Four Weddings and a Werewolf

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said, smoothing down the flyaways that’d come loose from her ponytail. “I’m just glad you were here to help me out. Why were you leaving the wedding so late?”

“I like the quiet of the park. I walked down to the lake’s edge and sat on a bench. Before I knew it, everyone had gone.” Good lie. Good job. “I’m glad I was here to help you out, too.”

“Well, thank you for this.”

“It’s no problem.” Logan replaced the fuse, clamped down the box lid, then closed the hood with a dull thwump. Bending down, he grazed his hands above the grill. Sharp, grating bristles of metal brushed against his fingers. “The latch on your hood was jimmied open, probably with a wrench. It still closes, but there are some gnarly marks here that need—”

“Marks? What marks?” Veronica knelt down and skimmed her hand along the sloping ridge of the hood. “Nooo! My car!” She moaned the words as though someone had told her that her kitten ran away.

Did she moan the same way when she was arching back in the throes of ecstasy? He shook off the mental images flooding his brain and focused instead on the scratches in the paint.

“I think they can be buffed out.” Logan knelt beside her and shadowed his hand where hers had been. “I wouldn’t worry about the car too much. It’s still gorgeous.”

Like its driver.

“I don’t even know your name.” She seemed to push out the words, but they were no more than a whisper.

Don’t give her your name. Don’t get involved.

Veronica’s hazelnut-colored eyes met his. There was a flash of knowing in them. A desirous flicker that reached out and grabbed him by the balls. With one look, Logan knew Veronica was as interested in him as he was in her. Heat flooded his chest and crawled up his neck. Why was he still kneeling next to her? He should be jumping back into his truck and gaining some much needed space.

“Logan,” he said. “Logan Black.”

Ah, hell, he’d gone and given away everything. Why couldn’t he stop himself?

“So it’s okay, Logan?” Her voice was sweet. Innocent. Tugging at the rock that’d taken up residence in his chest. “Will it start?”

Damn, if he wasn’t a sucker for a woman in jeopardy.

“The fuse is back in its proper place, so it should start just fine.” He held Veronica’s gaze. “But I don’t feel comfortable letting you drive the car home. Do you have someone you could call to give you a lift?”

It was a loaded question, and when Veronica’s glossy lips quirked, Logan knew she’d caught it.

“There’s no one,” she whispered. “But if you fixed the fuse, why can’t I drive myself home?”

“Well, there are two reasons. For one, if someone pulled the fuse from your car, there could be other things wrong that I can’t see. Your brakes could be cut or your tires could be punctured, among other things.”

“What’s the second reason?”

“I wanted to take you home myself.”

Shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh.” The hint of a challenge sparked deep in her eyes. “I see.”

Was it the night and the privacy of the empty lot? The way Veronica was staring at him with those innocent doe eyes? The glasses of champagne he’d had on an empty stomach? Add those things to the fact that Jake had specifically told Logan not to get too involved, and he was screwed.

Nothing tasted sweeter than forbidden fruit.

Whatever the cause, need clawed its way through him. Logan had the sudden urge to possess her, toss her over his shoulder, and drive her to heaven.

But damn it, that was absurd! He had a job to do—one that he was damn good at and had never failed at before. But he’d never felt this kind of raw, animal chemistry before, either. If he could taste the sweetness of Veronica’s skin without putting his mouth on her, how would she taste when he licked a hot, wet line between her breasts? If her scent was already making him feel intoxicated, how drunk would he be when he buried his face in her smooth, dark mane of silky hair and wedged his hips between her thighs?

“We could have your car towed to a shop and inspected by a professional. I could call you a cab and wait here with you until it arrives.” When Logan finally spoke, his voice was raw and rough, even to his own ears. “Or you could let me take you home. The choice is yours.”

Chapter Three

Veronica’s palms were sweating like crazy, and she couldn’t look Logan in the eyes. The cab of his truck was dark, thank goodness, so he couldn’t see the way she was anxiously gnawing at her bottom lip. As he reached for the radio dial on the cracked dash, Veronica sucked in a clipped breath.

“You okay?” he asked, pulling back his hand and replacing it on the steering wheel.

“Of course.” She answered too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem…nervous.”

Of course she was nervous. Logan had surprised her by offering to give her a ride home and there had been something in his eyes that promised so much more. No, she corrected, it was her reaction to him that had surprised her most. She’d melted, her legs going limp like jelly, right before his eyes. Heat had flushed through her veins and pooled in her center. She’d gasped at her body’s reaction. Her head had spun until those little floating things danced in front of her eyes. Veronica had nodded and hopped into his pickup truck.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” she mumbled.

More than that, she couldn’t believe she wanted to be doing this.

“What was that?”

Morsels of sweet anticipation tingled down her legs “Nothing.”

She’d never done anything like this before. But she’d never been tempted by someone like Logan before, either. Guys like him—gorgeous to the extreme and light-years out of her league—usually walked right past her. Logan gave off a vibe of extreme confidence as if everything and everyone was a situation he could easily handle.

Veronica was still scrambling to get her nerves on lockdown.

What was the big deal? Logan was taking her home. And then there was a hint of something more. The way he’d said the choice was hers made her think he wanted to give her more than a quick ride home. So what? People had one-night stands all the time. She’d seen couples hook up at weddings more times than she’d broken into the stash of Thin Mints kept in her freezer. But this had never happened to her before. She’d never had sex for the sake of sex alone, without even thinking about the possibility of a relationship afterward.

Heather was always telling her to give it a try. She was always saying Veronica was too stuffy. That a good roll in the hay would loosen her ponytail and return the blood to her body. Figures that it’d take an offer of a new pair of shoes to get Veronica moving in this new, slutty direction.

One step at a time. Just take it one step at a time. If something feels off, bolt.

“I’m worried about my car.” Glancing out the window, hoping he didn’t see through her lie, Veronica watched the Seattle cityscape fly by. “I wonder how long it’ll take to check out?”

“Shouldn’t be too long.” Logan turned down the heater and twisted the vents around to face her. “I feel better about your driving it around knowing that everything’s the way it should be.”

“Yeah, but this is the worst possible time for me to be without wheels. I’ve got appointments tomorrow that I can’t miss.” Thinking about her packed schedule somehow eased the tension swirling through the cab. The Sanchez wedding was next Saturday, and her sister’s nuptials to mangy werewolf Jake McKenna were the Saturday after that. Well, Jake wasn’t mangy, Veronica corrected, but he was a wolf, so he was filthy by default. “There’s so much I still have to do to get ready for next weekend, it gives me a headache thinking about it.”

“Will talking about it relieve some stress?”

She looked at him to see if he was joking. A man who cared enough to listen? Did she luck out with Mr. Dreamy or what? Well, he asked for it. “The wedding next week is pretty much finished, but my sister’s getting