Destined For The Alpha: Six Heart-Racing Shifter Romances (Werewolf's Harem Book 7) (25 page)

She rose and headed out to the back patio, leaving him alone with his suspicions. For a brief moment, he considered whether his father could have somehow hired Ivy to tempt Elijah into continuing the bloodline sooner, but that was flat-out insane. He took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed, but he tasted nothing. Elijah decided that he needed to go meet Ivy sooner rather than later, and see for himself what kind of clever trap she’d set.

I
vy pinched
the bridge of her nose, looking around the huge, high-ceilinged living room of her home. The sunlight was fading, throwing soft shadows on the exposed wood beams of the ceilings. Ivy had always loved Swiss-chalet style homes; considering Montana’s gorgeous white winters, she hadn’t been able to resist tearing down the ranch’s old one-story house and building her dream home in its stead. Though the days were warm now, fall was just around the corner, and her home was always filled with bright, crisp light.

After the whirlwind of living in bustling, faceless New York to be close to the stock exchange, and then over two years of traveling, this house was the first place where Ivy had felt at home in years.

She stretched and smiled to herself. She’d put a roast in the oven about an hour ago, and the smell of the beef and onions was starting to fill the house, making it seem even more cozy. Dinner was planned, she was in her most comfortable pajamas, and she had a whole list of great BBC dramas on her Netflix queue. Life was pretty good right this moment.

Ivy’s cell phone buzzed, a gentle vibration against the wide wooden top of the antique secretary’s desk where she had her laptop laid open. She narrowed her eyes at the screen, scrolling through responses to her online dating profile. There were forty or fifty responses here, and another sixty or seventy in her email in response to various other ads she’d placed.

Ivy felt ridiculous making such a fuss about herself, but she needed more than a willing body for her purposes. She needed a man who was smart, with a good temperament, someone kind and compassionate, and someone great with children. Not to mention that man had to be single, willing to temporarily relocate, and they had to want kids right this minute.

Ivy clicked to open another message, sighing as she read more of the same. The messages always started out promising, some strapping male with all the right qualities. And then, three quarters or more of the way into the message, came the ‘problem’.
It all sounds great except —
,
have you considered —
, and
just need a little time
were things Ivy couldn’t hear. Wouldn’t.

Simply put, Ivy didn’t have time. She didn’t have time to wait eight months while one very pleasing-looking man wrapped up his time on an oil rig. She wouldn’t relocate so that one could finish med school in Seattle, not even for two years, no matter how brainy and gorgeous the man might be. She was going to choose someone this month, and start making a family, and nothing was going to stand in her way or make her wait.

Ivy wouldn’t wait. She’d been handed a death sentence, a medical diagnosis that made her a veritable time bomb. Huntington’s Disease, one of the few human genetic disorders that could effect her kind, meant that she had fifteen, maybe twenty years before she died. Pneumonia, heart disease, aspiration… something unpleasant, to be certain. Ivy had spent two years traveling the world, ticking items off her bucket list, and she didn’t regret a moment of the time spent.

But now, she had to start her family. And because there was every possibility that she wouldn’t live to see her younger child’s teen years, she needed to pick the right father. Someone who would take up the mantle of parenthood when she was gone, someone who would raise them to be the best they could be. Ivy would accept no less.

And if she had to lie a little in the process… so be it. Her stomach turned to lead at the thought of the lies she’d have to tell, of the day she’d have to surprise the man with news of her impending death…

Ivy shook her head. She’d tried to do things right, tried to tell a few men about her diagnosis and her need to raise children. They’d all fled, and with good enough reason.

Ivy knew what she was going to do was wrong, but the time for compromises was over. She had a set amount of years left on this Earth, fewer than most, and she was going to make them count.

Ivy bent her head, recommitting herself to the task of plowing through all the responses. So far she had two
maybes
— a very hunky blond firefighter, and a staid but intelligent geologist. She hadn’t answered any of the messages yet, but she’d decided to pick five and answer them today. She just needed three more…

Her phone buzzed again, and Ivy sighed as she picked it up. Two texts from Kiley were splashed across the screen.

I showed Elijah your CupidOnTheProwl profile. He was surprised but seemed really interested.

And then:

Don’t be mad, but I think he’s going to come over to your house and introduce himself later.

Gritting her teeth, Ivy picked up her phone. In a moment of weakness, Ivy had spilled all the details about her illness and her plans to start a family, including the bit about entrapping a man in a much longer commitment than she let on.

Kiley had surprised her by supporting her completely, and now her friend was utterly gung-ho about finding Ivy a great man. Kiley had none of the qualms that Ivy did about the secrecy and trickery, which was something of a relief but also a bit worrisome. Kiley’s sense of mischief sometimes led to trouble, and that was the last thing Ivy needed right now.

Isn’t he one of Garrett’s friends? I don’t want to impose on someone you guys know
, she texted back.

She scanned through another few responses, sighing at the conditional nature of each answer, before her phone vibrated again.

Shut up. He’s hot, smart, and we already know he’s a good guy. If he wants what you’re offering, you’d better take it. Plus this way Garrett and I will be around… you know, later.

Later. Once Ivy was dead, Kiley meant.

Ivy groaned aloud, squirming in her seat. It was all good and well to sit back and plan for things to happen after her own death, but to hear someone else say it was horrifying. At the same time, Ivy could kick herself for feeling that way. She was lucky that she had a confidante, much less someone willing to make sure her kids were okay after she died. It was a huge commitment, and not one taken lightly.

Before Ivy could respond to the text, another one arrived.

I gave him your number. He’s going to call you.

Before Ivy could start to wonder if that meant tonight or this week or sometime in the distant future, her phone rang. It was a strange number, an area code she didn’t recognize. She almost left the phone on the desk, but then she realized that it could be client. Grabbing the phone, she swiped the screen to answer.

“H-hello?” she asked, grimacing at the girlish sound of her own voice. “Ivy Sullivan speaking.”

“Ivy,” came a deep, thickly accented voice. The very sound of it sent goosebumps over Ivy’s skin, made her shiver. “This is Elijah Buchanan, Kiley’s friend. We met this morning.”

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry I had to… er, go,” she said, waving a hand in the air making a face at herself. Could she be any more awkward?

“Right, right. Well, pardon my saying so, but Kiley has been telling me a bit about your situation,” he said, seeming to struggle for words. “And seeing as how we know some of the same people, and I’m also on the market, as they say…”

“Come over for dinner!” Ivy cried, her hand flying to her mouth as if she could push the words back in.

“Ah…” He hesitated for a moment, and Ivy scrunched up her face in shame. “Well, alright. When should I come?”

“Um. Let’s see. It’s six now… would you be free in an hour? Or we could make it tomorrow night, if you want to see Kiley and Garrett on their last night in town…” she said, floundering.

“No, no,” he cut in. “Tonight’s great. I think they might like a little time alone, you ken?”

Ivy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sure. Well, yeah. Just come on over and we’ll… talk.”

“Should I bring anything? I could run to town now, if you like.”

“That’s kind, but no. Just bring yourself,” she finished awkwardly.

“Alright. Looking forward to it,” he said, ending the call.

Looking forward to it
. Her skin tingled all over as she called his visage to her mind’s eye. She imagined him from this morning, tall and densely packed with muscle. Dark red hair, tucked up into a low, messy bun. A sharp, fierce jawline, eyes so blue they burned, and a wicked smile.

Elijah was nothing short of superhero-gorgeous. And he would be here, in her house, in just an hour.

Ivy’s heart leapt into her throat. So soon? She looked down at her blue flannel pajamas, bedecked with grinning moose and dancing slices of pie, and panicked. She sprung off the couch and ran for her bedroom closet, thankful that she’d at least showered earlier.

It took her the better part of an hour to get herself dressed and coiffed. She started with a lacy white bra and panty set, because if her goal was to get herself knocked up, she needed to have sex. And to get the right guy in the bargain, she had to have a little more to offer than an empty bed and a wad of cash.

So, the lingerie. Knowing that the temperatures would drop later in the evening, she put on a scarlet cowl-neck sweater dress that clung to her body in all the right places. She skipped pantyhose and heels, because she wanted to keep things informal. She piled her long hair atop her head and pinned it loosely, knowing that an escaping strand here or there would add a little sex appeal. Eyeshadow, blush, and lipstick finished her look.

She stopped primping for a minute, heading into the kitchen and starting a couple of side items. Usually she just ate some kind of protein and a big salad, but if she was going to offer a big guy like Elijah something to eat, she’d better be ready with more than rabbit food.

Thanking her lucky stars that she’d gone to the grocery store the day before, she put a loaf of frozen French bread in the oven on low and started a pan of fresh green beans and cubed butternut squash in brown butter, sage, and garlic. As an afterthought, she pulled an apple pie from the freezer and slid it into the oven. She’d bought it remade, had planned to bake and eat it in her pajamas on her next day of terrible PMS, but this was a good cause. She wanted her suitor to know she was domesticated, could care for him and a family and… well, anything else that needed doing.

Knowing that the clock was running down, she ran to the full-length mirror in her walk-in closet and checked herself out one last time. Her nerves were getting the best of her now, mouth dry and hands shaking as she turned to the side to see her silhouette. Was her dress too clingy? Did it make her look overweight?

“No!” she scolded herself, jumping back from the mirror. “None of that. You look just fine.”

Turning on her heel, she went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of Shiraz from the kitchen counter. Uncorking it, she poured herself a healthy glass of wine and headed for the front porch. She settled herself on the padded porch swing, sipping and rocking, until her nerves began to fade.

She made herself stay there when she saw the dust cloud rising in the distance, signaling Elijah’s approach. He pulled up before her house in a brand new black SUV, parking just far away enough to give her a long moment to stare at him as he walked up to the house and onto the porch.

Elijah was massively built, probably over six and a half feet tall. He’d easily tower over her by a foot or more. He was broad at the shoulders and chest, with thick, powerful arms and legs. There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him, and he wore his dark jeans and grey shirt like a model, like they’d been made just for him. Though he had dark, wavy red hair and a matching beard, he was tanned. It looked so natural on him, and she thought he’d probably gotten it from working outside.

As he hit the top step of her porch, the deep ocean blue of his eyes ensnared her, almost stealing the breath from her lungs. In the last year she’d refrained from sex, uncertain of her future, but now her appetite returned with a vengeance. Looking at Elijah made her mouth water.

Whoa. Slow down. You’re looking for more than a pretty face, girl. Get a grip!

“Hi,” she said, standing up to meet him.

“Hi,” he said, coming to a stop next to the bench. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and truth be told, he looked a little nervous.

“Um, come inside,” Ivy said, turning and leading him into the main room and toward the kitchen. “Would you like some wine? I opened a bottle of Shiraz, but I have others.”

“Sounds fantastic,” he said, the deep burr of his accent making her shiver.

“I love your accent,” she blurted out, turning away to hide her blush. She grabbed a wine glass and poured him some of the Shiraz, steadying herself before turning back to him.

“Thanks,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think about it too much, I guess. Americans seem to love it, though.”

Ivy raised a brow, wondering if he meant American women, specifically.

“It’s exotic, I guess,” she said, leading him over to the couch. She sat on one end, trying not to feel nervous when he settled down right beside her. She sucked in a deep breath, trying not to be conspicuous, but he just smelled so damned good. Very masculine. Like a wolf’s fur and pine and soap. Her wolf loved it, reveled in the smell of him.

“Can I suggest something?” he said. “Can we just talk about the awkward parts first, so that we can both both relax a little?”

“Sure,” she said, taking a huge gulp of her wine.

“You want a mate, and children, right away. That’s the gist of it, right?” he asked, his eyes on her face.

Ivy went a deep shade of red, every inch of skin aflame, but she nodded.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Is there more to know?” he asked.

She swallowed, trying to ignore the frantic beat of her heart and the fact that he was so close that she could almost feel the heat of his body.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“You’ve wealth and time,” he said, waving his hand to indicate the house. “Why not get a sperm donor, a nanny, all that?”

“I don’t want that. I want a family, even if it’s not a traditional one. I want at least two children, and I want them to grow up with more than just me. Like I said, a family.”

“But you’re not looking for a mate,” he said, cocking his head.