Seducing the Wolf (60 page)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Taylor deadpanned, then laughed when he swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the park.

They stopped for lunch at the legendary Café Le Procope, reputed to be the oldest restaurant in France and an old haunt of Voltaire, Victor Hugo, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin.

After a satisfying lunch, they headed up the rue de Seine, walking past bookstands, art vendors and high-end galleries nestled along the banks of the shimmering river. Manning bought Taylor a Picasso sketch, an Henri Matisse print and anything else she so much as smiled at.

From there they strolled up to the Avenue des Champs-Élysées to see the majestic Arc de Triomphe and the Place de la Concorde. Along the way they stopped inside Asha Dubois’s luxury boutique, where Manning insisted on further spoiling Taylor, dropping twenty thousand euros on her without batting an eye.

Since their time was limited—and they were already near the Louvre—they decided to pop into the famous museum instead of trekking over to the Eiffel Tower to contend with the long lines. But the vastness of the Louvre was even more intimidating. It had taken Taylor over a week to view the entire collection of works, and she still discovered something new every time she visited.

They roamed through centuries of history, marveling at the Mona Lisa, the Sphinx, the Winged Victory of Samothrace and the opulently decorated Napoléon III Apartments before they left, agreeing to return together someday for a longer tour.

Their last stop of the day was the gothic Notre Dame Cathedral, where Taylor lit candles for Micah and his father while Manning silently watched her.

When they emerged from the ancient church, the blue sky had darkened to an ominous gray.

Manning and Taylor took one look at each other and chorused, “We’d better hurry.”

They were within half a block of Taylor’s building when the downpour began. Laughing like children, they hoisted their shopping bags over their heads and raced down the boulevard. By the time they made it up to Taylor’s apartment, they were soaked.

Gasping with laughter, they dropped their bags in the foyer and hurriedly peeled off each other’s sodden clothes. When they were both naked, Manning smoothed Taylor’s wet hair off her face and then lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her slippery legs around his waist, moaning with pleasure as he slanted his mouth over hers. The taste of him was intoxicating, warm man and summer rain.

She sucked his tongue as he palmed her butt, lifted her onto his hard shaft and plunged into her. When she cried out, he shuddered convulsively and began striding toward her room.

“Let’s give that pretty bed of yours a workout,” he growled.

Taylor let out a lusty laugh. “
Oui oui, monsieur!
”

38

S
ometime later, Manning lay back against a soft mound of pillows with his hands clasped behind his head and the covers bunched around his waist. His eyes were closed and his lips were curved in a smile of supreme bliss as the exquisite notes of Taylor’s “Transcendence” poured over him, seducing his senses.

It was the first song she’d played for him because she knew it was his favorite. After regaling him with two more beautiful pieces, she’d indulged his sheepish request for an encore of “Transcendence.”

When she finished the song, Manning opened his eyes and gazed wonderingly at her. “My God, baby. You play like an angel.”

She smiled shyly as she set down her violin and bow. She sat cross-legged in the center of the rumpled bed. Her back was elegantly straight, the result of years spent perfecting her posture for the stage. Her hair was still damp from the rain, the curls soft and matted.

“I listen to ‘Transcendence’ every evening after work,” Manning told her. “Having you play it for me is like another dream come true.”

She gave him a soft, grateful smile. “How lucky I am to be in love with a man who enjoys the type of music I play.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “If we ever have children, I hope they’ll also love and appreciate classical music.”

“Oh, they will,” Manning said unequivocally.

Taylor arched an amused brow. “How can you be so sure?”

“Are you kidding? Our children are gonna be music prodigies like their mother.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. Hell, with your musical gifts and my aptitude for math and science, they’re gonna be natural born phenoms. IQs off the charts. Composing sonatas in the crib. Developing new theories of relativity by age four.
Sheeeit
. Our kids are gonna be unstoppable.”

Taylor laughed. “Confident, aren’t we?”

“Damn right.” Manning grinned with satisfaction. “On top of all that, they’re gonna be chocolate.”

“Chocolate, huh?” Taylor’s eyes glimmered. “Is that some sort of a requirement of yours?”

“Not a requirement. A strong preference.”

“Ah,” she said knowingly. “So
that’s
why you’re with me. To increase your odds of getting chocolate offspring.”

His grin widened. “Now come on, darlin’. You know you bring so much more to the table than that.” He paused. “But, yeah, that brown skin of yours is
definitely
a major selling point.”

Sputtering with mock indignation, Taylor grabbed a pillow off the bed and smacked him in the chest with it. He laughed and wrested it away from her before she could hit him again. As she pretended to glare at him, he added the pilfered pillow to the mound behind him and poked his tongue out at her. When she threw back her head and pealed with laughter, the infectious sound had him laughing even harder.

It was only after the playful moment passed that he realized what had just happened. Taylor had brought up having children with him, something he wanted more than anything.

As his chest squeezed with hope and longing, he stared at her.

When she met his gaze, he knew that she, too, was thinking of the children they could have together. Children she was afraid to want.

They stared at each other without speaking. After the length of several heartbeats, Taylor turned her head to contemplate the rain lashing against the window.

The gloomy melancholy that settled over her expression was all too familiar. Since her mother’s visit, there’d been an underlying sadness in her eyes, a shadow of pain beneath her smiles. Manning had been waiting for her to confide in him, but so far she hadn’t. He kept telling himself to be patient with her, to give her time to process whatever secrets were burdening her. But he was fiercely protective over her, and it killed him to see her in any pain. He needed her to know that she could trust him with anything, that they were in this together.

“Baby,” he said quietly.

She looked at him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She hesitated, then nodded slowly.

“When we were at the cathedral, you lit a candle for Micah.”

“Yes.” Grief shadowed her face. “I do it all the time.”

Manning studied her for a long moment. “Who did you light the second candle for?”

She swallowed visibly. “It…it was for Micah’s father.”

Manning frowned, staring at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t have the same fathers.”

Manning went rigid with shock. “
What?
”

“That’s what my mother came to tell me.” Taylor’s voice was barely above a whisper. “She cheated on my dad. It only happened once but…once was more than enough.”

Manning listened in stunned silence as Taylor proceeded to tell him about her parents’ troubled relationship, her mother’s subsequent affair, the shocking discovery that Micah was another man’s child, and the tragic death of his father.

By the time she finished her emotional story, Manning’s mind was reeling.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I can’t even imagine how devastating it must have been for you to learn all those things about your family.”

“It was,” she said sadly. “I’d spent so many years wondering what had driven my parents apart. This was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I’m not absolving my mother of blame. She shouldn’t have slept with another man. But under the circumstances, I can see why she was susceptible to temptation. I don’t know what caused my father to shut her out for so long, but his behavior caused a chain reaction of events that changed the course of our lives. And poor Micah…” She trailed off, her voice growing husky with emotion. “He was taken away from his mother, and he never had a chance to know his real father. He was innocent, yet he lost the most out of everyone.”

Manning reached over and gently squeezed her knee as her mournful gaze returned to the window.

“A long time ago,” she whispered, “I wrote a song for Micah. It’s called ‘Ashes.’ I’ve never recorded it…never played it for anyone.”

Manning swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “I’d like to hear it,” he said humbly. “Can you play it for me?”

Taylor was silent for so long he thought she might refuse his request. But then she slowly picked up her violin and brought it to her face, nuzzling her chin into the curve.

When Manning heard the first yearning notes of the piece, his chest tightened and an electric shiver ran up his spine.

He stared at Taylor, unable to look away as she played.

She held the violin so effortlessly, her nimble fingers dancing along the neck as her bow glided across the strings. Her eyes were closed, her brows delicately arched, her face softened with an expression of rapture and sorrow. She looked ethereal, yet lush and earthy in all her glorious nudity.

Manning was utterly captivated. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could only watch and listen as she spun out a profoundly haunting melody of heartbreak and loss.

As the song soared to an aching crescendo, tears slipped from beneath the dark veil of her lashes and rolled down her face.

The last note vibrated poignantly in the air…and then vanished.

After a prolonged silence, Taylor slowly opened her eyes and looked at Manning.

He stared back at her, unable to speak.

A soft, heartrending smile curved her lips.

When she reached out and gently touched his cheek, it was only then that he realized he, too, had been silently crying.

As they gazed at each other, he caught her hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips. When she set aside her violin and bow, he grabbed her and pulled her down to the bed with him. They held each other tight as they wept, an outpouring of raw anguish and grief.

After a long while, Manning levered himself above Taylor and stared into her watery eyes. “I need to know,” he choked out hoarsely. “I need to know that you forgive me.”

“Manning—”

“What I did that day was insensitive and stupid.
So
damn stupid.”

She shook her head. “We were both upset—”

“But it was my fault. If I hadn’t hurt you and made you mad, you would have played for Micah—”

“Shh.” Taylor cupped his face between her hands, her luminous eyes tunneling into his. “Listen to me. I don’t blame you for what happened. We were both young and immature, and we let our emotions get the best of us. I have never shared the sentiments my father expressed in that letter.
Ever
.”

Manning searched her eyes. He’d never felt more desperate and vulnerable. It was scary as hell. “All these years…I just needed to know that you forgave me. I...I needed to hear you say it.”

Taylor pulled his face down to hers and tenderly kissed his tears away, making his heart squeeze with so much emotion it was almost unbearable.

“I forgive you,” she whispered.

“
God.
” He closed his eyes, relief flooding his soul.

Taylor pressed her mouth to his, a sweet, tender, healing kiss that nearly unraveled him again.

When she pulled away, he buried his face in her neck. She drew her arms around his shoulders, holding him close as they listened to the rain beat against the window.

After a while, Manning rolled over and pulled her on top of him. She rested her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, anchoring her tightly against him.

“I love you so damn much, Taylor Chastain,” he whispered fiercely.

“I love you too, Manning Wolf.”

He rubbed his cheek back and forth across her hair, then kissed her temple. “It’s not enough for you to forgive me for the past. You need to forgive yourself too. Can you do that, sweetheart? Can you forgive yourself?”

She sighed softly, closing her eyes. “I hope so….”