Home > Werewolf in Greenwich Village (Wild About You #1.5)(13)

Werewolf in Greenwich Village (Wild About You #1.5)(13)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

This woman was definitely getting a big, fat raise. “So, can I quote you on that?”

Her assistant shrugged. “You can, but nobody cares what I think.”

“I do.” She felt like running around the room shouting with joy, but she settled for giving Sherry a fierce hug. Then she stepped back and grinned at her assistant. “Why didn’t I realize it sooner? That’s all that matters! After all, I’m the pack alpha.”

Meeting Nadia at Jessie’s was probably a stupid idea, but Quentin had known from the minute she’d called to suggest it that he’d be there. She’d used the argument that they’d been friends before they were lovers, and she’d hate to think they couldn’t be friends again.

That whole idea was bullshit as far as he was concerned. Now that he’d made love to her, he wouldn’t be able to occupy the same room without wanting her with the heat of a thousand suns. But maybe she had more self-control.

If so, he’d let her think they’d returned to the status quo if that would make her happy. God, he’d do anything to make her happy. And seeing her again, especially in Jessie’s, would be torture, but a sweet kind of torture.

Naturally, being the eager one, he arrived early and had polished off a Scotch and soda before she walked in. She looked fabulous as always, dressed in purple with her hair down. He glanced at her feet, and damned if she hadn’t put on the silver heels. No fair.

He stood as Sylvester escorted her to his table, the same one they’d shared before. “You look great.”

“So do you.” She thanked Sylvester as he held her chair.

Quentin doubted that he looked great. Every morning when he glanced in the mirror his reflection seemed to sag a little more. Life without Nadia was like life without oxygen, but he kept on keeping on because he had no choice.

“Let me get you a drink.” He signaled to the waitress. “What do you want?”

“You.”

His gaze snapped back to hers. “Excuse me?”

“You.” She looked into his eyes. “Forever, if you’ll have me.”

He glanced around, waiting for the scene to dissolve and for him to wake up in his bedroom. “This isn’t happening.”

“Yes, it is.” She reached across the table and took both of his hands in hers. Then she lowered her voice. “I’m asking you to be my mate, Quentin. I realize that you don’t care about pack politics, and I’ve figured out how we can—”

“Would you care to order a drink?” asked the waitress who had appeared at their table.

Nadia glanced up. “Not right now, thank you.” Once the wood sprite left, she gazed at him. “Where were we?”

He gripped her hands hard, as if to verify that she was real. “You just asked me to be your mate, but I must be hallucinating, because that’s not possible.”

“It is possible.”

He felt dizzy. “But I’m not good enough for you.”

“Actually, you’re extremely good enough for me. As a wise woman pointed out recently, you’re my creative muse. Remember the spring collection I designed after our first night together?”

“Yeah, but—”

“It seems that once you were out of my life, that inspiration faded. For that reason alone, I should beg you to consider my offer. But there are so many other reasons, like your courage, your loyalty, and your . . . um . . . other assets.” Color tinged her cheeks and her eyes sparkled.

He kept holding onto her, his heart pounding, as he struggled with the idea that she was presenting. “You know how much I want you, but your family would have a fit.”

“That’s handled. Tradition is all well and good, but Aidan chose happiness over tradition, and the Wallace pack came to accept it. The Henderson pack will do the same.”

“I don’t want to make life more difficult for you, Nadia.”

“Quite the opposite.” She smiled, a warm light in her eyes. “You’ll be my ally as I lead my pack into the twenty-first century. This will be good for everyone, Quentin.”

A glimmer of hope penetrated his confusion, but still, there were so many obstacles. “Are you asking me to move to Chicago?” He’d probably do it, but he needed to know the level of sacrifice expected of him.

“Absolutely not. In fact, I’m hoping we can consider your loft our special retreat. You can come to Chicago if and when you choose, but mostly I want us to be together here and call the loft home. I plan to have a satellite office in Manhattan.”

He looked into her eyes. Things this wonderful didn’t happen, at least to him, but it seemed as if maybe, on this special night, they did. “I love you.” It tumbled out before he could think about it.

“That’s good, because I happen to love you, too.” She squeezed his hands. “So is that a yes?”

He held her gaze, his heart overflowing. “That’s a yes, and a hallelujah, and a let’s-get-out-of-here.”

“The loft?”

“Yeah.” Still holding her hands, he drew her out of her chair. “But first, I do believe I’m going to kiss you, right here in the middle of Jessie’s.”

She smiled up at him. “You know how Weres gossip.”

“I’m counting on it.” He drew her into his arms and his mouth hovered over hers. “In fact . . .” He kissed her lightly and drew back. “Tomorrow I’m renting a billboard in Times Square.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. It’s not every day you get a permanent booking at Carnegie Hall.” Then he kissed her again, this time with enough heat to reach the cheap seats.
 

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