A Werewolf in Manhattan (22 page)

“So we’re home free.”

“Looks like it. Now, I’ll be happy to go to the airport with you if you want me to, but my flight back to New York doesn’t leave until one, so—”

“No, no. I’ll go to the airport on my own. No worries.” She felt abandoned, which was stupid. She’d traveled alone for several years, and Aidan was undoubtedly right about Theo. If he hadn’t made a move at this point, he wasn’t likely to do so.

Aidan used his key to get them on the right elevator and then into the penthouse. She’d thought of digging hers out to prove that she could get her own self into the room without having a man to do it, but the gesture seemed kind of silly, so she didn’t bother.

Once they were inside the confines of the penthouse, she intended to follow the rules. But if she couldn’t have Aidan, she might need some chocolate cake to compensate.

“I’m going to my room,” she said, “but I’m in the mood for some dessert.”

He paused and looked at her.

“That’s not code for sex, Aidan. I’m talking about actual dessert.” She crossed to the phone sitting on a small table in the living room. “I’m going to order up some of that chocolate cake I had for breakfast this morning. Do you want anything?”

Once again his expression revealed exactly what was going through his mind.

“I didn’t mean it that way. Go to bed, Aidan. We’ll get through this.”

“Yeah.” Grimacing, he turned and headed toward his bedroom. “Just put the tip on the bill.”

“Thanks for everything!” she called out to him. That was lame, but she didn’t think she’d see him again, and she was grateful for all that his wealth and status had provided this weekend. The sex had been good, too, but she wouldn’t say she was
grateful.
Only needy girls were grateful for sex. She was appreciative, though. She hoped he’d take her global statement as encompassing ... well, all of it.

“You’re welcome,” he said without turning around. Then he walked into his bedroom, closed the door, and turned the lock. There was no mistaking that sound, a definite metallic click that meant he was locking her out.

What the hell?
Did he think she would be so overcome with lust that she’d barge into his room, even after he’d made it clear they wouldn’t have sex tonight?

She abandoned her phone call. Striding down the short hallway, she rapped on the door. “Aidan, that’s plain insulting!”

His reply was muffled by the door. “What is?”

“Locking your door, that’s what! I promise you that I’m not going to encroach on the territory you’ve clearly defined. Now if you want to suggest that
I
lock
my
door, that’s a different matter. I can’t speak for your self-control. But I damned sure can speak for mine, and you don’t need a freaking lock to keep me on my side of this door.”

By the end of the speech, she was breathing hard from indignation. Or mostly from indignation. She was also breathing hard because he was on the other side of that door, probably taking off his clothes, maybe putting on sweats and a T-shirt again, maybe not ...

“You’re right.” His voice was very close to the door. A soft metallic sound indicated that the door was no longer locked.

She stood by the door, contemplating whether she should suggest that maybe, if they both understood that this would be the very
last time
, they could indulge in a little more recreational sex. Just for tonight. Because after that, they’d never see each other again. Except for book signings, although she wondered whether he’d skip those. He probably would, all things considered.

“Go away, Emma.”

“How did you know I’m still here?”

“I know.”

“Well, I’m leaving. But I just want to say that—”

“Don’t say it.”

She hated being interrupted in the middle of a thought. “What’s wrong with telling you I appreciate the time we’ve had together?”

“Hey, you’re the one who told me that saying anything more would only make things worse.”

She sighed. “So you’re really serious about this abstinence plan?”

“Deadly serious.”

“Then I’m leaving.” She walked a few feet away and paused to see if he’d open the door.

“You’re still there,” he said.

“You must rock out on hearing tests. Okay, I’m really leaving, now.”

“Good.”

She stomped into the living room, making as much noise as possible so that he’d know she was truly moving away from his door. Apparently cake was going to be her only option tonight.

After ordering both the cake and a pot of coffee with a pitcher of cream, she walked into her bedroom and took off her heels. Good thing Aidan hadn’t confronted her on the shoe issue, because these strappy black patent beauties were Gucci.

After all the times she’d dinged him for his expensive tastes, she felt a little guilty about the shoes. Footwear was one of her indulgences because she’d never found an ecofriendly shoe that a girl could take dancing.

Sitting on the bed, she massaged her feet. She loved wearing the shoes ... for about an hour. Sometime during the second hour, her love always waned, and she was as eager to get out of the shoes as she had been to put them on.

Barefoot, she decided to haul out her suitcase and start packing while she waited for the cake and coffee to arrive. She’d simply pretend that she was alone in this penthouse, and that there was no ripped man hiding behind door number two. She was used to being alone on these book tours.

But it was one thing to start out alone and continue on alone. Starting out with Aidan for company and then continuing on alone wasn’t going to be a lot of fun. They’d been together constantly ever since they’d met at the airport, and she felt somewhat ... attached.

Her feeling of attachment could be related to the great sex they’d had, although she believed it went beyond that. She liked talking to him, liked teasing him, even liked arguing with him. They just ... clicked.

Intellectually, physically, and emotionally, she and Aidan matched up. From his reaction to her, she’d be willing to bet he felt the same way. But he didn’t dare say so because he had this archaic family obligation. She still had trouble with that.
Talk about lack of personal choice!

The arrival of her late-night treat interrupted her packing, and she went to answer the door. Aidan would have been proud of the way she checked the peephole first. The uniformed bellman delivering her tray was the same one who’d brought dinner a few hours earlier, so she opened the door.

But just to be absolutely safe, she peered into the hallway. Nobody else there.

“Where would you like the tray, ma’am?” the bellman asked. “Over by the fire? It’s a nice night for a fire.”

“So it is.” She’d intended to follow Aidan’s advice and close herself in her room, but she would never be in this penthouse again, so why not enjoy cake and coffee in front of the fire? “That would be terrific.” She walked over and flicked the switch to turn on the flames.

The bellman arranged the tray on the coffee table and handed her the check to sign. She added a generous tip and gave it back. “Thank you. This hits the spot.” At least it hit
one
spot: the chocolate craving part of her. That would have to suffice.

“Have a nice evening.” The bellman smiled and left. The door locked behind him with a soft click.

Emma sat on the sofa and fixed up her coffee exactly the way she liked it. Denver would be soon enough to begin cutting back on cream and chocolate. Tonight she needed both.

Her coffee on the end table and her cake in her lap, she stared into the dancing flames and told herself to enjoy the experience because she wouldn’t have a fireplace in her next hotel room. Then she took a big bite of cake. Maybe she wouldn’t cut back on chocolate in Denver, after all. She’d be feeling deprived enough without denying herself that bit of comfort.

The cake was gone way too soon, and sitting in front of the fire by herself wasn’t nearly as much fun as she’d hoped it would be. She set the empty plate and coffee cup on the tray before standing and stretching. After turning off the fire, she carried the tray into her bedroom. She could finish off the coffee while she packed.

When she decided to shut the bedroom door, she told herself it wasn’t because she was putting more barriers between her and Aidan. Closing the door made the bedroom feel cozier. Too bad every time she looked at the big bed, she remembered curling up in Aidan’s arms last night.

Her turquoise suit hung in the closet in a plastic bag, and when she checked it, all the chocolate was gone. She unhooked it from the rod and pulled off the plastic so she could pack the suit in preparation for her next event in Denver, on Monday.

As she folded it, she heard her bedroom doorknob turn, and her pulse kicked up a notch. So Aidan had given in, after all. Working to hide a smile of triumph, she faced the door. But as the door opened, adrenaline shot through her. The person coming into her room wasn’t Aidan.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Theo, dressed in an old black sweatshirt and sweat-pants, closed the door behind him and twisted the lock. Then he faced her looking smug. “Hello, Emma.”

At last she found her voice. “How did you get in?” She was proud of herself for the calm way she said it despite the painful thudding of her heart.

“I have your key.” He reached into the pocket of his black sweats and held it up.

“That can’t be mine. Mine’s—”

“Not anymore.”

Then she remembered someone had jostled her at the party. She’d had to clutch her purse to keep it from falling off her shoulder. “You were at the party.”

“No. I hired the finest pickpocket in the greater Chicago area.”

As the panic slowly cleared from her brain, she realized that, although he stood between her and the door, once she called for help, Aidan would be between Theo and escape.

“I don’t know if you’ve thought this through very well. Once I start yelling, you’ll have nowhere to run.”

“I know, but I’m willing to take that chance. I’m hoping you won’t start yelling until you’ve heard what I have to say.” His gaze was earnest. “This is critical, and you’re the kind of person who will understand the issues.”

Lord help her, she was eternally curious about people, and he’d just appealed to that curiosity. She’d start yelling in a minute. With Aidan’s sharp hearing, he’d respond quickly. “What issues?”

“I can tell from the way you write about werewolves that you really get them.”

“Theo, if you’re about to claim that you’re a werewolf, then this conversation is over. There’s not enough spirit gum and fake hair in the world to convince me that you’re ...” She paused as he raised a hand and fur began growing on it.

Blinking, she looked again. “Okay, that’s a trick. I don’t know how you’re doing it, and it’s very impressive, but I want you to stop. It’s creepy, Theo. It’s not a turn-on for me, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

“You say that now, but just wait.” He nudged off his shoes.

Damned if hair wasn’t growing on his feet, too. “Stop that, Theo! Eww!”

“Believe me, yet?” His voice had deepened into something resembling a growl.

“Good God! What are you doing to yourself?” She stared in horrified fascination as the seams of his sweat suit ripped open. This wasn’t happening. She couldn’t be seeing what she thought she was seeing.

And yet ... Theo was gone. Standing in his place, with bits of black fabric clinging to its black fur, was a large wolf. It took a menacing step toward her.

She screamed, and in the same instant her bedroom door splintered as a large form hurtled through it. Now a second wolf, larger and more powerful than the first, stood by the shattered door. The golden-eyed creature from Emma’s nightmare had arrived.

Chapter 17

Aidan had stuffed towels under the crack in his bedroom door to block out Emma’s scent once he’d realized that she was intent on hanging out in the living room and he’d be able to smell her easily there. That had been his first mistake, muting his ability to smell.

Then he’d made a second mistake. Desperate for a distraction, he’d called Roarke, knowing his brother would provide an extra incentive to keep him in his own room. Roarke hadn’t disappointed. His disapproval of Aidan’s methods for neutralizing the threat from Theo registered about nine on the Richter scale.

“So you’re telling me that last night,
after
shifting, you waltzed into her bedroom to check on her? You couldn’t have thought to do that
before
you dressed in your fur overcoat?”

“You know I can think better after a shift.”

“That’s debatable, buddy boy. A thinking wolf wouldn’t have tiptoed in to peek down at Sleeping Beauty, knowing that she might—oh, I dunno—
wake up
and said wolf’s ass would be grass. That’s the sign of a wolf who’s a few bones shy of a full rack of ribs, if you know what I mean.”

Aidan closed his eyes and let his brother rave on. Roarke was his lifeline to sanity, his anchor, so he wouldn’t go out that door. Emma was willing to spend the night in his arms. She’d said as much not long ago. And now she was eating cake, the same cake he’d fantasized rubbing all over her firm little body just so he could lick it off.

“Do you want me to fly over there tonight?” Roarke sounded eager to get into the middle of this rodeo. “I could take the corporate jet and be there in no time. We could double-team Theo, and with me there, you won’t be as tempted to boink the lovely Emma.”

“No, I don’t want you to fly over.” Aidan smiled. Roarke would grab any excuse to climb into that corporate jet. Then he’d talk the pilot into letting him have the controls. He was licensed for single-engine aircraft, and Aidan predicted he’d be piloting the Learjet before too much longer.

“I think I should,” Roarke said. “From the sound of things, you don’t have this situation under control.”