“Are you all right?”1
Ryan made no attempt to hide the fact that he wanted her. Maria could see that the darkness of his eyes and every shadow in his perfectly chiseled face all attested to his desire.
“Yes,” she said as she slipped off her high heels and carried them, so she could walk barefoot in the sand.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” he asked.
Tilting her head up at him, Maria smiled. “I love the way sand feels between my toes. You should try it.”
To her amazement, he did exactly that, removing his boat shoes. “Nice.”
When he took her hand, she couldn’t suppress a tiny cry at the contact. A hot ache grew in the back of her throat, making her realize what they’d all said would happen was true. Desire, want and need had the potential to morph into so much more.
“Maria?” He turned to her, and swept her into his arms. She felt her body soften as her curves molded to his hard, muscular body. Her skin tingled from the touch of his hands as his long, elegant fingers caressed her arms.
And then he kissed her.
KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at eleven. Amid the Catskill Mountains, then the Rocky Mountains, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty surrounding her. Karen lives in north Texas and shares her life with her hero of a husband and three doting dogs. You can email Karen at [email protected] or write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com.
Billionaire Wolf
Karen Whiddon
As always, to my beloved husband, Lonnie.
Contents
Maria Miranda had always liked her name—almost as much as she loved the sea. The melodic sound of the six syllables always made her smile. Even now, trying to fulfill the destiny she’d been given, a walk along the waves did much to soothe her frustration at her repeated failure.
All her life, she’d taken great pains to hide her beauty. Until now. She’d just turned thirty, and her father and the Drakkor Council had grown impatient. The time had come to accomplish what she’d been born to do. Somehow. So far, nothing had been as easy as it should be.
Another Friday night. She’d decided to give this place one more shot—how could she resist a bar called Sea Dragon? She took the same seat at the bar as she had the previous two Fridays and swiveled to face the crowded nightclub. Women shot her envious and sometimes downright hostile glares, while the men couldn’t seem to tear their eyes from her. Not for the first time, she found herself aching to scoop her hair back into an unflattering bun and slip her oversize, tortoiseshell glass onto her nose.
Lookin’ for love in all the wrong places...
Despite the hip-hop music blasting on the nightclub’s speakers, the old eighties song kept running through her head. As she got up and gyrated on the dance floor with yet another handsy, overly self-confident man, she wondered why on earth she’d ever thought coming here would be a good idea.
Because desperation fueled her, that’s why. Some women talked of their biological clock ticking. Well, hers had gone into overdrive. Not just because she yearned for a baby, but because her entire race’s survival depended on it. Unfortunately, for her, getting pregnant was a bit complicated.
Breathing a sigh of relief as the song ended, she gazed into her escort’s eyes and tried to imagine letting his lips touch her. Nope. Not feeling it. So she thanked him and turned to go. When he grabbed her arm, she pulled free, gave him a don’t-you-dare-try-that-again glare and headed back toward the bar.
Immediately, several other men jostled each other, clamoring for her attention. Ignoring them all, she raised her hand to signal the bartender, but someone stepped in front of her and ordered a drink for her, his treat.
“No thank you,” she said, her voice clear and cool. And discouraging. Who knew men would think that if a reasonably attractive woman came to a bar alone, it was a signal to a bunch of hungry sharks to begin a feeding frenzy?
At the lame analogy, her inner