Taming the Lone Wolff(60)
It wasn’t true. She knew it wasn’t true. At least not all of it. It had taken several expensive years of therapy and the clarity of hindsight and growing maturity, but eventually she had recovered from the physical and mental trauma of her first sexual experience. The mere fact that she wanted Larkin so desperately and had embarked on an affair with him proved that she had healed.
The scars, however, ran deep. She had buried herself in her causes and closed herself off from emotional engagement. Her money had always isolated her to some extent. And having a vicious, amoral man destroy her self-esteem had made her withdraw from the world. In the aftermath she’d had to rebuild herself from the ground up. At twenty-three she’d stumbled upon a dire need in the social services network, and she had known almost from the beginning that it would be her calling, her passion to help.
She had confidence in herself as a person of worth and as someone who could achieve any goal. But despite her progress in every other arena, she’d still been unable completely to shake the notion that she was an asexual being. A female, but not the kind of woman who could hold a man’s interest.
Meeting Larkin Wolff had changed all that. In fact, what had happened in this room last night was pretty much a miracle. But the fact that he had left without waking her spoke volumes. She wasn’t stupid. She had given him pleasure. For a man like Larkin, though, pleasure was readily available in an infinite number of beds.
Winnie was grateful to him for showing her that she had more to offer than she had realized. Now it would be up to her to keep things comfortable between them. One night of amazing sex was a gift to her, an experience she would never forget. Not in a million years, however, would she let him think she misunderstood what it meant.
They had come to Wolff Mountain to draw attention away from her home. And to let Larkin enjoy time with his extended family. Already, both of those purposes were being fulfilled.
She would not cry, but there was nothing she could do about the ache in her chest that made breathing difficult. As she selected clothing for the day, she was infinitely glad she had forced herself to go shopping before leaving Nashville. The Wolffs were elegant, sophisticated people—at least what she had seen of them at dinner last night. Winnie needed the reassurance of knowing she looked her best.
The outfit she chose was one she particularly liked. Beige linen slacks with a thin, lilac cashmere sweater. The top was short-sleeved and V-necked. She added pearl studs and a platinum chain with a single pearl attached. Her breasts were a bit more noticeable than she liked, but in the mirror she saw a woman whose visage was serene and dignified.
It took only moments to brush out her hair, secure it high on the back of her head and French-braid the ponytail. Sliding her feet into low-heeled calfskin pumps, she went in search of breakfast.
Wolff Castle—and yes, she was going to refer to it that way in her head, because the appellation fit—was quiet as a tomb. Fortunately, she had a good sense of direction and was able to find her way back to the dining room. She didn’t expect to be served there, but as she had suspected, one of the doorways connected to an amazing kitchen and a much smaller breakfast nook.
Annalise was in residence, reading the morning paper with one hand and juggling a small child on the opposite knee. She looked up when Winnie walked in. “Good morning, Ms. Bellamy.”
“Call me Winnie…please.” Winnie took the seat on the opposite side of the table, and in moments, a plump woman in a traditional gray dress and apron brought a carafe of steaming coffee.
Annalise waved a hand. “The coffee is South American. I’d mainline it if I could. Enjoy yourself.”
The older woman took Winnie’s request for eggs and toast and disappeared.