The Wallflower

Halle Pumas - 1

by

Dana Marie Bell

Dedication

To Mom, for always helping me look on the bright side and cheering me on even when you weren’t certain you knew what you were cheering about.

To Dad, who grinned so wide I thought his face would crack when he heard I was going to be published. Yes, I promise I’ll write a fantasy story one day, just don’t expect me to leave out the romance.

To my grandmother, who’s read every word I’ve ever written and loved it even when we both knew it sucked. I love you, Memom!

To my husband, Dusty; you’ve made all my dreams come true. (Other than the cabana boy one. But that’s okay. You’re not getting your big-breasted masseuse either, so we’re even.) Thank you for believing in me. I love you, sweetheart.

Special thanks to A and BR for reading this, helping me fix it and polish it up, and for cheering with me when I got the contract. Also thanks to JG and JW for the technical assistance.

Prologue

“So, have you heard? Max is back.” Marie watched with a friendly smile as Emma carefully wrapped her purchase. Emma felt her heart give a little jump at the news, though it wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. The knowledge that the hunky Dr. Cannon had moved back home for good after ten years away was hot gossip to all the women who trooped through her store.

Marie Howard was there to pick up a hand-crafted mirror with beautiful hand-painted tiles. Livia was there, even though she hated both Emma and Becky, because she was friends with Marie. As far as Livia was concerned, they were directly responsible for her breakup with Max.

Livia Patterson was one of the town beauties and knew it. Fine boned with alabaster skin, she had just the right dusting of rose at her cheeks to set off her pale blonde perfection. Add blue eyes the color of forget-me-nots and a tall, wispy build, and she was the epitome of the fragile blonde. The woman could brawl like a linebacker when the time came; she could shriek, and bats for miles around fell dead to the ground; but man if she didn’t work the whole Penelope Pitstop thing, and men fell for it. They loved that whole delicate flower of womanhood crap she managed to pull off so flawlessly. Not that Emma envied her or anything. Not really.

Men looked at Emma and saw sturdy womanhood. Hips made for birthing, plain brown eyes and nondescript brown hair, at five-foot-two inches Emma would never, literally, be able to stand up to Livia.

Add in the fact that most of the town thought she was in a gay relationship with Becky and her social calendar remained depressingly empty.

“Apparently Max is planning on taking over Dr. Brewster’s practice; he and Adrian will be partners,”

Livia cooed.

“So you’ve already spoken to him?” Marie’s expression of polite curiousness didn’t quite mesh with her tone of voice. Emma didn’t dare look too closely, but she thought Marie was almost exasperated with her friend. Everyone knew how hard Livia had once chased Max. Maybe she thought she could get the old fires burning once again?

“Yes, Max just bought his parents’ old house. I can’t wait to get in there and redecorate.” Emma could practically see Livia rubbing her hands in anticipation. “Of course, nothing in this shop will do. No real craftsman things. I want genuine antiques, not knock-offs.” Livia’s contemptuous gaze raked the store, and its owner, with equal derision.

When Livia’s back was turned, Emma, in a fit of childishness, mimicked the blonde as closely as possible. Marie wound up choking on a sip of tea as Emma put her hand on her hip and mouthed along with Livia’s words. “Of course, everyone knows Max would never set foot inside Wallflowers. Does he even know you exist, Emma?”

Emma tapped her nail on her chin thoughtfully as Livia turned back to her. “Yes, actually, I believe he does. Something…something to do with…punch. Cherry punch, if I recall correctly.” That had been the incident that broke up Max and Livia; Becky had spilled cherry punch all over Livia’s white prom dress in retaliation for some comment of Livia’s concerning Emma. Max had, apparently, taken Emma and Becky’s side and had broken off his relationship with Livia. Livia had hated Emma and Becky ever since.

Emma was pretty sure Livia was the one who kept the whole gay couple rumor alive.

The look on the blonde’s face was filled with hatred until she smoothed it out, once again the cool, delicate woman most of Halle knew. She smiled at Emma with pity. “I hear Jimmy left town recently.

What’s wrong, Emma, didn’t he like sharing you with Becky? Or perhaps you couldn’t talk her into a ménage a trois?”

Emma smiled back, hiding the hurt over Jimmy with practiced ease. They’d known before he left that their relationship wasn’t going anywhere, and it wasn’t Jimmy’s fault. “So you’ve been invited to Max’s housewarming party?” Sometimes it helped to have friends in odd places; Max’s best friend had become one of her best artisans and closest friends. He’d made Marie’s mirror and supplied quite a bit of glass wall art for the store.

Livia’s eyes flickered; she knew nothing about the party. Emma mentally chalked up a score on her mental scoreboard. On the downside, Emma hadn’t been invited either, not that she’d expected to be.

“That party is supposed to be a surprise.” Livia waved her hand airily. Emma merely raised an amused eyebrow, not deceived in the least. “Oh, well, hopefully you won’t spill the beans to Max. Oh, wait.

When, exactly, was the last time you spoke to Max?” Livia smiled coldly.

Emma clapped in mock approval. “Wow, Livia. Way to express your inner twelve year old.”

Grinding her teeth on a fake smile, Livia turned to Marie. “I’ll wait for you outside. The atmosphere in here is so cloying and sweet. I really don’t know how you can stand it.” She stepped outside and sat on the bench Emma and Becky had put out front, looking dainty and sweet as she waved hello to her friends and acquaintances.

“Sorry about that, Emma. I forgot how much she dislikes you.”

Emma turned and looked at Marie’s apologetic face. She grinned. “It’s no problem, Marie. If she actually came in here to buy something I’d take great pleasure in charging her double.”

Marie laughed just as Becky stuck her head out of the curtained-off back room. “Has the wicked witch ridden off on her broomstick yet?”

Emma waved towards the picture window. “Not quite. She’s flying our bench at the moment.”

Becky carried out the mirror with a sigh. “Here you go, Marie. Hope you and Jamie like it.”

“Oh, I’m sure we will,” Marie replied, her eyes glued to the boxed up mirror. She paid, chatting quietly with Becky and Emma, then left the store with a cheery wave. The two women could see her giving Livia something of a hard time as they crossed the street, but quickly lost sight of them.

“So. Max is back in town.” Becky leaned back against the counter, obviously hiding a grin.

“Yup.”

“You going to make a play for Dr. Yummy? I mean, since you’ve had a crush on him since, what, grade school?”

“Given half a chance? Maaaybe.”

The two women looked at each other and laughed; they both knew Emma didn’t stand a chance in hell of catching Max Cannon’s attention. She hadn’t done it in high school, and she certainly hadn’t changed all that much since.

What would a man like Max want with someone like her?

Chapter One

“God, he is so fucking hot.”

Emma Carter looked out the front window of Wallflowers and watched the most bodacious backside it had ever been her pleasure to see saunter down the street. Said backside was encased in a pair of tight blue jeans, causing many a female to send a prayer of thanks heavenward for the makers of Levi’s.

Sunlight gleamed on his golden blond hair, hair that brushed his wide shoulders, just long enough to make a stubby ponytail. Even under the bulky leather jacket you could tell he was built, his body muscular without being a temple to the god Steroid. And he had the brightest, clearest blue eyes in the state, not that she got to look at them often. He usually had them trained on someone else, like one of the sleek, beautiful women who flocked around him all the time. God, he was gorgeous. His face was almost too beautiful to be real; the only thing that marred his perfection was a small scar just along one side of his nose, barely noticeable unless you looked for it. When he spoke to her, which hadn’t happened in more years than she cared to count, Emma kept her eyes trained on that scar.

When the finest ass in the world turned the corner, Emma and Becky leaned back with identical sighs.

“All I want for Christmas is a piece of that.” Becky sighed again, her green eyes gleaming with laughter.

Her untamable brown curls danced around her head in wild abandon as she shook herself all over like a wet dog. Becky was too thin, bones showing through at wrist and ankle, and if Emma didn’t know for a fact that she ate like a horse she’d have worried she was anorexic. But Becky had been cursed with a metabolism that just wouldn’t quit, forcing her to eat more than most people just to maintain her weight.

Emma had the opposite problem. The best that could be said about her figure was Marilyn Monroe had also been a size twelve. No matter what she did, Emma couldn’t seem to drop weight. Neither woman envied the other.

“What, not a piece of Simon Holt?”

Becky blushed bright red. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, sinfully handsome Simon had featured in more than one of Becky’s drunken fantasies. Emma slicked a hand through her hair. “As for me, Max Cannon could be naked and tied up with a bow under my Christmas tree and the first thing he’d probably say is,

‘Hi, Edna, right? Could you untie this please? I have a date tonight’.”

Both women looked at each other and giggled, then got back to work.

Emma was so proud of what she and Becky had accomplished. Friends since grade school, both women had been wallflowers. Boys didn’t go for the frizzy, too-skinny Becky Yaeger or chunky, dull Emma Carter. Especially when there were girls like Livia Patterson and Belinda Campbell, both beautiful, blonde cheerleader types, around

Both Becky and Emma had decided to go to the local college and major in business, while a number of people, including Max and Livia, had chosen to go out of state for college. After graduation, Emma had taken the inheritance from her maternal grandmother and used it to buy the building that now housed Wallflowers.

Wallflowers was a business that catered to people who enjoyed hand-crafted, artisan-made pieces.

Emma loved it. Their eccentric store carried hand-carved cuckoo clocks, paintings, old-fashioned mirrors, masks, plaques…anything that could be used to decorate a wall. Becky had come up with the idea for the business and talked Emma into it over a long night of burritos and margaritas.

Emma paused to look around their “parlor”. An antique rug covered the distressed hardwood floors. A small Victorian sofa covered in soft cream brocade graced the center of the floor. A Queen Anne coffee table in rich cherry wood sat before it, a silver tea service placed on it. Two Victorian chairs in that same cream fabric faced the sofa, creating a cozy little conversation group that the two women, and the occasional customer, used frequently. Against one wall was a gas fireplace with an ornately carved mantelpiece. On that mantelpiece were silver-framed photos, all of them either black and white or sepia toned. In one, Emma was dressed in a Victorian dress of ivory lace, a black cameo at her throat, her hair done up, a sweet smile on her face. In the other, Becky was dressed as a Wild West saloon girl, her frizzy hair teased out and feathers stuck in every which way. Her dress was pulled up on one side to show black boots and striped stockings. Neither photo had a place of prominence, both intermingled with other pictures. Unless you stood and went through the pictures thoroughly, you’d never find them.

A cherry and glass counter, as Victorian as they could make it and still have it be functional, graced one wall. On it sat an old-fashioned looking cash register; hidden underneath the counter was the credit card reader.

They’d done their best to have the atmosphere of a by-gone era and still keep the place warm and inviting. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace on this cool October evening; the walls had a lovely cherry

wood wainscoting, with rich rose floral wallpaper above it. It was very feminine, and both women loved it.

They’d had the store now for three years, and while they knew they’d never be rich off it, they also knew they’d never been happier.

Emma sighed, a smile of satisfaction on her face as she finished polishing the old, gilt-edged mirror they’d hung just behind the counter.

Life was good.

Dr. Max Cannon’s life sucked. Once again he crossed the street, determined to avoid Livia’s obvious attempt to get his attention. He’d been back in his small hometown for three months now, but she just couldn’t get it through her overly highlighted head that he just wasn’t interested. Hell, the woman’s vision was perfect and yet she’d tried to schedule three different eye exams in the last three months! Thank God his partner Adrian was willing to run interference, or Max might have been forced to some extreme measures. Until he had a Curana who could safely deal with the woman, Livia was going to continue to be a serious problem. He ducked into the workshop of his best buddy and Beta, Simon Holt, determined to get away from the blonde barracuda bearing down on him.

“Hey, Max.”

“Simon.”

Simon’s deferential nod was all that it should be from his Beta. “Hiding out from Livia again?”

The laughter in Simon’s voice nearly had Max growling. “She’s getting persistent.”

“Have you told her to fuck off yet?”

Simon’s approach to the pushy female was beginning to appeal. The idea of her as his mate made his skin crawl. The Puma inside him yowled in protest. There was no way in hell he’d make her his Curana.

“No, but I’m getting there.”

Simon pointed discreetly towards the workshop’s front window. “Incoming.”

Max gritted his teeth just as the door opened.

“Max, how nice to run into you!”

Soft, perfumed arms tried to circle his neck. In a swift move, Max glided away, turning to face the woman who’d tormented him since his return to Halle. “Livia.”

It wasn’t a greeting; it was a warning. Her eyes flared briefly with fear before she laughed it off. “I just wanted to remind you about the masquerade party over at Marie’s. You’ll be going, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

Livia frowned, her expression turning hard and calculating. “Most of the Pride will be there.”

Max nodded; as Alpha he was well aware of that. Marie’s father, the old Alpha, still held the annual masquerade at his house just outside of town. It was his pride and joy, that house, and he loved to entertain. His daughter, safely mated to Jamie Howard, acted as his hostess since the death of his mate some four years ago. Human and Puma mingled at the masquerade, the humans totally unaware of the Pumas in their midst. The Pride did its best to make the event a night to remember, for both races, and Jonathon Friedelinde did an excellent job of that. It was also the event at which an unmated male could unofficially signal his interest in a female. Hence Livia’s interest in his attendance; if she could get him alone long enough, get him to signal in some way that there was a spark of interest, she could force him into a declaration he didn’t want to make.

“Who are you taking?”

The question was asked with a seductive coyness that nearly made Max shudder. He suppressed it; he couldn’t afford a sign of weakness. “At present, no one.”

The chill in his voice should have made her back off. Instead, the stupid woman took it as a challenge.

“Oh?” Her lashes fluttering coyly, she reached out with one manicured finger. When her blood red claw touched his chest, Max snarled a warning, his eyes flashing gold as the Puma warned her off.

With a gasp she backed away. Her head dipped in submission, an instinctive response to the Alpha power Max now exuded. It surrounded him in an unseen cloud, forcing all before him to do his will. Max rarely found himself in need of it, but today she’d pushed too far. She slowly backed away from him as a growl rumbled in his chest. He kept it going until she was completely out of Simon’s workshop, pissed beyond belief at her persistence.

“Okay, I gotta admit, that was probably more effective than ‘Fuck off, you skanky ho’. Think she got the message?”

And that was why Simon was his Beta—he’d flinched but stood his ground, something none of the other Pumas could do. Their reactions were more akin to Livia’s when he chose to exercise his power.

He was also one of the few people Max trusted completely. If anything were to happen to Max, Simon would become Alpha.

Max turned with a laughing snort to answer his buddy’s question when Simon’s phone rang. His Beta punched the speakerphone button, still grinning at Max. “Hello?”

“Simon?” The voice on the other end of the phone drawled Simon’s name with an amused authority that had Max’s eyebrows rising into his hairline. He waited for Simon to put the woman in her place.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Hey, Emma.”

Max blinked. Emma? Emma Carter?

“Your stained glass Madonna is late. Reverend Glaston is getting antsy.”

Max blinked again. That sexy voice was Emma?

“I’ve been…distracted.” That last was said with a quick glance at Max. He’d been the one keeping

Simon busy. As Beta, Simon took care of a great deal of Pride business, something Emma wouldn’t know about.

“Well, could you please ask your distraction to go home so you can finish the reverend’s window?”

Her tone of voice raised Max’s brows back into his hairline. His Beta’s reaction had his jaw nearly dropping open.

“Emma,” Simon nearly whined, “I’ve been working night and day, here. Give me a break!”

Emma?!? Plump little wallflower Emma?

“Just who have you been working, Simon Holt?”

Emma, who couldn’t look him in the eye, making double entendres?

“No one, damn it! I’ve been working on…other things.” Again, Simon shot Max a quick, furtive look.

Emma? Emma had his Beta shaking in his sneakers?

“Well, get your thing back under control and finish the reverend’s window, okay?”

The irreverent authority in her voice stirred his interest. A vision of a dark-haired girl in a sunset colored prom gown flashed through his mind.

“Damn it, Emma!” Simon sighed, leaning back against his workbench. “Where’s Becky?”

The entreaty in Simon’s voice barely registered. Max was waiting to hear Emma’s voice again.

“Oh, no, don’t think you can get out of having that window finished today by sweet-talking Becky. I’m on to your tricks, buster.”

Simon winced. Max’s cock twitched.

Emma?

Hmmm. Emma .

“Okay, okay. I’ll have the damn window done today. Anything else, Little General?” Simon’s shoulders were quaking with laughter, his voice filled with respect. Max frowned at the affection in his Beta’s voice.

“Mm-hmm. Becky and I will be going to the masquerade. Just thought you’d like to know.”

Emma would be at the masquerade? Suddenly he was dying to see her. How had she turned out? Was she as sexy as her voice implied?

“Oh, yeah.” The purr in Simon’s voice had Max frowning. The small, predatory smile had his eyes flashing gold in protest as a wave of possessiveness rose inside him. The owner of that voice was his .

“Mm-hmm. See you later? With the window?”

“Count on it. Bye, Emma.”

“Later, Simon.”

Simon hung up the phone, that sexy smile still on his face. When he turned back, Max had himself back under control, merely raising a brow at Simon.

Simon flushed. “What?”

“When are you delivering that window?”

Simon looked over at the window waiting for its finishing touches. “Probably just after lunch. Why?”

“I’m going with you.” Max grinned.

Simon straightened up, frowning slightly in confusion. “Why? I thought you had some other things to deal with.”

“I want to check something out.” At Simon’s raised brow, Max’s grin widened.

“Man, I’m not sure you want to go there.”

Max’s grin faded. “Why not?”

“Because Wallflowers has been known to suck the testosterone out of every single male who’s ever entered.”

“Huh?”

“It’s pink. And frou-frou. And lacy. And pink .”

Max laughed as Simon shuddered. “If your masculinity can handle it, so can mine.”

Max watched his friend work on the stained glass window, his mind once again turning to Emma.

He hadn’t seen her in eight years. She’d been seventeen, just about ready to graduate, smiling and laughing at the prom in a way he’d rarely seen her do. She’d been striking in her dress, a one-of-a-kind done in the colors of a rich autumn sunset, a strapless number in reds and golds with a sweetheart neckline and flaring skirt. He’d had a hard time keeping his eyes off her, but he’d been with Livia, and Max was not a man who cheated. By the time he’d broken up with Livia it was time for him to leave once again for college. Between earning his doctorate in optometry, his internship and residency, and learning from Jonathon how to run the Pride during his summers off, Emma had been quickly forgotten.

Going out of state for college had been the right choice for him, and he’d been lucky that Jonathon agreed with him. Now, with his partnership with Adrian and Jonathon’s official retirement he could finally start looking for his Curana. And he had a feeling he knew just who he wanted for the position.

She’d been sweetly innocent back then; slightly overweight, but with serious curves. It had been that innocence, and Livia, that had held him back.

She didn’t sound so innocent now, and Livia was nowhere in the picture.

It was definitely time he got better acquainted with little Miss Emma.

Emma watched as Simon’s shiny red pickup truck pulled up to the curb of Wallflowers. She grinned, knowing Becky had hidden in the back office to avoid meeting up with Simon. Simon was the only person on the face of the planet who made Becky lose the power of speech. In an odd, karmic sort of way, Emma had no problem handling the hunky Simon, laughing and chatting with him with ease.

Emma watched Simon climb out of the truck. The passenger side opened up as well, and a familiar tall blond got out, a grin on his face, his unbound hair blown about by the cool autumn breeze.

Emma was horrified. Oh, no. Not him! She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She was no longer the shy teenager he’d once known; she was a grown woman with a shop of her own. She could handle Max Cannon.

Then he grinned at something Simon said, and her hands began to shake. She took another quick breath and blew it out, trying desperately to steady her racing heart.

The two men wrestled the stained glass window out of the flatbed of the truck. With care, they got it to the door of the shop. Emma rushed to open it just as the reverend arrived.

Reverend Glaston smiled at the two men. “Hello, Simon, Max. Is that the church’s window?”

Emma smiled at the reverend. He was a kind soul, with smiling whisky brown eyes and balding gray hair.

He never failed to make Emma feel comfortable, and she was counting on that now to get her through his presence.

“Sure is, Reverend. Let’s get it inside so I can show it to you.”

Simon’s deep voice reverberated through her, making her shiver a little. If she weren’t so hung up on the blond hunk behind him, she’d have made a play for Simon a long time ago. Although, considering how Becky had always reacted to him…

“Becky? Can you come give me a hand with this?” Emma yelled into the back, struggling to hide her grin when Simon’s gaze glued itself to the curtained off area that led to their office. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have gone after Simon.

She heard Becky’s muttered oath as she stomped into the front room. Simon’s gaze never left Becky as he and Max maneuvered the window into the store. His dark brown eyes heated as Becky scowled at him and took a step back.

“Becky?” Emma asked, waving her forward. With a false cheerfulness, Becky smiled at Emma, then joined her by the propped up window.

“Emma?” Emma turned to Simon, who was staring at her now. “You remember Max, right?”

He’s kinda hard to forget, Emma thought as Max stepped forward.

“Hi, Emma.”

She looked up, getting a quick peek at the face that had starred in every single one of her naughty fantasies before lowering them to the scar next to his nose. “Hi, Max.”

He cleared his throat, a sound filled with amusement. She glanced back up at him to see him staring at her with a raised brow. Looking down, she noticed he’d held out his hand. With a false smile she took it, pumping it up and down twice before dropping it like a hot potato.

Her heart fluttering from just that simple touch, she turned to Simon, the lesser of the two threats. “So, Simon, are you ready to unveil your masterpiece?” Her smile for him was genuine; she truly liked Simon.

His work was exquisite. On top of that, he had one of the best senses of humor she’d ever seen. It felt like having a brother, something she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing, being an only child.

He lifted one brow, grinning at her. “Yes, Little General. Right away, Little General.”

Putting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. Although, from the twitching of his lips, he wasn’t all that impressed. “Now, Simon.”

She could hear the reverend coughing on a laugh behind her. Simon just rolled his eyes and began unwrapping the window.

When it was finally unveiled, Emma was astonished. It was easily one of Simon’s finest works. The Madonna sat, her blue robes gently waving around her, a small Mona Lisa smile on her face as she stared down at the dark-haired baby held gently in her arms. The Madonna was beautiful, but it wasn’t a classic beauty. It was the gentleness in her face, the love she so obviously bore her child that made it so special. He’d managed to capture that special smile that new mothers everywhere gave their newborns, and it took an otherwise normal face and made it radiant.

“My God, Simon. It’s gorgeous,” Max breathed from right behind her.

“Thanks.” Simon’s eyes didn’t rest on the Madonna, though; they were on Becky, who stared at the Madonna with something akin to awe. “Becky?”

Becky’s gaze went from the Madonna to him. The reverence on her face seemed to stun Simon, who drew in a quick breath.

Emma felt Max stir behind her. When one of his hands came to rest at her hip, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Well!” She clapped her hands, moving away from the dangerous heat of the man behind her to go to the reverend. Not surprisingly Becky, after nearly jumping out of her skin, refused to meet Simon’s eyes again.

“What do you think, Reverend?” She put on her best salesman’s voice, for once not flustered to be using it in front of real people.

The reverend’s slow smile was all the answer she needed.

Hot damn, Max thought, watching the little dynamo that was Emma in action. Why the hell didn’t I stop here sooner? He’d been busy setting up his practice, true, but you’d think he’d have made the time to stop by. Be neighborly.

When Max had stepped out of the truck, he hadn’t really been expecting much; after all, most women couldn’t live up to the voice Emma had. It was slightly husky, like she’d spent the night moaning in some man’s arms, a visual Max could do without. She managed to infuse it with an authority that had his Beta jumping to do her bidding, something that spoke to the Puma in him. Max wondered if she’d try to take the lead in bed, as well. A challenge, that; he loved taking a strong woman and reducing her to a quivering, begging mass of bliss.

Her straight, dark brown hair was caught up in a ponytail that hung to just between her shoulder blades.

Big brown eyes dominated her face, artfully made up to accentuate them. Her lips were slicked with a pale rose. Her features weren’t classically beautiful, but something about the animation in them drew Max like nothing else ever had.

And her body…

Hell, her body…

The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, something he normally wasn’t attracted to, but on Emma it aroused protective instincts he didn’t even know he possessed. She had the most sweetly rounded ass encased in tight black jeans and the most magnificent breasts Max had ever been privileged to watch bounce under a lacy rose camisole. With a real waist and hips a man could grab on to for the ride of his life, she reminded him of an old-fashioned pin-up girl, all soft curves and feminine strength.

Then she turned, laughing up at something Simon said, sensuous and innocent at the same time, and Max was a goner.

Holy. Fucking. Damn.

Emma. Little Emma Carter sure as hell had grown up.

His hands burned to touch her again. That fleeting touch she’d allowed him had merely whetted his appetite. He longed to rip that camisole off her body and feast at her breasts, hear her moans as he slipped her jeans down those incredible, edible legs, her soft cries as he feasted on her juices.

She would scream his name as she came.

He would tie her to his bed, torture her into ecstasy, and then start all over again. He’d bend her over the arm of his couch and take her from behind over and over until she begged him to come, biting into her shoulder and marking her as his for all to see. The thought of slipping his cock into that luscious ass nearly made him come right there in the middle of her store.

When she laughingly hugged Simon, he nearly went for his Beta’s throat.

Mine!

Only Simon saw the way his eyes gleamed gold, heard the low, purring growl that erupted from his throat before he could stop himself. Sucking in a breath, Max turned away, desperately trying to get himself under control.

He’d been told he’d know his mate when he met her; now he knew what they meant. He’d spoken to Emma when she’d been a teenager, felt a little spark of something , but had dismissed it as nothing serious. Just young lust. Now he knew what that spark had been and wanted to kick his own ass. Not all Pumas got lucky enough to find his or her mate; to know he’d not only met her, but walked away from

her, hell, forgotten her, galled him.

He forced himself to look around her shop, at anything but the laughing group of people around the Madonna, before he walked over there, plucked her up and carted her out of her shop to somewhere private.

She’d done well for herself. Emma’s stamp, mixed with Becky’s, created an atmosphere both women seemed at home in. He could see women flocking to the store, much to the horror and amusement of their male companions. He walked over to the mantelpiece, seeing a silver picture frame his mother would probably appreciate as a gift for her birthday. Something about the picture in it drew his attention.

He leaned forward, trying to see why the Victorian lady in it looked so familiar when he felt a small hand touch his arm.

“Is everything okay between you and Simon?”

That husky voice, combined with her soft touch, had his cock once more threatening to burst out of his jeans. He looked down into her face and saw nothing there but concern. Before she could move, he put his hand over hers, trapping her at his side. He was ridiculously pleased when she didn’t try to pull away.

“Everything is fine between me and Simon.” As long as he keeps his paws off of you.

She looked away, back towards the group, and bit her lip. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Her voice was hesitant, shy in a way she wasn’t when she talked to Simon or the reverend, but her expression begged him to say yes. A fierce wave of protectiveness rose in him, and his hand tightened over hers. He nodded.

He allowed her to pull them to the side, quiet and private but still in plain view. She looked up at him again, obviously uncertain before she focused, damn it, back on his scar. “Um, do you have any idea how Simon feels about Becky?”

She peeked up at him again before dropping her gaze once more. A flush rose in her cheeks and she bit her lip again.

He took a deep breath, striving to control the possessiveness that roared through him. “Not a clue.”

Her softly muttered “Damn” had him nearly smiling, it was so filled with aggravation, but the possessive monster in him couldn’t get past her possible interest in his best friend. “He’s not for you.” He could feel wisps of his power flowing out of his control, trying to force her to acknowledge the truth of his words.

Emma looked him full in the face for the first time since he’d entered the store. He knew he sounded like a caveman, and probably looked like a jealous jackass, but he couldn’t help it; little Emma did that to him.

Then she laughed at him. Not one bit intimidated, frightened or cowed.

“Not me, you idiot.” His eyes widened in astonishment as she turned back to the group around the Madonna. “Becky. She’s had a thing for him since high school, but she can’t seem to act on it and he’s never shown any real interest.” She looked back up at him. “Until recently, that is. So, I wanted to know, you being his best friend, if you know how he feels.”

He felt his whole body tense at the devilish calculation on her face. “What are you planning?” He

maneuvered his body, and hers, until they were in the corner, effectively cutting her off from the crowd behind them. His power was back under control, but his curiosity was roused.

She puffed out an impatient breath, focusing once more on him. Some of her shyness had evaporated, but in its place was an irritation he wasn’t used to seeing in feminine eyes. “Becks and I are going to the annual masquerade. Mr. Friedelinde invited us, for the first time. I’m hoping I can get either Simon or Becky moving in the right direction, but I don’t want Becky hurt or embarrassed if Simon isn’t really interested.” She looked up at him, her little chin tilted as she demanded a response. “So. Is he?”

Max turned back to look at his Beta. From the way Simon was sniffing the air around Becky, he’d say Simon was very interested. He looked down at Emma, who was tapping her foot impatiently. “Yes.”

Relief flickered across her face and her body relaxed as if he’d lifted a weight off her shoulders. “Thank God. They’d be perfect together.”

“What makes you say that?” Truly curious, he watched as she turned thoughtful.

“Simon knows he can have any female he wants just by snapping his fingers, but Becky backs away from him every time he approaches. He’s never quite certain where he stands with her. He gets bored so easily with the ones that fall in the palm of his hand that he winds up dumping them pretty quickly. He can’t predict what Becky will do, so she’d never bore him. Also, Becky loves his work and understands how much time and devotion it takes to make the kinds of things Simon does, so she wouldn’t resent that if she knew he’d be coming home to her. She would challenge him; keep him on his toes, while he would cherish her like she should be cherished. No one’s truly loved her before, or shown her her own worth.”

Emma focused on him again, her expression gleefully vengeful. “But if he hurts her, I’ll scoop out his nuts with a grapefruit spoon.”

The change from dreamer to avenger had Max grinning even as his balls drew up at the visual image she’d created; although, from the way Simon was acting she had nothing to worry about. “Remind me not to get you mad at me.”

“Oh, no, I’m not the one to be afraid of.” She motioned him closer with a crooked finger, and he obligingly bent closer, getting a whiff of her rose scented perfume as he did. “Becky had a friend in college who showed her how to use a goat emasculator,” she whispered softly in his ear.

Max reared back, staring at Becky and then back down to the innocent looking little devil nodding solemnly in front of him.

He threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in months.

Max climbed into Simon’s truck with a grin.

“What the hell did Emma say to you to get you to laugh like that, anyway?” Simon asked, his tone aggravated.

Max shook his head. “Nothing you’d be interested in, I’m sure.”

“Try me,” Simon snarled.

Max snarled a warning to his Beta, who had the grace to look guilty.

“Sorry.”

“Want to tell me what that was all about?”

Max wasn’t asking, and Simon knew that. He sighed. “Becky. She won’t talk to me, barely looks at me and leaves the room the minute I enter it. Hell, if she can arrange it she makes sure she’s gone before I get there!”

“So you’re not interested in Emma?”

The look Simon shot him was part amazement, part horror, and Max relaxed, his fears that Simon was interested in Emma eased. It was the look a brother would give someone if asked if he thought his sister was hot.

“Emma wants to do something to bring the two of you together. I thought I’d verify that it’s what you want before I start helping her.”

“Man, if you and Emma can get Becky to agree to give me a chance, I’d be forever grateful.” Simon shook his head, frowning ferociously. “I have no idea what I did to turn her off me so thoroughly, but if something doesn’t give soon I’m going to lose it.” Simon looked thoroughly miserable. “I’m pretty sure she’s my mate.”

Max mentally rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “We’ll see what we can do.”

He ignored Simon’s sideways glance, his Beta’s slow grin too close to a smirk. “Emma sure grew up pretty, didn’t she?”

Max tried his best, but he couldn’t hold back his grin. “Yes, she did.”

Simon nodded his approval. “She’d make a great Curana . ”

Max smiled. The idea of Emma as his Curana, ruling at his side, mated to him for all eternity appealed mightily. Not one to waste time when he wanted something, he began outlining his plan to win over their women

Chapter Two

Emma turned the sign over to “Closed”, pulled down the shade and locked the door, sighing in happy exhaustion.

The reverend had loved Simon’s Madonna. She wondered if she was the only one who’d noticed the Madonna looked something like Becky. It had been the only thing that had given her the courage to approach Max; that and the look on Becky’s face when she’d stared at Simon. Of course, the way Simon had followed Becky’s every move hadn’t hurt, either.

Max had been surprisingly easy to talk to, once she got over her initial shyness. His nearness had sent

her heart pounding, tying her tongue in knots, as usual, until his ridiculous announcement that Simon wasn’t for her.

Duh. Simon was for Becky.

She pulled the creamy, lacy shade down over the big picture window, effectively closing her in the twilight gloom of the shop. Becky had already rung out the register and was happily doing the accounts in the back, a pot of coffee and a huge container of Kung Pao chicken at her elbow while Emma finished closing down the front.

Emma loved this time of the evening. The streets were quiet, except for a few people heading either home or to their favorite restaurant for dinner. The soft light of early evening cast a glow over everything it touched, making it seem softer, more romantic. With a sigh, Emma headed into the back to gather up her coat and purse. With a wave to Becky, who waved her fork back with a grin, Emma slipped out of the back of the store.

“Emma.”

Emma shrieked, staggering back and pulling her can of mace out of her pocket before realizing that the man standing in the shadows was Max. “God damn it, Max!”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound all that sorry; he sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t break out the grapefruit spoon just yet.”

Her heart was still beating a mile a minute. She put the mace away and glared at him. “What?”

“Well, jeez, is that any way to greet someone who’s here to help you?”

Putting her hand to her chest, Emma glared at him in the dim light. The son of a bitch was laughing at her.

“Help me with what?”

“Getting Becky and Simon together, of course.”

“Huh?” He looked entirely too smug as he moved closer to her.

“You want to get Simon and Becky together? I can help you with that.” He picked up her arm and placed it through his, trapping her hand beneath his own. Suddenly he frowned and looked around.

“Where is Becky, by the way?”

“She’s still inside, working on the accounts,” she answered absently, momentarily distracted by the feel of his arm under her own. It felt like it was hewn from rock, strong and solid and probably immovable.

His face blanked. “You came out here, at night, by yourself.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

He sounded like he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Yeah. I do that every night. I’m parked right over there.” She pointed with her free hand and gently tried to extract her other one from his suddenly iron grip. Becky lived in the apartment over the shop while Emma lived in an apartment in a complex on the other side of town. When Becky was done with the accounts, and her Chinese, she’d probably head upstairs to her tiny apartment and veg in front of her TV.

“You carry mace. I assume that means there’s some crime in this area.”

She nodded slowly. “There’s crime everywhere, even here, what with the college nearby.”

He was beginning to worry her. His face was still blank, but something about his eyes had changed.

They glittered strangely, almost as if he were angry. She decided not to tell him why she carried the mace.

“Have you been attacked out here before?”

Emma winced and quickly tried to cover up the telltale sign by babbling. “It’s perfectly safe out here, and Becky keeps an ear out for the sound of my car. Any minute now she’s going to run out here ready to annihilate anyone who’s bothering me, so you might wanna let up on the death grip!” Her wince was now one of pain as his hand squeezed hers in a vice-like grip.

He let go and stared down at her. She could have sworn his eyes were gold in the moonlight before he blinked, the illusion fading back into his normal blue as he prowled around her, circling her like a predator. “Who hurt you, Emma?”

“What is wrong with you?” Emma took back her hand and rubbed it, wondering if she’d have a bruise.

She glared up at him, waiting for an answer.

Max’s frown was fierce. “I want to know who hurt you, Emma. I want to know now.”

The note of command in his voice was one she’d never heard from anyone before. He compelled her to answer him in a primal way, forcing her body back against the brick wall of the shop with his own, looming over her in a way that both frightened and soothed her. Part of her wanted to bow down submissively and answer anything he asked of her. It took every ounce of her will to sniff and reply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She saw the shock on his face as she turned her head away, dismissing him. She ducked under his arm and started walking towards her car, her back stiff, her chin high. “You know, not every woman appreciates the caveman routine. Why don’t you try it out on Livia? I’m sure she’d appreciate it!”

She gasped as her body was yanked back into the hardness of his. She could feel him in every atom, as if he was deliberately imprinting himself there. “If I’m reacting this way, how do you think Simon will react when he hears Becky’s here alone?”

Emma gulped. Becky who? Involuntarily her hand came up and grasped the arm around her waist, her nails digging in with pleasure at the strength in it.

“Um, I don’t know?” God, her brains were completely scrambled if that was the best she could do. “Hit her over the head with a club and drag her off by her hair? Not that he’d have all that far to go; she lives over the store, for God’s sake.”

He leaned down, his lips tickling her ear, his hair brushing hers, blending with hers. His other arm came around her waist, pulling her tighter into his body. She felt completely surrounded. She could feel his erection against her lower back, hot and hard as an iron bar, and gulped. “Why do you carry mace, Emma?”

“Why do you care, Max?” She tried to ignore the feel of his lips as he—

Did he just kiss my ear?

“Emma. Tell me what I want to know.”

“And you’ll go away?” She tried to ignore the incredible feeling of him gently rocking her in his arms.

Yeah. That’s it, I’m gonna start struggling any minute now. Any minute…

“Hell, no.” He laughed gruffly. He put his chin on the top of her head and continued to rock her. When her stomach rumbled embarrassingly beneath his hands, he stilled. “Emma? Am I keeping you from your dinner?”

“At this point, you’re keeping me from my dinner AND late night snack.”

“Hmmm. In that case, I suggest we go out to eat. Maybe after I feed you you’ll be more willing to tell me what I want to know.” He sounded positively cheerful as he grabbed her hand, whirled her around and half dragged her towards his blue Durango.

“Gee, Captain Caveman, care to slow down? I didn’t agree to go out to dinner with you.”

He huffed out another laugh and opened the SUV’s door. “In you go!” He gently lifted her into the seat.

“Food. Then fight. Okay?” And with a smile he pushed her legs inside the SUV and shut the door.

She considered opening the door and hopping out, but part of her (okay, the majority of her) wanted to see what the hell Max was up to. Plus, hello! Dinner with Max! Could there be a downside to this?

She snapped on her seat belt as he got into the car. She hadn’t enjoyed sparring with someone this much for a long time. “Don’t think you’re going to get what you want just because you buy me dinner.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Max purred, starting the SUV.

“Oh, boy,” Emma muttered as Max, with another choked off laugh, drove out of the parking lot.

Max pulled the SUV up to his favorite restaurant, Noah’s. He slid out, fully intending to open Emma’s door and assist her down but she beat him to it, hopping out of the cab of his SUV with ease.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to let the man open your door for you?” he asked, amused, as he followed her to the doors of the restaurant.

She rolled her eyes at him over her shoulder. “It’s not like this is a date, Max.” She flipped her ponytail back over her shoulder with a defiant flick of her wrist. “It’s more like a kidnapping. With food.”

He had to press his lips together to keep from laughing out loud. “Do you want my help with Simon and Becky, or not?”

“At the rate they’re going we’ll be ninety before they get together, so, yeah, anything that will help speed that up would be good.”

He managed to reach the door before she did, opening it up and placing a hand at the small of her back

as she sailed through. He kept that hand there, reveling in the feel of her strong, sleek back as he maneuvered her towards the hostess.

“Max! Wonderful to see you.”

Max smiled what he called his social smile at Belinda Campbell, hostess at Noah’s. He ignored her curious stare with ease, all of his attention focused on the woman beneath his hand.

“Table for two, Belinda.”

“Coming right up, Max.” Her full red lips curled up with a hint of contempt. “Business dinner, Max?”

Max looked up at Belinda through his lashes, his eyes flashing briefly gold in warning. “Pleasure.”

Just as Emma said, “Business.”

Max turned his attention back to Emma, noted the way her chin was tilted, and grinned. She was still pissed off about being “kidnapped”. “Perhaps both.”

Belinda’s brows rose in disbelief as she gathered their menus. “Right this way.”

As she sashayed across the restaurant to Max’s preferred table, Emma whispered, “Gee, I get the feeling she doesn’t like me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about whether or not Belinda likes you,” Max whispered back as he helped her out of her light jacket and assisted her into her chair. Bending over, he whispered into her ear, delighted when she shivered. “Worry about whether or not I like you.”

He sat himself across from her, enjoying the flush high on her cheekbones. When she cleared her throat and snapped open the menu between them, he nearly growled in frustration. Watching her face, her expressions, the way her eyes lit up or went dreamy, was becoming an obsession.

The more time he spent with her, the more she fascinated him. She amused him with her wit, aroused him with a glance, frustrated him with her avoidance, and forced him to deal with her in a way very few people could. When he’d used his power to force an answer out of her in that alley, she’d actually walked away from him, back turned, head held high.

He still couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck her or spank her for that.

If he played his cards right, he’d get to do both.

“So, the seafood alfredo is supposed to be really good here,” Emma croaked, her eyes glued to the dinner choices on the page in front of her rather than the dinner of choice sitting across from her.

After a brief hesitation, Max answered, his tone light and easy. “I’m more of a traditionalist myself. I think I’ll go with the manicotti.” He put his menu down, then gently pried hers out of her hands. “Salad or soup?”

“Um, salad, I think.”

Max nodded with satisfaction. When the waiter appeared, he quickly placed their orders, going with wine to drink, chardonnay for her and merlot for himself.

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “What if I wanted something else to drink?”

“I thought, with your scare in the alley, you wouldn’t mind something to help you wind down.” He smiled, sensuous and predatory, nearly causing her to fall off her chair. “Relax, Emma. Enjoy the moment.”

Without thinking, she blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. “Are you flirting with me?”

He blinked, then laughed, low and soft, taking her hand in his and gently stroking her palm with his thumb. She could feel the sensation of his fingers all the way down to her womb. “What do you think?”

“I think I’ll need more wine,” she deadpanned, completely flabbergasted.

Max Cannon was flirting. With her .

When Max chuckled, she tried prying her hand out of his, with no luck. Deciding to completely ignore his heated stare, she tried switching topics. “So, how do you plan on helping me with Simon and Becky?”

She raised her brows in silent command, demanding he answer her while trying to hide the fact that her insides were melting into a puddle of aroused goo.

He leaned back with a sigh. “Actually, I was hoping you had one, and I could just lend a hand.”

“I know Simon is going to the masquerade on Saturday night; do you know what costume he plans on wearing?”

Max frowned at her, thinking. “Technically, the costumes are supposed to be a secret.”

“You’re going as Zorro.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Livia and Marie were gossiping in the grocery store while I was there.” Emma grimaced, remembering how Livia had treated her that day, with a mixture of false pity and contempt. Livia and Belinda were best friends, which meant that Livia would shortly hear of her little “business” dinner with Max, which meant Livia would be confronting her sometime in the near future. Emma sighed; dealing with Livia in a snit was never a fun time.

He shook his head. “Listening to gossip, Emma?”

His face was mockingly sad, the hint of laughter finally clueing her in. She could practically hear the little light bulb go off over her head. “Let me guess. Simon is Zorro.”

“Got it in one.”

“Wow. Livia’s going to be disappointed.” Emma tried to control her giggle, but it slipped out anyway.

“I think I can live with Livia’s disappointment.” Cradling his glass in one hand, her hand still firmly

clasped in his other, Max took a sip of his wine, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Let me guess, she immediately bought a Spanish senorita?”

“Complete with Spanish comb, mantilla and fan.”

Max confined himself to shaking his head as the waiter arrived with their food. After the waiter left, he let go of her hand so they could both eat. “So, what are you going as?”

His tone was casual, but his look was anything but. “I’m not sure. Becky and I haven’t had a chance to go shopping yet.”

Max’s fork paused. He looked at her, his face filled with unholy amusement. “I have an idea.”

Emma raised her brows in enquiry as she licked a bit of alfredo sauce off of her fork. “What idea?”

Max gazed at her mouth, his eyes darkening with obvious desire. “Hmm?”

Emma snapped her fingers at him. “What idea?”

He looked up, the heat in them nearly scorching her. “I have several ideas,” he purred. “Which would you like to hear first?”

Emma opened her mouth, but nothing came out. With a startled snap, she shut it, turning her attention once again to her dinner to avoid the satisfied male smirk across the table.

After a few minutes of silence, Emma felt like she once again had the power of speech. “So, what’s your idea?” When he looked at her like he wanted to devour her, Emma quickly clarified, “For the masquerade!”

“Becky goes as a female Zorro. If Becky’s uncomfortable with that, we can have Simon change his costume so the two of them match.”

Emma sat back in her chair, frowning in thought. “Becky’s been talking about doing a lady pirate—”

“No.”

Emma blinked slowly, unsure whether or not to be pissed or amused at the firm order. “Okay,” she drawled, “and your suggestion would be?”

“How about a saloon girl?”

Emma choked on her wine. “Um, saloon girl?”

“Yes. Simon can dress as a cowboy. Is there a problem with that?”

Emma bit her lip. “Maybe.” She latched onto the first thing she could think off to change his mind; Becky would never wear the saloon girl outfit in public! She kept the picture of herself in that outfit all the way in the back on the mantelpiece. “Becky’s self-conscious about her lack of…attributes.”

Max looked confused. “Attributes?”

Emma could feel herself turning red. “Boobies,” she hissed, looking around to see if anyone heard her.

Max choked. “She’s worried about her breast size?”

Emma nodded, shushing him with her hand.

Max sighed. “Okay, how about a flapper? Simon can pull off a gangster look, I think.”

Emma thought about dark, dangerous looking Simon and nodded. Suddenly she flapped her hands at him in excitement as she remembered a costume she’d seen on-line. “Oh! What about a fallen angel? I saw this really sexy number that would look incredible on Becky!”

“Have you ever looked at men’s devil costumes? They’re cheesy.” Max frowned in thought. “No, we need something they’ll both be comfortable in.”

Emma grinned. “I saw bat wings he could wear over his shoulders. Put him in a trench coat with the wings, leather pants, bare-chested…” Emma waved a hand in front of her face, making Max scowl.

“Believe me, women will pass out from the heat.”

Max picked up her hand and stared into her eyes. “Really?” he asked softly. With careless elegance, he took her hand to his mouth, gently nibbling the back of her knuckles.

Once again Emma felt her cheeks heat. “Stop that!” She snatched her hand back and put it in her lap for safe-keeping. She cleared her throat and willed herself back into the costume conversation. “Becky has a romantic streak a mile wide. Maybe we can work with that.”

“Hmm. How about Robin Hood and Maid Marian?”

“Done to death.”

“Which leaves out paired vampires?”

“Yup. You know, maybe Lady Zorro isn’t such a bad idea, after all. And even better, Becky knows a bit about fencing, so she’ll be comfortable wearing a sword.”

“She can use the sword on Simon if he doesn’t get the message?”

“Something like that.” Emma sat back with a sigh as the waiter appeared. Both decided on dessert, Emma going for the French silk pie and Max picking raspberry cheesecake. Max had coffee; Emma took another glass of wine.

“The only other thing Becky’s interested in is Trinity from the Matrix. Think Simon wants to be Neo?”

Max shook his head. “As alluring as Becky would be in a leather cat suit, I think Simon would prefer Zorro.”

“Okay. Then it’s settled. I’ll see about getting Becky’s costume.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick up Becky’s costume when I pick up your costume.”

Once again she was ready to throttle him. “And what costume will I be wearing?”

Max grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

Max picked up her hand and nibbled on her knuckles again, effectively shutting down her brain in the process. “Mm-hmm.”

“Oh.”

With a look of satisfaction, Max put her hand back down on the table. “Are you going to finish your dessert?”

Emma looked down at her pie, suddenly no longer hungry. She took a deep breath and asked the question she knew she was going to have to ask before they ever entered the restaurant. “How will I find you at the masquerade?” At his raised brow she added hastily, “If we’re supposed to make sure Simon and Becky find each other, we need to make sure we can find each other too.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be a problem.”

Max’s purr sent a shiver through her. “Okay.” Emma bit her lip, wondering if she should ask her next question. “Will your date mind you helping me out? I mean, I wouldn’t want to make things awkward between you and your current girlfriend, whoever she is.”

“Do you think I would ask you out to dinner if I was seeing someone, Emma?”

Emma raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. “Well, if you’d asked me…”

“Emma.”

“I mean, the food part of the kidnapping was kinda nice.”

“Very well. Would I be trying to seduce you if I was seeing someone?”

Emma opened her mouth to make the comment that first sprang to her lips, but seeing the serious expression on his face she bit it back. Instead, she went with her second thought. “I don’t know. You’ve been gone a long time. For all I know, you’re gay.”

It was Max’s turn to open his mouth and have nothing come out.

Emma lifted her hand to the waiter. “Check, please.”

“I’m not gay.” Max stalked to the Durango, trying to decide if he was insulted or not.

Emma shrugged carelessly. “Bi then.”

“Emma!”

He was forced to stop when she collapsed against the side of the car, giggling like a schoolgirl. The only

thing she managed to gasp in between bouts of giggling was, “Oh, God, the look on your face!”

Max shook his head, wondering, knowing she had no idea how few people dared tease him. How the hell had he missed this woman all those years ago? He could have dated Emma back then instead of Livia. He’d have had Emma all these years, laughing at him, teasing him, driving him insane. The thought of his own blindness where she was concerned made him grit his teeth in frustration.

No more. Never again would he allow himself to do without Emma.

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the car door and waited for her to stop laughing. “You finished?” he asked indulgently, his heart beating a strange tattoo at the sound of her laughter.

She wiped the tears away with a final giggle. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” With a swiftness only another Puma could match, Max snatched her close, bent down and kissed her. She barely had time to gasp.

That small gasp of surprise gave him immediate access to her mouth. He stroked inside her, slow and deep, just like he wanted to take her. He savored her taste, wine, chocolate and woman, and his head reeled. When her lips finally began to move against his, he moaned, his cock twitching like she was stroking him there with her wet heat. Her tongue dueled with his with a shyness that once again brought out his protective instincts. Without thought, he turned her so that her back rested against the Durango, his broad shoulders and back hiding her from the view of those in the restaurant.

No one but him would ever get to see her passion again.

He wanted to open the door, lay her down on the seat, and strip her naked. He wanted to be sheathed so far in her body she’d be able to taste him in the back of her throat. He wanted to mark her with his scent, his seed, and his teeth so badly he shook with it.

But they were on a public road, outside a very public restaurant; he couldn’t do any of the things he wanted to do so badly, except…

With a snarl he lifted his mouth from hers and buried it against her throat.

“Max,” she whispered in that soft, husky voice.

He suckled at the sensitive juncture of her throat and shoulder until she lay quiet and panting in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder. Gently he scraped the area with his teeth to prepare her. One hand slid down to cup her ass, reveling in the feel of her full curves; the other held her to him with a grip of iron, hard around her back. He had to concentrate not to dig his claws in and knead. He pushed between her legs with his knee until she was practically riding his thigh. With a rumbling purr he bit down, drawing blood and injecting her with the enzyme that would change her, marking her for all time as his. Her cry was muffled by his shirt; feeling her shivers he realized she was climaxing from the effect of the bite, riding his thigh as his essence and hers mingled.

He lapped at the small wound, not surprised to see it was already closing. With his mark on her and her orgasm, some of his own urgency left him. She was his.

Chapter Three

Emma was still reeling from whatever the hell it was Max had done to her with his bite when he gently helped her into the Durango. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t even put her seat belt on without help.

She’d never come so hard in all her life. And he hadn’t even gotten her naked. She desperately tried to ignore the little voice that asked, if it was that good upright and clothed, how would it feel with him naked and inside me? She shivered.

“Are you okay?”

Emma tried to ignore the way her cheeks were heating, instead focusing on the purring amusement she could hear in his voice. “I’m fine,” she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I, um…” Her voice trailed off as Max took her hand in his, placing it on his hard thigh. She had to clear her throat again, shaking her head violently to see if she could get her brain cells to start working again. “Ah, Saturday…when will you be picking up the costumes?”

Max smiled lazily. “I’ll head to the costume shop tomorrow and get them, don’t worry about it.”

“When will you drop them off?”

Max was silent for a moment, obviously thinking. “Would Becky wear a costume from a secret admirer, or would it be better coming from you?”

Emma bit her lip, her attention once again focused on Becky’s problem rather than the tall blond problem at her side. “I’m not sure. If I told her I’d gotten the costume, she might feel more comfortable about wearing it.”

Max smiled. “We’ll do that, then.” His shoulders went back and his head tilted as he looked down at her briefly, the determination in his eyes completely wiping out the earlier humor. They seemed to gleam gold under a passing street lamp before he turned back to the road. “Now you’re going to explain to me why you carry mace in your pocket.” That odd note of command was back in his voice as he drove away from Noah’s, demanding a reply.

Emma shrugged and ignored the urge to put her head down. “No reason, I just think a woman alone should carry protection and I don’t like the thought of guns.”

“Don’t lie to me, Emma.”

Emma’s chin tilted up. “I’m not lying.” She sniffed. “I don’t like guns.”

“Emma,” he growled.

“Oh, pooh, you don’t scare me, so stop growling,” she yawned. She turned to look at him. “Anyway, should Becky carry her own rapier or would it be better to have her carry a toy?”

Max’s jaw was moving, like he was grinding his teeth. “I can find out. Would you rather tell me, or let me go looking?”

“Wow,” Emma breathed. “I’ve heard of that, but never actually seen it.”

He looked at her quizzically out of the corner of his eye. “Seen what?”

“You actually talked through clenched teeth. I didn’t think anyone really did that, you know?”

He pulled over and put the car out of gear. “Emma, why don’t you want to tell me what happened?”

“Oh, gee, maybe because it’s none of your business?”

His utter stillness surprised her; she wasn’t even certain he breathed for a moment. When he turned his head with exaggerated slowness, she realized she’d finally succeeded in pissing him off. “Everything about you is my business, Emma.”

She was shocked at his dangerous tone of voice. “Max?”

“You’re mine, Emma, and I protect what’s mine.”

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. “What ? ”

He put the car back in gear, taking off with a squeal of tires. “You heard me.”

“Uh, excuse me, but one kidnapping with food does not make Emma your property!”

“You bear my mark.”

She blinked, totally confused. The feral light in his eyes hadn’t lessened. The Durango was roaring as Mad Max drove like a bat out of hell for the outskirts of town. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I bit you.”

“And? You think you’re the first guy to give me a hickey? Shit! ” Emma made a grab for the door as Max took a turn at high speed.

“I don’t think I need to hear about you and other men right now, Emma.”

“Okay, okay! Could you slow down, please?”

Max took looked away from the road long enough to see her glaring at him. With a rough sigh he slowed down. “Look, I know you’re confused.”

“No, I think you’re the one who’s confused. Have you forgotten to take your medication today? Is that it? You turn into psycho-boy while in college?”

Max ran an impatient hand through his hair. “This isn’t the way I wanted to do this,” he muttered gruffly.

“Look, I promise I’m not jealous that the voices only speak to you, okay?”

Max pulled off the main road and onto a side road, shaking his head. “Emma, we need to talk.”

The tone of his voice made her sit back. He sounded…odd, like he knew whatever he had to tell her was something she wouldn’t want to hear. “We talked. We talked all through dinner. Why are we out in the middle of nowhere to talk, by the way?”

He sighed. “Because there are certain things you may want to see that I can’t show you in the middle of town.”

“Uh-huh. I think your thing can go without being seen tonight.”

The Durango jerked to a stop. There was a stunned silence for a moment. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I can’t believe you can’t believe it.” Emma folded her arms under her breasts and scowled. “What’s the matter, Max, never been turned down before?”

“Why are you being such a pain in the ass?” Max turned to her, frustration written all over his face. “I offer to help you, buy you dinner, kiss you senseless and bring you to orgasm, oh, no, don’t bother lying about that either,” he yelled as she opened her mouth, “and all you do is give me grief!”

“You felt me up without permission, kidnapped me, practically attacked me on the street, bit me , then act like a crazy man, drive like a bat out of hell out of town, and you want to know why I’m giving you grief? You’re lucky I haven’t broken out the mace, pal!”

“All I want to know is who hurt you!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“It happened two years ago, Max! What are you gonna do, hunt the guy down in jail and beat him up?”

“Ah-hah!” Max’s finger waved in her face. “Someone did hurt you!”

“Argh!” Emma’s hands flew into the air in frustration. “All right! I was mugged, okay? It was a college student, he’s in jail, I had a broken wrist but he got a broken nose, end of story!”

Emma glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. If he made one wrong move, hell, one wrong sound , she would mace him!

He grinned as the temper visibly drained out of him. “Did you give him as much grief as you’ve given me?”

“More.”

“God, you are so beautiful when you’re pissed.” He grabbed the back of her head and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Okay, warrior princess, now that you’ve told me what I wanted to know I’ll tell you what you want to know. Okay?”

Emma took a deep breath and debated whether or not to kiss him back or clobber him. “It better be good.”

Max leaned in until her lips were once more beneath his. “And then I’m going to take you home and

fuck you raw.” As her eyes widened, he added, “And, baby, that will be better than good.”

She was completely speechless as he got out of the SUV in a slow glide that had her thinking of silk sheets and heated skin. She gulped as he prowled around the hood of the Durango, moving like sex in jeans. His heated gaze never left her face.

“Oh, boy,” she whispered as he opened her car door. He smiled when he saw her seat belt was still on.

He reached in slowly to unhook her seat belt, brushing his arm deliberately against her breasts. Her nipples hardened, rasping against his sleeve as he removed his arm just as slowly. His smile, sexy and satisfied, showed he’d felt it.

Suddenly, she had to know. “Max?”

“Hmm?”

She ignored the hand he held out to help her down. “Why me?” He looked confused. “I mean, you just came home three months ago and can still have any woman in Halle. Why are you trying to seduce me ?”

“The real question in my mind is why I didn’t try it sooner.”

Emma stared into his eyes, reading regrets past and a determination that almost alarmed her. When he cocked his brow questioningly, she took his hand and let him help her out of the Durango. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Okay, what’s the big deal?”

Max’s lips twitched.

Emma crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Her chin lifted as she waited for an answer.

Max reached out and gently stroked the bite mark on her neck. “Do you remember how you felt when I bit you there?”

Remember? My legs still feel like rubber. She nodded, doing her best not to let any of that show in her face while secretly locking her knees. She must not have succeeded because Max’s smile heated. “That was me marking you as mine.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Didn’t we have this discussion, Captain Caveman? A hickey does not make me yours.”

“But in this case, it does.” When Emma shook her head, he nodded. “There’s a special enzyme that’s only released when I bite someone. I released it into you, Emma. You’re my mate.”

“Doesn’t it take three bites to turn me, Dracula?” She didn’t even bother trying to keep the disbelief out of either her face or her voice.

“If I was a vampire, yes, it would.” Max grinned, his eyes glinting oddly in the moonlight.

“Oh. So I’m going to start baying at the moon, then.” She nodded sagely.

“No, baby, you’re going to purr,” he purred, licking his mark with a rough, raspy tongue.

Emma shivered. “You know, this has to be the oddest way a man’s tried to get in my pants in ages.”

He snarled warningly, the sound oddly cat-like and strangely familiar. “Didn’t we say we wouldn’t discuss you and other men?”

“Max, you’re not making any sense. Now, let me call Simon and we can discuss getting your Thorazine prescription renewed…”

Max strangled a laugh, lifting his head from her neck. “Look at my eyes, Emma.”

She looked. Then she blinked. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

His eyes had turned to pure molten gold, shining in the moonlight with an eerie luminescence that one only saw in the eyes of…cats.

“Contact lenses?” she asked weakly.

He shook his head and blinked, his eyes that quickly turning back to sunshine blue.

“You’re a, what? Werecat?”

“Puma, actually.”

“Puma,” she repeated weakly, dropping back to lean against the Durango’s door. “And you bit me, so now I’m going to roar at the full moon?”

He sighed. “Actually, Puma’s can’t roar, we’re missing the necessary parts. Specialized larynx and hyoid apparatus, to be precise. And we can change at will, we aren’t ruled by the moon.”

“Oh.” Emma’s head was reeling. “Can you show me?”

Max frowned. “Show you?”

“Yeah.” Emma straightened up, half terrified and half excited at the prospect of seeing him change. She waved her hand at him commandingly. “Change. Become a cat.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now! What, you need to wait for the full moon? I thought you said you could change at will?”

“Emma—”

“I mean, why tell me this at all if you weren’t willing to, I dunno, prove it or something?”

“Emma—”

He was starting to sound all snarly again. “So c’mon, Lion-O, hop to it.” She clapped, loud and sharp.

“Chop-chop!”

“Emma!”

“What?”

“Have you ever seen a cougar in Levi’s?”

“No.”

“Neither have I.” He looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or yowl.

“You mean you’d have to…” Emma eyed his jeans speculatively.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“And if my ass is naked, baby, you’d better believe yours will be too.”

Emma put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Isn’t this why you brought me all the way out here, to show me your Incredible Cougar Act?”

“Puma.”

“Whatever.”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I figured if you screamed no one would hear you.”

Emma blinked. “Gee, Max, you’re all heart.” He had the grace to blush. “So, because you bit me, and released your enzyme thingy in me, I’m going to change into a puma?”

Max nodded.

“Does it hurt?”

Max shook his head. His eyes had glued themselves to her neck, the hunger in them getting stronger by the second.

“When?”

“When what?” he asked absently, his hand drifting down to her arm before moving to stroke the bite mark.

“When will I change, Max?”

“I changed within the first forty-eight hours after I got bit.”

Emma gasped in sympathetic horror. “Is that why you left and never came back, Max? Because you got bit?”

“No, I was bit because I was next in line to be Alpha.”

Emma shook her head. “Okay, now I’m totally confused. Maybe I’ve got food poisoning from my seafood alfredo and I’m actually in the hospital having hallucinations and heaving into a bucket,” she muttered.

Max laughed as he focused once again on her face. “Want me to prove you’re wide awake?” One hand snaked out, gently cupping her breast. His thumb raked across her nipple, shooting sparks straight down to her clit.

“Oh boy,” Emma whispered. “Okay, I’m awake.” She pulled reluctantly away from his caressing hand, determined to focus on the whole Emma-as-a-cat thing. With growing confusion, she rubbed at her forehead. “Can you please explain before my brain explodes?”

“Jonathon Friedelinde was Alpha before me. His daughter didn’t show Alpha tendencies, so a competition was held to determine who was strong enough to be the next Alpha. Simon and I overheard Marie and some of her friends whispering about the competition and we both entered, not knowing what the hell we were getting into, or what the prize was. Jonathon forgot to make the contest Puma only, which I pointed out to him with great, annoying frequency until he relented and let us in.” Max shrugged.

“I came in first, Simon came in second. What really bothered some people was the fact that Simon and I were both still human when we won, against some who’d been Pumas since childhood.”

“So you knew about the Pumas even before you entered the contest?”

“I was friends with Marie for years, saw her change once.”

Emma stared at him in growing horror, thinking of all the ways a Puma could rip into a man. “You could have been killed!”

Max seemed completely unconcerned. “If it had been a duel to the death, yeah, we both would have died. Instead it was a test of endurance, intelligence and cunning, and probably the most fun either of us has ever had. And sometimes I think the only reason we won was because no one was allowed to shift.”

“What was the test, paintball? Capture the flag?”

Max grinned. “Something like that, but a lot more complicated.” Max reached out and wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, seemingly unable to go for any length of time without touching her somehow. The gesture was surprisingly comforting. “Jonathon bit us both that night, to our surprise. I was twenty, Simon nineteen.”

She reached up and gently stroked his cheek. “And confused as all hell, I’ll bet.”

He leaned into her caress, his eyes closing in pleasure. “We got used to it, and as soon as Jonathon stepped down I came home and named Simon my Beta.”

“Beta?”

“Mm-hmm, my second-in-command.”

“You said I’m your mate,” Emma whispered as Max pulled her into his arms.

“My Curana.”

“Your who-wadda?”

She could feel Max’s laughter rumbling through his chest. “My Curana. Mate to the Alpha. It’s supposedly a name derived from the Portuguese word for cougar.”

“Oh.”

Emma allowed Max to pull her head gently to his chest. She snuggled into his warmth, inhaling his unique scent, oddly comforted by his presence. “So,” he rumbled, “we’ve done the dinner and fight.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Come home with me, little Curana. I want to make love to you. I want to be inside you the next time you come.”

Emma shivered as she heard the low, rumbling purr emanating from him. “Max?”

“Hmm?” His hand started to stroke up and down her back, gently nudging her towards the SUV.

“Will I have to use a litter box?”

“Emma!”

Chapter Four

Max took his time driving her home. He wanted to savor having her next to him for as long as possible.

“Do you open tomorrow, or does Becky?”

Emma turned towards him. She’d been far away, and he’d left her to her thoughts. After all, he’d dumped a remarkable amount of information on her in a short amount of time, and she’d handled it remarkably well. He was so proud of her he was ready to burst with it.

“Actually, I close tomorrow and Becky opens. Becks closes Saturday.”

Max smiled in pure anticipation. “Good. We can take our time tonight. Adrian’s got the early morning, I have late shift.”

Her shiver of response was enough to send heat flooding his system.

“Emma?”

“Hmm?”

He was truly curious about her responses, so he asked, “You took everything I told you really well.”

“I’ve never understood the woe-is-me thing. I mean, the hottest guy in town just told me he wants me badly enough to bite me and make me like him, and now he wants to drag me home and ravish me. I’m going to, what, run screaming into the night? Oh, no! I’m a Puma now! My life is over! Sob!” Emma

rolled her eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s still freaking me out a bit, and it’s probably going to cost me a fortune in bikini waxing, but it’s not the end of my world.”

Max nearly ran off the road. “You get a bikini wax?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Hell yes.”

Her laughter filled up all the empty places inside him he hadn’t even known were there.

“If Simon and Becky get together, does that mean he’ll bite her?”

Max nodded. “If he wants to mate her, he’ll have to bite her. And from what he told me, he wants to mate her.”

Emma gave him a speculative look out of the corner of her eye. “How many women have you bitten?”

“As a mate, or to turn?”

Emma growled, startled at how possessive she felt. “How many mates do you have?”

“Only one, Curana.” He took his hand off the steering wheel to stroke the back of her neck soothingly.

Emma still glared at him. “And how many women have you turned?”

“Two, not counting you.”

“Oh?”

Max grinned at her possessive tone. “One as a favor to Jonathon, one because it was the only way I could think of to fix a problem she had. And, no, I can’t explain it further than that; it’s not my secret to tell.”

“Did you have sex with the women you turned?” His slight wince was all the answer she needed.

“Who?”

“Emma…”

“Who? Livia.”

Max sighed. “Livia.”

Emma groaned. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

“What can I say? I was young and stupid.”

“Was she the favor or the problem?”

“Jonathon asked me to turn her. Maybe he thought, since Marie and I didn’t hit it off, that Livia would turn out to be my mate.”

“Especially since the two of you were already doing the mattress mambo?”

Max flushed. “We broke up soon after that.”

Emma remembered the circumstances of the break up, and winced. “So it had nothing to do with how she insulted me,” she muttered, not thinking about how that would sound.

“It had everything to do with how she insulted you.” When she looked at him, confused, he smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. “She was very good at hiding how much of a bitch she really is. I broke up with her that night over what she said about you, and what she wanted to do about Becky’s punch stunt.” He shuddered. “She’s been on my tail since I got back into town. So far nothing I’ve done has gotten her to leave me alone.” Max’s smile was cheerful. “But I have the feeling you won’t have that problem.”

Max turned into his driveway and pressed the button to open the garage door. He lived in a lovely historic house his parents had left to him when they retired to Florida. The home was craftsman in style, built early in the twentieth century, and had been lovingly restored by the entire Cannon family. The dark gray gable roof was set off by rich mahogany brown shingles and bright white trim work, with rich red fieldstone set around the base of the house. The front had that beautiful pillar and post design, with a covered porch that wrapped around to the left side of the house. The elder Cannons had added on a two-car garage and utility room to the right side of the house. They’d made the extension look like just another part of the house by having the garage entrance on the side rather than the front. The windows along the front matched the rest of the house. Emma had never been inside, but she’d always admired it from afar.

Max pulled into the garage and turned off the Durango. He reached up and pressed a button, closing the garage door behind them. He turned to her with a solemn joy that startled her.

“Welcome home, Curana.”

Emma opened her mouth to reply, but he was already getting out of the SUV. She hopped out on her own, ignoring the amused shake of his head. He waited for her to round the hood of the car before opening the door into the utility room.

She started to step through the door but he startled her. With a swift move he picked her up, ignoring her gasp of surprise. He carried her into the utility room. “Get the door, will you?”

She reached out with a foot and kicked the door shut.

He laughed. “The other one.”

She leaned down and opened the door into the rest of the house.

He carried her into a kitchen straight out of her fantasies. It was laid out in a u-shape with simple arts and crafts style cherry cabinets with silver handles. Stainless steel appliances gleamed in the gentle light Max had left on, their lines set off by the beautiful black granite countertops. Cherry hardwood covered the floors from the kitchen into the breakfast area off on the right where a round table and four Shaker style chairs sat. The windows in the breakfast nook ran nearly floor to ceiling, with a simple geometric design set into the top panel. He’d painted the walls a rich sage green and the traditional trim around the windows a bright white.

Without pausing, Max carried her through the kitchen, past the breakfast nook and into the great room.

The sage green walls, cherry floors and white trim carried through into this room. A vaulted ceiling with skylights gave the room the feeling of being huge. A large reddish brown leather sofa dominated the great room. It rested on a bold area rug done in a geometric pattern of reds, blacks and greens. It faced a set of built-in cherry cabinets along one wall that doubled as the entertainment center with bookshelves on either side. The fireplace, on the opposite wall, was decorated with the same fieldstone that was outside the house. She caught a glimpse of the huge double doors at the front of the house before Max carried her past the fireplace down a short corridor and through another door.

A king size cherry wood sleigh bed dominated the room. It was covered in a crazy quilt of geometric designs in bold blues, reds and blacks. He’d painted the walls a warm terra cotta, with framed black and white prints by Escher, whimsical brain twisters that would normally capture her attention but, now, barely registered.

She could make out the master bathroom through the open doorway, barely. The cabinets in there appeared to match the ones in the kitchen, but the room was dominated by the massive oval tub, surrounded by rich, highly polished tumbled stones inset with black ceramic diamonds. The same tumbled stone was on the floor. The room had been painted a dark red wine color.

Emma realized Max had stopped moving. Looking up at him, she found him staring down at her with a quizzical look. “Well?”

Emma blushed. She’d been rubbernecking in Max’s house, trying to take in everything at once. “It’s incredible.”

He smiled with satisfaction. “If there’s anything you want to change, you’ll have to let me know.” Gently he placed her on the quilt. “This is now as much your house as mine.”

Emma’s mouth fell open as he toed off his shoes and socks. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Max began unbuttoning his shirt, diverting her attention from his whole “Mi casa es su casa” attitude. “I was in Simon’s shop when you called about the Madonna, you know.”

“Oh. Really?” she replied absently. She could barely speak as Max unveiled the finest chest it had ever been her privilege to see. It was lightly sprinkled with light brown hairs, trailing down his stomach to point directly into his pants. Dark brown nipples peeped out from the hair, tempting her into some very sinful thoughts.

“Yes, I was. And you know what?”

Emma didn’t know her own name; Max was unbuttoning his jeans. “Um, nope.”

“You live up to your voice,” Max purred as he slipped his jeans down his legs.

“Urgh,” Emma choked, “naked.” She could feel her eyes bugging out of her head. Max went commando. A sinful buffet of man-flesh was laid out before her in one single sweep of his hands. She didn’t know whether to sigh or to sob.

“Yes, I am.” Max laughed huskily. “Now it’s your turn.”

Emma bit her lip, a sudden attack of shyness nearly paralyzing her. Max didn’t know it yet, but he’d be

her first, and from the look on his face she’d better tell him soon.

“Max?” Emma sat there, her hands clenched in her lap, her gaze riveted to his cock. The thing looked huge, all veined and red, and pointed straight at her. A small drop of liquid seeped from the slit. It twitched a salute to her rapt attention.

“Yes, Emma?”

Her gaze lifted to his; unknown to her, they’d turned pure, molten gold. “You remember the talk of other men?”

He growled low in his throat and crawled onto the bed.

“Eep,” she whispered, lying down as he prowled up her body.

“You were saying?” he whispered huskily as he settled his naked body between her thighs. He brushed against her cheek with his lips, a caress so soft she barely felt it. It sent a shiver down her spine. Those same lips continued their incredible journey, trailing down the side of her neck to settle on the bite he’d given her outside the restaurant. Goose bumps raced up and down her arms as he moved his hips in a sinuous motion, brushing his naked cock against her mound.

“Um, there weren’t,” she squeaked, unconsciously arching up into his body as he scrapped his teeth along his mark.

“Weren’t what?” he muttered, one hand moving up to start sliding her camisole up her stomach. He paused long enough to caress her there, trailing fire in his wake.

“Any other men.”

His hand stopped.

His mouth stopped.

His hips stopped. She was really sad when his hips stopped.

“You’re a virgin?” His voice sounded oddly strangled.

“It’s not a crime to be one, you know. I’m not the Oldest Living Virgin, or anything. It’s not like I’m in the Guinness Book of World Records,” she babbled. “Besides, I’ve done other things…oh!” His hands had started moving again, with a swiftness that startled her. Her camisole was toast as he ripped it literally from her body, his claws barely scrapping her skin, sending shivers of need once again down her spine.

Claws?

Emma had barely registered the fact that Max had used his claws to ruin her favorite shirt when he started working on her jeans. “No! Bad kitty!” She slapped him on the top of his head, determined to save at least some of her wardrobe.

He lifted his head, his eyes golden and burning, a rumbling sound emanating from his throat as he pinned her hands above her head. Emma thought about struggling, but something about the way he looked had her lying passively. “You’re a virgin.”

Emma blinked, unsure how to respond. “Duh.”

Max stared down at her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her features as if seeing her for the very first time. “No man has ever touched you.”

She thought about telling him about the make-out sessions her one and only boyfriend had talked her into, the oral sex they’d indulged in a few times, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

Jimmy was a nice guy, and deserved to live. “Again. Duh.”

“No man will ever touch you again.”

Emma studied granite-like features above her. “Even you?” The growl deepened. She sighed, inexplicably happy to hear that sound. “Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Duh.” She grinned. “By the way, Lion-O, that was my favorite shirt.”

He looked down. “Damn, Emma.”

“What?” She looked down, expecting to see something odd, like very dried alfredo sauce decorating one boob or something. Instead she saw the pale pink lace bra she’d put on that morning, the one that was completely see-through. It helped give her confidence to feel the sexy lingerie against her skin, so much so she’d replaced all of her old undies with the lacy stuff.

From the look, and feel, of things, Max definitely approved.

Max switched her wrists into one hand. The other trailed down her body to her jeans, undoing the snap and zipper with ease. “Lift your ass, Emma,” he commanded. She obeyed without thinking, shifting so he could ease her jeans down her legs.

He hissed out a breath at the sight of the pale pink lace panties that matched the bra. Underneath, she was hairless. “A full Brazilian,” he sighed.

“Uh-huh.”

He moved his hand and began petting her over her panties, cupping her intimately. “Mine,” he sighed.

His golden eyes bored into hers, a silent command in them. “Keep your hands where they are.”

“Why?” Emma complied as Max moved his hand slowly from her wrists, trailing down her arm to the side of her breast.

“Because I’m not ready for you to touch me yet. I want this first time to be yours.”

“I’d rather it was ours.” She gasped as his hand gently embraced her breast. His thumb strummed gently over her nipple, causing it to peak under the pink bra.

“Trust me, Curana. The pleasure will be ours.” Slowly, oh so slowly, Max lowered his head. His tongue snaked out and licked over her nipple through the lace, watching her reactions as she gasped softly. “I’m going to get you naked now, Emma.” He lifted his head from her breast. “Leave your hands where they are. Remember, Emma.”

Max gently pulled the cups of her bra down, resting her breasts on the lowered cups until they looked

like an offering laid out on pink lace. He bent and suckled one nipple into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue until she writhed against him, panting and moaning in need. He switched to the other nipple, suckling and nipping with such force it was nearly painful. Emma panted, damn near coming from the sensation.

He pulled away from her. “Uh-uh, little Emma,” he purred. “No coming unless I’m in you, remember?”

She groaned as he moved down her body. His hands went to her lacy panties, thumbs hooking under the band. With slow deliberation he pulled them from her body, slowly exposing her to his hot gaze.

“You were right, Emma, to stop me before.” He looked up with a grin that made her moan. “I’d forgotten how much fun it is to play with my food.”

And with that, Max began a sensuous torture that had her writhing with need.

He began by slowly nibbling his way up her left leg, starting at her ankle and ending at her inner thigh, right next to her pussy lips. He then switched sides, once again kissing and nibbling his way up her leg until she was practically begging him to eat her.

When she felt the first hot swipe of his tongue on her pussy she came, screaming his name. With a purring rumble, he continued to lap at her until her orgasm subsided, the vibrations making the orgasm that much more intense. “Naughty, Emma. I wasn’t inside you.”

“Whoops.” Emma looked down at him with a lopsided grin.

“I’m pleased you’ve left your hands in place, though. So maybe, this time, I’ll forgo punishing you.”

Emma blinked. “And once again, Captain Caveman rears his ugly head,” she gasped. Max had started rubbing her clit in oh-so gentle circles, bringing her arousal back to near peak. “Max,” she sighed, her hips moving in time to his hand.

“Do you want to come, Emma?” Max asked, the heat in his gaze damn near burning her.

“Yes,” she sighed again, licking her lips as she stared down at him. “Please, Max.”

He shivered slightly. Then his rough tongue was once again on her clit, licking and nibbling as she gasped and moaned beneath his mouth. His finger had moved to her opening, circling slowly until finally settling inside her. He stroked her gently, matching his rhythm there to the movements of her body. His finger curved slightly, and Emma saw stars.

“Come, Emma,” he whispered, using his thumb to stroke her clit as his finger picked up speed. She didn’t even mind when he inserted a second finger; she was too busy seeing stars as her climax hit her with the force of a freight train.

When she came down from it, Max was gently stroking her soaking wet pussy. She opened her eyes to find he’d moved so that he lay next to her. With a satisfied smile, she pulled him down, kissing him lovingly. She could taste herself on his lips, and it added an element of eroticism she’d never felt before.

“I’m going to take you now, Emma.”

Emma shivered. She licked her lips, her body tensing slightly with nerves. “Okay.”

“Shhh.” He kissed her again, gentle and loving as he moved his body between her thighs. “I will never willingly hurt you, Emma.”

“I know,” she whispered, awed. This was Max, the only man who’d ever held her heart, and he was claiming her for his own. She gently clasped his shoulders as he began to slowly invade her body, his cock stretching her open. The slight burning pain caused her to dig her nails in. She bit her lip and forced herself to relax as much as humanly possible while slowly being invaded by a red-hot iron bar.

“So tight,” he gasped as he finally seated himself all the way inside her.

“Were your parents psychic?” Emma asked, gulping a little at the sting of his invasion.

Max frowned down at her confused. “No, why?”

“Are you sure? I mean, with a name like Max Cannon—”

“Emma!”

“Sorry, but from the feel of things that can’t be a small caliber you’ve got shoved up there, boyo.”

Max leaned down, resting his forehead against hers as he started to laugh shakily. “I love you, Emma.”

“Oh boy,” she breathed as he slowly began to move.

“Is that all you can say?” He was grinning down at her knowingly, as if he had no doubts as to what her answer would be.

Emma felt all her old insecurities come to the fore, even as his cock had her gasping in pleasure. “Are you sure?”

He stopped, leaning down to kiss her thoroughly. “I’m sure.”

She stared into his face, reading the love there, the heat, the need. With deliberate slowness she raised her arms above her head and grasped the headboard. She lifted her head out and to the side in an instinctive show of submission, giving him her throat, accepting him fully. “Fuck me, Max.”

Max lost control for the first time in his adult life. His teeth bit into his mark as he began pounding into her body with little finesse. He fucked her into the mattress, and she loved every minute of it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on for dear life as he once again sent her over the edge, her climax so strong she nearly passed out. The clenching of her body was enough to bring him off, his semen pouring into her in a tidal wave of wet heat. With a gasp that was almost a sob he collapsed on top of her, his breathing harsh and uneven, his heart pounding.

“I love you too,” she whispered, cuddling him close as he began to purr.

Chapter Five

Max woke with the most incredible feeling of well-being he’d ever experienced in his life. Emma was

curled up against him, his arms around her protectively as she slept. Her luscious backside was nestled firmly against his morning erection, a situation Max totally approved of. Her scent was all over him, as his was all over her. His hips bucked forward involuntarily and he moaned as her hot, slick flesh stroked the head of his penis. God, he hoped she liked morning sex. And afternoon sex. And evening sex…

“Morning, Max.” Her voice was amused, rough from sleep and sexy as hell.

“For the love of God, please tell me you aren’t sore,” he whispered, practically begging.

Emma leaned up on one elbow, twisting around to stare at him. She wound up partially on her stomach, and Max’s eyes immediately zeroed in on that incredible ass of hers. “Not much, but honestly, other…issues…need to be taken care of first.” She blushed slightly.

Max looked at her uncomfortable face and grinned. “Bathroom’s that way.”

She was up and out of the bed before he’d finished pointing, sprinting naked across the room. Max leaned back and enjoyed the brief view he was given before the bathroom door shut behind her. He snickered when he heard her sigh of relief. He was grinning as he climbed out of bed and snagged his jeans.

“You want coffee?” he yelled through the bathroom door just as she flushed.

She opened the door, peeking around the edge. “You have tea?”

He thought for a moment, frowning, running a mental inventory of what his mother may have left behind on her last visit. “I have Darjeeling, Earl Grey and Spiced Chai.”

“Spiced Chai, sweet, with cream?”

“Coming right up. Borrow my toothbrush; we’ll pick up your stuff from your apartment later today.” He ignored her sudden frown and walked out of the room. He slipped his jeans on once he was in the hall and made his way to the kitchen. He whistled cheerfully as he began making her tea and his coffee, setting both machines to working as he contemplated what to make his prickly little mate for breakfast.

He pulled out the eggs, knowing he could at least make scrambled eggs and toast without looking like a total idiot in the kitchen.

“You owe me a shirt, Lion-O.”

He turned, his cock hardening as he saw his shirt on her. It practically swallowed her whole, and she looked damn fine in it. It didn’t hurt that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. Her tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips completed the just-fucked look.

Then he looked into her eyes and nearly dropped the eggs.

Her eyes gleamed gold, full of heat and passion. He felt his own flare in response, his gaze raking her from head to toe as he prowled towards her, the eggs left behind on the counter. “Emma,” he purred, wrapping his hands around her waist.

“Hmm?” She stroked his chest with her small hands, fingers tangling in the hairs on his chest.

He leaned down and lapped at his mark, groaning when she bared her throat. “You’re changing.”

“What?” she asked absently, her hands moving towards the snap of his jeans. “You taste so good,” she whispered, licking his neck with a tongue turned raspy.

Max shivered. “Emma,” he groaned as her teeth nipped at his neck. Her canines had grown in. “You’re changing, sweetheart.”

“Thought you said I had two days,” she muttered as her hand worked its way inside his pants. With a happy sigh she stroked his shaft, pulling it out of his jeans to run her thumb over the head.

Max moaned, ready to push her down on the table and take her swift and hard. That could be a problem if she shifted before they were done. “Emma, you have to stop.”

“Who says?” She knelt in front of him and took his cock in her mouth, sucking lightly on the head, her tongue rasping along the slit. “Mmm, you do taste good.” She licked her lips, teasing and seductive.

Max stared down at her, fighting his own instincts. He wanted to thrust between her lips, hold her head in place while he fucked her there, make sure she swallowed every last bit of him.

But she was changing. It was up to him to act responsibly He was Alpha, it was his job to protect her, and…

She’d wrapped her lips around his cock again, licking up and down the shaft, her head bobbing in a steady rhythm that would soon have him coming down her throat. With a snarl, the Puma took over as he grabbed the sides of her head and held her in place for his pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, use your tongue,” he growled, watching her pleasure him as his hips moved slowly, sliding his shaft between her lips. She curled that wicked tongue slightly, rasping it against the throbbing vein, catching the flared edge.

One of his hands moved to the back of her head, gently bunching her hair in his fist in a show of dominance as the Alpha in him took over. He could feel chills run up and down his spine as his climax neared, but he kept his rhythm steady, trying not to choke her while forcing her to take everything she could. He crooned to her, telling her how wonderful her hot mouth felt against him, how beautiful she was to him.

He moved the hand not holding her hair to just under her chin as he felt her incisors turn sharp. “Suck, Emma,” he commanded, his power flowing free as he lost control, his climax almost on him.

She gave him a teasing flick of her tongue before she obeyed, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked on the head of his cock, pulling the orgasm out of him as she increased her purr at the same time. He erupted into her mouth, back arched, head thrown back as his cry of completion came out more like the primal snarl of his Puma. His mate took everything he gave her, swallowing him down as he held her head in place.

With a final, rumbling purr, she licked him clean then stood. She gently tucked his softening cock back into his jeans, zipping and snapping them shut before she gently patted his chest.

“You still owe me a shirt, Lion-O.” With a wicked grin, she sauntered off to the bedroom, her ass swaying beneath his shirt. Max grinned, eggs forgotten, and followed her into the bedroom.

Emma felt edgy all day. She’d had yet another fight with Max, insisting on going to work that afternoon and giving Becky her allotted evening off. She could feel the Puma crawling under her skin, trying to break free; Max had warned her what could happen if she allowed the change to occur without him present. Like she wanted to change into a mountain lion in the middle of her store! He’d grumbled all the way to her apartment, the entire time she changed clothes, and all the way to Wallflowers. By the time he dropped her off, she was ready to bite him, and not in a good way. She felt caged, pacing the storeroom when she wasn’t waiting on customers. She’d managed to keep her eyes from changing, a trick Max had taught her quickly when he realized she wouldn’t give in. He’d also told her he would be picking her up after work. She agreed with him that she was in no condition to drive.

She barely made it through the day, closing an hour early and leaving the receipts for Becky. She needed more room to pace, more room to…run.

Emma walked the six blocks to Max’s office. Both Adrian and Max were there, as was the receptionist, Lisa Pryce. Emma waved hello to a puzzled Lisa before sitting in the waiting area, tapping her foot impatiently.

Adrian Giordano walked out of one of the examination rooms, talking quietly to Livia Patterson. She looked thoroughly disgusted, completely ignoring the hunky doctor as he tried his best to get her to pay attention. Adrian spoke to the receptionist as Livia, without even a glance at Emma, flounced out of the office.

“Emma?”

“Hi, Adrian.” Emma smiled tightly. “Was Livia upset she got you instead of Max?”

Adrian grinned. “So Max told you about her attempts to get to him?”

Emma had a hard time not baring her teeth. She wanted to rip Livia’s heart out. It took all of the self-control she had to keep her eyes brown instead of gold. “Yup.”

Adrian coughed, turning away abruptly. “Max? Emma’s here.”

“Emma?” She could hear his muffled voice from behind one of the examination room doors. It opened abruptly and a frowning Max stepped out, followed by the elderly Mrs. Roman. “Why didn’t you wait at your shop for me?”

Emma grinned at him, her expression tight, her body strung out. Her foot jiggled impatiently. It felt like the worst caffeine high she’d ever been on. Her skin itched and crawled, her gums ached, and her eyes hurt with the effort to keep them brown.

“Oh.” Max sighed and turned to Mrs. Roman. “Here’s your prescription, and a copy for your records, Lena. Why don’t you have Lisa help you pick out a pair of frames? We can see to it that they’re sent off to the lab first thing in the morning.”

Mrs. Roman grinned wickedly. “Hot date, Max?” She waggled her eyebrows at him when he merely smiled smugly. “Taking Emma out, eh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Max smiled and winked at Emma, who had to bite her lip to keep from snarling.

“Well, you take good care of her, you hear? From what Jimmy said, she’s a keeper.” Max’s grin froze on his face. “You mark my words, if you haven’t snapped her up by the time he gets back this way, he’ll steal her back out from under you.”

“Who’s Jimmy?” Max asked. His tone was pleasant, his expression wasn’t.

“Jimmy was Emma’s boyfriend until about four months ago when he had to leave town to deal with some family issues. Rumor has it he’s headed back this way any day now. Who knows? He might give you some competition!”

Emma groaned and put her head in her hands as Max’s attention swung back towards her. “We broke up two months before he left town, Mrs. Roman.”

“Not to hear Jimmy tell it, you didn’t,” Mrs. Roman replied with a laugh.

“I’ll just have to make sure Jimmy knows Emma’s taken.” Max’s hands went to his hips as he took in Emma’s red cheeks and guilty eyes.

Mrs. Roman cackled with glee; she was the biggest gossip in town, and Max had just handed her a prime piece to chew on.

“Can you do me a favor, Mrs. Roman? Can you wait to tell anyone that Emma and I are together until the masquerade party on Saturday? We want to surprise a few people.” Max smiled down at the elderly woman, using all of his not inconsiderable charm.

“Those few people being Olivia Patterson and Belinda Campbell?” When Max merely shrugged, Mrs.

Roman grinned. “Max, anything that will make Livia and Belinda squirm is okay by me. But…” she wagged her finger under his nose, ignoring his little boy grin, “…you have only until Saturday!”

She was so happy she forgot to wait around and pick out the frames for her new glasses, heading straight out the door with an absent wave good-bye. Emma knew the story of Max’s declaration would be all over town by mid-afternoon Saturday. She stared right at a smug Max, torn between laughing and screaming. “Happy, Captain Caveman?”

Adrian’s choked laugh and Lisa’s snort of amusement broke the tie. Emma laughed up at Max, who was still grinning like a schoolboy.

“You okay to close up, Adrian?”

“Can you give me just five minutes before you head out? I have a question about Mr. Davis.”

Max looked over at Emma, who was practically dancing in her seat, and back at Adrian. He nodded, clearly torn. “Hey, Emma? Can you wait in here for me? I’ll just be a few minutes, okay?”

Emma huffed and followed him into an examination room. He kissed her quickly and closed the door behind him. The room was typical of eye exam rooms everywhere, with a black examination chair and all of the equipment surrounding it. A desk sat in one corner of the room off to the side of the chair. A mirror on one wall showed the letter “E” when she turned the lights off.

Emma paced, her skin twitching. She rubbed her arms briskly, trying not to scratch. She felt like she

could peel her own skin off. Sure enough, when she looked down at her hands she saw claws where her nails should be.

“Ah, hell.” She ran to the mirror and looked in it. Gold eyes stared back at her. She licked her lips, feeling the edges of fangs as her tongue went back in her mouth. Scenes from Teen Wolf were going through her mind as she desperately tried to stay human.

She gave up when the fur started sprouting.

Max entered the examination room, not terribly surprised to see the Puma in his examination chair. The cat was sitting in a pair of blue jeans and a red lightweight sweater, the same clothes Emma had been wearing when she entered the office. It looked adorably pissed.

Max leaned against the doorjamb and sighed, desperately trying not to laugh. “I told you not to go into work today.”

She snarled at him. She kept snarling at him as he untangled her from her clothes. She quietly snarled at him as he led her to his SUV, which he pulled in behind the office so he could sneak her into it. She snarled the whole way out of town.

She was still snarling at him when he led her into the woods. She stopped snarling when he got naked.

When he changed, she began purring.

With a playful flick of her tail she invited him to chase her.

She purred loudest of all when he caught her.

Chapter Six

“You expect me to wear that?” Emma looked at the picture on the bag of the most incredibly X-rated (okay, maybe high-R) pirate outfit she’d ever seen. All the model needed was a half-naked pirate next to her to make the picture complete. The frilly, lacy cream skirt hit the girl just before full exposure; God forbid if the poor thing tried to sit, she’d be showing her assets to everyone in the room! The girl’s breasts spilled out of the matching top, helped along by a burgundy waist cinch with an attached overskirt. The cinch and skirt combo was embroidered in an elaborate design done in gold. Lace bell sleeves allowed her hands freedom while promising to drip into everything. The feathered hat matched the cinch, with the edges decorated in creamy lace. No less than four feathers peeked around the rim of the hat. Tall black boots with three-inch heels and a remarkably lifelike saber completed the outfit. If Max thought she’d wear the lacy thigh-high stockings he’d bought, he was in for a rude awakening. The stockings definitely took the outfit into X-land.

Max’s innocent expression didn’t fool her for a moment. There was simply no way he could hide the heat in his eyes. “It matches my costume. Besides, the model in that thing has to be taller than you. The skirt should hit you mid-thigh.”

“Oh, yes, that makes it so much better.”

They were sitting in Max’s breakfast nook, finishing the last of their coffee. Emma needed to open the store that day; Becky would close at five. Emma planned on handing Becky her costume just before she left for the day, leaving Becky no option but to wear what Max had provided since the masquerade was that night. Although, looking at the costume he’d chosen for her, she was a little leery about the costume he’d gotten for her friend. “Who picked out Becky’s costume?”

“Simon.”

“Oh boy. Can I see the costume she’s probably going to throw at my head?”

Max grinned and reached into the bag he’d brought to the table that morning. He pulled out an off-the-shoulder black lacy top with long sleeves that were tight at the arms and flared out at the wrists.

Next he pulled out a black skirt. It was short and flaring, the kind that would fly up if you spun in place.

On top of the skirt he laid out a leather belt with a silver belt buckle, a swordsman’s belt meant for a real rapier. Tall black boots almost identical to Emma’s, a black bandito hat, black cape and black mask completed the outfit. Where Emma’s outfit was blatantly sexy, Becky’s was sexy in an understated way.

Her skirt would probably hit her mid-thigh as well, but in all other respects she was almost modestly covered, especially since it was obvious the cape would hit her at her knees, thus covering her dignity in back. Unlike Emma’s outfit, which took dignity and kicked its ass to the curb with a cheery wave and a fond farewell.

“Wow. I’m impressed. I should have let Simon pick my outfit, too.”

Emma grinned at the sound of Max’s low-pitched, possessive growl.

“Okay, so…” Emma folded her hands on top of Becky’s costume, “…where’s my outfit for the party? I mean, I have to assume this outfit is for, like, role-playing at home or something.”

“I am going to show the entire world exactly how sexy I find you.” His hands covered hers, both soothing her and locking her into place. Gold flecks danced in the blue of his eyes and Emma shivered.

“No one will doubt how much I want you. I plan on having every single male there drooling with envy that I’m the one who has you. I want every female there to hate you on sight.”

“Just being with you will do that,” Emma muttered.

Max grinned. It wasn’t pleasant. “I want Livia to grind her teeth into powder when she sees you on my arm. And then I want us both to smile at her and wish her well after she bows down to you.”

“Damn, Max, you should have been a girl. That’s totally bitchy.”

He picked up one of her hands and kissed the palm, sending more shivers of heat through her. “And then tomorrow we finish moving the rest of your stuff in.”

Emma had given in on moving in with him just the night before. She hadn’t been to her apartment since the night Max bit her, other than to pick up a few changes of clothing, her toiletries, her full-length mirror that she refused to live without, and her makeup. Her red PT Cruiser had finally made its way to his garage last night, too, and was now nestled next to Max’s Durango. He’d frowned darkly over the fact that it was a convertible, muttering something about knives and maniacs, but he’d just have to learn to live with it. Emma loved her car, and her car loved her.

“I’ll make you a deal.” He’d never go for it, and then she’d get to change costumes. A win-win situation, as far as she was concerned.

“Shoot.”

“I’ll wear the costume if we take my car to the party.”

“Done.” Emma’s jaw dropped. He hated her car. He’d made it clear he absolutely hated it, but he hadn’t even hesitated. He stood, reached out with a finger and shut her mouth. “You’re going to be late for work, sweetheart.”

“Oh shit!” Emma looked at her watch and bolted for the garage, leaving the costumes behind.

“Emma!”

She turned in the doorway, grabbed the bag he held out with Becky’s costume in it and raced out, doing her best to ignore his chuckles. She shoved the bag in the car, opened the garage door and darted back inside.

Max turned, confused as she barreled back into the house at Mach speed. He managed to catch her as she threw herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She pulled his startled face close and kissed him soundly. “Bye!” she yelled as she dropped out of his hold and ran back out the door again, the picture of his stunned, happy face and silly grin staying with her the entire way to work.

“You expect me to wear that?” Becky stared at the costume Emma had laid out on the Victorian sofa in Wallflowers with something akin to horror. “Emma, I thought Max was Zorro. Are you sure you want me to match his costume?”

Emma grinned; Becky was one of the few people who knew about her hook-up with Max. “Max isn’t going as Zorro. That was a smokescreen he threw up to keep Livia at bay. Trust me, you won’t match Max tonight.”

Becky paled as Emma’s slight emphasis on Max’s name registered. “Tell me Simon isn’t going as Zorro.”

“Simon isn’t going as Zorro,” Emma deadpanned, already inching her way towards the door.

“Emma!” Becky shrieked, totally horrified.

Emma stopped. “Becky, you’ve been dancing around your attraction for Simon for months, probably years! And you know what? I think he’s just as attracted to you as you are to him! So, why don’t you go for it?”

“You know the type of women Simon goes for! Hell, I know for a fact where he’s been. You think I want to boldly go where everyone else has gone before?”

“Simon hasn’t dated in months, Becks.”

“That’s a lie, Emma. He went out with Belinda just last week!”

“Nope, he didn’t. You have got to stop listening to what those two say, Becky! Trust me, I have inside information. The night Simon was supposed to be with Belinda he was with Max!” Becky looked unconvinced. “Look, let’s try and figure this out logically, okay?”

“Okay,” Becky drawled reluctantly. She seated herself gingerly on the sofa next to the sprawled out Zorro outfit and watched Emma pace.

“Fact one: Livia Patterson is a class-A bitch. Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Fact two: Belinda Campbell is also a class-A bitch. Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Becky sighed impatiently.

“Fact three: Livia and Belinda hate our guts for some obscure reason, possibly to do with the fact that cherry punch is a bitch to get out of white satin. Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Fact four: Livia and Belinda are both interested in making sure no other woman gets either Max or Simon. Yes or no?”

Becky looked uncomfortable. She bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. “Yes?”

Emma snorted. “Trust me, when Livia finds out I’ve hooked up with Max she’s going to shit a brick.”

Emma waved off Becky’s sputtering, startled laugh with a small frown. “Belinda is just as bad, but she wants Simon.”

“So?”

“So, from what I’ve heard, and seen, I should add, Simon seems to want you.”

Becky blinked. “You know, I’ve heard they’ve got some pretty good outreach programs for drug abusers. You should look into them.”

Emma sighed. “Becky, the man made his Madonna look just like you. Only smiling and happy instead of grouchy. So maybe it doesn’t look exactly like you.”

“Har-de-har-har. Seriously, Emma, Simon’s never shown a lick of interest. And, frankly, knowing where his tongue has been I’m not certain I want him licking me.”

Emma eyed Becky with disgust. “Quit making excuses, Becky. Wear the costume and see how Simon reacts. If he’s interested, he’ll let you know.”

“And if he isn’t interested?”

Emma grinned. “Somehow I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Ignoring Becky’s sudden blush, Emma headed out the door. She’d made an appointment to have her hair done for the masquerade and she had no intention of missing it.

The gossip in the salon was running fast and furious. None of the women there knew about her hooking up with Max yet, so a lot of the gossip fluttered around who the town’s hottest hunks were taking to the masquerade. Some believed Max was taking Livia, a rumor Livia herself skillfully confirmed without actually confirming anything. Emma had a hard time keeping her snorts of amusement to herself. Max wanted no one to get wind of their relationship until the masquerade when she would enter on his arm; otherwise she would have taken great delight in setting Livia straight. Everyone agreed Simon was the wildcard; no one had any clue who he’d be taking, although Livia tried to make it sound like he’d be taking Belinda. Since Emma knew for a fact that Simon was flying solo, she kept her mouth shut.

Adrian Giordano was also rumored to be flying solo, something Emma could have confirmed but didn’t.

There were a few other men the women were interested in, but she didn’t know those men personally so she just closed her eyes, relaxed into the stylist’s chair and let the rumors fly over her head.

“And, of course, we all know Becky will be taking Emma.” Emma popped one eye open to see Livia smirking at her. She did the one thing she knew would piss the woman off the most. She smiled serenely and closed her eyes, ignoring her for the rest of her appointment.

Max walked into the house a half an hour late. He had very little time to get showered and dressed before the masquerade, and the quickie he’d been hoping to indulge in wasn’t going to happen. The Pride Alpha couldn’t be late, especially when he planned on introducing his Curana to the rest of the Pride for the first time.

“Max?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Max put his briefcase down next to the sofa and headed for the bedroom, pulling his tie off as he went. “How’d your…day…go…”

Emma stood in the middle of the bedroom in the pirate outfit he’d picked out for her. The skirt hit her mid-thigh, just as he’d predicted. The boots hit her just below her knee, showing off an awful lot of skin.

The thigh-high stockings were nowhere in evidence, not that she needed them. She’d had her hair styled in a half up, half down thing, with curls and twists she normally didn’t have, framing her face beautifully.

The frilly captain’s hat was the icing on the cake.

Her makeup was a little darker and richer than she normally wore. The pale rose lip gloss she preferred had been exchanged for a darker shade, closer to wine. Her eyes were dark and smoky. Thick gold hoops adorned her ears and around her neck was a stylized golden cat. She stood with her hands behind her, an uncertain look on her face, the toe of one boot digging into the carpet as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror she’d moved from her apartment. She looked like a confection just waiting to be eaten. “Max?”

“Huh?” God, he hoped she didn’t want him to actually talk, since he was pretty sure he couldn’t form complete words, let alone sentences.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and bit her lip, and Max nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Are you sure this skirt isn’t too short?”

Max gulped as he took her in from her incredible face to her edible legs. “Is that a trick question?”

Emma rolled her eyes, some of the uncertainty leeching out of her face as she turned back towards the mirror. “Why don’t you go take your shower and get dressed? We have to be at the Friedelinde’s in an hour.” She reached up to adjust her breasts in her bra and Max nearly fell on the floor. When she shimmied everything back into place, he practically ran for the bathroom. It was either an ice cold shower or throw her to the ground and mount her, to hell with Jonathon Friedelinde and the masquerade.

He showered quickly, since ice bathing wasn’t his favorite sport. He dressed in record time as he listened to Emma putter around the great room muttering to herself. At the last minute he remembered to grab the signet ring before going to gather up Emma.

When he stepped out of the bedroom, he was gratified to see Emma just as spellbound as he’d been when he’d seen her costume. His long jacket was burgundy, with the same gold embroidery that was on her waist cinch and overskirt. Black lace peeked out at his wrists. He wore a black shirt with a black lace jabot underneath, skin-tight black pants and black boots cuffed just below his knees. He carried his saber since he couldn’t wear it while driving. His tricorn hat was black with gold trim. Three black feathers in the hat polished off the look.

“Oh boy. If we don’t get out of here now, we are so going to be late.” Emma’s voice was husky with desire and her eyes had turned gold. Max had to struggle not to push her up against the wall, free his aching cock and give them both what they wanted.

Max clenched his hand around the signet ring and stopped, the ring reminding him of something important he had to do before they left. “Wait, give me your hand.” Emma held out her right hand. Max took it and gently slipped the signet ring of the Curana onto her middle finger. The Curana’s ring was identical to his own, but smaller and daintier. Two stylized pumas surrounded a gold oval, paws to tails.

In the center of the oval, the face of a puma had been engraved with two yellow diamonds for eyes.

When she looked confused Max held up his own right hand, displaying his ring on his middle finger. “You are my Curana. Now everyone will know it.”

Emma stared at the ring on her finger, a slow, utterly content smile stealing across her face.

“Livia is seriously going to shit a brick.”

“Emma! ”

Laughing, she rose up on her toes and kissed him with all the love in her heart, knocking both their hats to the floor in the process.

Chapter Seven

Emma had never seen so many versions of pirate wench and pirate captain in all her life. The wenches ranged from modest, immodest, to downright erotic. One woman actually bragged that her pirate costume was by Playboy! Considering how little there was of it, Emma didn’t doubt the woman; compared to her Emma felt as covered as a nun. Then there was the usual assortment of ghosts,

vampires, witches and ghouls, with a rare werewolf thrown in for fun. Jamie and Marie Howard had both come as gunslingers in matching black outfits and cowboy hats, both looking happy and proud enough to burst over the success of their party. They were the first to notice the ring on Emma’s hand, and, with warm smiles and friendly hugs, they congratulated her and Max on their mating.

As Max and Emma moved through the crowd, other people came to congratulate them. Jonathon Friedelinde was polite, if somewhat cool. It irritated Max, but Emma understood on some level that Mr.

Friedelinde was taking a “wait and see” attitude. In fact, Jonathon’s attitude was the one that prevailed among the men as more and more people became aware of Max’s mating. Everyone had expected him to pick someone as strong as he was, and none of them truly believed Emma was strong enough. The women, on the other hand, were, well, cattier. By the time they found Adrian, Max was trembling with the need to force his will on all of his Pride and make them accept his mate, something that would diminish Emma further in their eyes.

“Hey, Adrian.” Emma smiled wearily. By the end of the first hour, she’d become so busy holding Max back that she didn’t have time to worry about her outfit.

“Hey, Emma. Congratulations.” Adrian dipped his head to her with a warm smile, shocking her. She’d had no idea Adrian was one of them.

Max nodded back, and Emma followed suit. “Thanks, Adrian. Have you seen Simon yet?”

“Oh, you mean Zorro?” Adrian grinned, gesturing with his hand. “He’s over there, trying to chase down this cute little bandita.”

“Becky’s here?” Emma craned her neck and went on tip-toes, but it was no use; she was just too damn short to see over anybody. With a huff, she settled back down and glared at Max, waiting.

“Would you like to go see Becky now?” Max asked, smirking. He was staring off to his left, tracking someone through the crowd.

“Frigging tall people,” she muttered, trying to see past the crowd of bodies to where Max was looking.

She squealed with surprise when Max bent down and picked her up, practically sitting her on his shoulder. She daintily crossed her ankles and held on for dear life as she scanned the crowd. “There!

She’s heading into the garden. Aw, son of a bitch.”

“What?” Max asked, holding her steady with little effort.

“Simon’s just been waylaid by Belinda. By the way, she so picked the right costume.”

“Witch?”

“Catwoman. From the movie.”

“Ah, sexy yet lame.” Max winced when Emma tweaked his ear. “I’ll rescue Simon, you find Becky.” He set her down gently, careful to make sure her skirt didn’t fly up, up and away. With a quick kiss and a nod at Adrian, Max went after Simon.

Emma found moving through the crowd without Max at her side more difficult. It seemed like people went out of their way to get in her way. “Excuse me, pardon me, excuse me.” Emma tried to be polite as

she shimmied around more than one person. When she reached a particularly large knot of people, she tried the polite route, though by this time she was becoming seriously irritated. She tapped the broad shoulder of a vampire standing in front of her. “Excuse me, let me pass, please.”

The vampire ignored her, laughing with his companions.

“Excuse me, please, I need to get into the garden.”

The vampire continued to ignore her.

“Will you please excuse me?” Emma practically shouted.

The vampire turned, frowned down at her, and turned back to his companions with a shrug and a laugh.

Emma lost it. Her temper, frayed by the tension in Max and the subtle snubs to herself, snapped. Emma could feel a strange power flowing through her, tied to yet separate from the Puma, and without thought she used it.

Her eyes narrowed on the group in front of her. The tone of command was the same one Max had used on her several times, the same one she was able to (almost) ignore. Power flowed out of her, surrounding her till she nearly glowed with it.

“Move out of my way.”

The crowd behind them grew quiet as the men stopped laughing. The men in front of her visibly cringed and got out of her way, their heads bowing down, their shoulders hunching against Emma’s anger. Using her power like the prow of a ship, Emma forged her way through the rest of the crowd, her head held high as she stepped into the garden.

With a deep breath, Emma sucked that power back into her body. It settled in, warm and cozy, purring but ready to pounce. The Puma, she sensed, was pleased with her display of dominance.

The garden was well lit, except in strategically placed spots where pools of darkness prevailed. Emma was pretty sure what went on in those spots, and hoped her nose would help her keep out of other people’s business. Sniffing cautiously, she tried to scent Becky.

The sharp tang of coppery blood filled her senses, mixed with Becky’s earthy scent. Emma stepped into the garden and made a beeline for the smell. Halfway there, she heard Becky scream.

Emma began to run.

Max finally pried Belinda off Simon by ordering her off. With a coy shrug, the woman finally let go, but not before giving both men a peek at what they were walking away from.

“Ugh.” Simon shuddered. “You’d think she’d get the hint. ‘Get off me, get off me, what the hell are you doing, get off me’ just didn’t seem to get through to her.”

Max snickered. Simon was brushing at his shirt as if he could brush Belinda’s scent off of him. “Becky seems to have headed into the garden. Emma went to find her.”

“In this crowd?” Simon stopped brushing himself and straightened his hat. “I heard a couple of the young bloods claim they were going to ‘test’ Emma.”

Max growled. “How?”

“The usual. Forcing her to use her powers. She’s small enough that simply not getting out of her way will do it.”

Max’s smile was feral. “In that case, they’re in for a surprise.”

“Never doubted it.”

The two men waited until they felt the burst of power flowing from a point not far from the garden doors.

It was strong enough to nearly have Max bowing down before it. Simon actually grimaced before pulling himself upright by force of will alone. Emma had finally gotten fed up and was forcing her way through the crowd, her strength clearly a match for, if not slightly greater than, Max’s. Max and Simon managed to find spots where they could watch her regal exit from the ballroom. Her head moved neither left nor right; her eyes were pure molten gold. She flowed towards the garden doors, her stride sleek and sultry, commanding the attention of all around her. There was more than one shocked face in the crowd as Emma, her power swirling around her like a cape, stepped out of the double doors and into the Friedelinde’s garden, every inch the Curana Max had claimed her to be.

“My God, she is so fucking hot.” Max grinned as he watched his pissed-off mate saunter out into the night, the sexy sway of her hips riveting to more than one pair of male eyes. He was unsurprised at how the Pumas around her practically scraped the floor in her wake.

“Yeah. Good for you. Go home soon, fuck like bunnies, make little Alphas for Uncle Simon and Aunt Becky to play with. Speaking of which, can we go get my woman now?” Simon grumbled, already beginning to push through the crowd.

Max merely grinned, too pleased with and proud of Emma to call Simon to task. He moved through the crowd on Simon’s heels, almost barreling into him when the man stopped. “Simon?”

Simon looked over his shoulder at Max, confusion and fear mingling in his expression. “I smell blood.”

Max sniffed. There, on the evening breeze, was the tang of blood mixed with Becky, Emma…and Livia?

Simon’s eyes went gold as his claws ripped through the leather swordsman’s gloves. “Becky’s bleeding.” He took off into the night, following the blood trail of his mate.

“Fuck.” Max chased after his friend, knowing that if Livia had hurt Becky it would take a miracle to keep Simon from killing her.

Emma took in the scene before her, trying not to shudder. Livia had Becky pinned beneath her, her claws going for Becky’s soft stomach, her teeth at Becky’s throat. Becky stared at Emma, obviously terrified, bleeding from numerous small cuts inflicted by Livia’s claws, and one bad-looking bite wound on her left shoulder. Her unsheathed sword was just beyond her reach, probably knocked out of her hand when Livia pounced. Her hat had fallen off during the scuffle as well, landing brim up next to a

rosebush. Livia had cuts on her arms and a slash in her right cheek, showing Becky had fought back.

Livia snarled, the warning of one cat to another over prey, and Becky froze.

Emma cocked her hip, hands going to her waist as she tried to still the frantic beating of her heart. She had to hit Livia where she lived, get her to turn on her and get the hell off of Becky before someone died.

“Okay, some of the peroxide must have leaked into your brains to make this seem like a good idea.

What will killing Becky accomplish, other than to piss off Simon and Max and ruin your manicure?” Livia snarled again, but she didn’t tighten her hold on Becky’s throat. Her claws remained poised above Becky’s stomach. Emma racked her brains, trying to think of ways to get Livia’s undivided attention.

“Did you run out of Liversnaps or something? Oh wait, that’s dogs.”

Livia dug her claws into Becky’s stomach, making her gasp. Red beads of blood, black in the night, dribbled down Becky’s sides as Livia released her throat and sat up slowly. Her hand flexed, driving her claws in deeper. “I want the Curana’s ring.”

Emma stared at her, stunned. “A ring does not make you Curana, Livia.”

Livia sneered. “It does to them!” She tossed her head towards the house, indicating all the other Pumas inside. “If they see I took the ring from you, they’ll never acknowledge you as Curana.” She smiled, her fangs glistening in the moonlight. “They’ll see you for the weak, pathetic wallflower you’ve always been.

Max will be mine, like he always should have been; he won’t have a choice. He and I will run the Pride the way it was meant to be run, and you’ll be seen as nothing but the Alpha’s whore.”

Emma nodded thoughtfully. It took everything she had to stay focused on Livia and not her friend.

“Yeah, all of that is true. Except for one thing. Well, two, really.”

“What’s that?”

“One, Max doesn’t want your double-processed skanky ass.”

“Hey! I’m a natural blonde!”

The woman is obviously a few tacos short of a fiesta platter. Emma mentally rolled her eyes. She was so done dealing with Livia. “Two, even without the ring, I am the Curana.” Emma’s power punched out, reaching for the woman in front of her. “Let Becky go. Now.”

Livia whimpered as Emma forced her to do her bidding. Her hand trembled with the force of Emma’s command, her claws slowly, reluctantly withdrawing from Becky’s stomach. She crawled on all fours off of Becky, her shoulders hunched. Emma’s will compelled her away from the bleeding woman.

“Kneel.”

Emma’s command punched out, forcing Livia to her knees. She shook with the need to break free, her breath panting in and out of laboring lungs, but Emma kept her tied to her will.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Max helping Becky, which left her free to deal with Livia. Or so she thought.

The sound she heard behind her caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. She now knew why pumas had earned the nickname mountain screamer as Simon’s Puma let loose a high-pitched

yowl at the sight of his injured mate. Before Emma could stop him, Simon pounced on Livia, claws extended, and bore her to the ground.

“I should kill you where you lay,” he snarled over her, digging his claws into her stomach in the same exact spot she’d wounded Becky. The scent of blood and fear were thick in the air as Simon leaned down, his canines extending. “I could rip your throat out right now.”

Emma glanced over at Becky and saw her shuddering in fear, held in place only by Max’s arms. “Uh, Simon?” Golden eyes blinded by rage met hers. “You’re scaring the crap out of Becky.”

She watched as he looked over at Becky. The sight of her seemed to calm him somewhat, though his claws never left Livia’s flesh.

“Becky.” Becky jumped at the sound of his voice, moaning as her wounds bled some more. “What would you have me do to her?”

Max’s gasp was audible; in essence, Simon was giving Becky the kill.

“Simon?” It was more of a plea than a question, but for what Emma didn’t know.

“Tell me, Becky. What should Livia’s punishment be for injuring you?”

Becky blinked back tears and stared at Livia. “What is she? What are you?”

“Pumas. Werecats. I’ll explain more later. Right now, you need to decide her punishment.”

Becky looked at Emma, who cringed to see the confusion and hurt on her best friend’s face. “I didn’t know until Max bit me, then I didn’t know if you would believe me or not. But I planned on telling you tomorrow, if Simon didn’t do it first.”

“You’re a…” Becky swallowed hard at Emma’s slow nod. “And they’re…” Emma watched as Becky absorbed the information. When she blew out a hard breath, Emma relaxed. “This is going to cost you a fortune in Tidy Cat.” Becky’s laugh was shaky but Emma knew everything would be all right.

Emma grinned. “What would you like Simon to do with Livia?”

“What can he do with Livia?” Becky asked, staring down at Livia.

“Well, let’s see: she was willing to kill you to get the Curana’s ring, so Simon is well within his rights to rip out her throat.” Emma shrugged. “Wouldn’t be all that big a loss as far as I’m concerned.”

“What the hell is the Curana’s ring?”

“It’s the ring Emma now wears that proclaims she’s my mate and queen,” Max replied, gentling his grip on Becky’s arms as he realized she was reacting to the news far better than he’d expected.

“Whoa. Wait, so I was bait for Emma?”

“Becky, the longer Simon smells the blood, the harder it will be for him to not kill Livia. Decide her fate quickly.”

Becky looked at Livia one last time before staring straight into Simon’s golden eyes. “What is the lowest status a Puma can hold? If Max is king and Emma is queen, is there a lowest of the low?”

“No!” Livia moaned, trying to break free of Simon’s hold. Simon merely dug his claws in deeper while his other hand held her down by her throat.

“Outcast,” he answered. “Someone who’s been made Prideless. She’ll hold no privileges, no responsibilities. She will no longer be welcome at Pride functions or homes. Kits will be taught to avoid her. If she wished for status again she would have to leave, find a Pride willing to take her in and earn it.”

Becky nodded. “Since the whole damn thing was about status, I think that would do nicely.”

Simon nodded with a slow smile of approval. He bowed his head formally to Max. “My mate requests a casting out of the one named Olivia Patterson.” He ignored Becky’s startled gasp and Livia’s moaned denial.

Max eased Becky gently to the ground before stepping up beside Emma. He positioned himself so that Becky could see everything that was happening between them. His right hand, the one with the Alpha’s ring, came to rest on Emma’s hip as he stared down at Livia. “The Beta of this Pride has requested a formal casting out. My Curana witnessed the unprovoked attack of our Beta’s mate, Rebecca Yaeger.”

Emma saw Becky shoot Simon a narrow-eyed glare. “The attack was motivated by greed rather than self-defense. In light of these allegations I ask you, Olivia Patterson: how do you plead?”

“Fuck you.” Livia tryed once more to buck off Simon, but he didn’t budge an inch. Emma hoped she was having trouble breathing with the massive artist sitting on her chest.

Max’s expression turned icy cold as he stared at the woman who’d tried to hurt Becky and steal his mate’s power. “I’ll take that as a guilty.” Max’s power whispered forth, like a slow moving mist, creeping out onto the grounds and into the house. As that fog of power touched the Pumas, they became aware of what was happening in the garden, if not exactly why. “As Alpha of this Pride, for the unprovoked attack against the Beta’s mate, I hereby declare Olivia Patterson outcast. You are no longer one of us. You may no longer run with us, or hunt with us. You are no longer welcome in our homes.

You may no longer approach our kits without risk to your life.”

Livia began to sob quietly as Max formally kicked her out of the Pride. “Any attack on you will go unpunished within the Pride; we leave you to human laws. If you attack a mate of one of ours, you will be dealt with as an outsider, and your life will be forfeit. Any further contact with Rebecca Yaeger will be considered an attack, and will be dealt with as such. Again, your life will be forfeit. Any Pride member giving you succor will suffer the same fate as you.” With a gentle nudge, Max turned so that he and Emma had their backs to Livia, effectively dismissing her. Simon pulled his claws from her flesh, his eyes returning to their normal dark brown, his fangs receding as he approached Becky.

“Um, down, kitty? Good kitty?” Becky smiled weakly as Simon reached for her. Simon gently picked Becky up, careful of her wounds, and walked out of the garden, undoubtedly headed for the cars parked in front of the Friedelinde’s mansion. A long overdue conversation was about to take place, and if Emma wasn’t wrong some more biting was also going to take place.

“Will Simon’s bite heal Becky’s wounds?” Emma asked as they slowly walked away from the weeping woman huddled on the ground behind them.

“For the most part. She’ll bear some scars, most likely on her neck where Livia bit her, but otherwise

she’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure Simon will take care of that quickly.”

“Hmm. What do you think Livia will do?” Emma tucked her hand in the crook of Max’s arm and leaned on him. Her feet were beginning to hurt in the damn boots he’d bought her.

“Move, preferably far, far away.” Max picked up Emma’s hand and kissed the back of her knuckles.

“You, by the way, were magnificent, my Curana.”

Emma grinned up at him. “You think so?”

“I saw your performance in the house, and part of it out here.” Max stopped and pulled her into his arms, his mouth brushing against his mark on her neck. “Watching you put all those assholes in their place really got me hot.”

Emma giggled and wriggled her hips against him. “I thought I rocked.”

Max purred slightly as he nipped the mark on her neck. “Simon told me I should take you home and start making kits. What do you think?” Max looked down at her, love and lust glowing equally in his brilliant smile.

She leaned into him as they began walking back to the house, Livia forgotten behind them. Her hand rubbed his chest absently, her ring gleaming in the moonlight. “Max?”

“What?” His tone was wary; he’d come to expect the unexpected when she used that particular tone of voice.

“Will I give birth to a baby or a litter?”

“Emma,” he groaned.

“I mean, will we be feeding them baby formula or Kitten Chow?”

“Emma!”

“If they get stuck in a tree, who do we call? Does the fire department do kitten rescues anymore? This is important stuff to know, Lion-O!”

“God save me.” She could tell from the way his chest rumbled under her hand that he was holding back a laugh.

“Too late. Oh, and we’re not naming any kids Richard. I mean, Dick Cannon? Almost as bad as Max Cannon. Has anyone ever mentioned you have a name like a porn star? I mean, not that you don’t have the equipment to live up to it.”

“Emma!”

Emma giggled.

Life was good.

About the Author

To learn more about Dana Marie Bell, please visitwww.danamariebell.com . Send an email to Dana at danamariebell@gmail.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Dana!

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/danamariebellschat .

Content

The Wallflower
Halle Pumas - 1
by
Dana Marie Bell

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

About the Author