Amusement flashed in her eyes. “No, I’m not.”
“And you’re not the pack alpha yet.”
“Nope. Any other thoughts?”
“Yes. You’re royalty and I’m a peon. But I want you anyway. How do you feel about that?”
She leaned forward. “I’ve been trying to talk myself out of hav**g s*x with you because I should start thinking about my future. But then I wonder who would care if we enjoy ourselves for one night?”
He was on fire for her. “Probably no one.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Then I think we should get the hell out of here.”
She laughed. “Good call.” Setting down her drink, she pushed back her chair.
Blood rushed in his ears. This was it. She’d just agreed to go home with him. Feeling a little shaky from the adrenaline pumping through his system, he stood, pulled out his wallet, and tossed some money on the table without bothering to count it.
As she moved around the table toward him, he resisted the urge to touch her, because he wasn’t in total control of himself. “One cab or two?”
She looked up into his eyes. “I don’t care who knows. Do you?”
“Not if you don’t.” His throat felt tight. “My place then?”
“Actually, I want to see your loft.”
For reasons he didn’t fully understand, he resisted. “Nadia, that makes no sense. It’s not finished. There’s sawdust, and stacks of lumber, and plumbing supplies, and . . . it’s not safe. You could trip on something, or get that beautiful dress dirty if you brushed up against—”
“You’ll watch out for me.” She reached up and cupped his cheek in her very warm, very soft hand. “Please take me there.”
He forgot how to breathe. Please take me there. He wondered if she’d meant that literally. Judging from the gleam of passion in her beautiful eyes, she had.
And, God help him, he would.
Nadia couldn’t say what drove her to uncover Quentin’s secrets, but she thought this loft was one of them and she wanted to see it. On the silent cab ride to Greenwich Village, he held her hand, his strong, slightly calloused fingers interlaced with hers.
She was a little out of practice in this business of taking a lover. In her early twenties she’d been a free spirit, but as she’d approached the time she’d expected to settle down with Aidan, she’d lost her taste for casual flings.
This one with Quentin might be her last before assuming her duties as the next Henderson pack alpha. If so, it was an appropriate way to bid farewell to her carefree days. She couldn’t remember ever being this excited about hav**g s*x.
But before she abandoned herself to the sensual pleasure she knew they’d create together, she wanted to see his loft. Seeing it would expand her knowledge of him and she felt the need for that. The artist in her wanted to know what excited the artist in him.
He’d always been something of a mystery to her. While all Weres tended to seek privacy in their personal lives, Quentin seemed more diligent about that than most.
He had no brothers or sisters, and although he socialized with his pack, he also seemed to treasure time alone, which wasn’t particularly wolf-like. She had that same tendency toward solitude. His self-sufficiency might be why she found him so intriguing and sexually exciting.
He helped her out of the cab in front of a massive old brick building that stood three stories tall. The large windows indicated that it might have been used as a warehouse or factory at one time.
Lights shone from the first and second floor, but the top floor was dark. Laughter and the sound of a boisterously played piano spilled from the open windows of the second floor corner unit.
Quentin glanced up. “Sergei must be having a party.”
“Your neighbor?”
“Only if I move in.” Taking her hand, he led her toward a doorway and punched in a code. “For now he’s a tenant.”
“You own this place?”
“Since about six months ago. The previous owner ran out of money before he renovated the top floor, so that’s what I’m doing.” He opened the door and released her hand so she could enter ahead of him.
Walking inside, she paused in wonder. Soft lighting illuminated a hallway covered with murals—cityscapes blending with rural scenes in a colorful and fanciful montage. “Wow. Who did this?”
“The residents and some friends of theirs. This building seems to attract artists. That’s one of the reasons I bought it.”
“That’s an interesting reason.”
“The thing is, I like . . .” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I like being surrounded by creativity. It energizes me.”
“Me, too.” She felt as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. Maybe it wasn’t just his toned body and noble features that had drawn her to him. Maybe she’d sensed a kindred spirit, someone who thrived on inspiration, both in his work and the work of others.
“Ready to go up?”
“Yes.”
He held out his hand, and she slipped hers into his large, capable grip. Safe. The word popped into her mind, surprising her.
Because she was Were, she seldom felt unsafe physically. But she sensed that Quentin offered a different kind of safety. He would understand the creative impulses that were the bedrock of her existence.
That was heady stuff, and as they stepped into the cage-like freight elevator and he closed the door, she wondered if she’d started something that wouldn’t be all that easy to end. But she didn’t want to turn back.
She was doubly curious about the loft. At the thought of making love to him there, she grew dizzy with anticipation. Wild horses couldn’t drag her away until she’d satisfied her curiosity and her lust.
The elevator lurched to a stop and Quentin opened the door with a screech of metal. “I’m warning you that the place is a mess.”
“I can’t see whether it is or not.” She peered into the large, shadowy interior of the third floor. Faint light from the street filtered through the huge windows. “It’s too dark.”
“Just hold my hand and walk close. The light switch is a little bit beyond the elevator.”
She followed his instructions and stayed by his side as he took three steps out of the elevator and reached to his right. A soft click was followed by . . . rainbows.
Her breath caught as she lifted her gaze to the most amazing crystal chandelier she’d ever seen, and she’d been in some pricey establishments. The chandelier hung from a long rod attached to a beam at least ten feet over their heads.
She stared in awe. Hundreds of faceted crystals reflected the light, glittering above them and throwing splashes of colored light into the far corners of the cavernous space. “Where did you—”
“A dilapidated mansion in the Hudson River Valley was being torn down and I had exactly one day to get this out of there. I thought of putting it in storage, but . . .” He shrugged. “I needed a light in here. Yeah, it’ll get covered with construction dust and I’ll have to clean it when the project’s done, but so what?”
“You figured why put up with a bare bulb when you could have this?” Her hand still clasped in his, she turned to smile at him.
He smiled back. “Right.”
As they stood looking at each other, she couldn’t remember ever sharing a moment of such perfect understanding with anyone. In his world, as in hers, beauty came first, and practicality came second. The sense of connection gave her goose bumps that had nothing to do with sex. Well, maybe a little bit to do with sex.
He squeezed her hand. “Now that you’re here, you might as well have the grand tour.”
“I’d love that.”
He took her around the perimeter and pointed out the chalk lines where walls would go. He’d roughed in one bathroom and installed both a toilet and sink, but he had yet to add the claw-foot tub he’d bought.
His explanations grew more animated with each section of the tour. He’d laid out an eat-in kitchen and he planned to build his own cabinets from a cache of recycled barn wood he’d found in upstate New York.
The master bedroom included a large window shaded by a venerable oak. Quentin spoke with enthusiasm about how the light came through the leaves and how beautiful that would be as they changed color in the next few weeks.
“And you’re making the entire top floor into one unit?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Pricey rental.” She didn’t think for a moment that he was going to rent this loft. He’d designed it for himself and some lucky lady yet to be identified.
Whoever he ended up with, that Were had better understand his creative spirit. She’d better know exactly why he’d chosen to hang the chandelier instead of putting it into storage, or Nadia didn’t give them much chance at happiness.
“It won’t go cheap,” he said, “but the right person, or the right couple, won’t balk at the price. And I haven’t shown you the best part. This next area is actually furnished.” He took her to a back wall where the light from the chandelier didn’t reach.
She made out the vague outline of a spiral staircase. “I thought we were already on the top floor.”