Seducing the Wolf (58 page)

Manning chuckled, the sound drifting over her like a wisp of smoke. “You know Marcus has always been the most militant one in the family. I mean, he was named after Marcus Garvey and spent a summer being mentored by Nelson Mandela and the African National Congress. Although he respects black fraternities and sororities, he strongly objects to some of the hazing practices. When he came to Morehouse, he wasn’t about to let anyone lay a finger on him. Period.”

Taylor nodded slowly. “I can definitely respect that.”

“We all could. As you pointed out, there are a lot of Omega men in my family. But not everyone has to be a Que. My father and Uncle Sterling aren’t. Neither are Montana, Maddox and Mason.” A soft smile touched Manning’s mouth. “We’ve always been taught to forge our own paths, become leaders in our own right, and love and protect one another at all times. That’s the Wolf Pack credo, and it’s the only thing that matters.”

“Umm-hmm,” Taylor murmured with a drowsy smile. “That’s a good family credo.”

Manning gently stroked her cheek. “Why don’t you go lie down in the bedroom?”

“No. I want to stay here with you. Besides,” she added wryly, “if I go in the bedroom, you’ll probably come in there and have your way with me.”

He chuckled. “I’d definitely be tempted,” he admitted. “But I’d let you sleep. I figure I owe you a reprieve after last night.”

“How generous of you,” she drawled.

He laughed. “Seriously, Tay. It’s an eight-hour flight, so you should get some rest. I brought my laptop, so I’ll get some work done while you sleep.”

She sighed languorously as he drew a plush blanket over her and pressed a button to recline her chair. “These seats are
heavenly
,” she murmured as her eyes drifted closed. “I can’t imagine the bed being any more comfortable than this.”

Manning smiled, tenderly kissing her forehead. “Sleep, darlin’,” he whispered. “Just sleep.”

They arrived at Paris Le Bourget Airport around ten P
.
M
.
local time.

After clearing customs and collecting their luggage, they took a private car to Taylor’s apartment in the sixth arrondissement. Though still fatigued from the long flight, Taylor was buzzing with excitement over being in Paris with Manning. She couldn’t believe he was here after all these years. It was a dream come true.

They sat in the backseat holding hands and staring out the window at the bright lights of the city and the dark waters of the Seine. Before long they reached Taylor’s residence, located in one of the stately nineteenth century Haussmann-style buildings that stretched down the wide boulevard.

Manning wheeled their luggage inside the old building, following Taylor to the elevator. They grinned at each other as they rode up to the fifth floor and disembarked.

“My apartment is tiny compared to what you’re used to,” Taylor warned teasingly. “The whole thing is probably the size of your kitchen.”

Manning chuckled. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”

She smiled as she unlocked her front door, turned on a light and ushered him inside.

Beyond the narrow foyer, a decorative pair of doors opened to a large living room that was dominated by a black baby grand piano. The apartment still had the original oak floors, antique chandeliers, marble fireplace, ornate ceiling moldings and gorgeous wall paneling. The furnishings were an eclectic mismatch of French antiques and contemporary artwork. Three pairs of French doors boasted panoramic views of the Eiffel Tower, which could be enjoyed at leisure from the table on the balcony.

Taylor watched as Manning slowly looked around, taking it all in with a quiet smile. “I was right,” he murmured. “It
is
perfect.”

Beaming with pleasure, Taylor leaned up on tiptoe and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “I’m so happy you’re here, Manning.”

His gaze softened. “Me too.”

“I wish we could stay longer. It’s impossible to see Paris in a day.”

“I know.” He stroked her cheek. “We can come back.”

She smiled a touch wistfully. “
I’m
definitely coming back. I live here.”

“We can discuss that,” Manning murmured.

Her breath caught, and she stared at him.

He stared back.

The space between them was so charged, it raised the fine hairs on her arms.

“Manning—”

“Taylor—”

They spoke at the same time, then smiled softly.

A sudden flash of illumination drew their attention to the windows. The Eiffel Tower gleamed like a beacon in the night, sending twin beams of light sweeping over the city. As it began to sparkle, Taylor grinned in delight and moved to stand in front of the windows.

“Wow,” Manning marveled, coming up behind her. “That’s awesome.”

“Isn’t it?” Taylor grinned harder. “Every evening, the Eiffel Tower sparkles for five minutes every hour on the hour until around two A
.
M. As many times as I’ve seen it happen, it never gets old. I’m like a little kid.”

Manning chuckled, draping his arms around her shoulders and resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m sure this amazing view is one of the main reasons you bought this apartment.”

“Oh, definitely. I wanted to live as close as possible to the Eiffel Tower without actually being at the foot of it. I was very lucky to snag this place.”

They watched the magical light show in contented silence. When it was over, Manning kissed the crown of Taylor’s head and whispered, “Show me the rest of your home.”

It didn’t take long. The apartment was just over one thousand square feet and had an updated corner kitchen, a small dining area, two bedrooms and one bathroom.

When they reached Taylor’s room, Manning took a slow turn around, gently touching the antique armoire and dresser before sitting down on the queen-size bed with the romantic Venetian headboard.

“So this is where you sleep,” he murmured.

“
Oui
.” Seeing him on her bed did all sorts of crazy things to Taylor’s pulse. She wanted to tear off his clothes, push him onto his back and ride him like a champion thoroughbred. Tomorrow, after she’d gotten a good night’s rest, she would do just that.

Smiling at the thought, she went to her closet and removed her violin from a locked safe. She carried it over to the bed and set it down, then gingerly lifted the violin out of its case and cradled it to her bosom like a precious newborn.

“I missed you, Lady Ella,” she cooed.

“I’m sure she missed you too.” Manning reverently ran his fingers over the rich maple wood, tracing the violin’s refined curves. “She’s a beauty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Taylor said proudly.

Manning smiled. “Will you play for me tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Taylor met his gaze. “I’ve missed playing for you.”

“Not as much as I’ve missed
having
you play for me.”

They shared a soft, poignant smile.

“Let’s get some rest so we can get an early start,” Manning suggested.

“Good idea.” Taylor put away her violin.

Ten minutes later, she and Manning crawled into bed, curled up together and soon fell asleep.

They awoke at seven and shared a long, steamy shower, kissing and caressing each other until the water turned cold. After dressing in comfortable clothes, they headed out for breakfast.

When they reached the lobby of the building, one of Taylor’s neighbors was waiting to board the elevator, standing with that air of lazy insouciance that had been perfected by the French. He was lean and rakishly handsome with mussed blond hair, deep green eyes and a sexy five o’clock shadow.

His face lit up at the sight of Taylor. “
Le violoniste!
”

Taylor laughed. “
Bonjour
, Olivier.”

Manning frowned as the two greeted each other with friendly
bises
on both cheeks.

Olivier’s eyes roamed over Taylor with undisguised appreciation. “When did you get back?”

“Last night.” Taylor quickly introduced him to Manning.

The two men nodded shortly to each other.

“Where’s Aidan?” Olivier asked Taylor.

She sighed. “We broke up.”

Olivier’s eyes widened. “
Vraiment
?”

“
Vraiment
.”

“
C’est bien
.”

“Good?” Taylor arched a brow. “
Pourquoi?
”

“Never liked him. He was dull and arrogant.” Olivier looked Manning over and added humorously in French, “Maybe this one will be good enough to deserve you. He seems to have potential.”
Smirk
. “Even for an American.”

Manning scowled. “
What
did he just say?” he growled at Taylor.

“Nothing, baby.” Grabbing his hand, she tugged him away as Olivier chuckled and boarded the elevator.

Manning glared after him. “I don’t like that asshole,” he grumbled darkly. “How do you say
that
in French?”

Taylor merely laughed and tucked her arm through his as they left the building and headed down the boulevard to Gabby’s family-owned bakery. Taylor hadn’t told her best friend that she was returning home. She couldn’t wait to surprise her and introduce her to Manning.

Pâtisserie Henri had a good crowd that Saturday morning. Gabby and two other young women were busy behind the long counter assisting customers and ringing up orders.

The moment Manning and Taylor stepped through the door, her senses were flooded with the decadent aromas of buttery breads and elaborate pastries pulled fresh from the oven. They filled the glass display cases, endless rows of delicate fruit tarts nestled on golden crusts…macarons in an eclectic rainbow of flavors…chocolate éclairs…
tarte normande
…
choux à la crème…pain au chocolat....

Taylor sighed with pleasure, beaming at the delectable pastries as though they were dear old friends. “This bakery has been my downfall,” she lamented. “When I’m not on tour, I’m in here practically day and night.”

Manning gave her a slow perusal, his eyes lingering on her derriere. “You definitely won’t hear me complaining,” he drawled.

Taylor grinned at him. “Not if you know what’s good for you.”

He laughed, kissing her temple. “Which one is Gabby?”

“That one.” Taylor pointed to the voluptuous woman with chestnut brown eyes, skin the color of rich caramel and short dark hair cropped in a spiky pixie cut inspired by Halle Berry.

“So that’s your BFF, huh?”

“Yup.” Taylor smiled. “God didn’t give me a sister, so He made up for it by bringing me Gabby.”

Manning smiled. “That’s sweet,” he murmured as his gaze wandered to the corner of the bakery, where a pyramid of gorgeously wrapped gold boxes beckoned from a glass display case. “What are those?”

“Gabby’s chocolates. Perfect little squares of luscious ganache that melt in your mouth.
Mmm-mmm
.”

“Damn, baby,” Manning drawled. “You got my mouth watering.”

Taylor grinned. “They’re exquisite. And they’d make excellent gifts for your mother, Mama Wolf, Aunt Winnie and Grandma Kirkland.”

He grinned. “Great idea. Be right back.”

As he stepped away, Taylor moved up in line. When she reached the counter, Gabby had her head bent over a pad as she furiously took down a large order.

Taylor cleared her throat loudly and said with haughty impatience, “
Excusez-moi
—”

“
Un moment, s’il vous
—” Gabby glanced up and froze, her eyes bulging in shock. “Taylor!”

Taylor grinned. “
Surprise!
”

Gabby squealed excitedly and rushed from behind the counter. The other customers watched with indulgent smiles as the two friends greeted each other with exuberant hugs and warm
bises
on both cheeks.

Drawing Taylor away from the line, Gabby exclaimed in wonder, “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

“I know.” Taylor grinned broadly. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Gabby laughed. “Well, you certainly did! I almost had—” She broke off abruptly, her eyes widening as they traveled upward and landed about a foot above Taylor’s head. Taylor didn’t have to turn around to know what—or
whom
—had seized her best friend’s attention.