A Werewolf in Manhattan by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page B

massive, yet rustic-looking, desk and came around it to embrace his son. A barrelchested man in his late fifties, Howard still had all his hair, although it was snow-white. The pack alpha was a sight to behold when he transformed into a magnificent creature with snow-white fur. His striking appearance was legendary in the Were community.
    Howard stood back to look at his son with obvious fondness. “What do you have for me, Aidan?”
    Aidan knew that benevolence could change to stern censure under certain conditions. He hoped that wouldn’t happen today. “A delicate situation, I’m afraid.”
    “Let’s sit.” Howard gestured toward a group of black leather chairs circling a low table in the corner of his office. “Do you want something to drink? Anything to eat?”
    Aidan tried to remember when he’d done either. The few sips of a coffee martini might be the extent of it since an early dinner the night before. But he knew that his father’s two-floor suite of offices included a kitchen and a world-class chef. And at the mention of food, Aidan discovered he was starving. “A roast beef sandwich would hit the spot.”
    “Say no more.” Howard crossed to his desk and picked up the phone. Moments later he returned to the circle of chairs and took a seat next to Aidan. “Gabrielle will see to it.”
    “Thanks, Dad.” Now that Aidan had admitted to his hunger, he felt the contractions of his very empty stomach.
    Howard shook his head. “I notice you’re still in the habit of working straight through without eating. I admire the single-mindedness, but it’s not good for your health. Your mother would raise a bigger ruckus than I, so be glad it’s me who’s telling you this.”
    “I’ll try to do better.”
    “Good. If you pass out in the middle of an assignment, you won’t be doing anyone any favors.” Howard settled back in his chair. “Now tell me about Emma Gavin.”
    For one unsettling moment, Aidan thought his father had guessed Aidan’s secret yearning for the talented Ms. Gavin. He took a deep breath and told himself that was crazy. Roarke wouldn’t have said anything, and nobody else knew besides Sylvester. Sylvester wasn’t a snitch, either.
    “Our initial suspicions were wrong,” Aidan said. “She not only has no inside source—she doesn’t believe that werewolves exist.”
    Howard’s gray eyes narrowed. “Are you absolutely sure of this?”
    “Yes.” He’d thought about it some more. If Emma had any idea that werewolves were real, she would have sensed the changes happening to him last night in the backseat of the town car. When humans believed that werewolves were a reality, it was as if they’d broken a secret code. If she’d known that code, she could have identified him easily.
    “So we don’t have a problem, after all.”
    “Not quite true.”
    Gabrielle knocked on the office door, and Howard invited her in. She brought a tray containing a fragrant sandwich and a bottle of Aidan’s favorite mineral water. He was touched that she’d noticed such a small thing.
    As she set the tray on the circular coffee table, she leaned down far enough to provide a glimpse of cleavage while glancing at Aidan from under her lashes. Damn, now she was ready to flirt with him, when his hormonal urges were all focused on a certain author of werewolf fiction.
    “Thanks so much, Gabrielle.” He smiled at her.
    “Anytime.” Her voice held that low, throaty quality that telegraphed sexual interest. “Anything else, Mr. Wallace?”
    Howard looked at Aidan. “Anything missing, son?”
    “Nope.” Aidan unfolded the cloth napkin and laid it over his lap. “This is great.”
    “Then I guess we’re good, Gabrielle. Hold my calls until Aidan leaves, okay?”
    “Of course.” With one last sultry glance in Aidan’s direction, she left the office.
    Howard blew out a breath. “I think she’s coming out of hibernation. Just for the record, I don’t care what happens between you two so long