Seducing the Wolf (33 page)

She’d made a decision to come clean to Aidan, to tell him about her rekindled love affair with Manning. She hadn’t thought of what would happen beyond her confession. She didn’t
want
to think about it. But she knew she’d have to.

Sooner rather than later.

She stared at the phone another moment, then called Manning.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey, baby.” The deep, sexy timbre of his voice trickled down her spine and settled into her stomach, making it flutter with butterflies.

“Hi.” Her greeting was little more than breath. “Are you almost here?”

“Just about to pull up.”

“Great. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

There was a pause. “I can’t come to your door and get you like a proper gentleman?”

“Nope. I’m coming down.”

He relented with a chuckle. “See you soon.”

Grinning, Taylor grabbed her Louis Vuitton clutch and headed from the suite.

When she got downstairs, a gleaming black Rolls-Royce Phantom was parked at the curb. Manning stood beside the car shooting the breeze with the uniformed doorman. Taylor’s mouth watered at the sight of him in a charcoal dress shirt with expensive black slacks that rode his endlessly long legs. He looked handsome, sophisticated and positively scrumptious.

As she stepped outside, he turned his head and looked at her, then froze with an arrested expression.

Her breath caught in her throat.

God, but the way he was staring at her made her feel like the most stunningly beautiful woman on earth.

He didn’t take his eyes off her as she slowly descended the marble staircase, her heart leaping with joyful arabesques. When she reached the bottom, he was there waiting for her, his hand outstretched to her like Prince Charming receiving his fairy-tale princess.

She placed her hand in his as he slowly looked her over.

“Taylor…” The wonder in his deep voice matched his awestruck expression. “You look…damn, I’m speechless.”

She smiled demurely. “Does that mean you approve?”

“Oh, yeah.” His eyes glittered. “
Hell,
yeah.”

She leaned up on tiptoe to brush a light kiss across his clean-shaven cheek. When he turned his head to meet her lips, she drew back with a soft laugh. “You’ll smudge my lipstick.”

He groaned. “Can I at least hug you?”

When she nodded, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his warm, powerful body. Closing her eyes, she savored his sinfully delicious scent, wondering if she’d ever get used to just how good he smelled.

“You take my breath away,” he whispered in her ear before drawing back, clasping her hand and leading her over to the Phantom.

The doorman tipped his cap to Taylor, his green eyes gleaming with appreciation. “You folks have a good evening.”

Taylor smiled. “Thank you.”

Manning opened the passenger door for her and gently helped her inside, then rounded the fender to slide behind the wheel.

He stared at her as she smoothly crossed her bare legs. “You were right to meet me downstairs,” he muttered.

“Why?”

He shook his head. “One look at you in that dress, and I would have been all over you. We wouldn’t have made it out of the room before tomorrow.”

Taylor laughed. “I don’t think our absence would have gone over too well with your mother.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t have.” He grinned wickedly. “But that wouldn’t have stopped me from having you anyway.”

Taylor’s skin flushed and tingled. She remembered the thick column of his erection thrusting into her as hot water rained down on them. Pressing her thighs together, she turned her head to stare out the window as Manning pulled away from the curb and smoothly merged into evening traffic.

“No offense to my family,” he said, “but the way you look makes me wanna skip dinner and take you out for a night on the town.”

Taylor looked at him. “Do you think I’m overdressed?”

“Not at all. This is a special occasion, and Ma loves it when everyone dresses up for dinner.” He chuckled. “Sometimes she requires it.”

Taylor smiled, sinking deeper into the sumptuous leather upholstery. “I’m nervous about seeing your parents again,” she admitted.

“Why?” Manning asked quietly.

“It’s hard to explain.” She paused, searching for the right words. “From the moment I met your parents, they welcomed me into the fold, made me feel like I belonged. They invited me over for Sunday dinners and included me in family outings. They came to my recitals and competitions. They were always there for me, ready to lend a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold. I love my parents dearly, but I used to wish they were more like yours. I wanted them to love and respect each other the way your parents did. I wanted them to make me feel safe and secure.” Taylor swallowed tightly, staring down at her folded hands in her lap. “Seeing your mom and dad again after all these years is going to bring back so many memories. Some good…some painful.”

“I know.” Manning reached over and covered her hands with one of his. “Thank you for coming tonight, Taylor. It means a lot to me, and it means a lot to my parents. They’ve always loved you and considered you the daughter they never had. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

Taylor blinked back tears as Manning brought her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed her fingertips.

Before long they arrived at a sprawling redbrick house with a wraparound porch, a three-car garage and a circular driveway.

“What a beautiful house,” Taylor said appreciatively.

Manning smiled. “We moved here when we came back to Atlanta after I graduated from high school. It’s not the house I grew up in, but it’s definitely home.” He parked in the empty driveway. “Looks like we’re the first to arrive.”

He came around to open the door for Taylor, holding her hand as they made their way up the walk toward the house. The lawn was lush and meticulously landscaped, not a blade of grass out of place. The base of the porch was framed by beautifully blooming rose beds that perfumed the warm summer night.

Manning rang the doorbell, then lightly squeezed Taylor’s hand.

A few moments later, the door was opened by his father.

Stanton Wolf was just as tall, handsome and physically imposing as Taylor remembered. His salt-and-pepper hair was impeccably groomed, and he wore a white dress shirt with tailored dark slacks.

When he saw Taylor, a broad grin swept across his face. “Welcome back, young lady.”

Taylor’s throat tightened, and she smiled shyly. “Hi, pops.”

As she stepped inside the house, Stan wrapped her in a tight bear hug that made her feel like she truly
had
come home.

Drawing back, he tweaked her nose and said with gruff tenderness, “You’ve been missed.”

“She certainly has.”

Stan moved aside as his wife came up quietly behind him.

When Taylor saw Prissy Wolf, the tide of emotions she’d been holding at bay threatened to spill over and engulf her.

“Taylor.” Prissy drew her into her arms, and the two women hugged for a long time. When they finally pulled apart, both had tears in their eyes.

Prissy touched Taylor’s hair and rubbed her arms, then tenderly framed her face between her hands. “It’s so good to see you, baby.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Taylor whispered.

“It’s been too long.”

“I know. It has.”

Prissy swept an admiring gaze over her. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

Taylor smiled through her tears. “So do you.”

To say that Prissy Wolf was aging gracefully would be a monumental understatement. She looked stunning with a short natural that drew attention to her lovely features. The white sheath dress she wore flattered her full, voluptuous figure and complemented her radiant brown skin.

She clasped both of Taylor’s hands between hers. “I’m so happy you came tonight.”

“Thank you for having me. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, but I’d love for you to keep me company while my cornbread bakes.”

“I’d love to.”

Prissy beamed, giving Taylor’s hands a gentle squeeze before she glanced at Stan and Manning. “Why don’t you fellas make yourselves useful and fetch an extra bottle of Chardonnay from the wine cellar? We’ve got a lot of celebrating to do tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they parroted humorously.

As Prissy and Taylor started from the foyer, Stan clapped Manning on the shoulder, and father and son grinned broadly at each other.

The moment Taylor entered the huge gourmet kitchen, her mouth began watering from the delicious aromas wafting up from steam-covered dishes on the large center island.

As Prissy motioned her to sit on one of the high-backed bar stools, Taylor said appreciatively, “It smells amazing in here.”

“Thank you, baby. In honor of your first visit to Atlanta, I prepared several Southern-style dishes with a twist. I hope you’ll enjoy everything.”

Taylor grinned. “I’m sure I will. You know I’ve always loved your cooking.”

“I remember,” Prissy said with a fond smile as she took a seat beside Taylor and looked her over again. “I really love that dress you’re wearing. And your hair is gorgeous. How long have you been natural?”

“Eight years.”

“Good for you. I’m going on ten—not counting the years I was natural before we moved to Colorado.” Prissy patted her soft, cropped hair. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having relaxers, but I prefer my hair this way. It’s less maintenance, and it just feels more…”

“Liberating?” Taylor offered.

Prissy snapped her fingers. “Exactly.”

The two women shared the warm smile of kindred spirits.

“I can’t tell you enough how much it means to have you here, Taylor,” Prissy said earnestly. “We have so much to catch up on. I want to hear all about your amazing music career and your life in Paris. But first, how are your parents doing?”

“They’re doing well. Dad’s retired from the Bureau, and Mom’s serving her third term in the Senate.”

Prissy nodded. “Your mother is a very powerful woman. Her name often comes up in discussions about who could become our first female president. Do you think she’d ever consider running?”

“It’s possible.” Taylor smiled. “Mom has always loved a challenge, and I know she was inspired when Ellen Johnson Sirleaf was elected president of Liberia this past January.”

Prissy’s eyes lit up. “Wasn’t that wonderful? She became the first female head of state in Africa. Talk about girl power.”

Taylor grinned. “Hear, hear.”

They bumped fists, then burst out laughing.

The moment of female solidarity was interrupted by the sound of deep male voices and the heavy tread of approaching footsteps.

Seconds later, Manning’s brothers spilled into the room, a tidal wave of testosterone and boisterous masculine energy. Instantly the enormous kitchen seemed smaller, dominated by the towering hunks of men who surrounded Taylor and greeted her with hearty bear hugs.

The room shrank even more when Stan and Manning joined the party. As Taylor looked around at all of them, she couldn’t help feeling dazzled. Without exception, the Wolf men were heart-stoppingly gorgeous, and so potently virile that their collective presence was an assault on the senses.

At one point, Taylor and Montana were having a side conversation about his summer tour schedule when Mason sidled up to her and asked, “Where’d you get this dress?”

Taylor grinned at him. “Why? You wanna buy it for someone special?”

“Actually, I was thinking about getting more of them for you. Three-hundred-sixty-four, to be exact.”

“
Three-hundred-sixty-four
?”

“Yeah,” Mason drawled, his dark eyes traveling over her. “You look so damn fine in this dress, you should have one to wear every day of the year.”

The slick compliment drew a chorus of groans that erupted into raucous laughter when Manning came over and slapped the back of Mason’s head.

“Dinner’s ready,” Prissy cheerfully announced above the noisy din. “Everyone grab a dish and head to the table.”

The formal dining room boasted gleaming hardwood floors, a coffered ceiling and a beautiful chandelier. The long mahogany table was draped in white linen and set with fine china, gold-edged crystal and elegantly folded cloth napkins. A centerpiece of fresh-cut red roses added a lovely splash of color to the décor.

Stan and Prissy took their places at opposite ends of the table while Taylor was seated between Manning and Montana. Magnum, Maddox and Mason sat on the other side.

Everyone bowed their heads as Prissy said grace, humbly thanking God for Taylor’s long-awaited return to the family. The simple yet heartfelt prayer brought a lump to Taylor’s throat. When Manning reached over and squeezed her hand under the table, tears gathered beneath her eyelids.

At the end of Prissy’s prayer, everyone chorused “Amen” and smiled affectionately at Taylor.

Fanning her watery eyes, she whispered jokingly, “I’m gonna start blubbering like an idiot if you guys keep this up.”

Warm laughter swept around the table.

Grinning, Stan rubbed his hands together. “Let’s eat.”

Prissy had pulled out all the stops for dinner, preparing a lavish buffet of grilled barbecue chicken with a white wine sauce, roasted pork tenderloin, spicy crab cakes, fried green tomatoes slathered with rémoulade, pecan-topped sweet potato casserole, collard greens stewed in a lemon garlic marinade and sweet cornbread.

Everyone dug into the meal with gusto, raving about how delicious everything tasted as Prissy beamed with pleasure.

“I’m definitely going to need recipes,” Taylor declared after swallowing a succulent bite of chicken.

“For what, baby?” Prissy inquired.

“For everything.”

Prissy laughed. “I’ll share after dinner,” she promised with a wink.

Taylor grinned at her.

“Do you cook a lot of French foods, Taylor?” Montana asked curiously.

She nodded. “Some.”

“Like what?” Magnum teased. “Escargot?”

Her lips twitched. “Why, yes, Magnum. I
do
cook escargot.” Amused by the look of disgust that came over his face, she continued wickedly, “I spend hours cleaning them, simmering them, stuffing them. Because no French meal would be complete without a delicious serving of
hot, smelly,
slimy
snails.”