All her needs were met?
What happened to maintaining his composure? He was practically babbling and falling over himself to attend to her. Focus, focus, he schooled himself as he picked up a card from the holder. Let’s deal with the reason why she’s here.
His wolf snorted. It’s useless. You know it’s her. Court her. Make her ours.
Court her? What did his wolf know about relationships? Grayson’s duty and loyalties remained first and foremost to his pack.
After writing his personal cell number on the back, he returned to Aurora and handed her his business card. When she accepted it, her fingers brushed his, setting off a wave of heady awareness pulsing through his veins.
If the slightest touch from her unglued him like this, how would he get through the evening without confessing his secrets—namely telling her she was his mate? No way could he do that. Not only would he ruin his plan, but he’d scare her away.
He had no other option but to ignore his wolf’s yearning until after they dealt with the Sacco mess.
And then?
Good question. He’d deal with it then.
Aurora
The suite was spacious and high-end with a king-sized bed covered with more white fluffy pillows than one person could use. It was more than Aurora needed for a few days here in the mountains. A dark wood table beside a leather lounger would help her get settled. She moved it beside a window.
She unpacked her travel kit, setting up salt, an athame, a stone, a candle, a shell of water, and a feather on the appropriate spots. After centering herself with a breathing meditation, she cast a circle. She called on each of the elements and asked for their assistance in her task. She visualized success in her endeavor and repeated chants to ground her. She then thanked the goddess and closed the circle.
A shower helped soothe her, preparing her for the task ahead. What it didn’t help with was the strange jitters inside as she anticipated meeting Grayson for dinner. She spent entirely too much time fussing with her appearance, considering she was meeting him for a professional dinner to discuss business.
She’d been keenly aware of how he’d looked at her—and how her body had responded. Even now, she thought about his intense eyes. They were probing and soulful, reminding her of how an artist could be captivated by the art of creating. That was an odd comparison since his office and career choice indicated he was more likely fascinated by figures and spreadsheets.
The walk over the paved brick path was lit with solar lamps that revealed the picturesque village. Snow-covered roofs of quaint stores stretched ahead. The window displays of restaurants and stores appeared inviting. If she had free time over the next few days, she’d go exploring.
The brick exterior out front of the La Luna had a burnt yellow canopy and dark red lettering that had a unique appeal, yet blended in with the surrounding structures.
She stepped inside the Spanish restaurant and the scent of spices made her mouth water. The same yellow and reds were prominent on the walls of the dimly lit restaurant with soft lighting, both from overhead and the glass candles on tabletops. The lulling sound of Spanish guitar played in the background, just audible over the din of conversation.
She scanned the restaurant and immediately fixed her gaze on Grayson sitting at a round table for two near the center. A small candle encased in glass lit the rugged lines of his profile. Her heart thudded with an erratic beat. The impression he projected was confident, like he owned the place.
Grayson raised his eyes at that same moment, as if sensing her. When their gazes met, he smiled and her insides practically sizzled. A server passed with a tray of plates, and Aurora felt as fiery as the steaming vegetables. He stood and smiled.
Be professional. Be professional, she reminded herself as she continued over.
She reached him and said hello, somehow keeping from tripping over her tongue.
“Aurora.” He bowed his head. “You look beautiful. That color brings out your eyes.”
She was glad she’d chosen the amethyst wrap dress, which accentuated her eyes, which she considered her best feature. “Thank you.”
After she sat, he followed, like a perfect gentleman.
“Hope you don’t mind, but I ordered some sangria.” He motioned to the dark red ceramic pitcher between them. “They are well known for it and have drawn many regulars for that alone after days on the slopes.”
“Sounds great.”
After he poured them each a glass, she took a sip. The flavors of red wine and fruit exploded on her tongue. “You’re right, it’s delicious. No wonder they get repeat business.”
When the server stopped by, they picked a number of tapas, including some of Grayson’s favorites, like chorizo and cheese ones, and stuffed mushrooms that she’d selected.
“The suite is amazing, by the way. It’s very kind of you,” she noted. “I can’t say I’m treated this well on most of my assignments.”
“My pleasure,” Grayson said with a solemn nod. “I appreciate you traveling up here to help us with this issue.” His brows furrowed. “Something I have been unable to resolve on my own.”
“Tell me what’s happened thus far.” She leaned forward. “I have an idea from my aunt, who arranged this assignment, but I’d like to hear more from you.”
Grayson picked up his glass and took another sip, watching her over the rim of the glass. She crossed her legs and then uncrossed them, switching to the other side. The intensity of his gaze bore through her again, scorching her skin.
After he set the glass down, he clasped his hands on the table. She glanced at them. They were masculine hands, rough, and not at all what she’d expect from a CFO who sat behind a desk. But he was also a wolf shifter, and she sensed there was much more to Grayson Dumont than what was on the surface.
“The Franconia and Sacco packs have fought over land in this area for as long as I can remember,” Grayson explained. “Around ten years ago, we purchased the ski resort. It was a bare-bones operation with outdated equipment and lodging. We’d invested wisely over the years and had the means and resources to develop the resort. The Sacco pack wasn’t at all happy about our plans. After much arguing back and forth, we came up with an agreement to live and let live. We each stay on our respective sides of the border and not trespass into the other’s territory.”
Grayson continued to explain the recent tensions that had arisen between the packs. Then he asked, “Are you familiar with how wolf shifters bond?” His voice sounded strange, all of a sudden, almost strangled.
“I am,” she replied. “Apparently, a wolf has one mate, kind of like a soulmate, I think.”
His gaze lingered on her before he swallowed. “Right. Well, when a shifter finds his or her mate, the compulsion to protect and care for a mate overpowers all else. Even reason.” Grayson glanced at his glass of sangria and licked his lower lip. “One of our enforcers, Damon, felt his mate was in trouble, but she was on Sacco land. When he crossed into their territory to find her, one of their enforcers engaged. That fight sparked more tension between the packs.”
Grayson rubbed the stem of his wine glass and lifted his gaze back to Aurora. “After that encounter, their enforcer developed a vendetta toward Damon. He kidnapped Damon’s mate, Sophie, and when he tracked her, it led to another fight—this time to the death. Fortunately, it was the Sacco enforcer.”