Page 47 of Wolf's Mark

“Yes, I am. Make certain it’s ice cold.” He wasn’t looking at her as he answered.

He was staring straight at me.

“Yes, sir.”

The music was jazz, the moon providing beautiful ambiance along with the thousands of twinkling lights. “This is incredible.” He took a deep breath as he slid my chair back in.

“You’re incredible. You smell divine.”

“You’ll learn I’m just a geeky girl.”

“Not a chance. Although I do enjoy hearing about how you perform your job.”

“You’re into blood and gore, slippery organs and snippets of tissue?” I honestly thought I was going to die a little inside. The man was perfectly exquisite on the moon-kissed night. Dark suit. Red tie. White shirt.

His scent was to die for as well, and his lust-filled look as he eased onto his chair was making me swoon.

But something inside of me told me this… thing, whatever we were doing, wasn’t going to last. My heart couldn’t take another disappointment. Not so soon. Not after… I needed to do whatwas right for me, which was something I’d thought about more than once.

Stay alone.

Ridiculous? Maybe, but practical and right now, after all the shit that had occurred in forty-eight hours, that seemed like all the excitement I could handle.

“Yes, I do. Does that shock you?” he asked as his gorgeous form leaned over the table.

My instinct was to sit back, trying my best to keep him at arm’s distance. He obviously noticed and cocked his sexy head. Just the way a lock of hair slipped down his high forehead was enough to create a moment deep inside. A burning moment.

“Very little shocks me. However, men who are into blood and body parts do make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

My laugh confirmed it. “Right now, a shit ton of things makes me nervous.”Including being nearly killed by a werewolf.

My thoughts sounded insane. Maybe I was insane.

“Do you know a girl by the name of Daphne Wolf? I know you can’t walk down a street without finding dozens of people with the last name of Wolf in our town, but I was curious if you knew her.”

He seemed surprised. “She’s my niece. Why?”

I’d spent more than a minute or two hoping my friend and employee wasn’t his daughter. That would make this even more awkward.

“She works with me.”

The news didn’t just surprise him, he was perplexed.

“You don’t know what your niece does for a living?” I asked him rather coyly.

“You don’t understand my niece. She’s highly independent, doing her best to break family ties.”

“Now, why is that? Are you bad people?”

“Why, yes, we are. She’s twenty-something years old. She’s just a kid.”

“Careful there, buster. I’m barely twenty-seven. What are you, sixty?”

“Touché. Old enough I should know better than to ever mention a woman’s age.”

“Very true,” I told him. “She’s an amazing and talented woman. You should get to know her.”

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