Charmed By The Wolf. Kristal Hollis
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place and restore it, but the huge house was much too big for a single man.
“Taking pictures and making some sketches. I thought it would be fun to paint.” Her gaze slowly traveled from his face all the way down to his bare feet. Thankfully, the open truck door shielded him midchest to the knees. Still, her whiskey-colored eyes rounded. “Oh!”
The bottom of her dress flared and swirled as she quickly turned away, giving him the glimpse of the shapely thighs he’d so hoped to see.
“Why are you naked?”
A warning streaked through Tristan’s mind. When two of his friends had been caught naked by human females, they’d kept their natures secret and a whole lot of trouble followed. Now they were mated to those women.
Tristan didn’t want to add to his troubles, nor did he want a mate. Truth was his best course of action. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.
“I’m a wolfan. I was in the woods as a wolf and came back to the truck to turn human, but you interrupted me before I could get dressed.”
“Ha, ha.” Her head shook with an indignant bob. “I walked all the way up here because I need help, not sarcasm.”
“What kind of help?” Tristan pulled on his shorts and T-shirt.
“My car won’t start and I can’t get cell service.” Without looking behind her, she waved her phone at him.
He shoved his feet into his sneakers. “Get in.”
She peeked over her shoulder before scurrying toward the passenger side of the truck. Tristan waited for her to climb inside and buckle her seat belt before he slid behind the wheel. In seconds, the truck cab filled with her scent. It was soft, feminine, with a touch of vanilla-like sweetness; she smelled utterly delicious.
“What’s your name?”
“Penelope Buchanan.”
“Tristan Durrance, at your service.” Since she sat to his right, Tristan didn’t need to look directly at her to notice the nervous clench of her laced fingers resting on her lap. “Relax before you break your fingers. I promise, I don’t bite.”
No sooner had the words left his lips than his tongue glided over his teeth, testing the sharpness of his canines.
He forcibly relaxed his jaw. Never could he ever bite a female, especially during sex.
If ever seriously tempted, he’d have all his teeth pulled immediately. He’d rather be a toothless wolfan than make the soul-crushing mistake of claiming a mate.
* * *
“It’s not you.” Flattening her moist palms against her thighs, Penelope looked straight ahead rather than at the man seated next to her. Tall, broad shouldered and blond. If that wasn’t striking enough, he had the sculptured face of a Greek god. Adonis incarnate. Just her luck.
Incredibly shy, Penelope had a hard time initiating conversation with an average-looking guy. The one next to her would’ve left her speechless if she hadn’t made a promise to herself to break out of her comfort zone.
“I don’t want an expensive car repair bill.” Not particularly clever conversation starter, but at least her voice didn’t squeak.
“No one ever does.” Tristan cranked the engine and drove carefully along the pothole-riddled dirt road. “What brings you to Maico?”
“There’s a new children’s program at the Walker’s Run Resort. I’ll be assisting with the arts-and-crafts workshops.” She gave Tristan a furtive glance. Though his gaze seemed focused on driving, she had the impression he knew every breath she took and when. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
A few months ago, on her birthday, Penelope had realized that she was now the same age as her mother had been when she died. Not only did Penelope’s heart ache for the years lost between mother and daughter, but a new ache had sprung. Because of her untimely death, Penelope’s mother’s hopes and dreams were now unfulfilled.
Unless she made changes, Penelope’s life would be no less tragic. After all, the only thing worse than a life ending too soon was a long life never lived.
“The Walkers are good people. You’ll do fine working for them.”
Amicable silence filled the space.
“Can I ask you something?” Penelope studied his profile and silently sighed. He’d be a perfect model to sketch and paint.
“Ask away.”
“Why were you naked?” So very, very naked, though the open truck door kept her from seeing too much.
“Checking for ticks. The woods are full of them.”
“Oh, no!” Penelope inched her skirt up, turning her legs to look for possible hitchhikers.
“I can check you.” Tristan flashed a daring smile along with a wink. “If it will make you feel better.”
She wouldn’t say the thought of Tristan stripping her down and running his hands all over her body made her feel better about ticks or car repairs, but it certainly made her feel hot and incredibly turned-on.
She adjusted the air vent toward her face.
“What happened to your arm?” Tristan’s voice held no disdain, no disgust. Merely curiosity.
Still, Penelope quickly folded her undamaged arm over the scarred one. “Car accident.” Oh, but it had been so much more, and the scars ran far deeper than the jagged, five-inch reminder along her wrist and forearm.
Tristan turned into the overgrown driveway and parked next to her white Corolla. Penelope unbuckled, shoved open the door and slid out of the passenger seat before he’d pulled the keys out of the ignition.
She unlocked her car to pull the hood latch. His footsteps crunched the dry grass behind her.
“Hey. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Strong, gentle fingers molded around her shoulder and leisurely slid down her arm to cradle her wrist. Tristan’s thumb lightly caressed the hideous scar. Usually she had no feeling in the damaged skin, except for the needle-stabbing sensation that accompanied terrible storms. But Tristan’s touch was feather soft and tickled.
Penelope turned around. Breathless, she stared into warm, decadent eyes the exact color of Hershey’s dark chocolate.
Oh, she loved chocolate. Faithful and true, it never failed to bring up her spirits, which was why she indulged in eating a piece, or three, more often than she should considering every bite she swallowed ended up padding her backside.
Something flickered in his gaze, something predatorial. Something primal.
In a blink, it was gone.
“Let’s check out what’s under your hood.”
“Excuse me?”
Already headed to the front of the car, Tristan walked with a loose-limbed swagger that resonated confidence, strength and sex.
Blatant desire flooded her, head to toe, and she grew damp in places not already glistening in the morning humidity.
Penelope didn’t usually have this reaction to strangers. Usually not to the men she dated, either—at least, not this overwhelmingly. And certainly not on the first meeting.
Thankfully, Tristan was bent over the engine and didn’t see her jelly-kneed walk.
“When is the last time you had the car serviced?”
“A few months ago, maybe.” Penelope avoided driving in downtown Atlanta traffic as much as possible, riding the MARTA to work and taking the bus for errands.
“A few as in three? Six?” He glanced sidelong at her. “A year?”
“Definitely less than a year.” She nodded confidently.
Tristan