Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy (10 page)

“Hi there, I’m so glad you called. Did the clothes work?”

“I haven’t even tried them on yet. I wanted to thank you for
the cell. You must have run out and bought it last night. Please let me pay you
back.”

“Pfft. What kind of present would it be if you paid me
back?”

“It’s the perfect gift.”

“I have a talent for matching people and presents.” Scarlet
teased. “Now go try on your clothes and call me later after you’ve been to the
West Hills mall.”

“How did you know where Chet’s taking me?”

“A wild guess. Your Chet is the unusual male who actually
likes shopping and spoiling his female. He’s richer than an oil prince and has
fabulous taste, so let him treat you.”

“Rich and impeccable taste aren’t exactly shockers. But I
like to pay my own way.”

“A Beta with backbone. I love it. We’re expecting you two
for dinner tomorrow night. Come early so Daniel can pick your brain, and then
you can relax and enjoy the meal. Oh wear something pretty. I have a new dress
I’m dying to wear.”

“I’ll do my best.”

After the call ended, Ivy keyed in 411 and selected auto
connect. A few voice menus later she spoke to client services at her bank.
Thanks to a good memory for account numbers and Chet supplying her with a snail
mail address, a replacement debit card and temporary checks would arrive
tomorrow. The helpful banker transferred her to the credit card department.
After reporting the loss of her cards, she called the DMV and requested a
replacement license.

Business handled, she pawed through the rest of the suitcase’s
contents. She discarded the terry robe and slipped on a plain white cotton cami
and matching panties with heartfelt gratitude. She’d missed underwear most of
all. Burnt-toast leggings and a slightly lighter shade of brown hoodie added
modesty and flattered her tawny coloring. She stepped into a cozy pair of Ugg
boots that fit great. Underneath the clothes, a real boar-bristle brush, a hair
claw, a clear plastic bag of toiletries, and a box of tampons waited. Scarlet
had gifted her with the perfect feminine survival kit.

She put the brush and hair clip to work and stepped back to
survey the total effect. The outfit was casual, warm, and best of all covered
her from shoulders to toes. Plus she had two handsome bodyguards—smart
accessories beyond price.

* * * *

An hour later, she stepped through the glossy burgundy doors
of Newman and Porter’s. Her outfit took a fast downgrade from casual chic to
woefully underdressed. Considering everything she’d been through, the torture
Kat and Tess still suffered, clothes shouldn’t matter. But there was still a
little material girl inside who’d learned “pretty” got more positive attention
from her disinterested family than any achievement. Before she had a chance to
lapse back into a full-blown inferiority complex, she put the old hurt out of
her mind. Whatever reason her grandparents had for denying her affection no
longer mattered. Maybe they had decided denial was the best coping strategy.
She wouldn’t be so cruel, if she were ever lucky enough to have a child to love.

A display of Philosophy care kits caught her eye. Once she
tore herself away from the cosmetic department, a display of gorgeous shoes
snagged her attention. “Scarlet invited us to dinner. I need heels.”

“Let’s start with a dress first.” Chet didn’t even slow down
at the first floor’s stunning footwear selection, ushering her into an
elevator.

Since his suggestion was sensible, she resisted a dramatic
sigh over a pair of amazing Christian Louboutin peep-toe pumps.

The car stopped on five. She exited between the two hunky
males. Both of them wore leather jackets, tees, and jeans. On them casual dress
looked dashing and dangerous and perfectly at home in the elegant store.

I need an attitude
adjustment to kickass bitch a lot more than I need new clothes
. Obviously
she wasn’t ready to pull off fierce werewolf. She didn’t know enough about
wolfies, but she was a shopping warrior. She lifted her chin, channeling Kate
Moss, which wasn’t all that hard. She was damn near as skinny.

Ben melted into the display racks before a woman with a
salt-and-pepper bob, dressed in a plain and expensive black dress, glided up to
them—her approach silent on the plush carpet. “Good morning, Mr. Tomlin. How
may I serve you?”

Ivy stilled at the implied familiarity. Chet must be a frequent
customer to merit being greeted by name. He was rich, powerful, and
sophisticated. What had she expected—that he’d led a celibate life? She wasn’t
that naive. Yet she wanted to be special. She kept her chin up. Perhaps she
was, despite his penchant for buying women clothes.

Before speaking to the clerk, Chet gave Ivy one of his
penetrating looks. “Ms. Weathersby’s luggage met with an unfortunate accident.
She needs a new wardrobe.”

The woman, whose tasteful name tag identified her as Nora,
turned friendly, assessing, eyes on Ivy. “Where would you like to start?”

“There’s a get-together tonight…” Scarlet had said something
pretty, but Ivy deferred to Chet. “How dressy will it be?”

“Cocktail dress is fine, something simple. Ivy is beautiful
enough without a lot of froufrou.”

His compliment warmed her belly and boosted her confidence.
She would’ve kissed him again if they hadn’t been in public. She settled for a
smile of warm approval.

IVY’S EYES GLOWED, and her lips softened. Chet was certain
she wanted to kiss him, maybe on the mouth. Obviously he hadn’t told her how
gorgeous she was often enough. His wolf gave a snort of agreement and settled
down to endure a lengthy shopping trip. He followed suit and parked his butt on
a settee that looked as if it would hold him.

She perched beside him, eyes still glowing from his
compliment. “How do you manage to look so debonair in leather and denim?”

“I don’t,” he assured her.

Her mouth quirked. “You definitely do. The jacket must be
hot.”

Actually he was warm, but he needed the coat to conceal his
knife, shoulder holster, and the gun tucked into the small of his back. Soon he
would tell her how dangerous the world was for a werewolf, even in daylight.
Not all their enemies were nocturnal. Unready to explain the weapons, he
changed the subject. “You’ll need more than one outfit.”

“What kind of clothes do I need?” She tilted her head
slightly toward her left shoulder, giving him her complete attention.

He considered the question for a few seconds. “Two warm
coats, one casual and one dressy, a few dresses for going out, and a week’s
worth of casual wear.”

“This will take a while.”

“We have until six.”

Her brow puckered again. She inspected her boots. “Nora
seems to know you quite well.”

He lowered his voice. “Is that her name? I didn’t remember,
although I recognized her face. She’s a pack member.”

This unremarkable fact seemed to cheer Ivy. Had she been
jealous? The possibility pleased him more than he cared to admit.

“Is Bob a vampire?” she whispered.

Her question came out of left field, but he managed to keep
his expression bland. “Yes.”

“I thought perhaps I’d dreamed that…and other things. I have
so much to learn.”

The opening she’d given him was too good to ignore. He let a
small amount of his craving for her show. “There’s much I’d love to teach you.”

As Nora rolled a rack of party frocks toward them, Ivy
leaned closer. “I will pay you back for whatever you spend today.”

He wanted to object, but he didn’t want to begin what
promised to be a heated argument at the beginning of a marathon shopping
expedition. And he didn’t want to have their first fight in front of Nora, whom
he was certain was an inveterate gossip.

A bronze sheath gleamed with hundreds of tiny beads. The
color complemented Ivy’s blonde-streaked hair and made her eyes seem greener.
She shook her head. “Too revealing.”

It promised to be a long day. Chet stretched out his legs.

She dismissed a green chiffon frock without explanation,
along with several black dresses, set aside a brown silk gown with a whimsical
bow, and waved away a fetching red taffeta number.

Ivy removed a nude lace overdress with a full satin
underslip attached—a boring creation entirely suitable for the mother of the
bride. “I’d like to try this one. There’s a pair of Christian Louboutin
peep-toe pumps in exactly this shade on the first floor, could you ask for a
pair in size eight?”

“Right away, miss.”

The clerk disappeared, presumably to arrange for the shoes
to be sent up.

Ivy’s forehead puckered into an adorable frown. “This is a
spendy place. I’m sure we can find perfectly adequate casual clothes much less
costly somewhere else.”

“My Aunt Tilly is one of owners. Shopping elsewhere is out
of the question. To do so would hurt her feelings.” Chet kept his voice as low
as Ivy’s.

“Is she one of those intimidating grande dames?”

“In a word, yes.”

“Do you get a family discount?”

“I’m afraid her feelings for me aren’t quite that tender.”
He bit back a grin.

“Good thing I’m a woman of independent means.” Ivy shrugged.

The older female reemerged, bearing a khaki shoe box as if
it were a temple offering and followed Ivy into a dressing room. A louvered
door clicked behind them.

The clerk returned much faster than he’d expected, once more
vanishing into the back room.

He prowled over to the flimsy door. “Everything all right?”

“I need a bra, more than one actually.”

“You’re perfect without one,” he said gruffly.

“I’m definitely not getting scrutinized by your friends with
my girl bits bouncing.” The prospected tantalized him, but neither he nor wolf
wanted other males enjoying that particular view. ”I understand.”

“To be honest, a thick burka would suit me fine. I don’t
want to show off the rogue bite and no matter what you say, my curves are
pathetic.”

He intended to take exception with her assessment, but she
hadn’t finished.

“When Nora comes back, let’s share your shopping list. I’ll
give her my preferences as to color and style. It might speed things up a bit.”

“Certainly worth a try,” he agreed, pleased she didn’t want
to spend the entire day in the designer section. Perversely he even liked her
insistence on paying her own way, although he had no intention of allowing her
to do so.

The clerk returned with another box. This one was a glossy
Newman and Porter gift package sans the usual silver ribbon. She held it secure
under one arm, nodded respectfully to Chet, and then knocked on the dressing
room door.

A slender, pale arm emerged and accepted the present. “I’ll
be right out.”

He and Nora waited.

A few minutes later, a gorgeous blonde left the dressing
room.

She’d knocked him sideways dressed in rags and half frozen.
Wearing an expensive lace frock and ridiculously sexy heels, she took his
breath away.

A slow smile spread like sunlight across her face as her
eyes held his. “I’ll take everything.” She indicated the outfit she wore with a
wave of her hand. “And the brown silk as well. I need a dress coat, camel hair,
brown, or best of all sage, wool is fine, plain lines, absolutely no fur or
velvet trim, and please find a silk muffler to coordinate. ” Ivy paused.
“Perhaps you’d like to take notes? It’s rather a long list. ”

“My memory is quite good, miss.”

Not as good as Ivy’s, he’d wager.

“Excellent. Two more dresses—one knit, the other tailored.”
Ivy rattled off a laundry list of requirements, mentioning brands, hues, and
style preferences.

From time to time, the clerk nodded and murmured
encouragement.

Ivy turned to Chet, eyes sparkling. “Did I forget anything?”

“A jacket—leather or maybe Gore-Tex—and two pairs of jeans,
no rips, no sparkles.” He stood to stretch his legs.

“You’re right.” She angled to speak to the clerk. “Can you
manage all that in an hour?”

The salt-and-pepper head bobbed. “Certainly, miss.”

“I saw a Jenson’s kiosk when we first entered the mall. Give
me a few minutes to change, then can we stop for coffee?” Ivy waited for his
answer.

Chet loved the way she said we. He dipped his chin in
approval and watched her walk back to the dressing room. The new stilettos were
the same creamy shade as her flawless skin and made her long legs endless.
Conservative lace swayed with seductive grace as her lithe form slipped behind
the louvered doors.

His heart stuttered as he continued to stare at the pale oak
louvers. Something fundamental had changed—what he felt for Ivy wasn’t simple
attraction or simple lust or simple anything. He’d tried to rationalize his
protective urges toward her, but none of his fancy thinking had any impact on
reality. Stripped of his fine clothes, sophisticated tastes, and old-world
manners, he was an enforcer—a lethal male. And he was every bit as raw and
primal as any other dog.

He prayed Ivy would accept him someday because he was in
love, bonded, whatever the hell happened to a male that made it impossible for
him to leave her.

She wasn’t ready for intimacy. They hadn’t even kissed.
Being with her was a constant sweet torment. He welcomed the torture as long as
they were together.

There would never be another female for him. The strange
part was he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else. Ivy was it for him now and
forever.

Tonight she would sleep in his bed. Nighttime seemed a long
way away. His wolf growled in agreement.

IVY SKIMMED ON the hoodie and reclipped her hair. A final
inspection in the dressing-room mirror showed a tousled mane she hoped passed
for casual elegance rather than unkempt. Nothing more she could do about the
unruly mop without a brush. The shadows under her eyes were gone, and her color
much healthier. Amazing what a miracle a shower, a good night’s sleep, and
beyond-decent food worked.