A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing by Deborah MacGillivray

bastard.
    “Did I scare you?” Moving closer, he reached out togently cup the side of her face, and then allowed his thumb to stroke over her cheek.
    Those unblinking eyes watched him until she finally whispered, “Yes, you scare me.”
    “I apologize—”
    She gave a faint shake of the head. “Oh, not the roughness. You did little more than humiliate him. Alec deserved to have his feathers ruffled. He’s not a very nice man. It’s you who scares me. Who are you, Trevelyn Sinclair? What do you want with me? I’m not some princess in a fairy tale, and you’re no knight in shining armor. So, what do you want?”
    He leaned closer, intoxicated by her nearness, Raven’s essence filling every pore, every drop of his blood. No woman had ever spun such magic to ensnare him. “You’re right. You’re no princess. You’re Red Riding Hood. And what do I want? I’ve come to huff…” He brushed his lips softly against hers. “And puff…” He pressed another butterfly kiss to her soft mouth. “And blow your house down.”
    This time he leaned into the kiss, taking her mouth and claiming it. A small moan vibrated in her throat. The sound sent his blood to speed through him, vibrating with need; he wanted to grab her, pull her body against his, feel her soft curves pressed to the length of his hard muscles—but if he laid hands on that beautiful body he wouldn’t be able to stop. Placing his left hand flat on the wall beside her head, he stepped closer, but it also prevented him from touching her the way he wanted. He allowed their bodies to brush, felt the heat of her skin, inhaled her light citrusy perfume and the more intoxicating scent of woman underneath. It was simply spellbinding, too much for his senses.
    He broke the kiss and pulled back, forced a slow, deep breath. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous for a Red Riding Hood to be with the Big Bad Wolf in a darkened corridor?”
    “I thought you were the devil,” she replied.
    He exhaled his tension, his sexual frustration, and snatched up her wrist. “Let’s go dance before I do something I regret.”
    It was a moment of kindness that he offered up, but hurt filled her voice. “Regret?” That sadness made him want to bash Beechcroft all over again. And this time, he wouldn’t be so nice.
    “Regret but thoroughly enjoy,” he promised.
    “You’re kind—”
    “Kind, nothing. Don’t let the garbage that man said to you take root and grow. It’s not the truth, you know. Sex with the right person is a beautiful experience. Sex with the wrong person runs the gamut from being boring to being a nightmare. Alec Beechcroft is the wrong person for you.” He glanced down and saw her hands were trembling. “Maybe for everyone.”
    Raven gave him a sad smile. “It’s too late, I fear, to not let his words hurt. Years too late. Alec has a way of going for the throat, and I never learned the skills to protect myself. I think it best I go home. I don’t feel well.”
    “Did you drive here?” Trev asked.
    “Yes.”
    “I’ll drive you back.” She looked too shaky to get behind the wheel.
    Instead of answering, Raven put her hand to her forehead, massaged her temple and watched him, emotions warring in her eyes. That bastard Beechcroft really had made her doubt herself. Worse, Raven was now doubting him.
    “You’re shook up. You don’t need to be driving,” Trev explained. Not giving her a chance to refuse, he said, “I assume you have a wrap? Let me fetch it and then I shall see you home.”
    She nodded weakly. “A velvet wrap and matching purse. Ask Mary in the cloak room.”
    Escorting Raven to the rocking horse, Trev then crossedthe hall to the entrance where the large coatroom was. A blonde woman nodded when he asked for Raven’s wrap. She returned shortly, carrying a red velvet cloak and clutch.
    Trev shook his head, accepting it. “Why didn’t I guess?”
    As he returned, he found Raven before the fortuneteller booth, staring at the