The Wolf Prince (22 page)

He pulled her onto his lap before she could think to protest. Once she was there, she didn’t want to leave. It felt too good having him hold her close. It wasn’t as if they were going to mate. She frowned. Make love.

“I think you’re a very good investigator.”

“I haven’t found out anything.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I could be a secret agent, or a werewolf, or I could be a prince.”

Oh, great, now she felt a whole lot better. Everything she had come up with sounded totally ridiculous. No wonder her mom didn’t want Darcy to get a job—she knew she couldn’t cut it in the real world.

“What are you thinking?” Surlock brushed his lips across the top of her head.

A shiver of need spread through her. “That I suck at the only job I’ve ever had.” She felt the rumble of his chest. Oh, yeah, now she felt a whole lot better.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he finally said.

“Of course not. You’re laughing
with
me. Uh, I hate to tell you this, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not laughing at all.”

“Why does it have to be so complicated?” he asked. “Going to the party was a great idea. Someone is bound to know me. You did say Peter always has a large number of people there, right?”

She’d forgotten about the party for a moment. So maybe everything wasn’t a hopeless cause.

“We’ll need to get you a costume,” she said. “What do you want to go as?”

“How about a wolf?”

Was he laughing again?

N
erves of steel, that was Darcy.

Jennifer and Annette had already left for the party. Darcy was taking her time. She wanted to arrive when there were more people so Peter could announce them. She was hoping someone might recognize Surlock.

And if no one knew him, then what? Her nerves of steel melted around her feet like warmed butter. Deep breath. She was meant to be an investigator. Peter’s party was the perfect place to be seen, and hopefully recognized.

She slipped her foot inside the stiletto and stood, but her movements were slow and jerky. If no one knew him, then once again, she would have slammed into a brick wall. What would she tell Surlock? What
could
she tell him? Nothing. She squared her shoulders.

Think like Dick Tracy, she told herself. Be Dick Tracy. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, then exhaled. What would Dick do?

She grimaced. She wasn’t sure what Dick would do, but she knew what her father would do. He’d taught his daughter the ins and outs of the financial world. One of the first things he told her was to know when to back out of a negotiation, even if it cost you money. Losing a little was better than losing a lot. Maybe it
was time to get Surlock an experienced investigator. She didn’t like the idea of throwing in the towel, but she was there to help him, and she wouldn’t let her ego stand in the way.

With her decision made, she looked one last time in the mirror. She hadn’t worn her cat costume in a few years. The black glittery material clung to her curves. The ankle-length dress was cut in a low vee neckline, and it had a very high slit on the side.

Annette had painted Darcy’s face so that her eyes were catlike, dark and mysterious. She’d passed on the black nose and just went with the whiskers. She’d covered her blond hair with a long black wig. Not bad. She had a feeling she would definitely have all of Surlock’s attention tonight. Her blood heated, flowing hot through her veins as she imagined his reaction.

Just as quickly, she tamped down her lustful thoughts. They couldn’t make love until they figured out just who he was. But then again, if they found out tonight, then they could make love when they got home.

There was a light knock on her door. Darcy smoothed the material over her hips and called out, “Come in.”

The door opened and Surlock entered, stopping when he saw her. His gaze slowly moved over her, touching her in all the right places. Then she noticed how he was dressed and her mouth went dry. Good Lord, did he realize that he could send women into cardiac arrest?

She swallowed. “I’m not sure it will be safe to let you out of the house looking like that.”

He looked down. “Is this not the right costume?”

“I doubt we could have found one more perfect,” she said. He wore a short apron of wolf fur. It was fake, of course, but no one would be able to tell. Not that they would be looking at the apron of fur. No, they would be drooling over his muscled thighs. His rock-hard abs and chest were also bare, displaying a very sexy expanse of skin. On his head, he wore a wolf head with fur that came down on both sides. He reminded her of an Indian warrior—strong, powerful and damned sexy.

His forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand.”

“The women will be drooling.”

He grinned. “Do you think so?”

She frowned. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re …” What had she been about to say? You’re mine? But he wasn’t.

“I’m what?”

“Never mind,” she said as she turned back to the mirror and fastened a diamond pendant earring in her lobe.

“I like what you’re wearing,” he said as he came to stand behind her.

Her hands trembled. It was all she could do to fasten the earring. When she brought her hands down to her sides, his trailed over them, lightly caressing, leaving tingles of pleasure in their wake.

“You make me want you very much.” He kissed her shoulder, then moved to her neck.

She sucked in a breath, caught his scent, and knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Before she turned in his arms and pressed her body close to his, she came to her senses and stepped away from him. This was the night they could possibly discover exactly who he was. As much as she wanted to drag him to her bed, she had to look out for his interests.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

He hesitated. “What if we do find out who I am? Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I have none of the money that it seems everyone holds in high esteem? What if I have nothing that will compare to”—he waved his arm around her room—“this? Does it matter to you?” His gaze captured hers.

Her heart swelled. “None of this matters. I wouldn’t care if you were raised by wolves and had nothing to your name. What I care about is what’s on the inside of a person. If you were a jerk, no amount of money would make me like you.’

He seemed more than satisfied with her answer.

But would everything change after tonight? Would the bond between them be broken? No, she wouldn’t think like that.

She squared her shoulders. “Everyone should be at the party by now. Are you ready?”

He nodded, and they left her bedroom. A good thing they didn’t linger. She wasn’t so sure she could keep her hands off him. The guy was definitely too sexy for his shirt.

“What’s a ‘jerk’?” he asked as they went out the front door.

She smiled. “A person no one likes.”

“But you like me a lot.”

Darcy hadn’t seen that one coming. She opened her car door and slid into the driver’s seat. After she started the car, she turned to look at him. “Yes, I like you a lot.”

He grinned, and again she thought about not going to the party. What if she found out something she didn’t want to know? Just because a man didn’t wear a wedding ring didn’t mean he wasn’t married.

Then there was the little problem that he might be a prince. Sure, she came from money, but she was also adopted. Her pedigree might not be good enough to marry a prince. And if they did come from the same race of people, she might be so low on the food chain there was no way he would be allowed to get serious.

So many problems. She sighed. And since when had she started thinking about marriage? Sheesh!

The drive over was pretty quick since Peter’s estate was the next one over. She pulled into the circular drive. As usual, Peter had valet parking. She had a feeling he kept staff on retainer for just such an occasion. His parties were usually planned at the very last minute, but everyone would cancel just about anything to go. Peter was the ultimate party-giver.

“It looks festive,” Surlock said.

She looked around as she pulled up. “Peter always outdoes himself when it comes to parties.” And it looked like he had this time, too. Well, with Jennifer and Annette’s added input.

There were lights strung in the trees; the fountain had been replaced with a dolphin ice sculpture. Up-lights cast a soft glow of
changing pastel colors in a fog mist. The front of the house was decorated with loops of beads. Darcy could only imagine how many people Peter had hired to pull everything together in such a short amount of time.

A valet opened her car door and she climbed out. She hoped Peter wouldn’t mind that Surlock didn’t have a mask. Darcy wanted people to see his face.

Surlock took her arm as they went up the steps to the veranda. Peter’s family estate reminded her of Tara from
Gone With the Wind.
It definitely had plenty of Southern charm.

The butler opened the front door. “Welcome, Miss Darcy.”

She grinned. “Charles, you’re not supposed to know who I am.” No mask, but her face was painted.

“Of course, Miss Darcy.” He smiled.

She laughed lightly as they went inside. Peter had changed his costume to King Neptune, and Annette was his mermaid queen. She was wearing a glittery gown of aqua. Darcy had to admit it was the perfect choice. She looked absolutely stunning wearing a tiara, and diamonds at her throat. If she knew Peter, the jewels were real. He would want her to look as classy as possible.

“You look perfect,” Darcy told Annette, taking her hands.

“I feel like a princess,” she said.

“No, darling,” Peter interrupted. “Tonight you’re my queen.”

Annette blushed. Darcy smiled, happy Annette was so excited.

“There you two are. I wondered when you would get here,” Jennifer said as she came up. Her gaze slowly wandered over Surlock, then moved back to Darcy. “Not that I can blame you. In fact, I wonder why you bothered to show up at all.”

“Because I throw the best parties and she knows it,” Peter said.

Jennifer’s snakeskin costume molded to her body. A gold snake band hugged her upper arm and gold snake earrings dangled from her lobes. Annette had painted Jennifer’s skin so that it looked like the scales of a snake. Only Jennifer could pull the look off and come across as the sexiest woman in the room.

“Did I tell you that you look positively lethal?” Darcy asked.

“I do, don’t I?” Jennifer gave her a slow smile. “Okay, I’m off to see if I can get lucky.” Her gaze swept the room. “Yum. I think I’ve found my first victim of the night.” Hips swaying seductively, she headed toward a vampire.

After she left, Surlock turned to Darcy. “Lucky? Victim?”

Darcy really didn’t want to get into this conversation with him so she pulled him by the arm toward the main ballroom. “Let’s make sure we’re announced.”

Other people were being announced according to their costume to keep their real identities secret. She could already see that Peter had spent lavishly and had continued the Mardi Gras theme in here as well.

The walls had been draped with purple and gold material. There were beads everywhere and colorful decorations, along with waiters and waitresses carrying heavy trays of drinks and food. She could hear a band playing outside and someone singing something bluesy.

When they reached the announcer, Darcy gave their names as Prince Surlock, prince of wolves, and his mate, the Black Cat. Not very imaginative on her part, but who she was didn’t really matter as long as someone recognized the name Surlock. Darcy scanned the crowd when the announcer called out their names. It was impossible to tell if anyone recognized him or not. How could she have forgotten that most of the people here tonight would be wearing masks?

There were plenty of people looking at Surlock, but she had a feeling it wasn’t because they knew him. His costume, or lack thereof, was a definite distraction.

He was getting noticed, though, and that was a good thing. As long as none of the women hit on him. She might be tempted to do a little more clobbering if that happened.

“There are a lot of people here tonight,” Surlock said.

“At least two hundred just in here. There are probably more outside. Just smile and look at everyone and we’ll work our way toward the back doors.”

“It doesn’t look safe,” he said.

Safe? Probably not, the way the women were starting to look at him as if he was one of the appetizers. But mingling with the crowd was their only chance of running across someone who might know him.

“Why, Darcy, you’ve been holding out on us,” a female drawled in the fakest Southern accent Darcy had ever heard.

Darcy looked at the woman dressed as a leopard. Her yellow and black-spotted costume had to have been painted on. Not a good choice. The woman would have done better to wear something with a support bra.

She moved her mask on a stick away from her face. “It’s me. Nita Hayfield.”

Darcy smiled. “Nita, I didn’t recognize you. Uh, great costume.”

She leaned in closer. “Jack painted it on,” she whispered loudly, then let her gaze fall on Surlock. “It was quite erotic. He has that wonderful little shop at Eighth and Monroe. You should check him out sometime.”

Heat flooded Darcy’s face and she took a quick half-step away from the woman. Eww. She grabbed Surlock’s arm and pulled him closer to her. “Do you know my friend, Surlock?”

Nita’s gaze roamed over him as if she could eat him alive, and Darcy had no doubt she would if they’d been the only two in the room.

“No, I don’t believe I do. Would you like me to get to know him?” She met Darcy’s eyes. “We could make a night of it together. All three of us.”

“Sorry, Surlock isn’t into that sort of thing.” She smiled and pulled him quickly away from the other woman.

“Was her costume really painted on?” Surlock asked.

“Afraid so.” She barely knew Nita. “She’s recently divorced. A very messy one. I think she’s trying to prove she’s still sexy.” She glanced his way. “She didn’t go about it in the right way.”

“You would look good in a painted-on costume.”