Seducing the Wolf (10 page)

Manning grinned, watching her. “Good?”

“
Beyond
good.” She ate another decadent forkful and sighed with pleasure. “Even Gabby would be impressed.”

“Who’s Gabby?”

“My best friend. She’s an amazing pastry chef and the one I hold responsible for all the weight I’ve gained over the past several years.”

“Yeah?” Manning’s gaze drifted over Taylor with frank male appreciation. “I’ll have to send her a thank-you note.”

Taylor’s body warmed at the implied compliment. To mask her reaction, she picked up her glass and took a long sip of the delicious Bellini he’d poured for her.

Through the tinted windows, she was surprised to see that they’d left downtown and were headed onto the interstate. The luxurious limo glided along so smoothly she’d forgotten they were inside a moving vehicle instead of a five-star restaurant.

“Mmm,” Manning murmured, sampling the crêpe on his plate. “That
is
good.”

“Told you.” Taylor smiled, setting down her drink to resume eating. “It was great to see Michael and your brothers yesterday. They’re all doing so well.”

“They are,” Manning agreed. “I’m proud of them.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You haven’t done too bad yourself, Dr. Wolf.”

Manning inclined his head modestly. “I get by.”

“Really?” Taylor laughed, playfully bumping his shoulder. “Talk about an understatement.”

Manning smiled, his eyes glinting at her.

“I heard about your company receiving that drug development contract from the Department of Defense two years ago,” Taylor said. “That was a pretty big deal. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Taylor,” Manning said, cutting into his crêpe. When he lifted the fork to
her
mouth instead, she was so surprised that she opened for him without thinking. As her lips closed around his fork, his pupils darkened. He watched intently as she chewed, then swallowed.

“Still good?”

Taylor nodded, feeling somewhat dazed.

Holding her gaze, Manning licked the tines of his fork, a wickedly sensual gesture that set off a heated ache between her thighs.

She reached for her glass and took another sip of the Bellini, tempted to douse herself with the chilled drink just to bring her temperature down. Never before had she been so affected by a man. But this wasn’t just any man.

This was Manning Wolf.

So all bets were off.

“Why don’t you stop by my office next week?” he murmured. “I’ll give you a tour and tell you all about the work we do, then afterward we can go to dinner.”

Taylor’s pulse drummed. “Dinner?”

“Yeah.” He wiped a dab of cream from the corner of her mouth and licked his thumb. “Dinner.”

“Um...” She pressed her thighs together. “I don’t—”

“I meant what I said about us spending time together while you’re here,” Manning said in a low tone.

“We
are
spending time together. We’re having breakfast, and we’re on our way to—” Taylor paused, glancing out the window at the passing scenery. “Where are we going again?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, come on, Manning. Can’t you at least give me a clue?”

“Nah.”

“Please?” She batted her lashes at him, surprising herself. “
Pretty
please?”

He stared at her with amused fascination. “Why, Miss Chastain,” he drawled, “are you trying to use your feminine wiles on me?”

“Maybe.” Taylor couldn’t suppress a cheeky grin. “Is it working?”

Manning smiled enigmatically. “Maybe.”

Taylor gave her lashes another coy flutter. “How about now?”

Manning threw back his head and laughed, a dark, decadent sound that sent a warm rush of pleasure through Taylor as she stared at him. He was so damn sexy. So unbelievably hot and irresistible.

“All right,” he relented, grinning at her as she set her glass down. “Here’s your clue. Something on the table came from the place we’re going.”

Taylor scanned the contents of the table, her gaze coming to rest on the flickering candles. “Are we going to a candle factory?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Taylor pursed her lips, pondering the unopened bottle of champagne. “A vineyard?”

“Not this time.” Manning selected a white rose from the vase and broke the stem, then gently tucked the flower behind Taylor’s ear.

She stared at him, her stomach fluttering. “A rose…Oh my goodness. Is it Callaway Gardens?”

“Bingo.”

“Really?” Taylor was delighted. “I’ve been wanting to go there forever.”

“I know.”

“How did you know?”

“I remember how much you enjoyed visiting the botanical gardens in Denver. We had more than a few dates there.”

Taylor smiled softly. “We did, didn’t we?”

Manning nodded, his gaze roaming across her face. “You’ve always appreciated natural beauty. It’s one of the many things we have in common.”

Taylor blushed, feeling like a painfully shy teenager all over again. Lowering her eyes to her plate, she decided now was a good time to change the subject. “So how are your parents doing?”

Manning smiled, mercifully letting her off the hook. “They’re doing well. Mom chairs Atlanta’s board of education, and Dad’s our fire chief.”

“That’s wonderful,” Taylor said warmly. “They’re still doing what they’ve always loved and enjoyed.”

“Most definitely.”

“I’m sure they have no plans to retire anytime soon.”

Manning chuckled. “I don’t think ‘retirement’ is in their vocabulary. But it’s cool because they’re not workaholics. They take plenty of vacations, even if they’re just hanging around the house and watching movies together.”

Taylor smiled quietly. “I always thought your parents had the perfect marriage,” she murmured, thinking wistfully of the acrimonious relationship between her own parents. She remembered the suffocating tension that had permeated her childhood home, intruding upon family meals and lingering like an unwelcome houseguest. She remembered the loud arguments that had sent her autistic little brother scurrying to his room to hide under his bed, where Taylor would find him curled tightly into a ball with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands covering his ears. When she couldn’t coax him out, she’d crawl under the bed with him and hold him until their parents stopped shouting.

After Micah died, Taylor had foolishly believed—hoped—that the rift between her mother and father would be healed by their shared grief. But Micah’s death, if anything, had made them hate and blame each other more than ever. Decades after their divorce, nothing had changed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Taylor could see Manning watching her, intuitively sensing where her thoughts had gone. She waited for him to ask about her parents because she’d asked about his, and it was the polite thing to do.

But Manning had never been one to observe rules of etiquette. So she was immensely grateful when he smoothly segued to another topic. “Speaking of doing what you love,” he said, “how’s the music residency going so far? Discover any budding Taylor Chastains yet?”

Taylor smiled, letting the painful childhood memories recede from her mind like the fading notes of the melancholic sonata now playing. “Even if I were here to discover ‘budding Taylor Chastains’—which I’m not—it’d be too early to tell since the program doesn’t officially start until Monday.”

“Yeah? So what’d you do at the university yesterday?”

“Yesterday was more of an orientation day. I had breakfast with Emory’s president and the chair of the music department, then they gave me a tour of the campus and took me to the welcome reception where I met other music faculty and the students I’ll be teaching. They seem like a great group of kids,” she added, digging into her lobster quiche. “I look forward to working with them and getting them ready for our performance with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra.”

Manning nodded, watching as she ate a bite of the quiche. “I’d like to attend the concert.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. Is that okay with you?”

“Um, well—” Taylor carefully swallowed. “The concert’s open to the public, so of course you’re more than welcome to attend.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

Taylor’s face heated with a blush. Nervously she licked her lips. “The thing is…Aidan will be at the concert.”

Manning nodded slowly. “And having both of us there might make you feel uncomfortable. I understand.” He reached for his glass and raised it to his lips, watching her over the rim. “If you don’t want me to come, I won’t.”

Taylor stared down at her plate for several moments, then lifted her head and looked at him.

“You can come,” she said softly.

“Are you sure?”

Was she?

“Yes.”

Manning set his glass down, holding her gaze. “Do you
want
me to come?”

She nodded slowly. “I do.”

His eyes glinted with pleasure. “In that case, wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

9

C
allaway Gardens was even more beautiful than Taylor had imagined.

Roaming through the blooming wonderland was like roaming through the Garden of Eden—if Eden were a lush paradise bursting with azaleas, lilies, rhododendron, wildflowers, crape myrtle and huge creamy blossoms beckoning from Southern magnolia trees.

Living in Paris, Taylor was no stranger to picturesque parks and gardens. One of her favorites was the Jardin du Luxembourg, where she often retreated to compose music, people watch and read in peaceful solitude.

But for all its beauty, one thing Paris didn’t have was the gorgeous man walking beside her, his broad shoulders swaying with relaxed confidence, his long-legged stride adjusted to accommodate her slower pace. Being there with Manning, Taylor could almost forget that they’d been apart for over two decades. It was hard to think of tragedy and loss, of broken dreams and bitter regrets, when one was surrounded by such breathtaking beauty.

They began their tour at the Callaway Brothers Azalea Bowl, a forty-acre garden that featured a pavilion, a gazebo and an arched wooden bridge overlooking a stream. Despite the wide walking path that wove through the garden, they strolled so close together that the sides of their legs brushed, heightening the unspoken awareness that hummed between them.

Climbing the bridge, they stood side by side not speaking, just soaking up the lush scenery and enjoying the pleasure of each other’s company. Though there were other visitors roaming around the garden, they might as well have been the only two people in existence. 

It was Manning who finally broke the languid silence between them. “Tell me about Paris.”

Taylor smiled. “Well, let’s see…it’s the capital of France—”

Manning chuckled softly. “Very funny, but you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it?” Taylor teased.

“No. It wasn’t.” Manning’s eyes glimmered as he gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. The touch of his fingers warmed her skin and left her yearning for more contact. “I want to hear all about your life in Paris.”

Taylor’s smile softened as she stared down at the clear water that flowed under the bridge. “I love Paris. There’s so much to see and do. So much history and culture.”

“What do you enjoy the most?”

“Oh, goodness. It’s hard to narrow it down. I enjoy going to museums and art shows and outdoor concerts. I enjoy discovering new restaurants and markets, and like any good Parisian, I enjoy spending hours at a sidewalk café just sipping coffee and people watching. There’s nothing quite like it. Of course,” she added with a wistful sigh, “I’ve been touring a lot over the past several years, so I don’t get to enjoy Paris as much as I used to. Which is a shame because it’s such a wonderful city.”

“It must be to have kept you there for so long.” Manning paused a moment, studying her profile. “Do you ever miss home?”

Taylor hesitated, then met his probing gaze. She thought of the ghosts that had tormented her for years after her brother’s death, ghosts that had chased her away from home to seek refuge in another country. Ghosts that still haunted her.

“Do I miss home?” she repeated.

Manning nodded.

“Paris
is
my home,” she said quietly.

“Let me rephrase the question,” Manning spoke just as quietly. “Do you ever miss the States?”

Taylor stared at him.

He seemed to be holding his breath as he waited for her answer. Or maybe she was the one who’d stopped breathing.

I’ve missed you.

Did you miss me, Taylor?

“Yes,” she whispered, reaching up and gently cupping his cheek. “I do miss…There are things I will always miss about the States.”

Manning’s expression softened. Holding her gaze, he turned his mouth into the curve of her palm and kissed her so tenderly her throat constricted and tears stung her eyes.

They stared at each other, serenaded by the music of water rushing downstream over rocks and boulders.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of approaching voices. Glancing around, Taylor saw another couple holding hands and laughing as they wandered toward the bridge.