“That’s me.” He smiled, and his teeth looked very white, and very sharp.
She wondered whether he’d gone so far into the fantasy that he’d filed them into points. She kept tel ing herself he was only a nineteen-year-old kid, but she hadn’t factored in his height, about six-two, or the predatory look in his dark eyes.
He could have been a nice-looking guy if he’d bothered with his appearance, but his careless grooming combined with those wicked-looking teeth sent shivers down her spine.
He stepped closer. “Did you get my e-mails?”
“So you’re the one who sent those.”
“Affirmative, sweet thing.”
Her skin crawled, but she kept her tone polite. “I’m glad you like my books. But they’re pure fantasy. As we al know, there’s no such thing as werewolves.” Her laughter sounded about as nervous as she felt.
“Are you sure about that?” He held up a hand, a very hairy hand.
“Amazing what a little spirit gum and fake hair can do, isn’t it?” She will ed Aidan to show up now. She didn’t care whether he claimed to be her assistant, her fiancé, or the mayor of Chicago, just so he used his Well-sculpted body to put the fear of God into this weird person who was trying to convince her he was a werewolf.
“This isn’t fake.” Theo held up his other hand, which was also covered with black hair. “Give me another couple of minutes and I—hang on.” He sniffed the air.
“Gotta go.” Moving with astounding agility and grace, he slipped away down one of the aisles.
He’d been gone about two seconds when Aidan arrived, panting. “Missed him.
Damn it. Wait here.” Without asking her which way Theo had run, he turned away and scanned the various escape routes. Then damned if he didn’t sniff the air the same way Theo had, before taking off down the same aisle.
Emma wondered whether she’d fal en down the rabbit hole. The kid had looked somewhat unwashed, but she hadn’t been able to actual y smell him. Maybe Aidan was sniffing because he was coming down with a cold. If so, she needed to keep away from him because catching a cold in the middle of her book tour would be hel .
She did as she was told, though, and waited by the signing table for him to come back.
After about ten minutes, he did, but he didn’t look happy. “He got away, probably had a car waiting outside, maybe even Terry’s. I can’t believe I missed seeing him come into the store.”
“I’m sure there are lots of people out on the street, Aidan.”
He gazed at her. “I just should have seen him, that’s al . It’s part of my job, and I wasn’t doing it effectively.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, he’s gone, and that could be the end of it. I hope it is.”
“I hope so.” Aidan didn’t sound convinced. “Give me your coat. We need to get out of here.”
“Okay.” She al owed him to help her with her coat. After dealing with Theo, she wanted to snuggle against Aidan as he slipped it over her shoulders. “I was planning to say good-bye to the bookstore manager.”
“You can send a note.” He put his hand at the smal of her back and urged her forward. “I’l feel better once we’re locked inside the Palmer House.”
“So will I. Theo is seriously whacked, Aidan. He’s glued fake hair to the backs of his hands, and I don’t know if he’s filed his teeth, but they look real y wicked.”
Aidan cursed softly under his breath.
“Do you think we should notify the police?” Emma asked as they hurried through the store. “I didn’t want to do that, but the kid may be a danger to himself and others, and ... Well, me.”
“I’m not sure what the police could do. At this point he hasn’t actual y threatened you, and you do, after al , write about werewolves. He could say he was just playing along with the way readers of vampire books show up wearing black capes and fangs.”
“You’re right.” She saw the town car and Barry standing with the back door open for her. What a welcome sight. She wanted to run forward and fling herself inside the safety of the car, but she forced herself to walk. “Hel o, Barry.”
“Hel o, Emma.” He glanced at Aidan. “Catch him?”
“No, he got away.”
“Damn.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” Aidan climbed in after Emma. “I thought about having sandwiches ready for you, but then I decided you might not want to juggle a hot pastrami on rye in downtown Chicago traffic.”
She buckled herself in, but her thoughts were focused on the hot pastrami and rye. “Was that sandwich suggestion a lucky guess or have you been talking to someone who knows me?”
“Uh, Jenny might have mentioned that you liked those. Or it was in that interview I read.”
“You must have read that interview with a high-lighter.” She settled back in the plush leather seat. Her conscience didn’t even prick her at the luxury of it. She was safe, and after the encounter with Theo, that seemed more important than class distinctions and squandering resources.
“I’ve fol owed your career with great interest.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Apparently so. I stil don’t quite get it, though.
I’m not putting down what I do, but usual y it appeals to women who love the idea of an alpha male.”
He glanced over at her and smiled. “I’l be happy to explain what I like about your books over dinner. I can cal the hotel and get them started on a room service order. Do you want the hot pastrami or something else? Steak? Lobster?”
She thought about it and couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for a big meal at this hour. It was almost ten, and she had to be up at seven. “The sad thing is that with al the running, I’m not real y hungry anymore. Maybe just some cheese and crackers, stuff to nibble on.”
“Wine? Champagne?”
Oh, what the hell. She was in the company of a man who was so wealthy he wore an eight-hundred-thousand-dol ar watch. “Champagne gives me a headache, but if you’l choose a real y good red wine, I’d like that. I won’t drink much, but I’m a little tense, and that should relax me.”
“You’ve got it.” He punched a number into his BlackBerry and gave someone instructions.
She heard the name of the wine, some high-priced brand she vaguely remembered from a movie. It probably cost several hundred dol ars a bottle. She didn’t want to know. It would be wonderful, as everything connected to Aidan was wonderful.
When he returned to New York and she flew on to Denver, the party would be over. For now, she was stil doing research. At some point she should write down the name of the wine so she could use it in a book.
Aidan put his hand over the mouthpiece of his BlackBerry. “One more question, Emma.”
“What’s that?”
“They offered to run the water in the Jacuzzi for you. What do you say?”
She ached al over from the constant pressure of being sociable for hours. She was essential y a hermit, but a book tour required her to be on much more than she was used to. For a few seconds she thought of al that water, al that electricity needed to heat the water, and how very wasteful a Jacuzzi was compared to a quick shower.
She should real y take a quick shower instead. But that wouldn’t help her with her research. “I say that sounds great,” she said. “But just to be clear, you can’t join me.”
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He might not, but she would.
Chapter 10
An hour later, Aidan paced the living room of the penthouse while he talked to Roarke. He’d ditched his suit jacket and rol ed back the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Emma was deep into her Jacuzzi experience and had her cheese tray and a bottle of Lafite Rothschild in there with her.
He doubted she’d be popping out to hear his conversation. Stil , he kept his voice down.
Roarke, who had no such restraints, was yel ing into his phone. “You’re an idiot!”
“Not according to my test scores.”
“Which are nul ified by your testicles, apparently. I knew you had solid-brass ones, but this is arrogance taken to the max!”
“Calm down, Roarke.”
“Here I thought we had an understanding, and then I check with Dad and find out you’re on the damned tour with her, after al ! What’s wrong with you, bro?”
“When it turned out to be a Henderson, I thought that I’d be the best one to—”
“Fuck it up? That’s my analysis of the situation, for what it’s worth. You were thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy. You’re in the penthouse of the Palmer, aren’t you?”
“It’s safe.” He stared into the flames of the gas fire dancing on the marble hearth.
The lit fire was part of the turndown service. “I figured if it’s good enough for the President of the United States, then it’s got enough security for my purposes.”
“Yeah, I’m sure security is the main appeal.”
“Absolutely.” Aidan glanced around at the sleek penthouse furnishings predominated by a black-and-white color scheme. There weren’t enough plants to suit him, but otherwise, it worked. The windows presented a view of city lights and of snow that had just begun to drift down in big, fat flakes.
“Ha. I stayed there once, and the Jacuzzi is al gilt and mirrors. Is she in it yet?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, I hope to hel you have the good sense to stay out of there.”
“I will.” He’d been trying not to think of Emma nak*d in that Jacuzzi. The maid had lit about twenty candles in the room, and Emma had been entranced. She hadn’t been able to change into the hotel robe fast enough.
“You step one foot in there, Aidan, and you know what will happen,” he said. “And worse yet, if for some reason you get interested and nothing comes of it, you have that little genetic problem to deal with.”
Aidan blew out a breath. “You don’t have to remind me. I’m ful y aware that I have that problem and you don’t, dickhead.”
“At least you’re only a couple of blocks from the park, in case you start shifting and have to work it off.”
Aidan’s slight disability was a sore spot, and Roarke knew that, damn him. Aidan was older, but Roarke was free of that particular gene, and he liked to flaunt the fact. “Roarke, let me ask you something.”
“No, I have never slept with Britney Spears. She wanted to, but I said no.”
“It’s not about your sex life, which I find vastly boring. It’s about your watch. How much do you think Dad paid for it?”
“Close to a mil, I guess. Why? Jealous?”
“You know a family could get a real y nice house or a great condo for the same price as that watch.”
Roarke sighed. “That’s not the point. Fine craftsmanship is disappearing, but it stil exists in some areas, like watchmaking, for example. You could argue that watchmaking is an art form. Your watch and mine are like one of the Renoirs or Picassos the family owns, except we can wear them, which is actual y more useful than something that hangs on the wal .”
“I suppose.” Aidan had been debating the watch question al day, but he felt better now.
“Artisans who make things like intricate watches and intricate blown glass and—”
“Fine wines?” Aidan asked hopeful y. He’d just dropped a bundle on the one Emma was drinking in the Jacuzzi, and in case she saw the bil at some point, he wanted to be ready with a justification.
“Absolutely. Fine wines and precision automobiles and sleek yachts. These artisans need patrons, just like in the Renaissance. Without people like Dad and Mom supporting them, the artisans of the world would have to abandon their years of apprenticeship and dig ditches.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Maybe not ditches, but you get the idea. Without patrons, many amazing creations wouldn’t exist. It’s our duty to make sure the culture continues in al its facets.”
“Thanks. You’re the scholar, so I figured you’d be the one to give me the rationale.”
Roarke chuckled. “I take it Emma disapproves of your watch.”
“We had a discussion about it.”
“Discussions are good, bro. That means you’re not getting horizontal. Keep it in your pants, okay?”
“That’s always been the plan.” Aidan didn’t appreciate being lectured to by his younger brother, and it was becoming something of a habit with Roarke.
“I don’t have to tel you that Dad’s nervous about the relationship between the Wal ace and the Henderson packs.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Oh, and I’m pretty sure Nadia knows you’re in Chicago. You’l need to at least pay a quick social cal .”
“When am I supposed to do that?”
“Maybe Sunday, before you fly back.”
Aidan groaned. “I’l do my best.” His attention veered from the phone cal as Emma padded out into the living room, carrying a bal oon glass ful of the Lafite Rothschild in one hand and the half-empty bottle in the other. She was al pink skin and gold ringlets, and she was smiling.
“This is great wine, Aidan,” she said.
“Later, Roarke.” He disconnected the phone and turned to Emma. “Glad you like it.”
“I’m not even going to ask you how much it was.”
“Good, because making wine is an art that needs to be supported by those who have the means.”
“I guess.” She walked over to one of two sofas that faced each other in front of the fireplace. The sleek Scandinavian frame was covered in black leather. “In any case, I started feeling guilty drinking it al by myself. I’m sure this penthouse must have another wineglass somewhere.”