A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing by Deborah MacGillivray Page B

friends.”
    “Friends? Yes, we might possibly become friends. But then, friendship is a rather tepid relationship, wouldn’t you concur? Say, when compared to lovers?” He figured this might provoke a flare of her Scots blood. Instead, Raven smiled, and the expression caused his heart to twist. He suddenly felt like a Grade-A bastard. But that was too bad. There was no veering from his path.
    “Tepid? Perhaps.” Wariness flickered in her eyes. “But much safer.”
    “Safe is boring. Don’t you ever yearn to do something that risks all? To throw caution to the wind and dance with the devil?”
    “Is that who you are? The devil?”
    Trev offered her one of his most dazzling smiles. “Well, only last night I pondered if I had horns hidden in my hair.”
    Absently, her finger lifted to twirl a curl at his collar. When she realized what she was doing, she nearly jerked her hand back. “Do you?”
    “You’ll have to take the risk and find out, eh?”
    She stared at him. “I’m not sure if you’re confident or just arrogant, Mr. Sinclair.”
    “Both,” he responded.
    Her soft laugh sent a ripple up his spine to lodge in his brain. “You’re a dangerous man, indeed.”
    “You better believe it. I’m the Big Bad Wolf,” he joked.
    The blood seemed to drain from her face, her eyes flew wide and she missed a step. “Wolf?” She swallowed hard. “W-why…would you say that?”
    “I suppose that’s how I feel. And while you may be lacking the hood, you’re most definitely in red.” His eyes skimmed over her body decked out in the strapless scarlet gown, and his hands flexed on her waist. “That dress should be illegal. It’d bring out the wolf in any man.”
    Raven blushed, and since the heart-shaped, bustierstyle bodice of the gown left her shoulders and upper chest exposed, he saw it travel across that smooth flesh to finally flood her cheeks. He groaned as his body responded. It was going to be a long night.
    Be careful what you wish for, he thought and then sighed deeply. For a month he’d chafed to have this meeting. Now, the words Agnes had spoken earlier came back to haunt him: “You and your brothers have schemed for years, haven’t you? Plans on paper. Seeing them to fruition in the real world will be another matter. Never underestimate a woman. Any man who does is a fool.” Well, he had certainly underestimated the effect Raven would have on him. It just remained to see how big a fool he really was.
    She lowered her lashes, unable to meet his hungry stare. “My sister Britt bought it in France several years ago and never wore it. She insisted I wear it tonight. I’m afraid it’s not really me.”
    “Oh, that dress is very you.” Trev leaned forward and whispered against her ear, “The you waiting to be set free.”
    Raven tensed within his arms, and when he pulledback he faced a gaze of mistrust. She’d been softening toward him, but switching gears she said, “And I suppose you think you’re the one to help?”
    Her tone made it obvious his words had been taken as nothing more than a shoddy come-on line. Red Riding Hood was too bloody smart by half. No, she’d never succumb to flashy charms; Casanovas were dead meat under her laser glare. The task ahead of Trev was suddenly a bit trickier, but he’d step up to the challenge. He was spoiled, true—too used to women falling at his feet. Never had he expended the slightest effort to land one in his bed. He doubted Raven Montgomerie had ever allowed a man to maneuver her into an affair. If she had, she’d kept it very quiet; Julian’s bloodhounds hadn’t found one whiff of a man in her life for five years, not since her divorce. Raven was a picky woman with a lot of baggage and exceedingly high standards. A one-night stand would never be a consideration. Trev wanted to be the man who battered down the protective barrier she’d carefully constructed, the man to push her to abandon caution and follow him into the flames.
    “Burn,