Seducing the Wolf (8 page)

“I do,” Gabby agreed. “He’s great, like I said. But something’s still missing. I don’t know…I guess I don’t want to settle. I mean, what if the man I’m supposed to marry doesn’t live in Paris? What if he’s not even in France?” She paused. “What if he’s in America?”

“He could be,” Taylor agreed. “Are you willing to leave home to find him?”

“Maybe. It worked for my mother, didn’t it?”

“It certainly did.”

Gabby heaved a deep sigh. “Listen to me prattling on about finding other men when Luc has been so good to me. You think I’m a cheater, don’t you?”

Taylor smiled ruefully. “No more than I am.”

“
You?
” Gabby scoffed. “How are you a cheater? You’ve been with the same guy for three years and have never even been tempted to stray, even though you travel around the world and meet all sorts of interesting men—men who are captivated by your music and would jump at the chance to date you. But you don’t even flirt with any of them because of Aidan. When it comes to your relationship with him, you’re anything
but
a cheater. You’re loyal and trustworthy and—”

“I saw him,” Taylor blurted.

A shocked silence filled the phone line.

Taylor waited, gnawing her lower lip.

“
Him?
” Gabby repeated in a stunned voice. “Are you talking about who I
think
you’re talking about?”

“Probably.”

“So you’re telling me that you saw
Manning Wolf?
”

Taylor nodded before she remembered that Gabby couldn’t see the gesture. “Yes.”

Gabby gasped. “When?”

“Yesterday morning. He was here at the hotel. I was getting coffee, I turned around and…he was there.”

“
Mon Dieu
,” Gabby breathed.

As Taylor’s best friend, Gabby was the only one who knew everything about her past. Late one night over a platter of chocolate éclairs and a bottle of red wine, Taylor had bared her soul, telling Gabby about the devastating death of her younger brother and her forced separation from Manning when she was sixteen. By the time she’d finished her heartbreaking tale, her head was swimming from too much pinot noir, the éclairs were history, and she and Gabby were both in tears.

“What do you think this means?” Gabby wondered aloud.

Taylor sighed, closing her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even think you’d see him! You said the odds of running into him were one in a million.”

“I know,” Taylor murmured. “I was wrong.”

“So it was meant to happen, then.”

Taylor was silent.

“You told me that if you went to Atlanta and saw Manning, you’d take it as a sign that your paths were supposed to cross.” There was growing excitement in Gabby’s voice. “Do you still believe that?”

Taylor drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Honestly, I don’t know what to believe.”

“I think you do,” Gabby countered sagely. “I think you’re just afraid.”

Taylor didn’t deny it. She couldn’t.

For the past several years she’d received residency invitations from schools around the world, invitations she’d regretfully had to decline due to her demanding concert and recording schedule. This year—against her manager’s wishes—she’d decided to take the summer off to recharge her batteries and spend more time with Aidan.

Then one day she’d received a phone call from Ken Huang, an old friend who taught music at Emory University in Atlanta. Before he’d even finished his request, Taylor knew she had to come.

I’ve missed you.

Did you miss me, Taylor?

“How did Manning look?” Gabby asked.

“Amazing,” Taylor whispered.

“Of course. The one that got away always looks amazing when you see him again.” Gabby’s tone gentled. “Did you ask him why—”

“No.” Taylor shook her head firmly as if to punctuate the word. “I didn’t ask him anything, and I’m not going to. It’s been more than twenty years. I don’t want him to think I’ve been dwelling on the past or holding on to resentment. I moved on a long time ago.”

The silence at the other end of the line was deafening.

Taylor fidgeted with the covers.

“So what’re you going to do?” Gabby asked her.

Taylor hesitated for a long moment. “He asked me to have dinner with him sometime.”

“I hope you said yes.”

“I did.” Taylor sighed heavily. “But I probably shouldn’t have.”

“Of course you should have.” Gabby’s grin was palpable. “You know I’ll want details.”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s just dinner.”

“Are you going to tell Aidan?”

Taylor frowned. “No.”

“Then it’s not just dinner, is it?”

A wave of guilt washed over Taylor, because she knew her best friend was right.

“Well, my break is over, so let me run. Enjoy your weekend,” Gabby said, sounding way too pleased with herself. “Don’t forget to call me after you-know-what.”

“As if you’d let me forget.”

Gabby laughed. “
Au revoir
.”

“
Au revoir
.”

No sooner had Taylor clicked off the phone than another call came through. She smiled when she saw her manager’s number.

“Hey, Ebele,” she greeted her.

“Hey, yourself.”

“If you’re calling to see whether I’ve changed my mind about taking the summer off,” Taylor said wryly, “the answer is still no.”

Ebele huffed indignantly. “That’s not why I’m calling.” She paused. “This time.”

The two women laughed.

Ebele Okoye had been Taylor’s manager for the past ten years. She was a shrewd, hardworking businesswoman who handled every aspect of Taylor’s career—bookings, promotion, recording contracts and business deals—so that she could focus on what she did best: playing the violin. The key to their successful partnership was mutual respect. Taylor respected Ebele’s expertise and knowledge about the music industry, and Ebele respected her artistic talents and quirks. It didn’t hurt that Ebele was a connoisseur of classical music, which gave her a genuine appreciation and understanding of the genre.

“How are you enjoying Atlanta so far?” she asked.

“I like it.”

“Hot enough for you?”

Taylor flushed, thinking of Manning. “It’s definitely hotter than I expected.”

Ebele chuckled. “As many times as you’ve visited Nigeria, you’ve never complained about the heat. So you should be able to handle Atlanta.”

“I hope so,” Taylor murmured.

“Well, I wanted to share some good news with you.” Ebele’s lyrical Nigerian accent always seemed more pronounced when she was excited. “First, I spoke to the editor of
The Strad
yesterday, and she wants you to be the guest editor for an upcoming issue.”

“Really?” Taylor beamed with pleasure. “That’s cool.”

The Strad
was a monthly classical music magazine based in the UK. Taylor, who’d been profiled twice in the popular publication, was honored to be considered for a guest editorship.

“I told the editor I’d call her back after I spoke to you,” Ebele continued. “Are you interested?”

“It’s
The Strad.
Of course I’m interested.”

“Great! I’ll let Ariane know so she can contact you to work out the details.”

“Sounds good,” Taylor said, stretching beneath the bed covers.

“I’ve got more great news. I just heard from Hilary Hahn’s manager. She told me that Hilary loves your work, and she wants you to write a piece for her. Isn’t that awesome?”

“That
is
awesome,” Taylor agreed, thinking of the Grammy-winning violinist who’d once been named “America’s Best Young Classical Musician” by
Time
magazine. “I’d love to do a collaboration with Hilary. It’s a terrific opportunity.”

“I totally agree. You’re already well renowned as a violinist. The more recognition you receive as a composer, the better for your career.” Ebele was brimming with satisfaction. “I’ll put you in touch with Hilary and then we can go from there.”

“Works for me.”

“Wonderful. And last but certainly not least, I wanted to let you know that the early reviews for your new release are phenomenal.”

Taylor grinned. “Really?”

In advance of her sixth album, which would come out next year, she was releasing a short repertoire of works by Brahms, Schoenberg and Sibelius.

“Let me read you a snippet from the
New York Times
review: ‘Miss Chastain’s richly evocative rendering of the Violin Concerto in D Minor would earn her a standing ovation from Jean Sibelius himself. With masterful technique, flawless intonation and lyrical virtuosity, she is indisputably one of the best violinists of her generation.’ ”

“Wow,” Taylor whispered, blushing.

“I know, right? The
Times
critic is a tough customer, so you know you’ve done something right to receive such a laudatory review from him.” Ebele’s wide grin came through the line. “I smell another Grammy nomination.”

Taylor laughed. “Let’s hope so.”

“Who needs hope when you’ve got mad talent?” Ebele quipped. “Anyway, I’m off to catch my flight back to New York. Since I can’t celebrate all this good news with you in person, I’m sending you a bottle of bubbly. Cheers,
dahling
.”

Taylor grinned. “Thanks, Ebele. Have a safe trip home.”

She hung up and set her phone down on the nightstand, then sighed and slid out of bed. She shivered when the cool air hit her naked skin, puckering her nipples. Bending down, she retrieved Aidan’s dress shirt from the floor and pulled it on. The long sleeves hung past her wrists, and the hem caught her mid-thigh.

She buttoned the shirt as she went to use the bathroom. After she finished, she picked up a tube of toothpaste and squeezed some onto her toothbrush. As she began brushing her teeth, she grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was tousled and her eyes were slightly red from sleeping in her contact lenses last night. One of these days she’d make time to get laser surgery.

Right after you make time to get married and have a baby.

Taylor went still, wondering where such a thought had come from. Although she and Aidan had been dating for three years, they’d never discussed marriage or starting a family, and Taylor preferred it that way. She loved Aidan and could see them settling down together someday. But she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. Truth be told, she didn’t know if she’d
ever
be ready for marriage or motherhood. So she had no business thinking about either.

Just as she finished brushing her teeth and rinsing her mouth, she heard another knock on the door. Wondering if the maid had already returned to clean her room, Taylor twisted off the water faucet and went to answer the door.

When she saw Manning standing there, she let out a startled gasp.

He slowly looked her up and down, his expression darkening at the sight of her in Aidan’s shirt.

“Mornin’,” he murmured.

“Manning.” Her voice was little more than breath. “Wh-What’re you doing here?”

“I came to take you to breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” she echoed dumbly.

“Yeah.” His lips twitched. “It’s the first meal of the day. I believe in France it’s called—”

“I know what breakfast is,” Taylor interjected, face heating. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning, that’s all.” She shifted from one bare foot to the other. “How did you know Aidan wouldn’t be here?”

“I remembered that he was leaving today,” Manning drawled. “I took a chance that he was already gone.”

“And if he hadn’t been?” Taylor challenged.

Manning merely smiled, his eyes glinting with amusement.

He was gorgeous, insanely beautiful to look at. Today he wore dark Timberland boots, loose khaki pants that hung low on his lean hips, and a white T-shirt that hugged his muscular chest and shoulders, which were broad enough to span the opening of the doorway. Black-inked tattoos tumbled down his thick biceps, making him look like the badass Taylor remembered so well.

“Mind if I come in?”

The deep, husky timbre of his voice made her insides clench. She nodded wordlessly and stepped aside, letting him enter the room. Her skin tingled with awareness as he brushed past her. He smelled sinfully divine. It could have been soap, cologne, or just the natural scent of his skin. Whatever it was, it was absolutely delicious.

“Hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.

“You didn’t.”
But thinking about you kept me awake half the night.
“Aidan caught an early flight, and I couldn’t really get back into a good sleep after he left.”

When Taylor turned from closing the door, she saw Manning staring through the open doorway of the bedroom at the rumpled bed where she and Aidan had slept. Made love.

As a muscle clenched in Manning’s jaw, she was struck by an irrational urge to apologize for allowing another man to touch her, caress her, possess her body.

She swallowed dryly and cleared her throat. “Have a seat,” she offered, gesturing nervously to the sofa that dominated the separate seating area.

Manning regarded the disheveled bed a moment longer, then, ignoring the proffered sofa, he walked to the windows and stared outside. As he tucked his hands into his pockets, the fabric of his khaki pants stretched across his butt. He had such an amazing ass, so firm and round and muscular. Taylor tried not to lick her lips and stare, but that was about as easy as memorizing Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto after hearing it only once.

As Manning turned around, she quickly retracted her tongue and schooled her features to utter impassivity.

“Nice view,” he remarked.

You can say that again!

After a brief hesitation, Taylor crossed the suite to join him at the windows overlooking the streets of downtown, which were busy even on a Saturday morning. The sun was warm on her face, promising another hot summer day.

She turned her head, meeting Manning’s dark gaze. The way he looked at her made her hyperaware of her nudity beneath Aidan’s shirt. She should excuse herself to take a shower and get dressed, or at least put on some underwear.

But she didn’t move. She was half afraid that Manning would vanish into thin air if she left him even for a second.