Four Weddings and a Werewolf (Entangled Covet) (2 page)

Chapter Two

“Come on, you stupid thing.
Start.
” Veronica cranked on the key and fluttered her heel against the gas pedal. The engine of her Lexus sedan didn’t make a sound. No electric lights went off on the dash. No sputtering motor. “This can’t be happening. Come
on
!”

She gave the key another hard turn, then smacked her hand across the steering wheel.

The wedding had ended two hours ago, and she’d just finished micromanaging the breakdown. The last of the half-drunken wedding guests had been taxied home, and the cleaning crews had just filed out. The Seward Park parking lot was empty with the exception of a beat-up Chevy pickup truck, and the night was black, thanks to the new moon.

Heather had offered to stay until Veronica left, but she’d assured her she was only going to make a few notes before heading home. It was her routine. What she always did before leaving the job site. Somehow, jotting down her thoughts right away made the event seem clearer in her mind. Solutions to problems came for the next wedding, and things she did well were emphasized.

The thing that peeved her the most was that her car was brand-new. She’d bought it two weeks ago, and had been so proud to trade in her previous heap for the new pearly white Lexus of her dreams.

“Let’s go!” She said, leaning over the wheel. “1—2—3—start!”

With a sigh, she flopped back against the seat. She’d have to wait forever for a tow to come way out here.

“Suck a duck.” Veronica jerked her purse onto her lap, fished through it and pulled out her phone.

Two loud knocks rapped against the passenger window.

Veronica’s breath caught as fear paralyzed her. She slammed the door locks into place and clutched at her purse.

“Need help?” A shadowed face peered through the passenger window. She couldn’t make out any features, which made the stranger even creepier.

Veronica had watched this exact scene play out in horror movies before. The damsel in distress, and the guy with the hook for a hand. She was going to die. No, she was going to be hacked to pieces first.

Oh, God.

“Veronica?” The stranger’s voice was familiar. Gravelly and rough with a smooth lilt. He bent lower, peering through the window. “Car won’t start?”

Veronica squinted, struggling to discern the expression on his face. As her eyes focused, a few features became clear. Warm gunmetal-gray eyes stared beneath a creased brow, and a ruggedly square jaw framed a set of perfectly plush lips.

Mr. Grady’s cousin.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” she hollered through her closed window. “I’m calling for a tow.”

“Know how long it’ll take to get a truck out here on a Sunday night?” His eyes were gentle. Soft and trusting. “You could be sitting out here for hours.”

Her head hit the headrest. “Just what I needed.”

“I’m not a mechanic, but I know my way around cars.” His lips gave the hint of a smile, and her heart stuttered. “I can give it a quick look if you want? Make sure it’s not something simple like the battery?”

Veronica didn’t know this guy from Adam—he could still be a killer—but there was sincerity in his gaze and honesty in his words. And he was a member of the Grady family, which meant he couldn’t be all that bad. They were one of the most reputable families in the area, minus Mr. Grady’s uncle who donned too much hair at the full moon.

Besides, ax murderers weren’t this hot.

“Could you?” She shrugged. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t.” He strode around the front of her car. “What’s going on?”

“It won’t start.” Shaking off the last of the fright, Veronica cracked open the door so he could hear her more clearly. “It won’t even make a sound.”

“Your battery might be dead.” He curved his fingers beneath the hood. “Open up and I’ll take a look.”

Sliding her hand down the left side of her dash, Veronica found the hood latch and gave it a solid yank. He dove under immediately. She could only see his hands beneath the crack of the popped hood, so she sized them up as best she could. They were large and sturdy, with long fingers and red, knobby knuckles. He used his hands, that much was clear. He had to be a mechanic. Or maybe a boxer? His hands skimmed from one side of the engine bay to the other, sliding into compartments and tugging on the casing.

“Getting into this thing is like breaking into Fort Knox,” he mumbled. “What year is it?”

Veronica rose up off the seat, struggling to get a better view. “I just bought it,” she yelled. “Right off the truck.”

“That’s odd.” He stopped tinkering and peered around the hood. “I’m going to pull my truck around to give you a jump.”

“Okay,” she said, but he couldn’t have heard. He was already striding toward the old blue Chevy, the only other car in the lot.

Veronica hadn’t realized she was still clutching her phone. She could call for a tow—it wasn’t too late. She hesitated, watching Mr. Grady’s cousin start up his truck and pull it in front of hers, then tossed her phone back into her purse. He acted as though this was going to be no big deal. Like he’d get her car started in two seconds. The truck’s lights were high and swept over the car, blinding her. She shielded her eyes as he jumped down with cables in his hands, and bent over the engine.

“All right.” His voice was husky and low, a lazy drawl that was music to Veronica’s ears. He could’ve been reading the stock ticker aloud, and she would’ve been happy to listen. “Turn her on.”

Veronica cranked on the key. When nothing happened, she turned it again and again. “Nothing,” she hollered.

“Mind if I give it a try?” He was beside her driver’s door before she could blink.

“Be my guest.” She didn’t know a lick about cars. She was lucky to know where to stick the key in the first place.

With one hand resting on the top of the car, he stood aside for Veronica to get out, only he didn’t leave much room for her to pass. Veronica had to slink by. She moved quickly, her body jumping to life with sharp currents of electricity as their arms brushed.

Ax murderer? Definitely not. Sex god? Quite possibly.

“And you said this car was brand-new?” He dropped into the seat like he hadn’t felt a thing, turned the key, and then stomped on the pedal.

“Uh-huh.” She rubbed her arm where it was still buzzing with warm, tingly volts of excitement.

He slid off the seat and swept pass her, veering far and wide on his path back to the front of the car. He leaned into the compartment once more, and muttered a low curse to himself.

…

“Do you work on cars a lot?” Veronica asked.

Logan wished she would back away and give him some space. He couldn’t think straight with her scent clinging to him. She smelled like vanilla, dizzyingly sweet, and he couldn’t stop breathing deeply to take more of her in. Getting fixated on a dame he was hired to protect wasn’t an option. Especially since Jake had specifically asked him to keep his hands off. He shouldn’t have touched her when she moved by him, but damn it, he couldn’t seem to pull himself away.

He buried himself beneath the hood, digging around to find something out of the ordinary. He needed to focus.

“Guess you could say I’m a bit of a gearhead,” he said. “But my experience starts and ends at my truck. Lexuses definitely aren’t my forte.”

Silence stretched on for a few minutes, and Logan craned his neck around to check if Veronica was still there. She quickly averted her attention to the engine and shifted her feet against the pavement. If he wasn’t mistaken, Veronica had just checked out his backside.

Logan flipped open the fuse box. “Well, here’s your problem.”

Veronica stood next to him, leaning over to peer into the engine. She brushed against him once more, sending chills rocketing up his arms, the same way she had before.

“What is it?”

“Someone pulled a fuse out of your fuse box and set it aside.” He held up the fuse for her to see. “Your car won’t start without it.”

“What do you mean”—Veronica’s fawn-brown eyes glossed with worry—“
someone
pulled it out?”

Logan folded his arms and leaned back against the car. “First of all, your car is brand-new. Unless your car is a lemon, you shouldn’t be having problems so soon after driving it off the lot. Second, if you blow a fuse, it’s going to get a smudgy black mark on it. If it’s pulled out of its slot, and lying there…that doesn’t happen unless someone does it maliciously. Know anyone who doesn’t like you or this pearl-toned machine of yours?”

Better to make her focus on possible enemies than an admirer turned obsessive. Jake didn’t want the authorities alerted, and if Veronica tied the notes and flowers to the vandalism of her car, a simple property damage report could turn into a ton of snooping on the police department’s behalf. That was the last thing they needed.

“No, I don’t think so.” She seemed to drift into thought, her gaze landing beneath the hood, but on nothing in particular. “This whole thing is just so bizarre. What would be the point? Who would do something like that?”

“It was probably just some punk playing a prank.” Logan chose his words carefully. “There’s no rhyme or reason for the vandalism that takes place in this city.”

Logan had stayed behind to make sure Veronica made it out of Seward Park all right. If he hadn’t been sitting in his truck, waiting for her to head out of the parking lot, the stalker would have made his move. Logan was certain of it. Now, though, he wasn’t picking up anything outside the lot—no unnatural noises or voices, and no scents other than Veronica’s.

The stalker was hell and gone from Seward Park, his chance to get Veronica alone busted.

Her lips twisted as she seemed to chew over Logan’s words.

“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?