Taming the Lone Wolff

Fifteen



Larkin took her wrist and pulled her into the nearby library. He closed the door and locked it for good measure. “What in the hell did he say to you?” His father had long ago given up the right to meddle in Larkin’s affairs. And the old man had no business messing with Winnie’s head.

She faced him, arms crossed over her chest. “What happened between you and me last night had nothing to do with your father. You were curious…so was I. About a spark we both felt. Now we’ve dealt with it.”

He deliberately closed the distance between them and wanted to punch something when Winnie backed away. “Believe me, Winnie,” he growled. “Last night only scratched the surface.” Even arguing with her, he was so aroused, he could take her there on the desk.

Her jaw wobbled, and her eyes were damp. “I gave it my best shot. And you seemed to enjoy it. But that’s all I’ve got. I’m not good at sex. I have no natural aptitude and no repertoire of fancy tricks to keep a man interested. Besides, I’ll only be here for a little while and then we’ll go on with our separate lives. The sex was meaningless.”

He gaped at her, slack-jawed. “That speech has so many holes in it, I don’t know where to start.”

“Then don’t. You know I’m right.”

“I sure as hell do not.” He was shouting, and he didn’t mean to be. Winnie stood there in her rich-girl clothes looking pale and determined and painfully vulnerable.

He clenched his fists, lowering his voice to a more civilized level. “I don’t know where you got the idea you weren’t good at sex, but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. You don’t have to know thirty-one positions and how to practice tantric sex in order to make me happy…hell, to make any man happy. You’re smart and driven and incredibly generous. Not to mention that when you smile, my knees go weak.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“I’m not being nice,” he yelled. “I’m telling the truth. And the sex wasn’t meaningless.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Everything okay in there? Lunch is ready in ten.” Devlyn’s deep voice was unmistakable.

“All good,” Larkin replied, clearing his throat. “See you in a minute.”

Footsteps disappeared down the hall.

He stared at Winnie. “We’re not done with this,” he said, grinding his teeth at the knowledge that he couldn’t get her alone for hours. Annalise had commandeered anyone without kids to decorate the tent she’d had set up out under the trees for tomorrow’s birthday party.

Winnie shrugged. “You and I may have to agree to disagree. And why does it matter in the end? We’re not a couple.”

“People can enjoy a sexual relationship without signing a contract,” Larkin insisted. “And if we enjoy being in bed together, that’s important in and of its own right.”

“Maybe for some men and women, but not you and me. We’ve muddied the waters. You’re working for me. Now that we’ve done what we did, your family is bound to pick up on something. And to be quite honest, now that I’m here and I’ve met your cousins and siblings and their spouses, it seems kind of sleazy.”

“We’re lovers, Winnie.” He dared her to dispute it.

“We were lovers,” she corrected. “Once. Not anymore.”

Sometimes words simply didn’t do the trick. He took her by surprise, pulling her close and kissing her softly when all he wanted to do was strip her naked and slake his thirst. “Once will never be enough for me, Winnie. I got a taste of you last night…literally. And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Winnie tried to shove him away, but it was a halfhearted protest at best. “I don’t want to get attached to you, Larkin.”

“Then don’t. Use me as your boy toy.”

His droll comment startled a laugh from her, and he felt some of the tension ease from her body. “You’ll say anything to get what you want,” she said with a sigh.

“It’s one of my finer qualities.” He slid a hand under her blouse. The fabric was crisp white cotton, hemmed neatly to hang over the waistband of a khaki skirt. Winnie’s skin was soft and warm. He groaned, leaning his forehead against hers. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

“You have a significant sex drive,” she said primly. “I happen to be the nearest fish to your net.”

“Not any fish will do, Winnie. And it makes me angry when you say that. You don’t have a clue how appealing you are. I want to eat you up like ice cream on a hot summer day.” He kissed her deeply, trying without words to communicate his need. Their tongues met, tangled. When Winnie struggled to get closer, he groaned.

Her fingers toyed with his belt buckle, making him wonder if he could make do with a five-minute quickie. But he shoved temptation away. He wanted to show her that she was special. He put a few inches between them, ostensibly to catch his breath, but in reality because he couldn’t play this game and not take it to its inevitable conclusion.

Winnie sighed. “I’m confused, and I hate the way that makes me feel. Wolff Castle is wonderful, but I’d rather be at home in my own bed.”

He peeled back the cup of her bra and stroked his thumb across her nipple. “You wound me, Winnie.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut, her features etched tightly as desire gripped them both. It wouldn’t take long to pleasure her, but perhaps at this juncture in time, it might be best to leave her as hungry and hurting as he was.

She whispered his name. “Larkin.”

The yearning in those two syllables made the hair on his arms stand up. He wanted desperately to give in…to give up. But as surely as the sun crossed the sky, someone would be back to summon them to lunch.

“We have to go,” he muttered.

“I know.” The words were barely audible.

“Tonight we’ll try my bed.”

He waited for her to demur, to protest. But instead, she simply smiled at him wistfully and shook her head…which could mean anything or nothing.

He didn’t have time to figure it out. This time it was Annalise who pounded on the door. “Come on, you two. Uncle Victor says we can’t eat until everyone is at the table, and I’m ready to start gnawing on my napkin.”

Larkin flung open the door, giving his sister a death stare. “Your manners leave something to be desired.”

She pinched his cheek. “If you didn’t want us mucking around in your business, you never should have come home.”

He saw Winnie smile, but she didn’t try to mediate the argument that was as familiar as it was sweet.

Fortunately for Larkin and Winnie, the lunch crowd was reduced. Gareth’s family and Kieran’s were eating at home, though they would be back in the evening.

Over hearty bowls of chili and homemade corn bread, Ariel, Jacob’s wife, studied Winnie to the point of rudeness. Finally, her husband intervened. “Does she have food on her chin, or are you hoping to sketch a mug shot?”

Everyone laughed except Ariel. “I don’t mean to offend,” she said with a winsome smile. “But, Winnie, you have extraordinary bone structure. The camera would love you.”

Winnie eyed her warily, perhaps a bit in awe. Even Larkin, who had known his cousin’s wife for some time now, had to admit that Ariel Dane was exquisite.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Winnie said. “It’s not false modesty to say that I’m definitely ordinary.”

Ariel’s smile encompassed everyone, but still her gaze lingered on Winnie. “It’s your eyes, and the shape of your chin. Your perfect skin. Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young Meryl Streep?”

Larkin stepped in. “I thought it the first time I met her.”

Winnie seemed more horrified than complimented. “You’re being kind.”

Ariel shook her head vehemently. “You don’t see it, perhaps, when you look in the mirror. But your face is so expressive when you speak. And your voice—wow, all Southern and husky…”

Larkin decided he had to rescue Winnie before she died of embarrassment. “Back off, Ariel,” he laughed. “Winnie is far too shy for Hollywood.”

“But—”

Jacob put his hand over his wife’s mouth. “I’m sure Winnie appreciates the compliment. Now…can we change the subject?”

Ariel grumbled good-naturedly, and soon the conversation shifted to less personal topics. Winnie lapsed into silence. Larkin leaned over and whispered in her ear. “If you’re finished eating, let’s blow this joint and go for another walk. This time you’ll actually be able to see things.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said fervently, her expression hunted. For a woman who lived alone, all this togetherness was probably a bit much.

Larkin made their excuses, and while Winnie changed clothes, he checked his email. Everything in Nashville was going well, but it was a good thing he was going to be back in the office come Monday. Work was piling up, and though his staff was top-notch, the boss was the boss for a reason. On the other hand, the thought of leaving Winnie on Wolff Mountain made his chest hurt. So he had a problem.

Using an anonymous tip line, he’d leaked info to a couple of the more outrageous tabloids that the heiress Winifred Bellamy was vacationing on St. Barts. His deliberate deception must have worked, because his man in charge of Winnie’s case reported no sightings of paparazzi either in the air or on the ground.

When Winnie rejoined him, he grinned. “I like a woman who doesn’t spend a lot of time primping.” Winnie rolled her eyes at him and didn’t comment. She had changed into neat navy shorts and a yellow tank top. And her sparkly white tennis shoes looked suspiciously new.

Larkin took her in a direction opposite the way they had walked the night before. “Kieran and Olivia have a house out in the woods.”

Winnie balked. “I don’t want to drop in unannounced.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not them we’re going to see.”

* * *

Winnie followed him along a meandering path, enjoying the warm spring day and the peace and solitude. She was, by nature and experience, a person who was happy with quiet. It gave her time to think…to reflect. And with Larkin Wolff in her life, the opportunity to take stock of each day was important.

He was leading her into something they both wanted, but she was sure the consequences for her would be painful. This interlude had a definite end. Once Larkin was back on his home turf, Winnie would revert to being his client and nothing more. She watched him as he walked in front of her, his stride easy, his broad shoulders straining the seams of a blue knit shirt that matched his eyes. Inexplicable as it was, she had no choice but to believe him when he said he wanted her. Not forever. She knew that. But it was still pretty amazing to contemplate the idea that Larkin Wolff enjoyed making love to her.

Clearly, she was weak. This morning she had been 100 percent sure that she was never going to let it happen again. But all he had to do was touch her and she was seduced. She couldn’t even blame it on Larkin, not really. She wanted to be persuaded. And that was the most sobering realization of all.

Moments later, a house came into view. It was tucked back into the woods in such a way that it resembled a storybook dwelling. Larkin pointed to the right of the clearing where an enormous oak reached toward the sky. “My cousin Kieran spent much of his career building things all over the globe. Now that he’s a family man, he still needs to get his creative kicks somehow. So Cammie has the world’s coolest tree house. She won’t mind us taking a look.”

They clambered up a narrow ladder, and Winnie’s eyes widened as she took it all in. “This is incredible.” Cammie’s dad had built the tree house on four levels, each connected by ladders or walkways. A child’s touch was evident in the small furnishings and the assortment of toys and clothing tossed about.

Larkin took her hand. “C’mon. We’re going all the way to the top. Cammie is not allowed up here without her mom or dad.” The final ladder was barely wide enough to accommodate an adult’s hips. And the angle made it an almost vertical climb.

Winnie’s knees weakened with a tinge of vertigo when she glanced over the side. Here in the leafy canopy, the ground looked very far away. At this final level, the breeze was cool. Not only that, but tucked up against a reassuringly steady rail sat a small settee covered in cheerful chintz.

Larkin grinned at her. “I suspect that my cousin and his wife use this as a romantic rendezvous from time to time. But who knows.” He leaned back on the tree trunk, smiling as Winnie kicked off her shoes and sat down. “Did you ever have a tree house as a kid?”

“No. I don’t think my parents were that whimsical.”

“Too bad.” He fell silent, and she saw a shadow slide over his face. It might have been the wind moving leaves above him, or it might have been a painful recollection.

It turned out that the latter was true.

Larkin shoved his hands in his pockets, the set of his mouth grim. “I decided that I owe it to you to explain about my father.”

“You don’t. Really you don’t.” She had her own guilty secrets, and if Larkin started spilling his, she might face a moral obligation to do the same. That thought petrified her.

He ignored her assurance, his gaze trained on the forest, seeing things Winnie couldn’t see. Finally, he broke the silence.

“You asked about my relationship with my dad. It’s complicated. You picked up on that the first night. Devlyn and Annalise and I respect our father, and I guess you could say we love him, but things are strained.”

She decided to stay silent. Larkin didn’t appear to expect any comment.

He continued, but perhaps he was not aware of how tightly his hands gripped the railing at his sides. “Before we came to Wolff Mountain, both our families lived in Charlottesville in big, impressive, side-by-side houses. Dad and Uncle Victor were twenty years older than the women they married. I think the wives were friends. I was too young to really evaluate that. But on the day they disappeared, they were out shopping together.”

“The kidnapping.” She had read most of the details, but it seemed important for Larkin to retell it, so she listened.

“Despite the fact that my father and uncle paid the ransom, both of the women were shot and killed execution style. Looking at it now, from the perspective of almost thirty years later, I think the authorities must have bungled the case, but the end result was the same. My mother and my aunt were dead. And their killers were never apprehended.”

“So you all came to the mountain.”

“Well, not at first. It took nine months to build Wolff Castle. We were shuffled back and forth with private security guards. Victor and Vincent wanted us to get used to the idea of our new home. Which was a good thing, because when we got here we were prisoners, essentially.”

“Because they were afraid the same thing would happen to you.”

“Yes.” He glanced at her, his eyes bleak. “The level of collective grief was monumental. It’s amazing we all survived and grew up to be functional adults. My dad and my uncle were in a daze for a couple of years. We had nannies and tutors who kept things going on a daily basis.”

“So you resented your father for not being there for you?”

His smile held little humor. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze this, Winnie. The truth is much darker. Devlyn and Annalise and I were thrilled to be here on the mountain. And guilty as hell because we felt reborn. Our mother was an abusive alcoholic who liked slapping and hitting and…” His throat worked, and he turned away for a moment, ostensibly to brush away a cricket that had landed on his arm.

When he looked at her again, Winnie saw a lifetime of grief that was so deep and dark it made her want to weep. “You don’t have to tell me this,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Our aunt Laura was a saint to us. When my mom was drinking we would run next door and she would try to keep us occupied. And you have to remember, Annalise was a toddler, and I was not in kindergarten yet. It was Devlyn who bore the brunt of it.”

“But why?” she cried softly, her chest hurting. “Could your aunt not intervene?”

“She was young. Probably in awe of her much older husband. And maybe back then, people were more likely to turn a blind eye. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I failed my brother and my sister, and that tore me up, even as a kid. I slipped into Devlyn’s bedroom one night after our mother had been on a rampage. He was huddled under his blankets, crying, trying to put medicine and Band-Aids on the places where she had burned him with a cigarette.”

“Oh, my God.” Winnie’s stomach pitched in horror.

“When I tried to talk to him, he just waved me away. We never spoke of it. My job was to keep Annalise out of sight. And for some reason, that worked.”

“Then how did you fail her?”

“A little girl needs her mother. I tried to find times when my mother wasn’t drinking. I’d brush Annalise’s hair and help her put on a pretty dress. I thought if our mom was sober she’d want to play with her little daughter. But she was too self-absorbed to notice. So Annalise felt that rejection. She says she doesn’t remember much about those early years, but I know it marked her. It took her a long, long time to trust anyone enough to get married.”

Winnie swallowed, too invested in the story to quit now. “And your father did nothing?”

“Well, that’s the thing…he told Devlyn a while back that he never knew. That he was working long hours to make a living, and was seldom at home when we were awake. He apologized to Devlyn. And we’ve forgiven him, I suppose. But the emotional damage that was done to all three of us can’t just be wiped away. Our dad is our dad. But there aren’t any warm, fuzzy feelings between us.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. She wanted to cry for the little boy. But not in front of the man he had become.