Taming the Lone Wolff(32)

                He’d come up with a plan, and she had agreed to it. Nothing and no one would dissuade him from taking Winifred Bellamy to Wolff Mountain for her own good. Even if such an action was counter to his usual M.O. Now that the trip was hours away, his personal discomfort grew. The course he had set out was laden with pitfalls, no question. But it was too late. He’d have to live with the consequences.

                He wanted Winnie. Only time would tell if he could resist temptation.

                * * *

                Winnie was awake at six, despite the fact that she had barely slept. She had half expected Larkin to pound on her door last night, demanding she come downstairs. It wasn’t clear to her confused hormones if she was relieved or disappointed that she’d neither seen nor heard from him.

                This morning, the dawning of the new day infused her with a restless sense of anticipation. She was deeply grateful to Larkin for everything he had done to make her property safe. Today, she would be able to leave without worry. They still hadn’t settled the matter of payment. The blank check was safely locked away in a drawer. Larkin refused to take it, and Winnie didn’t know how much the job actually cost. That was a bridge they would cross later.

                For now, all she had to do was determine how much and what to pack for an extended visit to Wolff Mountain. With all her new purchases—including some naughty lingerie that said louder than words what she was thinking—surely she had covered every eventuality. But she ransacked her closet just in case. In the end, she managed to get it all into two large suitcases, one garment bag and a smaller toiletry case.

                Because she had avoided Larkin for the last half of the day before, she had no idea what time he planned to leave. Which meant that she had to face him sooner or later. She had dreamed about him last night. Hot, erotic dreams that were totally unlike her.

                Larkin drew out a side of her she had thought long buried. It was disconcerting. And either thrilling or terrifying, she wasn’t sure which. When she was dressed, she tiptoed downstairs for coffee. It was still only seven and Mrs. Cross wouldn’t arrive for another hour and a half.

                But when she opened the kitchen door, the smell of java wafted to her nose. She looked at Larkin, leaning against the counter, drink in hand. “I owe you one,” she said lightly. She poured herself a cup and lifted it to her lips, inhaling the aroma with an inward sigh.

                Larkin was heavy-eyed and unshaven, as though he had tumbled out of bed and headed straight downstairs. “Can you be ready to leave in an hour?”

                The question was terse and perhaps a tad cranky.

                “Yes.” She took a long swallow, set down the cup and counted to ten. When that didn’t work, she snapped at him. “What’s your problem?”

                He dropped his thick earthenware mug into the sink with a clatter and turned to face her, arms folded across his chest. The short sleeves of the Leland Security polo shirt he wore fit nicely over muscular biceps. It was hard for her to remember that Larkin was as financially comfortable as she was, maybe more so. Nothing about him indicated that he had grown up as the offspring of an extremely wealthy father. Or that his family’s interests spanned much of the globe.

                Larkin gave the impression of being a self-made man, an entrepreneur who worked hard for a living. In a way, all those things were true. But add in the millions he stood to inherit and what was probably a very healthy stock portfolio thanks to Wolff Enterprises and Leland Security, and the picture shifted.

                Larkin Wolff was a very rich man.

                Which meant that if he was kissing her, it wasn’t for her money.