Taming the Lone Wolff Read online

  But why could she not see how much he desired her, how beautiful she was, how special?

  He cleared his throat, surprised to find it clogged with emotion. “What time is it?” He hadn’t put on his watch earlier, hadn’t even showered yet, for that matter.

  “Eight forty-five.”

  “I told the pilot we’d be at the airport by ten-thirty. Can we still make it?”

  “The pilot?”

  “I asked my father to send the Wolff jet to pick us up. It’s quicker and more pleasant than flying commercially, and frankly, I don’t think I can be closed up in a car with you right now for several hours. Not when there’s a good chance I’d pull off the road and have sex with you in the backseat.”

  “You’re exaggerating,” she said, her voice faint.

  “I sure as hell am not. You don’t know how close you came to having me take you standing up. That would have shocked poor old Mrs. Cross, now wouldn’t it?”

  “No one really does that, do they? Except in the movies?”

  Her painful naïveté found a cynical spot deep inside him and softened it, made him want to smile despite his physical distress. “Meet me downstairs in twenty minutes,” he said quietly, actually looking forward to this trip home. “I’ll have the driver come up for your bags.”

  Winnie shifted her weight from one leg to the other. And she was barefoot. Again. “I mean it,” she said, her pointed chin aimed at him in a stubborn tilt.

  “Mean what?”

  “You wouldn’t enjoy it.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said, taunting her gently, but realizing ruefully that she had him twisted in knots. “I’ve got plans for you, Winnie. So be forewarned.” Perhaps he was warning himself, as well, because the consequences of deviating from his personal code were impossible to anticipate and likely to bring chaos and turmoil.

  Even so, he had to have her.

  * * *

  Winnie brushed her teeth and threw her last-minute personal items into her bag. Her hands shook so badly that she dropped and broke a vial of expensive French perfume.

  The fragrance was exotic, alluring…everything she was not. It was a gift last Christmas from her contact at the social services agency. Winnie had thought to take it with her to Wolff Mountain. Now it was ruined. Avoiding the glass, she touched her fingertips in the pale liquid and dabbed behind her ears and between her breasts.

  The bit that remained in the bottle she put in a drawer. Perhaps it wouldn’t evaporate before she got back. The air around her was heavy with the evocative scent. Suddenly, she flashed to an image of Larkin taking her here in the bathroom, their bodies slick with sweat. Dear Lord.

  On shaky legs she walked back into the bedroom and retrieved her purse. She needed to say goodbye to Mrs. Cross and see if she had any last-minute questions. Leaving her door open so Larkin would know it was okay to get her bags, she walked downstairs.

  He came through the front door just as she reached the foyer. His eyes widened when he saw her shoes. She had purchased a pair of taupe “big-girl” pumps with three-inch heels. The added height made her feel reckless. Larkin’s eyes glazed over as he ran his gaze from her feet, up her legs, to her breasts.

  Hot color flooded her face and neck. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she said, turning away from him so she could breathe.

  “The driver’s here.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “What about your sub?”

  “My friend will arrive in a little while, but we don’t need to wait. She and Mrs. Cross have held down the fort for me before when I’ve had to be away.” She fled just as the uniformed chauffeur entered, the man following Larkin upstairs for the luggage.

  By the time she returned, Larkin stood impatiently at the front door. “Come on,” he said. “We don’t want to be late.”

  The limo was a deliberate choice. Larkin and Winnie wanted anyone watching to buy the story about Winnie heading to St. Barts. The driver had left the privacy window down. Larkin didn’t ask for it to be raised. Consequently, conversation was minimal as they headed toward the airport just outside of Nashville.

  It was just as well. Winnie couldn’t think of a single conversational topic that would be innocuous enough to blot out the memory of what had transpired in the kitchen that morning. Larkin sprawled in his corner, his expression inscrutable, his gaze trained on the passing scenery. When it became painfully apparent that he was ignoring her, she checked messages on her phone, sent Mrs. Cross one last text about next week’s grocery order and then mimicked Larkin’s posture.

  She had never flown on a private jet. When her parents were still living, the year she turned fourteen, they took her on one memorable family vacation…a ten-day tour of the Greek Isles. The airline tickets were first class, of course, but the flights, though very enjoyable, were nothing like the Wolff family jet.

  The pilot greeted her pleasantly, and a single attendant seated her and offered beverages. Winnie felt like an interloper, especially when Larkin sat up front with the pilot and copilot. Eventually, she fell asleep.

  When she awoke from her nap, they were circling to land at Charlottesville. Winnie had read that the Wolff property was tucked away on a mountaintop in the wilds of central Virginia. But she had no idea how long the trip from the airport would take. A second uniformed driver met the plane, transferred their luggage and offered box lunches he had picked up on the way.

  Winnie was impressed. Larkin seemed to have every detail under control. After she finished her fancy sandwich, she dabbed her lips and glanced sideways at her companion. She had questions, a lot of them, but again, the presence of the driver kept her silent.

  After an hour and forty-five minutes, when it was clear that their destination couldn’t be too much farther, she finally broke her silence. “What will be expected of us tonight?”

  Larkin drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Nothing more than a family dinner. Tomorrow I’ll take you exploring. And we might be roped into decorating if it’s not supposed to rain overnight. The party is Saturday at two.”

  “Outside?”

  “Apparently so. My sister always was a risk-taker. The forecast calls for blue skies and upper seventies.”

  “She must be delighted.”

  “I’m sure it never occurred to Annalise that the outcome could be otherwise. She tends to charge full steam ahead.”

  “You love her.”

  His lips twisted in a faint smile. “I love all my family, but yes…Annalise is special. How she survived growing up in a house full of men, I’ll never understand.”

  “And her husband?”

  “Sam? He’s been a family friend since we were kids. His father was the architect who designed Wolff Castle.”

  “Do you really call it that?”

  He laughed. “We never intended to, but the locals began referring to it that way, and the name stuck.”

  Winnie kept the conversation going more for a distraction than anything else. As they reached the base of the mountain and waited for the massive gate to swing open, her nerves tightened. “So how did Sam and Annalise get together?”

  “If you want to know what I think, I believe they’ve both had a thing for each other a long, long time. But they’re both stubborn, Annalise even more than Sam. So it took getting snowed in during a blizzard for them to admit they had fallen in love.”

  “That is so romantic.”

  Larkin snorted. “Oh, it is. When they’re not trying to kill each other.”

  “I thought you said they were in love.”

  “I did. But when you love a Wolff, life’s not always easy.”

  Winnie looked out her window at the dense foliage, oddly disturbed by the tone in Larkin’s voice. She wasn’t in danger of falling in love with him, was she? Certainly not when he had made his feelings so plain.

  Larkin was in lust with her. She was fairly certain his obsession would fade when they got amid his family. He would be too busy to pursue he
r. “When was the last time you were home?”

  “Christmas, for a long visit. And a two-night stay right after my little nephew was born. I had to see him in the flesh to actually believe my rowdy sister could grow up to be a mom.”

  “She sounds like quite a woman.”

  “So are you.” He stared at her, his gaze intent. “Outwardly, you and Annalise are nothing alike. But you both have a take-no-prisoners attitude when it comes to causes you care about. I think you’ll like her.”

  After a winding journey that must have covered at least two miles, the car pulled up into a flagstone portico and stopped. It was markedly cooler on the mountaintop than down in the valley, and Winnie shivered briefly as the wind danced around them when they stepped out of the car.

  The house where Larkin had grown up was monstrous in size and yet somehow appealing. It did indeed appear castlelike. Nestled in a clearing amid a forest of mixed hardwoods and evergreens, the behemoth of a structure looked as if it had been part of the mountain for centuries. But she knew the tragedy that drove the elder Wolff brothers to hide their children from society had occurred only a few decades ago. “C’mon,” Larkin said. “I’ll introduce you to the clan if anyone is around.”

  As it turned out, only the head housekeeper was there to greet them. Larkin’s three cousins had houses of their own on the mountain, as did Annalise. And Devlyn and his wife, Gillian, weren’t arriving from Atlanta for another couple of hours.

  In the magnificent foyer, Winnie surveyed her surroundings with interest while the housekeeper pulled Larkin aside for a private word. Moments later the older woman led the way upstairs, leaving Larkin and Winnie to follow in her wake.

  Winnie tugged on his hand, making him bend to hear her whisper. “What did she say to you?”

  Larkin paused on a step, mischief lighting his eyes and taking years from his face. “She asked me if you would be sleeping in my bedroom.”

  Nine

  It was all Larkin could do not to laugh out loud at Winnie’s mortified expression. “Relax,” he said quietly, sliding an arm around her waist. “I’m a grown man. She’s just doing her job.”

  Winnie didn’t look in the least reassured. “What did you tell her?”

  For a moment, he thought about teasing. The temptation was almost irresistible. Especially when he imagined what it would be like if he and Winnie were actually lovers sharing a bed. The image made him hard. But Winnie was going to have a tough enough time assimilating into the large Wolff clan. No point in torturing her.

  He sighed. “I said you were a good friend and that you would prefer your own room.”

  His answer appeared to mollify Winnie’s misgivings, especially when the housekeeper stopped at the doorway of one of the larger guest suites. As the driver followed them in with luggage, Winnie’s soft exclamation encompassed admiration and astonishment. “This is amazing,” she said softly, walking forward to set her purse on the bed and turning in a circle. “I’ll feel like a princess.”

  Larkin knew that Winifred Bellamy was accustomed to the finer things in life. But he had requested this room for his guest because it contained a touch of whimsy. And he wanted to spoil her. The enormous bed was covered in celadon-and-ivory brocade. Matching fabric hung from the canopy and flanked the large windows. Underfoot, sinfully soft carpet in a deep moss-green spread from wall to wall, broken up by a collection of feminine antiques that ran the gamut from chests to chairs to a chaise covered in ivory silk.

  The housekeeper and driver had discreetly disappeared. “Well,” Larkin said, “what do you think? I asked her to put you here. My quarters are just across the hall.”

  Ignoring him, Winnie flung open the French doors and stepped out onto the small stone balcony. Larkin couldn’t have resisted following her if he had tried. The view of the surrounding forest intensified a feeling of complete privacy. Even birdsong ceased for a moment. The afternoon sun bathed them in gentle light.

  He put his hands on her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her body, even through the thin fabric of her sweater. “I want you to be happy here,” he murmured, nuzzling the back of her neck.

  She stiffened. “Is all of this supposed to seduce me?”

  The tart bite in her words nicked his pride. He turned her to face him. “I don’t need help convincing a woman to share my bed. If you don’t want me, all you have to do is say no.” In the unforgiving light he couldn’t find a single flaw. Her skin was luminous, her large, beautiful eyes mesmerizing. “Tell me no and I’ll leave you alone.”

  They were so close he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. “I never lie,” she whispered. “Not even to myself. I do want you. But I fear we’ll both regret it.”

  He took her hips in his hands, pulling her body flush to his, making her feel what she did to him. “I’ve thought the same thing. I can’t give you the promises most women expect. But have you imagined pleasure for pleasure’s sake? We’re here now…alone. Why wait?” Though he hadn’t planned it, he found himself kissing her. It was achingly sweet, particularly when her lips trembled and heated beneath his.

  Slender arms encircled his neck. He felt her fingers sift through the hair at his nape. Something akin to an electric shock ricocheted through his body with a force that was as much pain as pleasure. The wanting overwhelmed him. Reason gave way to urgent passion and he lifted her and sat her on the stone railing. They were only on the second floor. He had her wrapped in his embrace. Safety wasn’t an issue. But the eyes that looked up into his were clouded with apprehension. And that stopped him cold.

  He rested his forehead on hers. “You’re saying no, aren’t you?”

  “I want to say yes. But I can’t. Not yet. It’s too soon. I need time to understand this. One of us has to be reasonable.” She played with his ears, an innocent caress that might as well have been her mouth on his flesh, so keenly did he feel the stimulation.

  “What are you afraid of, Winifred Bellamy? God help me, I want to know.” It was more than that. He had to know. And soon. Or he might lose his mind.

  “I came here for a reason. To draw attention away from my home and to make sure the innocents in my care are safe. That’s all.”

  “Let me make love to you,” he muttered.

  “Put me down, please.”

  He’d wanted to treat her like a princess, so surely he couldn’t complain when she bossed him around. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her back into the bedroom and set her on her feet. “I know you want me,” he said stubbornly. “You can’t hide it.”

  She faced him bravely, her stylish shoes lending her extra height. “Yes, I do. But mature rational adults know that some things we want are bad for us.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.” He kissed her roughly, letting her feel the full force of his need. A hunger that made him a slave to her whims. Never had he felt so out of control with a woman, so unsure of the outcome. And suddenly, that knowledge enraged him. He’d spent most of his adult life creating an existence that was simple, easygoing.

  Winnie had destroyed his peace of mind without even trying.

  She was so damned unsure of herself. Not in life. She set goals and met them, doing work that few people would want to attempt. But when it came to her feminine appeal, her sexuality, she thought she would disappoint him.

  The notion was ludicrous. Her vulnerability got under his skin and made him want to protect her in a very personal way. He should be running without looking back. But he was trapped by his own emotions.

  He didn’t need this. Not when in a very short time his entire family would have him under a microscope. Forcing himself to release her, he backed away. The expression on her face was as shattered as he felt. But it was her own fault.

  “Dinner’s at six-thirty,” he said. “Can you find your way to the dining room?” He was being a horse’s ass, and he didn’t care. Sexual frustration did that to a man. He wanted to punish her for making him feel this way.

  “But I�
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  “But what, Winnie?”

  She wrung her hands. “Maybe I should eat in my room. Your first meal at home should probably be just family.”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Your hiding up here won’t accomplish a thing. And besides, I’m tired of being the only one without a date.”

  “You’re a grown man. Surely you’re capable of holding your own.”

  His mood lightened fractionally. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He decided his plan could backfire if he left her to her own devices. She might not show up. “Actually, why don’t I stop by for you at 6:15?”

  “What do I wear?”

  “What you have on is fine…or something similar. It won’t be so bad, Winnie. I promise.”

  “I still think it would have been less complicated for you to stash me in an anonymous hotel.”

  “But not nearly as much fun.”

  “If you flirt with me, they’ll get the wrong idea,” she pointed out.

  “They’ve been decrying my single lifestyle for months. Maybe you can be my smoke screen.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to do to the people who love you.”

  “I’m not feeling very nice at the moment.”

  She had kicked off her heels and now stood in her bare feet, toes curling into the carpet. He’d never considered himself to have a foot fetish, but something about her small, narrow white feet seriously did it for him.

  Winnie hopped up on the side of the bed, her legs dangling like a child. “What are you going to tell them about me?”

  He shrugged. “That’s your call.”

  “The truth is fine.”

  “Well, in that case, I’ll just say you’re a friend who’s having some trouble. And that I wanted to show you Wolff Mountain. All of that is true.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “We’re friends?”

  “What would you call it?” He stared at her, not bothering to hide what he felt.