Page 19 of Pack Choice

I frown and direct Brad back to his slides.

* * *

Somehow Deborah manages todrag our meeting out for another thirty minutes before I make it clear I have to leave.

“See me to the door, though, Colten, won’t you?”

I nod sternly. There’s nothing I’d like to do least in the world. Especially when she clings to my arm like I’m a life raft and her overdone perfume irritates the hell out of my nose.

She squeezes my biceps as I lead her to the door, her two bodyguards three steps behind us. They’re nearly as large as the ogre guarding my assistant.

“How about dinner tonight, Colten? I have a few more things I’d like to discuss about my account.”

“I’d love to Deborah, but you know me, duty calls, I’ll be working late.”

Moving to a new city may have left me without friends or connections. Left me with an empty bed on more nights than I’d like. I may even be more lonely than I’d care to admit – the reason I landed at that stupid speed-dating event in the first place. But I am not that lonely, not that eager for company to take up Deborah’s invitation. Especially when I think the sweet, little piece of ass perched outside my office may be the answer to all my problems.

“You poor thing,” Deborah says, adopting a suitably sympathetic expression, “you really do work too hard. Another time perhaps?” She gropes at my arm, letting me know exactly what she’d like dinner to involve. She’s not paying me nearly enough money for that, though.

Not that I’ve ever been a stickler to the no-client relationship rules. Nor the no-employee–employee relations either. But despite what the little omega may think, I haven’t been lacking in choice, even if I am a lone wolf. There are plenty of women who go for that.

I’m just particular. For obvious reasons. Hook-ups and flings are one thing, but the woman I bring into my life needs to be the right one.

I wave Deborah off, adjusting my tie, and releasing my breath.

It’s a long time since an omega’s caught my attention like this. An even longer time since one had my heart beating just that tad bit faster. And I’ve never had one bumping around in my head like this.

I want an omega I can settle down with.

Spicy and bratty? It hardly seems the right fit. Not freaking sensible at all. And yet …

5

Molly

6am isn’tmorning. 6am is the middle of the night. Why would anyone in their right mind choose to get up this early? It’s still dark outside. The birds aren’t even singing. And I can’t open my eyes.

I slam my hand on my alarm, roll over and fall back to sleep.

Forty-five minutes later a light knock on the door wakes me up again. It’s still the middle of the night.

“Go away!” I groan, stuffing my pillow over my head and rolling over.

“Miss Stormgate?”

I snatch the pillow away and bolt upright in my bed. I recognize that voice. Deep and drawly. Like honey poured straight into my ear. A voice that’s been rumbling around in my head all night, doing wicked things to my insides and turning my dreams spicy.

Jeez. Am I dreaming now?

“Miss Stormgate, is everything okay? We’re due to leave in fifteen minutes and I noticed there were no lights on in the house.”

I flick my lamp on immediately.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” I say, trying unsuccessfully not to sound flustered as hell. I fling the bed covers to one side and my feet to the ground. Fifteen minutes! Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. “I’ll be right down. Just give me a minute.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

If my dreams last night are anything to go by, plenty. I push those ideas out of my head. I am not getting myself entangled with my chaperone. My brothers would skin me alive before disemboweling Mr. Military. I’m concentrating on normalcy. Mr. Military is not normal. He looks like a super hero with a voice that should be illegal.