worthless as a twig.
It was true. His life was worthless. He was worthless. He'd destroyed everything he'd
ever touched.
Aching with the truth, he let his human form dissolve into that of a tiger. He stared at his
large white paw on the shirt. What he wouldn't give to be a human male. Then again, he
would kill to be anything other than what he really was.
All he'd ever wanted was to belong somewhere. Anywhere. But it wasn't meant to be.
Part of him wanted to rip the shirt apart to rid it from his sight, but the other part
refused to let him. Maggie had given it to him. She had gone out of her way to bring it here.
It was a gift. A real gift, and he would treasure it as such.
Closing his eyes, he could still taste her kiss. Smell, her scent on his skin.
And God help him, he wanted more.
Marguerite couldn't get the taste of Wren to leave her. She'd never had any man kiss her
like that. It'd been sinful and wicked. Decadent. Possessive and hot.
He was so not the right kind of man for her to think about. He was a busboy. Her father
would have an apoplexy if he ever learned she'd spoken to, never mind kissed, a man like
Wren.
But that didn't matter to her. Wren was wonderful.
"And he saved my life," she said under her breath. There was no way Blaine or Todd
would have done such a thing, and even if they had, they wouldn't have walked her home
with a bullet wound in them. They would have lain on the ground, screaming for an
ambulance and the best surgeon money could buy to be flown in from the Mayo Clinic.
But Wren had never said a word about his injury. Then again, he wasn't exactly chatty.
She'd never met anyone who spoke less. And yet she was more attracted to him than she'd
ever been attracted to anyone. He said so much more with silence than most others with a
thousand words.
She couldn't help wondering if part of his appeal was the fact that he was so socially
unacceptable to her father. She could just imagine introducing them.
"Hi, Dad, this is my boyfriend. I know he needs a haircut and that he works in a
biker bar, but isn't he great?"
Her father would instantly have a seizure.
Even so, she still tasted Wren's lips. Felt the steel of his hand cupping her head as he
tasted her.
How could anyone make her this hot?
"Put it out of your mind."
Yeah, that was easier said than done. All she wanted was to head back to the bar and
see him again.
"I can't."
As much as she liked Wren, she loved her father, and her father would never, ever
accept her dating someone like Wren. She couldn't do that to him, even if he was an
egomaniacal SOB who was more worried about his constituency than his daughter. He was
still her father, and since her mother's suicide, he was all the family Marguerite had.
She couldn't see Wren anymore. She couldn't. No matter what these weird feelings
inside her thought or argued, their acquaintance was over.
Chapter 4
Marguerite tucked her books into her borrowed backpack. She still hadn't found her
Prada. She couldn't imagine what had happened to it. She'd checked the lost and found at
the library a dozen times. It wasn't like her to lose something like that.
Sighing, she got up from her desk to head off to the library and meet with her group.
As she left the building and headed across the lawn, she wasn't paying attention until
she heard a man calling out, "Maggie." His voice was so deep and rumbling that it sent a
shiver down her spine.
There was only one person she knew who held a voice like that. Only one person who
called her Maggie nowadays…
Pausing, she turned to see Wren coming toward her from the street. He moved with a
graceful, masculine lope that sent a heated wave through her. He had on a pair of faded
jeans that had holes in both knees, black biker boots, and a black T-shirt with a ragged red
and black flannel shirt worn over it that he'd left unbuttoned.
She'd never known anyone to dress so haphazardly, and there was something
It was true. His life was worthless. He was worthless. He'd destroyed everything he'd
ever touched.
Aching with the truth, he let his human form dissolve into that of a tiger. He stared at his
large white paw on the shirt. What he wouldn't give to be a human male. Then again, he
would kill to be anything other than what he really was.
All he'd ever wanted was to belong somewhere. Anywhere. But it wasn't meant to be.
Part of him wanted to rip the shirt apart to rid it from his sight, but the other part
refused to let him. Maggie had given it to him. She had gone out of her way to bring it here.
It was a gift. A real gift, and he would treasure it as such.
Closing his eyes, he could still taste her kiss. Smell, her scent on his skin.
And God help him, he wanted more.
Marguerite couldn't get the taste of Wren to leave her. She'd never had any man kiss her
like that. It'd been sinful and wicked. Decadent. Possessive and hot.
He was so not the right kind of man for her to think about. He was a busboy. Her father
would have an apoplexy if he ever learned she'd spoken to, never mind kissed, a man like
Wren.
But that didn't matter to her. Wren was wonderful.
"And he saved my life," she said under her breath. There was no way Blaine or Todd
would have done such a thing, and even if they had, they wouldn't have walked her home
with a bullet wound in them. They would have lain on the ground, screaming for an
ambulance and the best surgeon money could buy to be flown in from the Mayo Clinic.
But Wren had never said a word about his injury. Then again, he wasn't exactly chatty.
She'd never met anyone who spoke less. And yet she was more attracted to him than she'd
ever been attracted to anyone. He said so much more with silence than most others with a
thousand words.
She couldn't help wondering if part of his appeal was the fact that he was so socially
unacceptable to her father. She could just imagine introducing them.
"Hi, Dad, this is my boyfriend. I know he needs a haircut and that he works in a
biker bar, but isn't he great?"
Her father would instantly have a seizure.
Even so, she still tasted Wren's lips. Felt the steel of his hand cupping her head as he
tasted her.
How could anyone make her this hot?
"Put it out of your mind."
Yeah, that was easier said than done. All she wanted was to head back to the bar and
see him again.
"I can't."
As much as she liked Wren, she loved her father, and her father would never, ever
accept her dating someone like Wren. She couldn't do that to him, even if he was an
egomaniacal SOB who was more worried about his constituency than his daughter. He was
still her father, and since her mother's suicide, he was all the family Marguerite had.
She couldn't see Wren anymore. She couldn't. No matter what these weird feelings
inside her thought or argued, their acquaintance was over.
Chapter 4
Marguerite tucked her books into her borrowed backpack. She still hadn't found her
Prada. She couldn't imagine what had happened to it. She'd checked the lost and found at
the library a dozen times. It wasn't like her to lose something like that.
Sighing, she got up from her desk to head off to the library and meet with her group.
As she left the building and headed across the lawn, she wasn't paying attention until
she heard a man calling out, "Maggie." His voice was so deep and rumbling that it sent a
shiver down her spine.
There was only one person she knew who held a voice like that. Only one person who
called her Maggie nowadays…
Pausing, she turned to see Wren coming toward her from the street. He moved with a
graceful, masculine lope that sent a heated wave through her. He had on a pair of faded
jeans that had holes in both knees, black biker boots, and a black T-shirt with a ragged red
and black flannel shirt worn over it that he'd left unbuttoned.
She'd never known anyone to dress so haphazardly, and there was something
Similar Books
