Seducing the Wolf (3 page)

Taylor stared at him.

He stared back, unrelenting.

“Ready to go?”

Startled, Taylor turned to find Aidan standing there holding two tall cups of coffee. She forced a bright smile, her hand shaking slightly as she accepted one of the lattes and chirped, “I’m ready.”

As Aidan possessively curved an arm around her waist, she looked at Manning. “It was wonderful to see you again,” she said sincerely.

“You too, Taylor.” He flashed an irresistibly sexy smile. “Welcome to Hotlanta.”

Taylor smiled back before Aidan ushered her from the coffee shop.

When they stepped outside, they were greeted by the uniformed doorman who asked them where they were headed. As he flagged down a cab for them, Manning emerged from the hotel sipping from a cup of coffee.

Taylor watched as he sauntered to a gleaming black Bentley Mulsanne parked at the curb. He opened the back door and then paused, slowly turning his head to meet Taylor’s gaze.

Her pulse quickened as they stared at each other.

After the longest moment, Manning winked at her, then slid on his dark sunglasses and ducked inside the chauffeured Bentley.

Taylor watched the luxury vehicle glide away from the hotel and merge into downtown traffic.

It wasn’t until Aidan nudged her that she realized he was waiting for her to climb into the cab that had pulled up.

The moment they were settled in the backseat, he demanded, “Should I be worried?”

Taylor stared at him. “About what?” she asked, playing dumb.

Aidan frowned. “You know what. Why didn’t you tell me that Manning Wolf was your childhood sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” Taylor carefully sipped her latte. “It never came up.”

“That’s because you never brought it up.”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Really? You didn’t think I’d be interested to know that your childhood sweetheart is the CEO of one of the top biotechnology firms in the country?”

Taylor shot Aidan a surprised look. “You know who Manning is?”

“Of course. I work for the State Department,” he reminded her. “When DoD awarded that $60 million drug development contract to Manning’s company two years ago, I heard about it before the news made national headlines. Wolf Biotech’s stock went through the roof after that.” Aidan looked slightly disgruntled. “Your old crush is worth a fortune.”

Taylor smiled softly. “I know.”

She remembered one winter afternoon when she and Manning had been sitting at his family’s kitchen table doing their calculus homework. A veritable math genius, Manning had been helping her with the complex equations when they began talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up. They were sixteen years old, crazy in love, filled with hopes and dreams for the future….

“When you become a world-renowned violinist—”

Taylor giggled. “You mean
if
.”

“When,” Manning stubbornly insisted. “It’s gonna happen, Tay.”

“So you’ve added fortune-telling to your long list of talents?” she teased.

“Of course.” He grinned broadly. “Anyway, when you become rich and famous, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do with your money? And don’t say build an orphanage ’cause that’s something we’re gonna do together someday. I’m talking about something you’d buy just for yourself.”

“Hmm.” Taylor pursed her lips, contemplating the question. “I’d buy a Stradivarius violin made during the seventeenth century. They’re really rare, worth millions.”

Manning nodded approvingly. “Good choice.”

Taylor grinned. “So what about you, Mr. Rich and Famous Scientist? What would you buy?”

“A mansion for my parents.”

“Hey, no fair!” Taylor laughingly protested. “It’s supposed to be something for yourself, remember? Why are you trying to make me look selfish?”

Manning laughed, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers. “Okay, okay. Here’s my answer. I’d buy myself a private jet—”

“Oooh.”

“—so I could fly you to Paris.”

Taylor melted into a puddle. “Oh, Manning,” she whispered, gazing at him. “That’s so sweet and romantic.”

His boyish smile was achingly endearing. “Anything for my girl.”

“Taylor?”

Snapped out of her reverie, Taylor stared at Aidan. “Sorry,” she murmured, her throat tight with bittersweet nostalgia. “Um, what did you say?”

He frowned at her. “I’m just wondering the real reason you never told me about Manning.”

She sighed. “Why does there have to be a reason? Have you told me the names of all
your
childhood crushes?”

“I probably haven’t. Few of them were memorable. But that’s not the point.”

“What
is
the point?”

Aidan’s frown deepened. “We’ve always been open and honest with each other, Taylor. I hope that’s not about to change.”

Taylor felt a sharp pang of guilt. Seeing Manning after all this time had affected her deeply and profoundly, opening a portal to memories she’d spent years trying to forget. But she wasn’t about to reveal something like that to Aidan, who was already feeling threatened enough.

Holding his troubled gaze, she reached out and gently cupped his lean cheek. “You have no reason to be worried, Aidan. What Manning and I shared belongs in the past—the very distant past. My future is with you, and that’s all that matters.”

Aidan stared into her eyes for a long moment, then smiled and captured her hand, lacing their fingers together.

As Taylor lowered her head to his shoulder, she felt guilty for remembering how much broader Manning’s shoulders were, how amazing they’d looked beneath his suit jacket.

“Let’s go someplace romantic for dinner tonight,” Aidan suggested.

Taylor smiled. “Sounds good. You pick the restaurant.”

“I’ll do that.”

Sipping her latte, Taylor stared out the window at the glistening skyscrapers that populated downtown Atlanta.

Manning’s parting words drifted through her mind.

Welcome to Hotlanta.

A forbidden shiver curled down her spine.

Something told her Hotlanta was going to be even hotter than she’d expected...and potentially hotter than she could handle.

3

A
n hour later—freshly showered, shaved and dressed in a new tailored suit—Manning left his house and headed back toward downtown in a black Phantom that he drove to the office every Friday when Mr. Haley was off. He had a full day of meetings ahead of him, but for the first time in years, work was the last thing on his mind.

Since leaving the hotel that morning, he’d thought of nothing but Taylor.

He couldn’t believe he’d spent the night having meaningless sex with another woman while his childhood sweetheart was somewhere in the same building—maybe even on the same floor.

It was crazy.

Exhilarating.

As Manning sped through a yellow traffic light, he felt a new energy coursing through his veins, rejuvenating cells that had been dormant for too long. He was so excited he could barely sit still behind the wheel of his car.

He wasn’t surprised when he found himself taking a detour to his parents’ house. He had to tell someone that Taylor was back in his life, and since his parents had always been his favorite sounding board, it was only natural that he share the news with them first.

About twenty minutes later, he arrived at their home in Collier Heights, one of the country’s first communities that had been built exclusively by African-American planners for Atlanta’s black middle class. The historic neighborhood had been featured in several national publications and was home to prominent political leaders, celebrities, doctors, lawyers, educators and business professionals.

Manning swung into the circular driveway of a custom redbrick house with a wraparound porch shaded by tall oaks. His parents had purchased the sprawling home when the family moved back to Atlanta after Manning graduated from high school and headed to Morehouse on a full scholarship. Though he’d lived on campus, he’d come home every chance he got, often showing up right on time for dinner.

Smiling fondly at the memory, Manning stretched out of his car and strode up the walk to reach the front door. Though he still had his own key, he’d learned from experience not to walk in unannounced on his parents. The last time he’d done that, he’d caught them chasing each other half naked around the living room.

It took weeks to scrub that particular image from his traumatized mind.

Moments after Manning rang the doorbell, the front door swung open. When his mother saw him standing there, her whole face lit up.

“Hey, baby,” she exclaimed warmly.

“Hey, Ma,” Manning greeted her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “How you doing?”

“I’m doing just fine.” As Manning drew back, she affectionately cradled his face between her soft hands. “What’re you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Manning assured her, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “I was on my way to work and thought I’d stop by to see you and Dad.”

Prissy Wolf beamed with pleasure. In her late fifties, she was living proof of the old adage “Black don’t crack.” Her brown skin was as smooth and supple as ever, not a wrinkle to be found. Her beautiful face was framed by a flawlessly groomed natural, and she kept her full-figured physique toned and healthy by eating right and exercising. That morning she wore a crimson-and-cream jogging suit—a proud Delta through and through.

She clasped Manning’s hand, ushering him through the elegant two-story foyer as she explained, “Your father and I just came back from our morning walk and were about to have breakfast, so your timing is perfect. And you’re in luck—we’re being bad today and having French toast with bacon.”

Manning smiled at her. “Sounds good, but I can’t stay for breakfast.”

“Of course you can. I know you haven’t eaten yet—coffee doesn’t count,” Prissy chided, anticipating his reply before he could open his mouth. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, baby, so I’m not about to let you walk back out that door with an empty stomach.”

Manning grinned. “Yes, ma’am,” he acquiesced, knowing better than to argue with her when she went into full-fledged nurturing mode.

She couldn’t help herself. Not only was she a mother of five, but as an educator, she’d spent her career shaping young minds and caring for the children entrusted to her. Nurturing was second nature to her.

Reaching the arched entryway to the large gourmet kitchen, Manning saw his father standing over the state-of-the-art coffeemaker he’d received from his colleagues to celebrate his fifteenth anniversary as chief of the Atlanta Fire Rescue Department.

“Look who’s joining us for breakfast,” Prissy announced in a singsong voice.

Stanton Wolf turned around. A broad grin stretched across his handsome face when he saw Manning approaching. “Hey, good morning, son.”

“Hey, pops.” Reaching his father’s side, Manning clapped him warmly on the back. “How’s it going? Enjoying your week off?”

“You know it.”

Manning grinned.

He and his dad were both tall, standing shoulder to shoulder at six five. Looking at his father’s rich dark skin, deep-set eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, Manning knew he was seeing a mirror image of himself twenty years from now. It was good to know he’d still have it going on, which his old man most definitely did.

“Your ears must have been burning,” Stan drawled, removing two mugs from the cupboard. “Your mother and I were just talking about you.”

“Uh-oh,” Manning intoned with mock dread. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing,” Stan said with a chuckle. “Your mother was just telling me about her phone conversation with Mama Wolf this morning. Apparently your great-grandmother had a dream about you last night.”

“Yeah?” Manning accepted a steaming mug of coffee from his father. “What was the dream about?”

“She couldn’t remember exactly what happened,” his mother explained, carrying fragrant dishes to the large breakfast table. “But she woke up very excited. She says there’s something big on your horizon.”

“Something big, huh?” Manning smiled into his cup, remembering the prescient message Mama Wolf had sent to him that morning:
A consistent soul believes in destiny, a capricious one in chance.

Shortly after receiving the text, he’d come face to face with Taylor. Whether the encounter had been orchestrated by destiny or chance, only time would tell.

“I always knew Mama Wolf was psychic,” he murmured, walking over to the table and sitting down.

Prissy laughed. “It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does,” Stan agreed, crossing the room. “And it seems that the older she gets, the more psychic she becomes.”

“Umm-hmm.” Prissy smiled at Manning, her eyes glinting with speculation. “Got any clue what she may have been talking about?”