Dating a Werewolf Page 2

  “Funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her as she ducked under his arm and entered the spacious hallway. “Cujo, where are you?”

  He followed, shutting the door behind him. “You do realise how stupid it might be to bring a tiny dog into a werewolf’s house, don’t you?”

  No more stupid than a were who can’t answer a few questions on a website.

  The guy peered around various pieces of furniture in search of her dog. “I could have the little fellow as an appetiser and he wouldn’t even touch the sides.”

  Again, she wasn’t certain he was joking. “Touch Cujo over my dead body,” she told him, her tone deadly serious, not considering for one moment how ridiculous a petite woman like her must look threatening a giant alpha werewolf.

  He didn’t appear to take offence and offered a cheeky grin instead. “A Chihuahua and a feisty terrier? My luck’s in.” He winked, leaving her with no doubt he was flirting with her.

  The nerve of the man. If he referred to women as dogs, maybe that’s why he needed the services of a paranormal dating agency.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr Beckett—”

  “Grayson.”

  “Grayson. I’m here to help you sign up on the Love Bites dating website, nothing more.”

  “Of course, Jamie.”

  Why did the way he said her name make her throat dry and her pulse rate accelerate? She swallowed. “Good.”

  “Good.” He fixed her with another intense stare, bringing her attention to those mesmerising golden flecks again.

  Damn him.

  “I really have to find Cujo.”

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up. Why don’t I show you around the manor and we can look for your dog at the same time?” He didn’t wait for her answer as he moved across the hall, his strides long and fast.

  For a big man, he was surprisingly graceful and light on his feet.

  Jamie broke into a half-run to keep up with him as he showed her around the mansion. A lounge with a huge Georgian fireplace, a dining room, even a library and an impressive ballroom, all with discreetly placed security cameras. Room after room was tastefully decorated with a mix of modern and antique furniture, and beautiful artwork adorned every wall, some artists she recognised, but some she didn’t. Like the stunning paintings of Beckett Hall, and of magnificent wolves in varying poses, the detail on their glossy fur so well drawn she thought it might ruffle if a breeze blew in from the window.

  In several rooms, he called out, “Luna? Where are you?”

  No one appeared.

  Grayson shook his head. “I despair at that girl sometimes.” He didn’t say who she was.

  “You have a lovely home, Mr Bec…Grayson.” She meant it too. “Perhaps there’s somewhere we could take a photo for your Love Bites profile?” She rested her laptop case between her ankles and got out her phone.

  “Great idea. I have just the place.” He led her into a kitchen and then through a door at the back. Inside the garage two cars, a Rolls and a Range Rover, were parked closest to the open garage door, but he headed for a row of at least six motorbikes, expensive and powerful, the latest models and one or two classics.

  Grayson straddled a black Harley Davidson with shiny chrome handlebars. “How’s this?”

  If he was trying to impress her, it wasn’t working. In fact, his blatant display of wealth grated on her nerves. “That’s quite possibly the naffest pose I’ve ever seen,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  One eyebrow arched and he regarded her for several seconds.

  An uncomfortable prickle crept around her neck. “Sorry, my mouth runs away with me sometimes.” She took the picture with her phone.

  “You’re lucky you have a such a pretty mouth,” he said in a low voice.

  Really? That was the most cringe-worthy one-liner she’d ever heard, too.

  She ignored his comment. Keep it professional, Jamie. “We did a survey on Love Bites once,” she explained, “asking people what put them off in a profile picture. Straddling a motorbike, or sitting on the bonnet of some expensive car came up as the number one peeve.”

  To her surprise, he got off the motorcycle. “Best not use that one then.”

  He glanced around and leant against the garage wall. “How about here?”

  The painted grey wall wasn’t the best, but she supposed it would do. “Okay, better.” She held up her phone and waited for it to focus on his face.

  Grayson executed a brooding pose to perfection. He even touched his jaw with his hand, like he was modelling for some watch advert. She rolled her eyes. “Posing like that was the number two turn off,” she told him. “People are looking for someone more genuine. Think of something that makes you smile.”

  He dropped his hand and flashed a mischievous grin that made her heart skip a beat.

  She took the photo. “Perfect,” she said, hoping her tone sounded business-like.

  “I’m glad you think so.” His grin widened. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I was thinking of that made me smile?”

  No, she wasn’t. The guy was too cocky for his own good.

  “I was imagining your face when you say yes.” With that, he walked off into the kitchen again.

  She picked up her laptop case and followed. “Yes to what?”

  “Yes to going out with me.” He switched on the kettle. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

  Her hackles rose. “No, I don’t want tea or coffee. I told you I’m here to help you sign up to the dating agency.”

  “You have a boyfriend then?”

  “No, I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t want one either.” Especially not an arrogant, self-assured dork like you. “I think I should go.”

  Grayson fetched two mugs from a cupboard. “I have a confession to make, Jamie.”

  At that point, she didn’t care.

  “I’m not a technophobe, and I don’t need your help with signing up to the agency.”

  “What the heck am I doing here then?” Anger bubbled inside. “It’s my day off and I had to drop everything to come here.”

  “I saw your picture on the Love Bites website last night—the one that pops up with the speech bubble—and I didn’t need to look any further.” He faced her. “You’re perfect, Jamie Osborne.”

  “I… I’m not looking for someone. I… just work there.” Why am I stuttering?

  “So you don’t want to go out with me?”

  “No, I don’t.” She couldn’t think of anything worse, even if he was making her weak at the knees. Heat rose from her neck to her cheeks. Sunsets came to mind again.

  “There’s one thing you need to know about me; I never accept no for an answer.”

  “I don’t care, Mr Beckett. Accept that.”

  He narrowed his eyes, and suddenly they were more menacing, the intriguing flecks now flashing like gold lightning. “I’ll pay you. What do you make as an online coach anyway? It can’t be much.”

  Un-bloody-believable.

  Jamie gripped the case handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I don’t need your money, Mr Beckett.” She didn’t know whether to be insulted or enraged. She settled on both and reached for her necklace with the vial of spelled sleeping powder. If he decided to morph into a wolf, she’d be ready. To hell with professionalism, the oaf needed to hear some home truths. “You’re either desperate or disillusioned.” She jutted her chin. “No wait, you must be both to think I would even consider going out with an arrogant, egotistical son of a bitch like you.”

  Harper wouldn’t be pleased she’d insulted a potential client, but she was beyond the point of no return.

  Shock swept across his not-that-handsome face. Who was she kidding? The man was so devilishly good-looking she felt the sudden need for an ice-cold shower.

  “I won’t be helping you sign up to Love Bites,” she ranted on. “You need help with something else.” She left it to his imagination as to wh
at he needed help with. A personality transplant for starters. A healthy dollop of respect wouldn’t go amiss either.

  A yap came from outside the kitchen door. “Cujo?” Thank the stars; at least she could get the hell out of there before she said something she really regretted.

  Jamie turned away from Grayson as a young girl entered the kitchen, holding Cujo in her arms. She looked to be eleven or twelve, but she was dressed more like an eight year old in pink, babyish clothes and sparkly trainers.

  “Luna, didn’t you hear me calling you earlier?” came Grayson’s gruff voice from behind.

  “Sorry, Dad. I was in the library and this cute ball of fluff came and found me.”

  “We checked the library.”

  “I was in the reading nook.” She offered Jamie a smile, her dark, wavy hair and gold-flecked eyes like her father’s. “Hi, I’m Luna. You’re so pretty. Is this your dog?”

  Jamie bit down her anger. The girl had nothing to do with her argument with her father. “Hi, I’m Jamie. Yes, he’s my dog. Thanks for finding him.”

  “Before you ask, Luna,” Grayson piped in, “I’m not buying you a Chihuahua.”

  Luna walked towards her father. “But look at his cute face, Daddy.” The girl fluttered her eyelashes, black and thick, the same as Grayson’s. She held Cujo up to him.

  The condescending wolf melted like hot candle wax as he gazed at his daughter and made a fuss of Cujo. “Don’t you flutter your eyelashes at me, you little pup.” He tapped her nose. “When do you ever call me Daddy?”

  Cujo licked Grayson’s bear-like hand, his tail wagging excitedly.

  Traitor.

  Luna looked at her dad like butter wouldn’t melt. “All the time, Daddy.”

  He chuckled. “I told you before, Luna, you can’t have everything you want. I’m sure Cujo here is not for sale.”

  Jamie reached for her dog, glowering at Grayson. “No, he’s not for sale.” Neither am I, for that matter.

  Grayson’s amused expression only served to fuel the rage that burned inside. He took her dog from Luna and handed him to her.

  She didn’t thank him. “Bye, Luna. It was lovely to meet you.” Jamie plonked Cujo in her handbag and made a rapid exit.

  In the spacious hallway, she almost bumped into a tall woman shouting at an elderly lady, who despite her limp, was following the younger woman, tugging at her arm. “Leave me alone, you lame bitch. If I want to speak to Grayson, I will.”

  “He doesn’t want to see you, Imogen,” said the elderly woman.

  “He’ll want to see me all right.” Her steps faltered when she saw Jamie.

  Her face turned to stone. If looks could kill, Jamie would have been a pile of ashes on the floor within seconds.

  The woman, Imogen, emitted an animal-like grunt, her eyes predatory. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Cujo growled from inside her handbag. Her dog never growled at anyone, but she didn’t blame him. Who did this woman think she was, speaking to her like that?

  Grayson appeared from the kitchen. “Imogen. I thought I heard your dulcet tones.”

  “I’m sorry, Grayson,” said the older lady. “She barged straight in.”

  “It’s fine, Alice.” He spoke to Imogen. “What do you want now?”

  “You can start by telling me who that piece of trash is.” She flashed another evil glare in Jamie’s direction, while she stood there like a spare part, having no idea what was going on.

  “She’s no one,” he told her.

  Her cue to leave. Jamie headed for the front door.

  “She works for a dating agency and was helping me sign up,” Grayson continued.

  Jamie hesitated. Why would he say that when they had done no such thing?

  “A dating agency?” Imogen scoffed. She elbowed past Jamie and wrapped her arm around Grayson’s huge bicep. “Grayson, darling, we had a teeny, tiny disagreement, that’s all.” She rubbed herself against him, her crimson fingernails tracing patterns on his chest. “Why would you want to join a silly little dating agency when you have me?”

  Clearly the pair had history—history that was none of her business.

  Jamie regarded Imogen. Tall, with legs up to her armpits, blonde hair and big boobs. The complete opposite of her.

  Well, the woman was welcome to him. The awful pair were perfect for each other.

  She acknowledged the older woman—Alice, he’d called her—held her head high and darted out of Beckett Hall as fast as she could in her high heels.

  Chapter Three

  Grayson grabbed Imogen’s hand—noting those hideous painted fingernails of hers he’d never liked—and shook off her vile pawing of his arm. “I thought I made it clear yesterday, Imogen. We’re over.”

  “Darling, you don’t mean that,” she replied, her nasally voice going right through him.

  He flicked his wrist in the air like she was an irritating fly he sought to swat. If only it was that easy to get rid of her. He thought she would have taken the hint when he’d mentioned the dating agency, but no, she was still in denial. He needed to put things straight with her, once and for all.

  Outside, Jamie’s car wheels spewed up the gravel outside Beckett Hall in her haste to get away from him, and he didn’t blame her after his unforgivable behaviour.

  Grayson turned to his aunt. “I left Luna in the kitchen, Alice. Would you mind fixing her a drink, please? I need to speak to Imogen in private.”

  Alice’s face took on that concerned expression she was so good at. “Are you sure you’re okay, Grayson?”

  He nodded, but no, he wasn’t all right. At that moment, he hated himself.

  His aunt regarded him for a few seconds, then tottered off to the kitchen. He frowned. Her limp was getting worse.

  Taking a deep breath, he focused on one concern at a time. Imogen first. “I’m sorry, Imogen, but I’m done with all the drama. We’re finished. We have been for a long time.” He really couldn’t make it any clearer.

  Imogen flung her arms around his neck and buried her head in his chest. “No, please, Grayson, I’ll try harder, I promise.”

  He peeled off her arms, holding her wrists. “No, it’s too late.”

  She looked up at him, squeezing her eyelids and blinking as if she was trying to make tears appear when the woman was incapable of any kind of emotion.

  Whatever had he seen in her?

  “Is there someone else?”

  “No.” Grayson’s gaze flitted to the open front door. Jamie’s car was long gone.

  Imogen’s face hardened. “Surely you can’t find that bitch who just left attractive?” she spat out. “She’s what, two feet tall? And a human, of all things.”

  The vindictiveness in her tone kicked in a sudden need to protect Jamie. Imogen could be a nasty piece of work when she wanted to be.

  “No, Imogen, I don’t find her attractive,” he lied.

  Stunning more like, even with her bright orange face. Her eyes… Wow, her eyes. Big and beautiful, like glistening emerald pools he wanted to dive right into and never come up for air. No woman, werewolf or otherwise, had ever made him weak with desire with one defiant look. She was feisty, he’d give her that, and he’d never let anyone speak to him the way she did, but something about her intrigued him.

  Then he’d said something so insulting he’d made himself sound like a right jerk.

  “It didn’t look like that to me,” said Imogen. “What’s the name of the dating agency? I’ll see to it she gets the sack.”

  Grayson bit down on his molars. His ex was like the proverbial dog with a bone. “You won’t.” He had to find a way to get her off the scent. “She’s just an employee. I invited her here to help me sign up to the agency, as I said before.”

  “But why?”

  “I need to find a mother for Luna.” Hopefully that little white lie would send her running. “And we both know you’re not the mothering type.”

  Imogen huffed. “You think you can find that by joining a datin
g agency? Most people join those for one thing only—the sex. I can give you that whenever you want. You know we’re great in bed.”

  She might think so, but for him it had never been more than going through the motions.

  “Look, Imogen, what we had was…” He searched for the right word. A mistake. “Err… fun, but I have to think of the pack. I need to take a wife.”

  He waited for the drama, knowing full well she couldn’t abide the idea of marriage.

  “You told me you never wanted to get married again after what happened to Piper.”

  Grayson’s chest caved with the memory. The image of his wife’s mutilated body, murdered by a rival pack the day after she’d given birth to Luna, still plagued his thoughts after twelve long years. “Leave Piper out of this. I made sure it states clearly on my profile on the dating website that I’m looking for a mutually agreeable business arrangement, a marriage of convenience.” Another lie, but he was willing to do almost anything to get her off his back.

  Imogen stepped back. “A marriage of convenience? Good luck with that,” she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. “It’ll never work.”

  “It will.”

  “What happens when your ‘little wifey’ doesn’t give you what you want in bed?”

  Was she ever going to leave? His wolf thought the same. “My marriage will be a convenience in all departments, including servicing my sexual needs.”

  “Whatever you say, Grayson.”

  He squared his shoulders and emitted a growl. If playing the alpha card was the only way of getting the message through to Imogen, then so be it.

  With a whimper, she backed off towards the front door—at last.

  “Goodbye, Imogen.”

  She didn’t reply. Grayson got the impression he hadn’t heard the last from her. He shut the door behind her and leant his back against it.

  Today was not going as he’d planned.

  Raking his fingers through his hair, he made his way to the lounge and sat on his favourite chair, mulling over the series of events that had taken him completely by surprise and made him question what the hell he was doing with his life.

  Yesterday he had his life in order. Luna was excelling at school thanks to her extra studies with a home tutor, his businesses were doing well, and he’d finished it with Imogen—or so he thought.