Heart of the Woolf (Woolf Series) (2 page)

“Hmm ... Jake ...”

“Yes, well ... Adrienne ...” Why did his voice
sound hesitant? “Adrienne ... are you okay?”

Why did he pull away? Was she such a lousy kisser?

“Okay?” Her eyes focused. She saw the papers in his hand and
the confused expression on his face. She snapped to attention. Oh, God, oh,
God, oh, God! Cold sweat broke out all over her body. What had happened? Damage
control first. Make that disaster recovery. “Of course, I’m okay! How can I not
be?” Oops. Enough. There was something about her answer that smacked of “thou
doth protest too much.”

The last vestiges of his stunned expression faded away, to be
replaced by a curious little smile that hovered around his lips. He quirked his
brow and asked, “Then why are you looming over me?”

Her full pink lips parted, tempting him to taste her.

Jake watched in amusement as Adrienne sat back in her seat,
semi-gracefully. She had always been a little clumsy -- endearingly
so -- especially when she was flustered. Like right now.

“I, uh, you were taking so long I decided to pressure you
into hurrying up. Did I succeed?”

He almost laughed out loud at the thin excuse, but he decided
to play along. “Maybe.” He returned his attention to the marketing proposal,
afraid he’d be tempted to turn her thoughts into reality, considering his boxers
had suddenly become a bit too tight in the last few minutes.

If she ached for him to touch her breasts, he
was dying
to see them, to fondle them. Would her nipples be dark brown or pink? Would her
breasts fit his hands? Or would they be too small, too large, too ...
right
.

He clenched his fist beneath the table.

If she yearned to grip him with her sex, he
longed
to
pound into her and be held by her honeyed tightness. If she sashayed past him
one more time in those ridiculously crazy high heels, he wouldn’t be
responsible for the consequences. His cock was inflamed as it was, aroused to
the point of no return. All he needed was another one of her sultry looks, and
he’d jump her.

She wore no perfume, but her scent, uniquely Adrienne,
drifted over to him. His half-canine nose greedily sniffed her fragrance.

As an empath, he usually put up his shield; otherwise he’d go
crazy from all the emotions running amok around him. Yet, Adrienne’s desire
broke through the barrier and called out to him, with its intoxicating mixture
of sweet, wild, and forbidden. He could hear her thoughts and see the images in
her mind, learn of her lusty fantasies with the two of them taking center
stage.

He wondered how she’d taste and how she’d look the morning
after. Would she still maintain her cool façade and that perfectly coiffed
hair, even without her suit and those high heels that had always driven him mad
with longing? Or would she be wantonly displayed against satin sheets, with
slumberous eyes and lips swollen from kissing?

He was seriously considering throwing her onto his desk and
having his wicked way with her, fucking her until she screamed with pleasure or
fainted from exultation. The wolf in him demanded his right to such a succulent
morsel, especially one who was ripe for the picking, who wanted him so much she
was wet after every meeting with him.

His cock twitched, hungered to thrust into her wet warmth, to
be encased by her hot cocoon ...

Until thoughts of the past intruded.

Adrienne groaned inwardly. Oh God, did he
know?
How
much had she given away? For that matter, what had come over her? She had never
been so caught up in her fantasies before that she --

“Adrienne, excellent work as usual! Except for some changes
here,” he said, flipping a few pages to the front and scribbling a few lines on
the margin of the page, “and here, I think we’ve got it! If you prepare for the
presentation tomorrow, do you think you’d be ready to show the client the day
after?”

Boy, he wasn’t giving her much time. She did some mental calculations.
She could really use more than a day to prepare for such an important deal, but
in the queer way life worked, more time was something they could not afford.
They needed to strike while the iron’s hot, so to speak.

Adrienne nodded. “No problem.”

“Great!” Jake handed over the sheaf of paper. “I’ll make the
appointment with the client then."

A dismissal.

She stood to go, but the intense look in his gaze checked her
movement. He was practically
devouring
her with his eyes. For one long,
infinite moment, she stayed motionless, like a fly caught in a spider’s web.
Was that an appreciative male once-over he was giving her?

Her breath caught.

Her boss? Her secret fantasy?

An answering heat flooded her groin, a heat that never really
went away when she was in his presence.

Naked desire flared in his eyes, and a taut expression
stretched across his face. A different alertness emanated from him, like that
of a wolf hunting his prey. The atmosphere was fraught with tension. His eyes
glowed. He started to stand.

She blinked.

Her fantasy image cleared.

Jake wasn’t standing behind his desk with an expression of
raging passion on his face. Instead, he was looking at her with that
strange
little smile hovering around his lips, his hands arrested over the telephone.
“Yes, Adrienne?”

She backed toward the door, almost tripping over the leg of
the chair she had been sitting on just moments ago. “I, uh, I’ll work on this
right away, boss.”

She slipped out of the room. Walking quickly to her own
office, she reached it in a few seconds. Instead of going in, however, she
rested her forehead against the wall for awhile, willing her heartbeat to slow.
The familiar gray paint was soothing to her disturbed senses.

Adrienne, you are becoming crazy, a schizophrenic! You
can’t even distinguish reality from fantasy anymore --

Shut up!

Great, now she was starting to have conversations with
herself. Fantasies about her boss were obviously not good for her mental
health.

Marcy’s dark head popped out from behind the half-closed
door. “Adri, you’re back!” She dragged Adrienne inside the office. “How was
it?”

Grinning, Adrienne turned to face her. “Great!”

“Woo hoo!” Marcy’s exuberant hug nearly crushed Adrienne’s
ribs. Pushing her favorite librarian-style spectacles -- the ones that
gave her an innocent-yet-naughty, sensual look -- up her nose, Marcy
pulled back. “You’re made, girl!”

“Not so fast, friend. The deal’s not closed yet.”

Marcy waved a negligent hand in the air. “Oh, but --”

“It’s not a done deal until the contract’s been signed.”

“Fussy.” Marcy made a face. Then, her light gray eyes
twinkled. “Oh, all right. At least you got to have personal time with Mr. Jake
Woolf, our dreamboat of a boss.”

“It’s strictly a business relationship.”

Marcy sent her a mischievous smile. “I see you don’t deny it.
He
is
dreamy. Have you ever thought of jumping him --”

“Have
you
ever thought of jumping Logan?” Adrienne
adroitly changed the subject to Marcy’s current favorite topic of discussion.
Adrienne turned and moved to take her seat behind the desk. Nudging the mouse
to bring the computer screen back to life, she prepared to make the revisions
Jake had noted on the pages.

Marcy flopped into a chair in front of the desk.

Adrienne glanced at her idly, wondering how Marcy could move
so gracefully, without rumpling her clothes, given her generous figure. When
she
flopped, her skirt would ride up, and her blouse and blazer would be askew. But
then again, she never flopped; to do so would ruin her carefully cultivated
image.

“Countless times.” Marcy sighed. “Not that it’s doing me any
good. The man’s hopelessly in love with my housemate.”

“You’re too good for him, Marce. Find another man.”

“I know.” Marcy sounded glum.

The computer hummed and a few seconds later, the screen
appeared. Adrienne called up the file she’d been working on earlier.

“But you’re not changing the subject on me again, Adri. I’m
wise to your tricks now.”

Adrienne glanced over to see Marcy sporting a smug grin.
Though only two years younger than Adrienne, Marcy had a tendency to act like a
teenager at times.

“Hmm?”

“We were talking about our hunk of a boss and the increased
personal
time you got to spend with him. So how, uh,
personal
has it been, huh?”

“Don’t you have some work to do?” Adrienne continued with her
revisions, although she found herself getting increasingly distracted. She
didn’t mind talking about Jake -- in fact, she’d love to talk about
him -- but she was afraid of revealing too much. The fact Jake figured
center stage in all her fantasies was something she didn’t want anybody else to
know. “Jake might object to finding his secretary idling time away chatting.”

“Oh pooh, I’m your secretary, too. Anyway, office hours are
almost over.”

“Almost isn’t
is
.”

“You just don’t want to answer my question,” Marcy said.
“Which makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”

A knock on the open door halted the conversation. Tielan, one
of the most creative members of Adrienne’s team, entered the room at Adrienne’s
behest. She bore a slim rectangular package. “Boss, package for you!”

Adrienne breathed a sigh of relief at the interruption.
“Thanks.”

Marcy sat up, her eyes bright with excitement. “From whom? A
secret admirer you’re not telling me about?”

Tielan’s eyes were wide and round. The light caught the red
tints in her long dark hair, which was tied back with a ribbon. With her round,
baby face, she looked too young to be working. “How exciting!”

“I have no idea who would send me a package.” Adrienne turned
the box around and examined it from different angles. “No card attached,
either.” Finally, she loosed the pink ribbon that was laced around the box. The
irrational part of her mind whispered,
Could it be Jake?
At the thought,
her heartbeat quickened. She started to lift the lid. “Maybe he
or she
doesn’t want to be --” Her voice dropped to a bewildered whisper.
“-- identified?”

Nestling against a backdrop of white tissue paper and among
artfully designed sprigs of baby’s breath lay a single black rose.

Adrienne drew in a shaky breath. “So nice of someone to give
me such a rare flower.” Terror started to creep up on her. With great strength
of will, she forced the fear aside. This was just someone’s twisted idea of a
joke. It must be.

Silence hung heavy in the room.

“This is no laughing matter, Adri.” Marcy was still staring
wide-eyed at the flower, which looked so innocent against a background of pure
white. “It’s a black rose, for heaven’s sake. Doesn’t black portend death or
something?”

“What about that black suit you’re wearing?” Her heart
pounding, Adrienne made her tone as dry as she could. She would not panic over
nothing.

Marcy made an angry sound, obviously impatient with
Adrienne’s dissembling. “Roses come in red or white or yellow or pink or blue.
Not black!”

“I’ll have you know that true black roses are the holy grail
of plant breeders worldwide. The best anybody has been able to come up with is
very dark red.” Adrienne picked up the rose gingerly, mindful of its thorns.
“As you can see, if you look closely at this one, it’s not really black, but a
very, very dark red.”

“Don’t touch it!” Marcy’s shout came a little too late. “Put
it down! What if it’s poisonous or something?”

“Marcy, stop being so dramatic. Someone thought I would
appreciate such a rare flower and sent me this. He -- or she -- is
right. See what a long-stemmed beauty this is. Be a dear and find me a
vase --”

“Boss.” Tielan said, her voice fraught with tension and
something else ... fear? “You might want to look at the top of the box.”

Adrienne looked up, taking in the other women’s white faces.
Tielan’s gaze was glued to something on the top portion of the package.
Adrienne glanced down and saw the missing card tucked into the top right corner
on the inside of the carton. It had come into view when she had taken the rose,
together with the tissue, out of the box. Why would someone place it in that
particular spot? And upside-down, too?

Adrienne turned the package around, and the neat typewritten
sentences slipped into focus. The message made her blood freeze.

Don’t think you can get away with it. I’m coming after
you.

Chapter Two

Marcy went hysterical. She jumped up from her seat and wrung
her hands. “We’ve got to tell somebody. The police! The SWAT team!”

Goose pimples broke out on Adrienne’s arms. Still, she tried
for the voice of rationality. “I think it’s just someone’s idea of a sick
joke --”

“Girl, your sense of self-preservation stinks!” Marcy leaned
across the desk and shouted in Adrienne’s face. “That’s no joke! It says he’s
coming to get you. If that’s not a direct threat, I don’t know what is!”

Adrienne didn’t want to get the police involved. Once this
was reported to them, they would dig and dig and dig ... and then all hell
would break loose. She would have to run again. She was so tired of running.

Tielan offered in a small voice, “It’s certainly not
romantic.”

Marcy burst out laughing, but the laugh was totally lacking
in mirth. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

Her own fear and Marcy’s panic threatened to overwhelm
Adrienne, but she forced herself to concentrate on her breathing. After all,
the note could really be harmless, one more prank played on her by -- she
threw out a wild suggestion. “If you will just look at the note from a
different light, it doesn’t have to be ominous-sounding, you know.”