check on them.”

Emma glanced up, her pen still poised over Aidan’s open book. “Of course! Go! And thanks so much for being here. That e-mail I got late this afternoon freaked me out a little, but I’m fine, now.”

Aha.
Aidan was proud of his casual response, considering the alarm bells clanging in his head. His crew had been monitoring her e-mails several times a day, but since nothing interesting had popped up, he’d told them to cut back to once in the morning. “Crazy fan?”

“I guess so. Some guy claims he’s a werewolf. Wants to show me what a real werewolf is like.”

Holy shit.
Aidan did his best to stay calm. “Sounds like a nut.”

“Or some lonely soul trying to get a date.” She smiled at him. “I guess he imagines I actually believe in werewolves.”

That was news he could use. “I take it you don’t?”

She went back to autographing his book. “The day I start believing in the fantasy I created is the day they’ll have to chase after me with a butterfly net.”

Aidan mentally sighed in relief. He was good at reading people, and Emma seemed perfectly sincere. She couldn’t very well have a mole inside the werewolf community if she didn’t believe in werewolves. His job was over except for one thing—she might have attracted the attention of a rogue, after all.

“That e-mail was sort of creepy, though.” Jenny tucked all the publicity materials into a satchel and hooked the straps over her shoulder. “We can still send somebody with you on tour. It’s not too late, and Roger’s completely okay with that.”

Send me.
Aidan saw a golden opportunity and vowed to take advantage of it.

Emma shook her head. “That’s a waste of money. You’ve lined up media escorts at each stop. The hotels are secure. I’m not worried.”

“Has anybody done a reverse trace on the e-mail?” Aidan wanted to get his hands on it in the worst way. He could notify his tech guys to pull it up, but going through Emma might be the simplest. A plan was forming in his mind.

“We tried,” Jenny said. “Nothing came up.”

Aidan didn’t want to appear too eager, even though he was chomping at the bit. “I handle security for Wallace Enterprises. I might be able to figure it out for you.”

“You’re a security expert?” Emma gave him an assessing glance. “Somehow I thought you were on Wall Street.”

“I have a cousin who is, but I went a different route.”

“I’m thrilled he’s in security,” Jenny said. “If you’ll give me your e-mail address, Aidan, I’ll send over what Emma forwarded to me. The guy’s probably a harmless kook, but if we could pinpoint where he is, that would be valuable.”