Seducing the Wolf (19 page)

Taylor grinned. “I can imagine.” She was doing some serious gawking herself, though she knew it was wrong on some level. Stanton Wolf had been like a second father to her, Sterling a beloved uncle, and the boys—minus Manning—had been her adopted brothers. But that didn’t stop her from reacting to the photo like any other red-blooded woman would. There was so much hotness on display, she half expected to see ribbons of melted chocolate dripping from the bottom of the billboard.

When the traffic light turned green, the cab continued down the busy street, heading closer to their destination.

As her nerves returned, Taylor licked her dry lips and restlessly drummed her fingers on her knee.

No good could come of this little excursion of hers. If she had any sense, she’d tell the cabbie to take her straight to her hotel. It wasn’t too late for her to change her mind. It wasn’t too late to back away from the dangerous flames that beckoned alluringly.

But she wasn’t changing her mind.

And she wasn’t backing away.

Because she was weak.

And depraved.

Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out her cell phone and stared at it. After a prolonged moment, she pressed the button to turn it off. As she tucked the silenced phone back into her handbag, her fingers brushed against a small foil packet.

She paused, feeling her pulse quicken.

Closing her eyes, she curled her fingers around the packet, then slowly removed it and slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans.

Twenty minutes later, the taxi pulled up to an ultramodern glass skyscraper that dwarfed the neighboring buildings.

“Here we are,” the cabbie cheerfully announced. “Wolf Biotech.”

Swallowing hard, Taylor handed over the fare with a generous tip, thanked the amiable driver and climbed out of the cab. Tilting her head back, she let her gaze travel up, up, up to reach the top of the building, which soared boldly above the clouds and gave new meaning to the word
skyscraper
. Though Taylor had performed on some of the world’s biggest stages, something about standing there at the foot of Manning’s global enterprise made her feel utterly intimidated.

Her palms were damp as she stepped through the revolving glass door entrance and started across the enormous lobby. The walls were gallery white, and the white marble floors were so glossy they looked wet. Wolf Biotech’s distinctive insignia with the intersecting
W
and
B
was etched into the base of the large glass security desk.

In a yellow halter top and blue jeans with her hipster handbag slung across her body, Taylor felt severely underdressed compared to others who were wearing business suits and carrying leather briefcases. It suddenly occurred to her that since she had no appointment with Manning and he wasn’t expecting her, she might get turned away by security.

But when she gave her name to one of the guards behind the desk, she was surprised when he greeted her warmly and personally escorted her to the gleaming bank of elevators. When a car arrived, he stepped on after her and inserted a key card into a slot on the steel panel, then pressed the fortieth floor button.

As the doors glided shut behind them, he explained to Taylor, “The only offices on the top floor are Dr. Wolf’s and Dr. Navarro’s.”

“Dr. Navarro?” Taylor inquired.

“The EVP—executive vice president. For security reasons, their floor can only be accessed with one of these,” he said, holding up his key card.

Before Taylor realized it, they had reached the fortieth floor. As she stepped off the elevator, the guard nodded to her and smiled.

“Enjoy your visit, Miss Chastain.”

Taylor smiled back. “Thank you.”

Turning from the elevator, she saw that she was standing in a large reception area that featured an ultramodern design with frosted glass walls and sleek leather furnishings. Framed black and white paintings were artfully grouped along one wall, and a coffee bar made of brushed aluminum invited visitors to help themselves and get comfortable while they waited to be seen. Floor-to-ceiling windows boasted impressive views of the urban panorama that was downtown Atlanta.

Behind the polished glass reception desk stood a slender young woman who appeared to be in her mid twenties. She was immaculately dressed in a white blouse with a tailored charcoal skirt. Her black hair was swept into an elegant twist, her makeup was flawless and she wore stylish designer eyeglasses.

As Taylor hesitantly approached the desk, the woman—who’d risen at the sound of the elevator—gave her a swift, evaluative glance that confirmed Taylor’s suspicion that she looked as out of place as she felt.

Well so what?
she thought defiantly. She’d spent a satisfying day working with some of the city’s most promising young musicians. She was dressed for comfort, not to impress. She had absolutely nothing to prove to anyone.

“Good afternoon.” The woman’s expression held a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Since the guard had brought Taylor right up without calling first, the secretary was undoubtedly wondering who she was and how she’d gained access to the restricted top floor. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mann— Dr. Wolf,” Taylor corrected herself.

“I’m sorry, but Dr. Wolf is in a meeting.”

“Oh.” Of course Manning was busy. He hadn’t built a multimillion-dollar corporation by sitting around on his ass all day.

“Do you have an appointment?” the secretary asked.

“Um, no. I don’t.”

“Is Dr. Wolf expecting you?”

“No.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed with speculation.

Blushing self-consciously, Taylor shifted from one foot to the other, gently jostling her handbag against her hip.

The secretary glanced down at her appointment calendar. “If you’d like to set up an—”

Taylor shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just…” She trailed off, glancing toward the elevator.

The secretary took pity on her. “You’re welcome to have a seat and wait for Dr. Wolf. But it’s his last meeting of the day, so he may be a while.” She paused. “If you’re in a hurry, I can check to see how much longer he’ll be so you can come back another time if necessary.”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” Taylor had no intention of returning. She shouldn’t have come in the first place.

“Your name?”

“Taylor.” She swallowed. “Taylor Chastain.”

The secretary sat down and pressed a button on her phone. “Excuse me, Dr. Wolf?”

After several seconds, Manning’s deep, authoritative voice rumbled through the speaker. “Yes?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, sir, but you have a visitor.”

“Who is it?”

“Taylor Chastain.”

There was a short pause.

“Send her in,” Manning briskly instructed.

“Sir?” The secretary was clearly surprised. “If your meeting isn’t over, I can have her schedule an appoint—”

“That won’t be necessary, Larisa.” His tone was firm. “Please show Miss Chastain to my office.”

“Um, yes, sir.” Larisa looked perplexed as she clicked off the phone and slowly reached inside the top drawer of her desk to remove a clear plastic clipboard with a form attached. She handed it to Taylor, along with a silver pen. “You need to sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

Taylor blinked. “Sorry. What?”

“Dr. Wolf is meeting with a team of senior clinical trial administrators,” Larisa explained. “They’re discussing confidential information that we can’t afford to have leaked to the public or our competitors. By signing the agreement, you affirm that you won’t disclose anything you’ll hear during the meeting.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Taylor quickly dashed off her signature without reading the fine print, then handed the pen and clipboard back to the secretary, who peeled off the signed legal form and tucked it into a folder that she filed away.

Rising from the desk, she casually remarked to Taylor, “Some of our investors occasionally request to sit in on team meetings so they can keep abreast of what’s going on between shareholder conference calls.”

“They do?”

“Yes, they do. But Dr. Wolf rarely ever grants their requests.”

Taylor mentally translated the woman’s words. If shareholders who’d invested millions into the company were denied access to internal meetings, what made
her
a special snowflake?

She offered no explanation as the secretary escorted her down a short hallway and through double glass doors that led into an office so huge it could have been a penthouse. One wall composed entirely of glass revealed stunning vistas of the sun-drenched downtown skyline. The suite was divided into three separate spaces that apparently served different functions. One area was dominated by an island of a desk made of glass and steel. On the other side was a spacious seating area furnished with a sleek gray leather sofa, matching chairs, a coffee table and an enormous flat screen television. At the opposite end was a wet bar built into the corner of the wall.

To the far right of the suite, Manning and a team of his employees were gathered around a large glass conference table.

Taylor’s pulse kicked into overdrive when she saw Manning. Wearing a white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, he looked ruggedly masculine and downright yummy.

He glanced up as Taylor was quietly ushered to the seating area. As she sat down on one of the leather chairs, he winked at her.

She smiled shyly.

The others at the table sent curious glances at her, silently speculating whether she was a lover or an eccentric investor who’d been cleared to attend the top-level meeting.

After Larisa departed, Taylor tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Thankfully her presence didn’t seem to be a distraction to the men and women at the table, who went right back to discussing whatever they’d been discussing before she arrived.

As she observed them, she couldn’t help noting that the table was round instead of rectangular. Not having someone at the head of the table placed everyone on equal footing and fostered an atmosphere of collaboration and teamwork. But Manning didn’t need to sit at the helm to leave no doubt that he was the boss. Though his posture was relaxed as he leaned back in his chair with his long legs stretched out, he exuded power and authority that Taylor could feel all the way across the room.

She watched as he posed in-depth questions and nodded as detailed explanations were given to his satisfaction. When one of the team members went off on a tangent about some draconian FDA regulation, Manning smoothly shut him down and steered the conversation back on track so effortlessly there was no time for the man to take offense. He listened patiently to suggestions and offered his own, communicating his ideas with such clarity and conviction that he soon brought even the most stubborn over to his side.

Watching him in action, Taylor couldn’t help feeling immensely proud. She’d always admired Manning’s brilliance. His exceptional intelligence and thirst for knowledge had fascinated and excited her to no end. From day one she’d known that he was destined for great things. Seeing him here, presiding over his own multimillion-dollar empire, brought goose bumps to her skin.

She listened avidly as he and his administrators discussed new products in clinical trials, though much of the scientific jargon and technical acronyms went over her head. While she’d never lacked in the intellectual department, it was hard not to feel a little intimidated by the use of such gems as
endogenous retrovirus, degenerate codons, down promoter mutations.

Even as Manning ran the meeting with the fluid ease of a maestro conducting an orchestra, Taylor knew he was keenly attuned to her presence. When she’d first entered the room, she hadn’t missed the way his eyes had flickered over her head and flared with appreciation. On Sunday she’d washed and two-strand-twisted her hair, and now rocked thick, gorgeous curls that framed her face and caressed her bare shoulders. It pleased her to know that Manning liked the results of her hard work.

At one point she saw him looking down, idly stroking his long index finger back and forth across his lips. He appeared to be studying his notes or mulling over an idea. But as Taylor watched him, a ghost of a smile curved his mouth, as if he were savoring a memory.

When his dark eyes lifted to hers, her breath caught, and she felt a tingle of pleasure at the realization that he’d been thinking of her.

When one of his administrators asked him a question, he answered without missing a beat, reminding Taylor of the way he could space out in precalculus class and still come up with the right equation when challenged by their teacher.

After about thirty minutes, he wrapped up the meeting and ushered everyone from the room. Taylor could hear him out in the hallway giving instructions to his secretary, though she couldn’t make out his words.

Moments later he returned, closing the double doors behind him. He looked across the suite, his eyes locking onto Taylor’s.

Her throat went dry, and she swallowed hard.

“Miss Chastain,” he murmured.

“Dr. Wolf,” she murmured back.

Languidly dipping his hands into his pockets, he began sauntering toward her.

She got unsteadily to her feet, her pulse pounding with each step that brought him closer.

When he reached her, he picked her up without warning and playfully swung her around, startling a laugh out of her. She clung to him, absorbing the heat of his big body and savoring the richly masculine scent of his skin.

She felt more than a little intoxicated as he set her back down and tenderly cupped her cheek, smiling into her eyes. “Hey, pretty girl. How you doing?”

“I’m good,” Taylor said shyly.

“Yeah? You look good too. I love your hair,” he drawled, his hand moving from her cheek to gently stroke her kinky curls. “It’s beautiful like this. Sexy as all get out.”

His words sent warm pleasure sliding through Taylor. “Thank you,” she said softly, enjoying the way he wrapped a curl around his finger and slowly unraveled it. While Aidan never played in her hair, Manning had always been touchy feely with her—affectionately tugging her ponytail, rubbing the nape of her neck, tweaking her nose, caressing her face. She’d lived for his touch, craved it like a sunflower craves the golden rays of sunlight.