A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) by Selena Blake Page B

have it delivered along with a bouquet to her. It’ll be up to her if she wants to meet with you or not.”
    Three long months without the ability to achieve orgasm and now this woman was jerking him around. Fate had a brutal sense of humor.
    He stalked to the desk and snatched up the tiny envelope. “Fine.”
    “Choose your words carefully, wolf. She does not have to answer your summons.” Spoken like a god. She’d obviously worked for Latham a long time.
    Maxim’s scowl deepened. He bloody well knew that.
    “And don’t lie to her, either.”
    How did she… Mind reader.
    She handed him a silver pen across the desk.
    Maxim snatched it up, twisted the end, and retrieved the card from the envelope.
     
Meet me on the rooftop.

Yours,
Maxim
     
    “Short and sweet. I like that,” she said, tucking the card into the envelope.
    Maxim could not afford to utter the biting remark that popped to his brain, so he shielded his thoughts.
    “I’ll see that she gets it immediately.”
    Despite his temper and foul mood, he thanked her and left. It wasn’t until the elevator stopped on the roof level that Maxim realized he was going to be in for a wait. The sun was just getting cozy with the horizon and Ceara-with-a-C was too young to suffer daylight, no matter the hour.
    As he made his way toward the rooftop bar, he glanced over at the far corner where they’d watched fireworks last December. He could still hear her gasp ringing in his ears as the first explosion lit the night sky. And then, her breath, deep and sharp with each accompanying percussion. Her hands had gripped his forearms tightly as she’d charmed him. Seduced him.
    He needed a drink.
     
    Tension crackled in the air as Ceara made her way across the crowded rooftop to the Skyline bar. She smoothed a hand down her raspberry-red corset dress, hoping her anxiety didn’t show. The fabric hugged her figure like a glove, giving her a much needed boost of confidence. And at the same time, made it hard to breathe. She was aware of each man who turned to watch her progress, her sensitive ears detecting their racing hearts, but she was searching faces, looking for the man who made her heart race.
    Valencia had taught her how to listen. Not to hear, but to listen for the subtle differences in heartbeat, even from across the room. A man in lust would watch her movements, his heartbeat accelerating as she passed by. As usual, V was right.
    A moody jazz tune poured from hidden speakers. She glanced at the bartenders, dressed from head to toe in black, spreading cheer via ruby-red cocktails, shots of whiskey, and the occasional beer. Every stool was occupied and lust raged.
    Izzy had taught her how to use body language. And how to read it. She’d learned a lot since she’d last been on this roof. Her lips curved into a smirk. She couldn’t wait to use all her new knowledge. But most important, was keeping her confidence.
    She’d found it here once before. Now she just needed to hold tight with both hands.
    A familiar heartbeat snagged her attention above the chatter and anticipation sizzled through her veins.
    He’s here.
    His note had said he would be, but until that moment she hadn’t truly believed he was on the island. The bouquet of roses, his terse command to meet him… it seemed like a daydream. Valencia and Izzy had warned her to be careful. But he was here, waiting to see her again.
    He’d made her promise to return this Yule season if she was still single. After that incredible night in his arms, he’d invaded her dreams every night since they’d parted. She was most certainly single. Anxious to see him again and pick up where they’d left off.
    Lucky for her, they were meeting again ahead of schedule. Lucky for him, Avery had taught her a thing or two about pleasing a man. She couldn’t wait to show him.
    Keep your shoulders back, chin level, play it cool , Valencia’s voice whispered through her mind.
    Measured strides carried her past the bar. There,