Four Weddings and a Werewolf (Entangled Covet) (3 page)

“We could have your car towed to a shop and inspected by a professional. I could call you a cab and wait here with you until it arrives.” When Logan finally spoke, his voice was raw and rough, even to his own ears. “Or you could let me take you home. The choice is yours.”

Chapter Three

Veronica’s palms were sweating like crazy, and she couldn’t look Logan in the eyes. The cab of his truck was dark, thank goodness, so he couldn’t see the way she was anxiously gnawing at her bottom lip. As he reached for the radio dial on the cracked dash, Veronica sucked in a clipped breath.

“You okay?” he asked, pulling back his hand and replacing it on the steering wheel.

“Of course.” She answered too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem…nervous.”

Of course she was nervous. Logan had surprised her by offering to give her a ride home and there had been something in his eyes that promised so much more. No, she corrected, it was her reaction to him that had surprised her most. She’d melted, her legs going limp like jelly, right before his eyes. Heat had flushed through her veins and pooled in her center. She’d gasped at her body’s reaction. Her head had spun until those little floating things danced in front of her eyes. Veronica had nodded and hopped into his pickup truck.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” she mumbled.

More than that, she couldn’t believe she
wanted
to be doing this.

“What was that?”

Morsels of sweet anticipation tingled down her legs “Nothing.”

She’d never done anything like this before. But she’d never been tempted by someone like Logan before, either. Guys like him—gorgeous to the extreme and light-years out of her league—usually walked right past her. Logan gave off a vibe of extreme confidence as if everything and everyone was a situation he could easily handle.

Veronica was still scrambling to get her nerves on lockdown.

What was the big deal? Logan was taking her home. And then there was a hint of something more. The way he’d said the choice was hers made her think he wanted to give her more than a quick ride home. So what? People had one-night stands all the time. She’d seen couples hook up at weddings more times than she’d broken into the stash of Thin Mints kept in her freezer. But this had never happened to her before. She’d never had sex for the sake of sex alone, without even thinking about the possibility of a relationship afterward.

Heather was always telling her to give it a try. She was always saying Veronica was too stuffy. That a good roll in the hay would loosen her ponytail and return the blood to her body. Figures that it’d take an offer of a new pair of shoes to get Veronica moving in this new, slutty direction.

One step at a time. Just take it one step at a time. If something feels off, bolt.

“I’m worried about my car.” Glancing out the window, hoping he didn’t see through her lie, Veronica watched the Seattle cityscape fly by. “I wonder how long it’ll take to check out?”

“Shouldn’t be too long.” Logan turned down the heater and twisted the vents around to face her. “I feel better about your driving it around knowing that everything’s the way it should be.”

“Yeah, but this is the worst possible time for me to be without wheels. I’ve got appointments tomorrow that I can’t miss.” Thinking about her packed schedule somehow eased the tension swirling through the cab. The Sanchez wedding was next Saturday, and her sister’s nuptials to mangy werewolf Jake McKenna were the Saturday after that. Well, Jake wasn’t mangy, Veronica corrected, but he was a wolf, so he was filthy by default. “There’s so much I still have to do to get ready for next weekend, it gives me a headache thinking about it.”

“Will talking about it relieve some stress?”

She looked at him to see if he was joking. A man who cared enough to listen? Did she luck out with Mr. Dreamy or what? Well, he asked for it. “The wedding next week is pretty much finished, but my sister’s getting married the Saturday after that and she’s not going to be here until the rehearsal, the night before the big day. That makes everything ten times worse. I’ll be planning everything on my own, including the parts that the bride typically handles.”

Logan spun the radio dial, stopping on a slow, raspy Otis Redding song that reminded Veronica of summers spent at her parent’s lake house.

“Does your sister live out of town or something?”

“No, she lives here, but she’s an author so she has a book tour in San Francisco that lasts until late next week.”

“An author? That’s cool.” Logan brushed his fingers across the cracked leather steering wheel. He seemed oddly nervous, jittery almost, but the emotion didn’t suit him. She must’ve been picking up something else. “What’s she write?” he asked.

“Her books are thrillers about wolf men living in high society.” Laughing, Veronica shook her head, then pointed to the passing freeway sign. “You’ll want to take the next exit.”

Everything came so easy for Leah. She’d never had any intention of becoming an author until she was attacked by a werewolf last year. Suddenly Leah got the crazy idea to write a thriller based on the incident, and how the heroine fell in love with an Alpha wolf man—a nonfiction account that she played off as fiction—and the book caught fire. People loved it. They loved
her
, and praised her for her astute creativity and unconventional wisdom.
If they only knew
. It wasn’t that Veronica wasn’t proud of her sister. She was. It just… well, it wasn’t fair that life should grace one person with beauty, brains,
and
luck. Writing a book about her surreal wolfish experience: fine. Being praised as a genius for her “fictional account”: luck overload.

The only hiccup in Leah’s beautiful, blissful existence was turning into a wolf last year.

“I think that’s pretty awesome.” Logan glanced at Veronica, but she didn’t meet his stare. His gaze burned into her cheek, igniting a blush that spread down her neck. “Are the books good?”

“I don’t know. I guess they’re good if you like reading about smelly, hairy things that go bump in the night.”

Logan exited the freeway, and the truck jerked as it downshifted. “You haven’t read your sister’s books?”

“Is it that obvious?”

As a stop sign came into sight, he slowed around a bend. “Is it your sister’s writing style?”

“No.” That wasn’t it at all. “I think wolves are disgusting, hairy creatures who—”

Logan slammed on his brakes, well short of the stop sign line.

Veronica lurched forward, then back, slamming her head against the bench seat. “What was that for?” She was more shocked than hurt, her mouth gaping open when she realized he’d just brake-checked her. “I don’t see anyone crossing, funny guy. I think you’re clear for another ten feet.”

“Sorry.” Logan shrugged, and a tiny dimple indented into his left cheek. “Jerky brakes. I need to take a look at those.”

…

“There,” Veronica said, pointing to a white two-story home in Ballard, a subdivision in northern Seattle. “My house is the one with the red front door.”

“I see it.” Logan flipped around and parked in front, so that she would step out onto the sidewalk, then killed the engine. “It’s nice.”

But Logan already knew which house Veronica lived in, even before she pointed it out. He knew before she directed him off the freeway, and before the day started. Hell, Logan knew a lot more than that. She didn’t own the white house with the red door—the house was her sister’s, and she’d been renting it from her for the last two years. The blue house across the street with the overgrown grass and weeds in the beds…Logan was renting that one.

Lucky for him, the place had gone up for rent shortly after Jake called for help with Veronica’s stalker. If he had to keep an eye on his neighbor without her knowing it, there was no better vantage point than from the safety of the living room across the street. He could easily see who came and went, and who drove too slowly down the street. Plus, there was a detached garage in back with alley access that allowed him to come and go without being seen.

“What part of Seattle do you live in?” Veronica’s hands fidgeted in her lap.

“I live pretty close, actually.” Logan stretched his arm over the back of the bench seat and glanced over his shoulder at his temporary digs.

“Really? That’s convenient. Won’t be a long ride home, then.” Veronica spun slightly, angling her body toward him. Her sweet scent hit him hard, like a sucker punch to the groin. He hardened behind his fly, and shifted in his seat to hide the proof. How could she affect him so easily? With a single glance from behind her thick, fluttering lashes, his insides tightened into a fist. One whiff of her scent, and the wolf inside him roared, clawing to be set free.

She bit her bottom lip. “Did you enjoy yourself at the wedding?

“What’s there to enjoy? Overpriced drinks, overpriced gifts, and tons of family nobody recognizes.” Watching her worry her lip between her teeth evaporated the moisture from Logan’s mouth. He wanted to trace that plump bottom lip with his tongue and slowly suck it into his mouth. “This, right here, is the highlight of my night.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” She paused, eyeing his lips with rabid hunger. “I heard what you said to that old man during the reception. You really don’t ever see yourself settling down?” Her tone was light, without any hint of pressure.

“I’m not the marrying kind.” Simple. To the point. No need to go into all the gory details of his parents’ marriage and the gleaming example he’d had of what not to do. “It’s better that I’m on my own.”

“Better, how?”

As a slow and soulful Van Morrison song buzzed from the speakers, a smattering of rain began to dimple the windshield. He exhaled heavily and struggled to release himself from the guilt of getting close to Veronica when he knew he shouldn’t.

“I meant that it’s better for the woman.” Uncomfortable and hating the feeling, Logan glanced over at his talkative passenger. The end of her ponytail was draped over one smooth shoulder, and the skinny strap of her black dress had slipped off the other. She was simply seductive, classically beautiful with dark hair and dark eyes that had more tones and shades to them than he could study in a lifetime. She was different from the other women he’d dated, who caked makeup over their faces in a poor attempt to hide their “flaws.” She was naturally dazzling and didn’t even know it. “I don’t do long-term relationships, and I don’t play the boyfriend card well, so it’s better if I keep things light.”

“You mean distant,” she corrected.

“Yeah. I mean distant.” Logan kept everyone at arm’s length. Always had. He’d had girlfriends over the years, but he couldn’t commit as they’d wanted him to. Logan’s mother had been married five times before he reached third grade. When she finally found her Luminary—her one and only fated lover—they’d fought like cats and dogs. Logan learned the lesson early: even if he found his soul’s match, things still wouldn’t be easy. They’d still fight. Still ride each other’s last nerve. “Like I said, it’s better this way.”

Ever so slowly, Veronica inched her way across the bench seat so she was sitting next to him, her thigh brushing his. Even through the springy fabric of her dress and his pants, warmth radiated from her body to his.

“I’ve never been one to keep things light,” she said, leaning in slowly. “But I’m willing to give it a shot…if you’ll show me.”

Veronica was exactly the kind of woman he needed to stay away from. He tried to creep away, but his back met the hard ridge of the door. He kept his arm in place, but now it was draped right behind her shoulder. How easy it would be to curl it around her petite frame and drag her against him. She’d be warm and soft, a reprieve from the harsh coldness he’d forced into his life.

“Tell me, Logan,” she said, her mouth dangerously close to his. “Why were you so assertive back at the park, when you offered to take me home, but now it feels like you’re pulling away? Have you changed your mind?”

“About you?” The desire to stamp his mouth on hers had only hardened with her showing of confidence. “No.”

“Then what?”

Thinking about nothing but the lust spiking his gut, Logan clutched her shoulder and hauled her against him. “If we do this, it’s one time. One night that we never talk about to anyone, and I mean
anyone
. We never mention it again. No pressure. No expectations. No sleeping over or phone call in the morning. This is about sex, pure and simple. Can you handle that?”

Veronica’s breath hitched as a rich wave of sexual heat assaulted his senses. She was ready for him, her body going pliant in his arms.

“You sure do have a lot of rules.” She licked her lips, letting her tongue linger in the corner of her mouth.

Logan hardened to the point of pain as he envisioned her wet, pink tongue swirling around the tip of his cock. He swallowed hard, and said, “Rules are meant to protect the players.”

She paused, no doubt weighing his words against her expectations for the rest of the night. In that split second of quiet, when the pitter-pattering of the rain and the raspy notes in Van Morrison’s voice deafened the muffled thud of Logan’s heart, he second-guessed his offer.

What the hell was he doing?
He needed to get his head on straight.

“Okay.” She leaned in to him before he could take it all back, and flicked her tongue across his lips. “Let’s play.”

On a groan, Logan plunged into her mouth. She whimpered at the force of the contact, but opened up wide, letting his tongue sink in. His senses exploded, consumed by the honeyed taste of her mouth, the creaminess of her lips, and the soft little mewing sounds escaping her as he slanted his mouth over hers. He sucked on her tongue, earning a squeal of delight that made his cock twitch with raging need. He drove his fingers into her hair and tugged on the silky brown strands until she arched back into his hands, her mouth opening in desperate invitation. Then, when the air ripped from Logan’s lungs, leaving him gasping for more, he planted a firm hand on her hip.