Taming the Wolf (5 page)

Marcus was still nursing a hard-on by the time he joined his colleagues at the downtown sports bar where they’d agreed to meet for drinks.

As he sat down at the table, Donovan Ware, his former college roommate and current employee, sent a triumphant look at the blond-haired man seated across from him. “Ha, I was right! Pay up, Blair!”

Scowling, Timothy Blair dug inside his wallet, retrieved a twenty-dollar bill and tossed it grudgingly across the table. “You got lucky this time, Ware,” he grumbled.

Marcus watched the exchange with a raised brow. “Did I miss something?”
Timothy threw him a disgruntled look. “You weren’t supposed to show up. I bet your buddy here you’d blow us off for that hot number you were talking to before we left.”
Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. “Good to know the money I pay you guys is being put to good use. I’ll have a scotch,” he told the young redhead who appeared at their table to take his order.
Her wide green eyes were latched onto his face. “Excuse me for asking, but aren’t you Marcus Wolf?”
Marcus smiled lazily. “Last I checked.”
She beamed. “Oh my God! I saw the article in today’s paper. I’m a huge fan of yours, Mr. Wolf. My name’s Meagan.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Meagan.”
Excitedly, she tore off a sheet of paper from her notepad. “Could I have your autograph?”
“Of course.” Marcus signed the paper and handed it back to the waitress, who clutched it to her chest as if it were a winning lottery ticket.
“Thank you so much,” she gushed. “I’ll be right back with your drink.”
As she moved off, Donovan grinned and shook his smooth bald head at Marcus. “You’re gonna have to start beating them off with a stick, man.”
“Or you could just hand them over to me,” Timothy suggested. “Starting with that hottie back at the university. Man, she was beautiful.”
Donovan snorted. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like that, Blair.”
“And you would?”
“Damn straight!”
Marcus tuned out their bickering as his mind wandered back to the erotic encounter with Samara Layton. He still couldn’t believe it had happened. Since meeting her in New York on Saturday, he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. When he first saw her tonight, standing in the back of the auditorium, he’d thought his mind was playing tricks on him. It was only after she’d stepped to him, and he found himself gazing down into those dark gypsy eyes, that he realized she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. When she smiled at him, his heart turned leaped. When she actually reached out and touched him, blood rushed straight to his groin. Her sultry confession—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you—had pretty much sealed the deal. What man in his right mind wouldn’t have followed her after hearing something like that?
And while her plump breasts were filling his hands, and her long curvy legs were wrapped around his waist, he hadn’t stopped to question his good fortune. He didn’t care that just two nights ago, Samara Layton had wanted nothing to do with him. All that mattered was being inside her honey-wet heat, and damn she’d felt incredible. So incredible that his dick throbbed at the memory of it.
He reached for the glass of scotch the waitress had brought and tossed down half the contents in one gulp.
“Don’t feel bad about losing the bet, Blair,” Donovan was consoling his colleague. “For a while there, I didn’t think Marcus would find his way here either. Not with the way he went after—” He stopped, looking slyly at Marcus. “You did catch her name, didn’t you?”
“Hell, yeah.”
When Marcus offered no more, Donovan and Timothy stared at him. “Well?” they demanded in unison.
Marcus swallowed more scotch. “Her name’s Samara.”
“Beautiful name,” Timothy said.
“Beautiful woman.” Donovan grinned at Marcus. “So what happened when you caught up to her?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Aw, come on, man,” Donovan laughingly protested. “You’re holding out on me? How long have we known each other?”
“Too long.” Seventeen years, to be exact. They’d met as freshmen at Morehouse College, and quickly became friends when they discovered how much they had in common. They both had grown up in Atlanta and were raised by single fathers. As political science majors, they’d both dreamed of attending law school and becoming high-powered attorneys. After graduation, Donovan’s law school plans had been delayed when his father got sick. While Marcus left home to attend Georgetown University, Donovan had stayed behind to care for his ailing father until he passed away two years later. After that, he’d enrolled in law school at Emory University, preferring to remain close to home. But he and Marcus never lost contact with each other. When Marcus returned to Atlanta to launch his own law firm, Donovan was nothing but supportive. When Marcus decided to expand the practice, after three years of flying solo, Donovan was the first staff attorney he’d hired.
“Where’s Helen?” Marcus asked, belatedly realizing that the fourth member of their party was missing, although her Louis Vuitton purse occupied the chair across from him.
“She stepped outside to take a call from a client,” Donovan answered. “Her phone rang just as she was about to join the bet on whether or not you’d make it here. Wanna know what she thought?”
“Not really.” It was one thing to discuss his exploits with the fellas, but to have another woman speculating about his sex life just didn’t seem right. Especially a woman who worked for him.
“I envy you, Wolf,” Timothy said, reaching into the glass bowl on their table and scooping out a handful of peanuts. “Even before you opened your mouth to speak tonight, you were getting do me looks from practically every woman in the room. You could’ve gone home with any one of those females who lined up to talk to you

Chuckling, Marcus signaled the waitress for another round of drinks. It was only then that he remembered Samara telling him she wanted something from him. He wondered if she were just talking dirty… Or had she meant something else?

Whatever it was, he intended to find out what she wanted. And if his so-called luck held up, he and Samara Layton would be lovers before the end of the week.

’m so sorry we won’t be doing business together this year,” lamented Vickie Paige, special events coordinator of Capitol Fun Rentals. “We always look forward to helping FYI with

Founder’s Day. It’s an annual tradition.”
“I know,” Samara said on the other end of the phone. “I was
really hoping we could hold the event this year, but the funds just
aren’t there.”
“I understand. Shoot, I wish I could just let you guys use everything for free.”
Samara smiled. “I know you would if you could, Vickie, and I
appreciate that. But even if I let you do that, there’s no way you
could get away with not charging for a carousel, a moonwalk, a
dunking machine, a couple of helium tanks, several tents—not to
mention the cotton candy, hot dog, nacho, popcorn and snow cone
machines.”
Vickie chuckled. “That is a lot to account for. But what if you
scaled back on a few things? Would that make it more feasible?” Samara sighed heavily. “I thought about that, even crunched
some numbers. But, no, it still wouldn’t work. And Founder’s Day
isn’t just about the carnival. We also hold the annual scholarship
drawing that a lot of teens and parents look forward to. I can’t bear
the thought of telling that no scholarships will be awarded this year.
Call me a coward,” she added ruefully.
“You’re not a coward,” Vickie said quietly. “You’re doing everything you can to save the Institute, and that takes a lot of courage. I
admire you, Samara, and I know I’m not alone.”
“Thank you, Vickie. That really means a lot to me.” Swallowing
past the lump in her throat, Samara glanced down at the checklist

on her blotter. She still had several more calls to make before the end of the day. “I have to run, Vickie, but I’ll be in touch if anything changes.”

“All right. You hang in there, Samara. Everything’s gonna work out just fine, you’ll see.”
Samara thanked the woman again and hung up the phone, wishing she shared Vickie Paige’s optimism about FYI’s future. But it was hard to remain optimistic with a stack of overdue notices perched on a corner of her desk, and spreadsheet after spreadsheet shouting that they were in the red. To add insult to injury, Melissa had introduced the dreaded D word over coffee that morning— downsizing. If the Institute’s financial situation didn’t improve soon, Samara would have to start laying off employees.
With a long, weary sigh, she swiveled away from her desk to gaze out the window, which overlooked a well-manicured park across the street. The sky was pewter-gray and cloudy with the threat of rain; the gloomy weather matching her mood.
She didn’t even want to think about downsizing any of her nine employees. And where would she start? Every staff member was invaluable to the organization, from the loyal receptionist who’d been with the Institute since its inception, to the grant writer who’d secured much of their funding over the years. And Melissa. God, she couldn’t even imagine terminating Melissa. It was inconceivable.
Don’t get discouraged, an inner voice consoled her. You still have your back-up plan.
At the thought of Marcus Wolf, Samara’s belly quivered. Two days later, she still couldn’t believe what she’d done with him—a virtual stranger. She’d gone to the university intending to flirt with him, to use her feminine wiles to renew his interest in her. It wasn’t until she actually saw him again that she realized she wouldn’t be satisfied with merely having a cup of coffee with him afterward and pleading her case.
No, she’d wanted more.
She’d wanted him.
And there was no way she would have left without tasting his sweet, juicy lips and feeling his hard, muscled body pressed against hers. The pleasure she’d experienced in his arms was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. And if she had to do it all over again, she wouldn’t have thought twice about making love to him right there in that classroom. Now that she’d had a taste of Marcus Wolf, she only craved more.
Groaning in frustration, Samara leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. This is ridiculous, she thought. FYI is in dire financial straits and all you can think about is getting laid.
Her phone rang, startling her. She swiveled around and reached across the desk to pick it up. “Yes?”
“Samara, you have a visitor in the lobby,” the receptionist told her, a note of unmistakable excitement in her voice.
“Who is it, Diane?” Samara asked curiously.
“His name’s Marcus Wolf.”
Samara’s heart slammed against her rib cage. After two days of waiting for Marcus to call, she’d been on the verge of picking up the phone herself and making the next move. “Thanks, Diane,” she said somewhat breathlessly. “Tell him I’ll be right down.”
She hung up the phone and quickly straightened the papers on her desk, then grabbed the stack of overdue invoices and hid them in the bottom drawer. She pulled a tube of red lipstick from her purse and applied a fresh coat, ran a comb through her relaxed mane and popped an Altoid into her mouth. Pausing to take a deep breath, she strode from the office and headed downstairs to the lobby.
Marcus stood at the large oak reception desk, tall, dark and incredibly handsome in another two-thousand-dollar Italian suit, this one in navy blue. His hands were thrust casually into his pants pockets as he conversed with Diane Rawlings, the receptionist. When he flashed that killer grin, the fifty-seven-year-old woman giggled and blushed to the gray roots of her scalp. Samara couldn’t believe it. Diane, who was both feared and respected for her nononsense personality, had actually giggled and blushed.
Was any woman on the planet immune to Marcus Wolf?
He glanced up at Samara’s approach, and her heart skidded to a halt as their eyes met and held. Images of their erotic encounter instantly filled her mind, making her temperature rise.
“Mr. Wolf,” she greeted him, hand outstretched. “A pleasure to see you again.”
Marcus clasped her palm in the solid warmth of his own, sending tingles up and down her spine. “The pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Layton,” he drawled in that deep, mesmerizing voice that made her want to cross her legs. Tightly.
“Would you like to join me in my office?” she murmured.
Something hot and wicked flashed in his dark eyes, and Samara realized he was reacting to the wording she’d used. Join me in my office. Join me.
Her mouth went dry at the accompanying mental picture.
“Lead the way,” he said softly.
“Diane, please hold my calls.”
“Of course, Samara.”
As Samara turned and led Marcus up the stairs, she could feel his bold gaze all over her backside, burning through her creamy silk blouse and pencil-slim brown skirt, as if he had X-ray vision. Never before had she been so aroused by a man undressing her with his eyes.
By the time they reached her office on the second floor, she was almost dizzy with desire. As she closed the door behind them, Marcus caught her arm, turning her around to face him. She felt a thrill of excitement as he pulled her roughly into his arms.
Sinking his hands into her hair, he lowered his head and took her mouth in a deep, provocative kiss that drugged her senses and made her breasts ache. She pressed against him, opening her mouth to receive the hot, silky penetration of his tongue. He tasted of chocolate and peppermint, warm and delicious. She deepened the kiss, sucking greedily on his tongue while her hands slid up and down the muscled hardness of his back. She wanted nothing more than to be naked with him, to feel his powerful body mounted above hers as he thrust in and out of her. Though she knew this wasn’t the time or place. She couldn’t help but moan as he cupped her buttocks, lifting her hips more fully against his so she could feel the bulge of his erection. Almost mindlessly, she ground herself into him, and this time he uttered a low, guttural moan of pleasure.
Dragging his mouth from hers, he whispered huskily against her throat, “Damn, I can’t get enough of you.”
She tipped her head back, making it easier for him to kiss her there. “Then what took you so long to find me?”
She felt him smile against the sensitized hollow of her neck. “I wanted to test the limits of my endurance. As you can see, I didn’t make it very far.”
She chuckled softly. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
“No,” Marcus agreed, lifting his head to search her face with a sudden keenness she found unsettling, “I don’t hear you complaining.”
With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Samara pulled out of his arms and walked over to her desk and sat down. Marcus followed more slowly, his dark gaze never leaving her face as he ignored the visitor’s chair and rounded the desk, perching his hip on the edge of it so she had to tilt her head up to look at him.
“I’m curious about something,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe you can help me.”
Samara leaned back in the chair and smoothly crossed her legs. The moment of truth had arrived. “What is it?”
“When we met in New York,” Marcus said slowly, “you couldn’t get away from me fast enough. And then on Monday night you showed up where I was speaking and practically propositioned me on the spot.”
“I didn’t proposition—” He arched a dubious brow, cutting short her protest. She grinned sheepishly. “All right, maybe I did proposition you.”
Marcus chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining, but you can see how a brother might be a little confused by your behavior. What changed your mind about me?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I was playing hard to get in New York.”
“Were you?”
Samara met his gaze unflinchingly. “If you’re asking whether I’m really attracted to you, and if I meant it when I told you that since we met, I haven’t stopped thinking about you, the answer is yes on both counts. If you doubt my sincerity, I can think of a hundred different ways I can prove my attraction to you.”
His hooded eyes drifted to her lips. “A hundred, huh?”
“At least.”
“I just might take you up on that offer, Ms. Layton,” he said silkily.
Her nipples hardened. She licked her lips, murmuring softly, “I hope you will, Mr. Wolf.” And, oh, how she meant it.
“That said,” she continued after a moment, “in the spirit of full disclosure, I did have another reason for showing up at the university that night.”
“Ahh, yes. Of course.” Straightening from the desk, Marcus tucked his hands into his pockets and wandered over to the window. “The Fannie Yorkin Institute.”
“Yes.” Samara drew a deep breath. “As you probably know, we’ve experienced some financial setbacks over the last few years, and now we’re facing the possibility of bankruptcy.”
“That’s too bad,” Marcus said quietly. “You’ve done a lot of positive work in the community.”
“Yes, we have. But if we don’t receive some funding very soon, we’ll be forced to close shop.” She paused. “I went to Georgetown to talk to you about donating to the organization. But after the way I treated you in New York, I knew there was no way I could come right out and ask for your help.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “So you decided to seduce me instead.”
Samara hesitated, searching his face for any signs of anger or hostility. But his expression was unreadable. She said meekly, “Let’s just say I thought it best to soften you up a little before I petitioned you for money.” When he turned back to the window without a word, she hastened to add, “If you’d prefer, I can call and schedule an appointment with your secretary. And then I could come to your office and give a presentation for you and your senior associates—”
Marcus shook his head. “They’ve gone back to Atlanta to tie up some loose ends at headquarters and won’t return until the end of next week, when we officially open for business. I’m still trying to get the office organized, so it’s not really ideal for visitors yet.” He turned slowly, his dark gaze roaming across her face with an intensity that made her breath quicken. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
“Dinner?” she echoed.
“Yes, dinner.” Wry humor lifted the corners of his mouth. “I know we’ve already tried that once before, but this time we’ll call it a business meeting. You can bring as many materials as you need and give your presentation. You’ll have my undivided attention.”
Samara smiled, hope blooming in her chest for the first time in weeks. “All right, Marcus. That sounds like a plan.”
He glanced at his Rolex watch. “I have a meeting with the city council this afternoon. I can pick you up afterward, say around sixthirty?”
“That’s fine. I still have a lot of paperwork to catch up on, so you can pick me up here.” No way was she inviting Marcus Wolf to her house. They’d never make it out the front door.
She rose from her chair and escorted him downstairs to the lobby. Melissa was behind the reception desk manning the phone for Diane, who’d left early to attend a function at her grandson’s elementary school.
Melissa’s hazel eyes widened in shock when she saw Marcus. Samara quickly performed the introductions, praying her friend wouldn’t say anything to embarrass her.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Wolf,” Melissa said, eagerly shaking his hand. “I’ve followed your career since you worked for the ACLU here in D.C. I really wanted to attend your presentation the other night, but I’d already made plans with my husband. But I heard from my friend, a law professor at the university, that you were absolutely wonderful. Do you know Louise Fletcher?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Marcus answered easily. “We met a few years ago through the D.C. bar association. She and her colleagues were generous enough to take me out to dinner before the lecture.”
Melissa beamed. “Well, she speaks very highly of you. What brings you here this afternoon?”
He glanced lazily in Samara’s direction. “Ms. Layton and I had a few things to clear up.”
“Really?” Undisguised curiosity filled Melissa’s eyes as she looked from Marcus to Samara.
“We’d better not hold you up any longer,” Samara told Marcus, discreetly ushering him toward the front entrance. “You wouldn’t want to keep those city council members waiting. I’ve heard they’re an ornery lot.”
Marcus seemed vaguely amused as he paused at the door to look down at her. “I’ll see you at six-thirty,” he said softly.
She smiled at him, aware of Melissa’s speculative gaze. “I’ll be ready.”
When he’d gone, Melissa leaned across the counter and exclaimed, “You have a date with Marcus Wolf?”
“Shhh, not so loud! And it’s not a date. It’s a business meeting.”
“How did this happen? The last time we spoke, you thought he was a womanizer.”
“He probably is,” Samara blithely retorted. “But if he can help bail us out of debt, I don’t care what he is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish up before my meeting with Mr. Wolf.”
Melissa grinned from ear to ear. “Atta, girl. I’ll want a full report in the morning.”
Samara chuckled dryly. “I wouldn’t expect otherwise.”