Marriage Claws Read online

  “So, a bite can turn a human into a werewolf? That part’s true, too?” I asked as though any of this was real.

  “Yes. But it’s rare,” he said.

  “Why? Because it’s dangerous? The human doesn’t always survive? And because people running around barking, growling and biting other people is, I dunno, weird?”

  “Kate, Listen to me. This is real. The truth is most of us just aren’t attracted to humans in that way,” he said totally oblivious to how I might take offense to that.

  Not that I had a reason to be offended. I knew our coming marriage had nothing to do with attraction . . . and there was no such thing as werewolves. This had to be a test. I could play along if that’s what it took.

  I casually sipped my champagne and then asked in a totally nonchalant, indifferent way, “So, um . . . What’s so special about werewolf women?”

  He rolled a shoulder. “I don’t know exactly. They’re just . . . different. More aware, sensitive to their surroundings, stronger, more amorous . . . It’s just easier to relate to someone who shares your physical and cultural traits, I guess.”

  “More amorous?” Yeah, I’d caught that one.

  “Yes.” A smile pulled up one corner of his mouth and his cheeks flushed. He looked away. Adorable.

  “In what way . . . exactly?” I asked.

  He laughed under his breath, still not looking at me. “C’mon, I’m sure you’ve heard stories about the passion of werewolves. And how we possess supernatural mojo or something like that.”

  “Yeah.”

  His gaze shifted to mine, his expression frozen, reading me. Then his smile flashed wide. “It’s all true. We’re unbelievable lovers. Just crazy beasts in the sack. Insatiable some might say,” he said, and I started to think he might be exaggerating a bit.

  “Oh, really? You know, I’ve been told I’m kind of a hellcat myself.” Totally not true. I’d had two lovers in my life. One never mentioned anything about our lovemaking and the other was way more interested in his performance critique than mine. “You almost sound like a challenge.”

  “No!” He snapped straight, every muscle in his body going tight and stiff.

  “Whoa. Relax, stud. It’s not like I was planning to jump your bones right here.” My tone was sarcastic but inside a dagger pierced my chest. God, was the idea of sex with me really that appalling?

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .” he sighed and leaned back against the railing again. “It’s just that I wasn’t exaggerating about our strength. Humans are fragile. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

  Too late. “Whatever,” I said. “So, all those women in the tabloids with you. They’re all werewolves too?”

  “No. I don’t date werewolves,” he said. “Mostly because werewolf women don’t really date. Not the way human women do. They’re more . . . selective. They’re not interested in casual relationships—they’re interested in finding a mate. And because of our culture of hierarchy, their criteria for a good mate has little to do with compatibility and everything to do with pack rank. As the son of the current alpha, the odds are good that I will rise to take my father’s position.”

  “You’re going to be the next alpha?”

  “If I present the pack with an acceptable mate,” he said.

  That’s what this was about. Not CEO of his family’s company, but alpha of his pack. Although, I still wasn’t buying that any of this was real. “So you’re like raw meat on a stick to werewolf women,” I said.

  “Something like that.” He folded his arms across his chest. “And since I have no interest in being stuck in a marriage to someone who’s only interested in pack rank, it’s just easier to avoid it all together.”

  “And instead you date only beautiful, willowy, model-type human women,” I said.

  He rolled a shoulder. “My family’s money and power provide me a similar kind of allure to human women. Models, socialites, and starlets are attracted to those criteria. Plus they tend to socialize in similar circles.”

  “The fact that they’re thin and beautiful doesn’t hurt either.” I smiled, but I wasn’t feeling it.

  “No. It doesn’t hurt.” His smile warmed. “Although they tend to be even more delicate than most humans.”

  “Then how do you manage, y’know, sex?”

  “I don’t,” he said. “I mean, there have been one or two that I’ve . . . but I can’t really . . . enjoy myself.”

  “Maybe you should start dating outside your social circles and find human women with a little more muscle and meat on their bones,” I said, taking another long swig of champagne. “We’re not all made of glass.”

  His eyes met mine. “Maybe I should.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Your handsome fiancé’s here,” Marbella said pushing through the dining room door into the kitchen. “Told him we was lockin’ up and that you’d be out when you were done back here, but he said he wanted to see if he could help.”

  I turned, the day’s paperwork in hand. “Where is he now?”

  “He followed her into the kitchen,” Jack said behind me.

  I jumped, spinning around to face him. “Jack. Jesus, I’m seriously getting you a bell. What are you doing here?”

  He chuckled. “Finished at the office early today. Thought I’d ride along with Alan to pick you up. You almost done?”

  I checked my watch. It was only midnight. The last four nights since I’d moved in to Jack’s apartment, he hadn’t made it home before two AM. “I’ve got a little more paperwork to do. You don’t have to wait. I’ll take the train.”

  Jack stooped over to peer through the metal shelves deeper into the kitchen. “I don’t mind waiting. The apartment’s too quiet, now.” He straightened, his face suddenly colored with a warm flush. “Turns out I like having someone there when I get home from work.”

  I blinked at that. He missed me? Naww . . . He just wasn’t used to living alone. Jack had Lenny as company before I moved in. But now that Lenny had moved into my place with George I was the only one ghosting around the massive penthouse at night. “Oh. Uhm . . . Okay,” I said.

  He stretched a smile then stepped around me, snooping in containers, opening drawers.

  “Well, I finished closing out front so I’m heading home.” Marbella, pulled the strings on her apron and hung it on the hook after grabbing her sweater. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Si, me too. Kitchen clean. Going home,” Diego said.

  “Okay. Thanks, guys.” I watched my last two employees slip out the back door.

  “I’m out too,” George said, shoving his arms into his olive green windbreaker.

  “You got the deposit?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll drop it off on the way,” he said. “I’m meeting up with Lenny for drinks.”

  “You two ready for this weekend at our parent’s place?” Jack asked.

  My brother shrugged, but his smile was enormous, happy—giddy even. “As ready as anyone can be who’s about to meet their new in-laws and then be transformed into another species.”

  “You’ll do great. He loves you,” Jack said. “It’s obvious. And our family will love you too.”

  Whatever fantasy role-playing thing Jack had going, his entire family was playing too. They all believed they were werewolves. Even I had to admit, despite seeing no real evidence, that playing along was beginning to make it all seem . . . possible. Still, it was weird. After everything we’d been through, I just wanted things to be easy for my little brother. Weird wasn’t easy.

  “Are you sure about this, George?” I edged forward, catching my brother’s full attention. “You guys barely know each other. I just think you should slow things down. Marriage is a big deal. It’s not a game.”

  George snorted. “Seriously?” He looked to Jack then me again. “You’re marrying a stranger as a business deal, and you’re lecturing me about the sanctity of marriage?”

  When it came to picking a mate, apparently, Lenny was a typ
ical werewolf. He’d fallen for George at first sight. I hear it took a day longer for George. After all, according to my brother, he’d only seen Lenny in his wolf form jogging alongside him in Central Park.

  I wasn’t totally cool finding out that my little brother believed he’d been secretly dating a werewolf for almost two months before I saw him feeding the big husky type dog-wolf scraps in the alley a few days ago. But then when is a good time to tell your overprotective big sister that you’re in love with a supernatural being and plan on becoming one yourself?

  “I’m doing this for both of us. For you. To protect our family. Me and you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Lenny would never hurt me,” George said. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

  “I’d be happy if I could be sure you’re not making a mistake.”

  “I feel the same way about you.” He stepped forward and kissed my forehead. “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me. I love him.”

  You believe he’s a werewolf. I kept the comment to myself. He’d just insist that I was being close-minded and scared. Nonsense. I was being sane and protective. Duh. Someone had to be.

  Couldn’t blame him for keeping his affair with Lenny from me. At least he was happy. I envied the ease of their courtship. And I was fairly certain Jack did too.

  Apparently, choosing and presenting a mate was easier for Lenny. According to their rules, his mate wouldn’t hold the rank and power that Jack’s mate would. George would be introduced to the family and if they approved—which they would, because my little brother is awesome—his induction into the pack would take place this weekend. The same weekend Jack was presenting me as their possible next alpha female. No pressure. Riiiight . . .

  At least I’d be there to protect George, to watch out for him. For me this weekend was all pretend—strictly business. I wouldn’t actually be turned. But for my little brother it was the real deal. All of it was real. He’d sworn he’d seen Lenny shift forms. He’d looked me in the eye and told me they really were werewolves and soon, he’d be a werewolf too—welcomed into the pack.

  I still hadn’t totally wrapped my brain around that, but it was seriously getting harder and harder to keep a skeptical mind. How could it be real? Crazy, right? But then, I knew George. I knew he didn’t think he was lying. It just didn’t make sense. “Okay. Well . . . be careful,” I said.

  “You too.” George’s blue eyes flicked from me to Jack and back again. His smile turned mischievous. “Remember this kitchen has already been cleaned and sanitized. Don’t you two do anything in here that will get us fined by the health department.”

  “Go home, George,” I said. My romantic little brother refused to accept that there was zero chance of Jack doing anything unsanitary with me. He was sure it was just a matter of time before our pretend attraction became real. But Jack and I didn’t have what he and Lenny had, and for the first time in a long time a pinch of jealousy put a crick in the back of my neck.

  My brother marched out the back door, laughing.

  “You want me to lock this?” Jack asked, hiking a thumb toward the door.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said turning to escape to my office. “I’ll be out when I’m finished with this paperwork.” Okay, so that was a total lie. But what was I supposed to say?

  There was a reason I hung out at the restaurant every night while Jack was at his office. I didn’t want to be in that penthouse any longer than I had to, living in that fairytale world that was too much of a confusing mix between reality and make-believe. I was about to marry the Prince Charming of Wall Street and was already setting up house in his beautiful castle in the sky.

  Despite the whole werewolf thing, I couldn’t help the way Jack made me feel. I could see this amazing life—as real as anything. I could touch it, smell it, but it was all just make-believe. Prince Charming was just pretending and when he got what he needed, the fairytale would end and I’d go back to my peasant life.

  Being near him, seeing those intense green eyes focus on me, that sexy smile bloom across his face, my body didn’t know it wasn’t real. But worse than that, my heart had somehow gotten confused along the way, too.

  I liked being with Jack. I liked being his friend, being the one he whispered his secrets to, the one he kept an eye on in a crowded room, the one he sat up late with watching reality TV. I liked the way he made me feel special, as dear to him as he was becoming to me. But it wasn’t real. It was business and I needed the time alone to remind myself—to fortify my heart.

  But how could I banish thoughts of Jack when he was hanging around in my kitchen being all sexy, taking up space, sucking in air, throwing pans around . . . ?

  The sound of an avalanche of metal coming from my kitchen launched me out of my chair. I raced out to the kitchen. “What’re you doing?”

  Jack stood frozen, four well-used skillets balanced haphazardly in his arms, three more on the griddle, another five on the floor around his feet. Like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar he gave me a sheepish smile. Adorable. Damn it. “Was gonna make us a couple omelets, but your cooks booby-trapped the pans.”

  I went over to help him. “They don’t like people messing with their kitchen.”

  “Chefs are territorial. Got it,” he said with a nod. “I can relate to that.”

  I chuckled. “I bet. And yes. We are. So, stop snooping.”

  “My bad,” he said. “I keep forgetting you like to cook, too. Have you always wanted to be a chef?”

  “No. I mean, I can cook. I’m good at it. But my dream was to be a baker,” I said, stretching to stack all but one of the pans back on the high shelf. “The Sweet Spot started out as pastry shop.”

  “Really? It didn’t do well?” Jack asked.

  “It did great. I happen to be a superb baker,” I said with no small amount of attitude. “But after my brother went to culinary school he couldn’t find a good paying job. So, we turned the place into a diner. The transition’s been a little tough.”

  He reached up and easily slid the last pan on top of the pile for me. “I could help with that if you’d like. I know the food critic at the Times.”

  “Really?” My hope spiked. “That would be fantastic.”

  “I’ll set it up,” he said, leaning a hip against the prep table, and folding his arms across his chest. “Is this week too soon?”

  “No. This week is great.”

  “Good.” His wide smile lit his eyes and made my heart skip. “I’ll make sure I’m here, too. Help sell the place . . . and you. Not that you need it.”

  My face warmed. “I don’t know about that. I’ve been trying to get this place noticed for a couple years and it feels like I’m just spinning wheels.”

  “A mention in the Times will help,” he said.

  “It will.” I looked up at him. “Thank you, Jack.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m just promising to get him here. Impressing him is up to you.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I have no doubt.” He didn’t touch me, didn’t move, but he suddenly felt closer. My body tingled with awareness. His voice dropped a half octave, melting through my veins. “You’ve already impressed the hell out of me.”

  My cheeks flamed so hot I almost pressed my palms to my face to cool them off. “So, uhm . . . you’re hungry?

  “Oh.” He straightened, snapping out of his private thoughts. “Yes. But I’m cooking this time. Where do you keep the eggs?”

  “I’ll get what you need from the walk-in.” I shooed him out of the way, though there really wasn’t anywhere for him to go.

  Sidestepping Jack to get to the cooler wasn’t easy. He was bigger than Diego and Lucas, even bigger than George—taller, broader. There wasn’t nearly as much space between him and the griddle. No way could I slip by him without walking straight through the invisible cloud of yummy Jack-scent, fresh forests, warm maple and crisp pine all rolled together in the unique woodsy fragrance that was so familia
r and yet so Jack.

  I closed my eyes and stole a quick breath into my lungs. He’d never notice. But then he grabbed my arms and stopped me just before I’d cleared his body. My eyes snapped open to see him smiling at me, his hands on my elbows gentle but firm. I caught my breath.

  “I can get what I need myself,” he said, the double entendre ringing in my brain whether he meant it or not. He shuffled me back to my spot and went to the cooler.

  Seconds later he was back, arms loaded with eggs, a carton of milk, cheese, veggies and an assortment of meats. “I’m no chef, but if there’s one thing I can make, it’s omelets.”

  I shrugged. “Go for it.”

  He dumped his supplies on the prep table, and set the skillet to warm on the griddle. As he chopped and measured and mixed he looked at me sideways, his smile soft and real. He laughed under his breath and looked back to his vegetables.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head still smiling. “Y’know, inhaling someone’s scent is kind of a big deal to my kind.”

  I stole a slice of bell pepper, nervously nibbling. “Really? That’s interesting.” Busted. Admit nothing.

  “You sniff me . . . a lot,” he said.

  “No I don’t.” Liar! “I mean, yes I sometimes take a breath when I pass by you, but it’s not to smell you. It’s a coincidence. I’m just, y’know, breathing. I’m a mammal. I require oxygen. Don’t be so full of yourself.”

  “My mistake,” he said with another soft sexy chuckle. He scraped the chopped veggies to the side and began working on the eggs, expertly cracking the shells with one hand and adding milk. “I was just going to say that I’ve done the same to you.”

  I froze, muscles stiff. “Really?”

  He picked up the bowl, leaning a hip against the prep table and began whisking the eggs into a frothy cream. “You wear too much perfume.”