A Werewolf in Manhattan (18 page)

“All right.”

“We can’t have sex anymore. It’s too distracting, and I need to concentrate on my book tour.”

He looked decidedly relieved. “I understand.”

But she didn’t say any of that. Instead she smiled at him over her coffee cup, even though that smile took all the willpower she had. “It was fun, though. Thanks for a good time.” She knew it was a smartass comment, but he’d been ready to dump her, so she felt justified.

He rolled his eyes. “That sounds like something you’d write on a public-bathroom wall.”

The eye roll irritated her more than it should have. On some level she acknowledged that he looked way too good leaning in the doorway, and she still wanted him, which wasn’t a good idea. “But you’d never see it if I did, because you avoid public bathrooms.”

“Damn it, Emma!” He pushed himself away from the doorframe. “I’m sick of your remarks about my money.”

“Maybe I’m sick of being reminded every five seconds that you’re richer than God! Oh, excuse me, that would be
wealthier
than God. My mistake.”

“Are we fighting?”

“Yes. And it’s about time. Think of it as class warfare.”

“You’re not exactly poor, Ms. Bestseller.” He pointed a finger at her. “You can afford a loft apartment in the Village, and that’s not cheap.”

She lifted her chin. “I like living in Manhattan. I’m closer to my publisher.”

“I doubt that’s the only reason. I think you like the prestige of that loft. And you may ride the subway, but that turquoise suit has a designer label on it.”

“What are you doing snooping through my suitcase?”

“You said you wanted it cleaned. I came to get it while you were in the shower.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She sounded ungracious, but it was tough to be grateful when he was withdrawing access to the one thing that intrigued her the most—his sexy self.

“Because of my name on the hotel registration, you’ll have that suit cleaned and hanging in your closet by this afternoon.”

“I appreciate that, Aidan.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s a pricey outfit. Dolce and Gabbana, if I remember right.”

She should have figured he’d have an eye for labels. “How do you know I didn’t get it at Goodwill?”

“Did you?”

“Well, no, but some of my clothes come from there.”

“Anything you brought on this trip?”

“That’s beside the point.”

He sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. “You’re right. We’re arguing about nothing.”

She couldn’t stand it any longer. Although she’d acknowledged her reasons for staying away from him, he had his own reasons for staying away from her, and not knowing those reasons was driving her crazy.

Taking a deep breath, she faced him. “I need to be clear about something. If I don’t get an answer now, it will bug me forever.”

He looked wary. “About what?”

“Yesterday you implied that we couldn’t expect to have a relationship. I leaped on that and started complaining about your money, but I never gave you a chance to explain. Why couldn’t we have a relationship, Aidan?” She hated the longing in her voice when she said that, but she couldn’t take it back.

He gazed at her for several long seconds, as if considering his answer. “You’ll probably think this is medieval.”

“Try me.”

“The truth is, I’m expected to marry someone connected to a family with power and wealth equal to the Wallaces’.”

Her jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I owe my family a great deal, and I intend to do what’s expected of me.”

“What about love?”

“That’s a modern concept, and it’s fine for the masses, but—”

“
The masses?
Are you listening to yourself? You sound like some prince from a royal family!”

He nodded. “In a way, I am. Love of family, loyalty to family are more important than my individual preferences.”

“I can’t imagine.” She stared at him, unable to comprehend that kind of self-sacrifice. She would never have believed it if he hadn’t told her himself. “I adore my mother, but if she attempted to choose the man I marry, I would shut her down so fast.”

“And there’s the difference between us.” His chest heaved. “You need to get ready, and I need to make a few calls. I’ll meet you by the front door in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be there.” She drank her coffee quickly while she ate the cake much faster than she would have liked. Then she finished getting ready, all the while trying to assimilate what Aidan had told her. To think of a twenty-first-century man caving to that kind of manipulation boggled her mind.

He was a person, not a chess piece. This was America, for crying out loud, the land of the free. He should be free to marry anyone he chose. But he seemed to have accepted his obligation without question. No matter how she turned the concept around in her mind, she couldn’t make it fit with the strong, confident man she’d come to know.

She wondered whether he was afraid of losing his inheritance and all that the Wallace fortune provided in the way of bennies. He did enjoy his perks. Still, from what she’d observed of his character so far, he was a man of honor. She doubted a loss of income would make him do something he didn’t think was right. For whatever reason, he believed in this custom of allowing his family to dictate his marital future.

In the meantime, she suspected he’d sown his share of wild oats. He enjoyed sex with a gusto that suggested plenty of experience with the endeavor. In that case, why didn’t he want to sow a few more with her this weekend?

He didn’t, though. She’d have bet her next royalty check that he’d come into her bedroom with the express purpose of calling a halt to their fun and games. She’d barely beat him to the punch.

The more she thought about that decision on his part, the happier she became. He’d decided to back off for the same reason she had. The sex had been too intense for both of them. While she was afraid of losing focus on her career, he was afraid of becoming so attached to her that he wouldn’t be able to honor his duty to his family.

Greatly cheered by that conclusion, she located her purse and her satchel containing her book-signing materials before walking out into the living room exactly at the fifteen-minute mark he’d set.

He paced in front of the unlit fireplace, his BlackBerry to his ear. The remnants of his breakfast sat on a tray on the coffee table.

Curious, she took inventory. He’d had coffee, too, but from the looks of the plate, he’d had steak and eggs instead of chocolate cake. Made sense. He was a big guy who would need to support all those gorgeous muscles with the right kind of fuel.

She didn’t mean to eavesdrop on his conversation, but short of retreating to the bedroom again, she couldn’t very well help it. Oh, hell, she might as well admit she’d been straining to hear what he was saying from the minute she’d realized he was on the phone.

Years ago, she’d accepted the fact that writers were notorious eavesdroppers. She got some of her best story ideas that way. Add to that her natural curiosity about anything to do with Aidan, and she became the human equivalent of a wiretap.

“Sure, Nadia. We’ll be at the bookstore about one this afternoon. I’d love to see you. We should have time for coffee during Emma’s signing. See you then.” He disconnected the call and turned to Emma. “Ready?”

“Yes.” She fought the urge to ask him who Nadia was.

He gestured with the BlackBerry. “Somebody I’ve known ever since I was a kid. She’s going to drop by the signing.”

“Great.” And she knew, just
knew
that Nadia was a potential candidate for this arranged-marriage deal. He’d known her since he was a kid, which meant the two families were close. Emma read the tabloids, and she was aware that wealthy families socialized with other wealthy families, even if they lived in cities as far apart as New York and Chicago.

Instantly Emma hated this Nadia person who was colluding with Aidan’s family to imprison him in a loveless marriage. True, he was going along with it docilely, but apparently, he’d been brainwashed from a young age. The whole concept seemed just wrong.

Wrong as it was, though, it was none of her business. Having one really steamy night of sex with a man didn’t give her the right to meddle in his personal life. This situation wasn’t a plot point in one of her books. She couldn’t simply rewrite the script to suit her worldview.

Yet she obsessed about the unfairness of it all during odd moments when she didn’t have to concentrate on something else, like one of her two radio interviews or her morning TV appearance. Aidan accompanied her to all of them and stayed in the background. They didn’t talk much in the car, either. After the easy banter they’d shared on the plane and their sexual abandon with each other in the suite, their silences were awkward.

Emma didn’t know what to do about that. The day’s schedule marched steadily toward the one o’clock bookstore event, to which Aidan had so graciously invited Nadia
whatever
. Maybe her last name was Rockefeller or DuPont.

Emma secretly hoped Nadia would turn out to be a dull and colorless woman who could hardly wait to get her hands on a specimen the likes of Aidan. That would further justify Emma’s indignation, to think of Aidan shackled to someone who would bore him to tears during their first week of married life.

At the bookstore, Emma snagged another coffee drink to keep her courage up for the reading session ahead. She dreaded the reading portion of the event far more than the autograph session. Signing books and talking to readers was gratifying, even if it wore her out. But listening to herself read her own words aloud was pure torture because she never got over the urge to edit her work, even after it was finished.

Still, she was expected to read, so she did. It wasn’t that she never knuckled under to satisfy others. But she wasn’t into self-sacrifice, which Aidan seemed to be. Ordering his entire life to further his family’s ambitions made no sense to her. As one o’clock drew near, the prospect of reading before an audience took on extra significance because Nadia would be there, Nadia the albatross around Aidan’s neck.

Emma tried to imagine that Nadia wasn’t thrilled about the arrangement, either, but any woman would take one look at Aidan and think to herself,
I want some of that.
Emma certainly had.

As the time for the reading approached, Aidan stood to one side of the rows of chairs and talked with the bookstore manager. Emma pretended to scan the passage she would soon be reading while watching him from the corner of her eye. Yep, he was certifiably gorgeous. Nadia couldn’t possibly be upset about her fate.

With five minutes to go, the chairs had filled and new-comers were forced to stand. Emma was gratified by the turnout, which was a constant source of amazement to her. When she wrote a book alone in her loft, she had a difficult time imagining all these people reading it. But they did, and for that she was very grateful.

Aidan hadn’t made a move toward any of the women who’d taken a seat, so Emma didn’t think Nadia had arrived yet. Then he turned, as if sensing the arrival of someone. It was the oddest thing, as if he knew she was coming before she even arrived.

Emma felt a pang of something that just might have been jealousy. Maybe he had a bond with this childhood friend that was so strong he felt her before he saw her. Emma couldn’t expect to compete with that.

Or that.
When Nadia rounded a bookshelf and started toward Aidan, Emma groaned softly in dismay. The woman was stunning. She moved like a runway model, and she had the figure of one, too. Tall and fashionably slim, she was dressed in an elegant silver jacket and skirt that provided an eye-catching contrast to her long black hair. Gray eyes and thick lashes gave her an exotic look that any man would find intriguing.

As Aidan gave her a hug, Emma felt as if someone had dunked her heart in ice water. These two obviously belonged to an exclusive club, one to which Emma would never be invited. Aidan wouldn’t dread spending his life with this glorious creature. They were made for each other.

Emma should count herself lucky that she’d been able to spend one night in Aidan’s arms. Now that Nadia had shown up, Aidan might very well forget that Emma existed. She had to laugh at herself, thinking this morning that she’d had a decision to make as to whether she’d have more sex with Aidan. It had never been up to her.

Chapter 14

When Nadia arrived, Aidan didn’t sense more than one werewolf in the area, so her brother Theo hadn’t tagged along.
Good.
He needed to talk with Nadia alone and find out what she knew about her younger sibling’s mental state. Having her come to the bookstore served a dual purpose, though. It would also remind him of his responsibilities to the pack.

One glance at Emma told him that she got the picture, which was another reason he’d wanted Nadia to attend the signing. He’d made so many mistakes regarding Emma, and he’d never be able to atone for all of them. But he could start setting the record straight now.

He deserved her anger and resentment, both of which he saw etched on her beautiful face. Having those emotions directed at him sliced into his heart, but he would bear it. The more she disliked him, the better off she’d be.

He smiled at Nadia. “You’re looking great.”

“So are you.” Her gaze was friendly, but there wasn’t a flicker of passion in those gray eyes.

“Let’s get some coffee.”

“Okay, but I want a book before I leave, and I want her to sign it.”

“Then let’s buy one before we get the coffee. She might sell out.” Aidan led the way through the rows of bookshelves and snagged a copy of Emma’s book on the way to the cashier’s counter.