Seducing the Wolf (40 page)

“Conniving broads,” Manning muttered, deleting Caitlyn’s message and making a mental note to block her number.

His father cocked a brow at him. “Who was the text from?”

Manning hesitated, gnashing his teeth. “Caitlyn.”

Stan’s brow rose higher. “Caitlyn who?”

“Caitlyn Spencer.”

Stan nearly swerved into another lane. “
Caitlyn Spencer?
” he exclaimed. “That fast girl who used to live down the street from us?”

Manning nodded tightly. “She interviewed for the general counsel opening at my company.”

“Get the hell outta here. You never told me you’ve kept in touch with Caitlyn.”

“I haven’t seen or spoken to her in nine years.” Manning grimaced. “I made the stupid mistake of sleeping with her the last time she was in town. She was going through her first divorce—”

“Her
first
? How many has she had?”

“She just separated from her second husband.”

“Wow.” Stan whistled softly and shook his head. “I’ll be damned.”

Manning frowned. “Her exes put her through hell, so I felt bad for her. I tried to be a friend, tried to show her some compassion. But now I can’t get rid of her. No matter how many times I tell her I’m not inter—” He broke off, staring at his father. “What’s so funny?”

Stan was grinning broadly. “I’m just remembering the talk I once had with a certain fourteen-year-old boy who swore up and down he was ready to start having sex. If memory serves, I warned the young lad to stay away from Caitlyn Spencer because she was trouble. I also told him that she’d become emotionally attached after sleeping with him, and she’d have a hard time moving on even after he did.”

Manning scowled. “That was over twenty years ago, Dad. How was I supposed to know she’d still have feelings for me after all this time?”

“You should always listen to me,” Stan said smugly. “Father knows best.”

When Manning grumbled an expletive under his breath, his dad burst out laughing.

Manning glowered out the window, his lips fighting the tug of a grin.

Sobering after several moments, Stan reached over and clapped Manning on the shoulder. “Whatever you do, son, don’t let Caitlyn mess things up for you and Taylor. Your mother’s a very strong woman and she knows I would never cheat on her, but even
she
got tested years ago when that crazy therapist tried to seduce me. And you saw what Marcus went through with that supermodel. He almost lost Samara behind that foolishness. So just be careful.”

Manning nodded grimly. “Believe me, I have no intention of letting Caitlyn—or anyone else—come between me and Taylor.”

“Good.” Stan swung into the parking lot of the auto supply shop, a black-owned business he’d been patronizing for many years. “Oh, before I forget, your mother and I are spending our anniversary in Jamaica.”

Manning stared at him. “You are?”

“Yup. We had such a wonderful time in Ocho Rios last year, we didn’t wanna leave. So we decided to go back to spend more time enjoying the beautiful hotel that our sons generously renovated and purchased for us. We’ll be gone for two weeks.” Stan slid a meaningful glance at Manning. “I just thought I’d let you know our plans to save you and your brothers the trouble of planning another surprise for our anniversary. Just in case you are.”

Manning had on his best poker face. “Not that I’m aware of.”

His father chuckled knowingly. “Uh-huh.”

Thirty minutes later, they left the auto supply shop armed with the parts needed to rebuild the carburetor, a project they would tackle together after church tomorrow.

On their way back to the house, Stan stopped for gas. As he pulled up to a pump, his cell phone rang through the Bluetooth speakerphone. He frowned at the number displayed on the elaborate dashboard screen.

“I’d better take this call,” he muttered grimly. “We’ve been butting heads with union leaders over next year’s budget. If my chief of staff is calling me on a Saturday, something must have happened.”

Manning nodded. “Handle your business, pops.” He swatted away the credit card his father tried to hand to him. “If you won’t let me drive, at least let me pay for the damn gas.”

Stan scowled as Manning climbed out of the Yukon and slammed the door.

As he waited for the tank to fill, he idly glanced around, taking in his familiar surroundings.

Across the street, a short black dude in a Lil Wayne T-shirt and sagging jeans was spitting game at a young dark-skinned woman waiting at the bus stop. The girl was wearing earphones and staring fixedly ahead, clearly signaling that she wasn’t interested. But the loser wouldn’t take the hint. The longer she ignored his advances, the more hostile and aggressive he became.

Clenching his jaw, Manning left the gas pump and strode across the street. As he neared the bus stop, the harasser suddenly grabbed the young woman’s arm and spat belligerently, “Bitch, you ain’t all that! Your ugly black ass should be flattered that somebody—”

He didn’t see Manning coming until it was too late.

Viciously snatching the asshole by the scruff of his shirt, Manning yanked him backward and roared into his face, “WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?”

The thug’s eyes bulged with panic as he stared up at Manning. As he tried to squirm and twist out of his grasp, Manning tightened his hold and lifted him off the ground.

“Yo, man,” the punk croaked, his feet dangling above the sidewalk, “this ain’t none of your business.”

“I’m
making
it my business,” Manning growled. “Do you even know this young lady?”

“N-No, but—”

“But what? Why you calling her out her name? Why the fuck you putting your hands on her? Do you disrespect your mama like that? What about your sisters and aunts? You think it’s okay for you to show your ass just ’cause this young lady don’t want you? You think assaulting her is gonna make her change her mind? Punk ass motherfucker,” Manning snarled, shaking him. “The hell is wrong with you?”

The dude nervously licked his lips as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his pimpled face.

With a snort of disgust, Manning let go of him, tossing him to the ground like a sack of manure. The coward sprawled on his back, his eyes wide with fear and humiliation as he stared up at Manning. When he tried to get up, Manning planted his size sixteen sneaker on the dude’s chest and viciously shoved him back down like he was squashing a bug.

“Not so fast, motherfucker.” He stood menacingly over him. “You need to apologize to the young lady for the way you disrespected her.”

The punk sent a sullen glance at the girl, who stood there in wide-eyed silence. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“For…?” Manning prompted.

The dude hesitated, his eyes flashing with angry belligerence.

Manning pressed harder on his chest, grinding the sole of his shoe into Lil Wayne’s ugly face on the T-shirt.

Wincing in pain, the dude blurted out, “I’m sorry for disrespecting you. And I’m sorry for grabbing you.”

The girl sucked her teeth but nodded.

Manning raked her harasser with a look of savage contempt. “Listen up, asshole. I’m around here all the time, know what I’m saying? If I
ever
run up on you doing some shit like this again, I’ma fuck your punk ass up and send you missing.” Stepping back, he spat on the ground beside the dude’s head and sneered. “Now get the fuck outta here.”

The coward scrambled to his feet, pulling up his jeans over his exposed boxers as he scurried away.

Manning scowled after him, then turned his attention to the girl. “You all right?” he asked gently.

She nodded slowly, staring up at him with a look of awe and gratitude. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate your help.”

Manning inclined his head. “I’m sorry he came at you like that. Some of these brothas out here have no damn clue how to talk to women. It’s ridiculous.”

“I know,” the girl agreed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I get harassed all the time, but no one’s ever stepped in like you just did.”

Manning frowned. “And that’s a damn shame.”

The bus arrived moments later. Before climbing aboard, the girl smiled shyly at Manning. “Thanks again for your help.”

“No problem,” he said. “Hope this won’t ruin the rest of your day.”

“It won’t. Not this time.”

When she waved at him from her window seat, Manning smiled lazily and waved back.

After the bus pulled off, he sauntered back over to the gas pump he’d vacated. He removed the nozzle from the Yukon, put it back in the holder and declined a receipt.

His father stared at him as he calmly slid into the passenger seat, closed the door and leaned back with his long legs stretched out.

Pressing a button to mute his phone call, Stan regarded Manning with amused resignation. “Just couldn’t resist charging in on your white horse, could you?”

Manning cocked a brow at him. “Who raised me?”

His father could only laugh and shake his head.

28

T
aylor could feel her father watching her as she moved through the crowd gathered in her mother’s parlor. Elyse was showing her off to her guests, an uberwealthy assemblage of Washington’s power elite. Taylor smiled charmingly and made polite small talk while assiduously avoiding eye contact with her dad.

When he’d arrived for the dinner party, she’d greeted him with cool civility, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before she moved off to continue mingling with others. He’d stared after her with a bewildered look, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t deal with him right now, not after what she’d learned from her mother yesterday.

When Elyse left her side to greet new arrivals, Taylor was drawn into conversation with an influential philanthropist who wanted to know more about her work with autism advocacy organizations. She eagerly dove into the subject, her voice growing animated as she talked. When her companion revealed that one of his grandsons was severely autistic, she was tempted to tell him that Manning’s company was close to discovering a cure. But she knew she couldn’t betray Manning’s confidence, so she kept the exciting news to herself and instead offered words of encouragement and support.

“Taylor!”

Her head swiveled toward the familiar voice. When she saw a tall, leggy redhead approaching, her face lit up with a smile. Turning back to her companion, she gently touched his shoulder. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

He sighed. “If I must. But only if you save me a seat at dinner.”

Taylor grinned at the white-haired gentleman. “You bet I will.”

He winked at her before moving off.

“Hayden!” Taylor exclaimed warmly as the woman reached her.

They embraced and kissed cheeks. Pulling away, they looked at each other’s black sheath dresses and chorused, “You look
mahvelous
.”

They both laughed and then hugged again.

Hayden Vaughn was Boyd’s daughter. An attractive woman in her mid thirties, she’d inherited her father’s baby blue eyes and her mother’s flaming red hair. As host of a popular cable news program, she readily acknowledged that being Boyd Vaughn’s daughter gave her privileges most people could only dream of. But while her daddy’s connections may have landed her the coveted television gig, her keen political insights and sparkling personality made her a huge ratings hit.

When her father and Elyse got married, Hayden had been one of the bridesmaids while Taylor had served as her mother’s maid of honor. The two daughters had bonded almost immediately and remained close over the years.

“I was so excited when you called and told me you were coming to town,” Hayden enthused. “I hope we’re still on for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Taylor confirmed. “My flight doesn’t leave until five, so we’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”

“Awesome. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” Smiling, Hayden surveyed the roomful of guests enjoying hors d’oeuvres and champagne as Taylor’s music played softly in the background. “What a great turnout. Looks like everyone who’s anyone is here.”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m really surprised your father showed up,” Hayden admitted.

“So am I,” Taylor murmured.

“There’s no way my mom would have come, even if she
had
been invited. She would have needed to pop a whole bottle of Xanax just to get through the evening with your mother, who happens to be the only person she despises more than Dad. No offense,” Hayden added with a rueful smile.

“None taken,” Taylor said wryly.

She knew there was no love lost between her mother and Hayden’s, though the acrimony had always been more one-sided.
I’m too busy working for my constituents and enjoying life with my husband to engage in petty squabbles with his miserable ex-wife,
Elyse often stated.

“Where’s Aidan?” Hayden asked curiously.

“He had to fly to New York to interview a source for his book.”

“Yeah? Who?”

Taylor grinned. “Henry Kissinger.”

“Really?” Hayden groaned enviously. “My producers have been trying to book Kissinger on my show for months, but he keeps turning us down. Not even Dad has been successful.”