trailed
behind her to the wide wooden door with the gleaming brass numbers designating Dionnu's apartment and waited while she pressed the buzzer.
He fought a losing battle to look away from the smooth,pale skin of her upper chest and the hint of cleavageexposed by her sapphire blue velvet top. The materialclung to her form in intriguing hills and valleys…
His expression snapped into a frown, and he raked hisgaze over her petite form. Sometime between thebuilding entrance and the apartment door, his sweatpantsand button-down shirt that had bagged off of her soconcealingly had disappeared and been replaced by theclinging velvet top and a slim-fitting skirt in charcoal graythat fell past her knees. For all its length, the garmentshunned modesty with the way it cupped her ass andopened along a tantalizing slit in the side that offeredpeeks at smooth, silk-stockinged thigh.
He raised his eyes to her face and lowered his brows intoa scowl. "What the hell happened to your clothes?"
She slanted him a wry look. "Trust me. I can't go to visitmy uncle wearing your workout clothes. This would notbe a good idea. Poor fashion sense is a sign of weaknesswhere I come from."
Walker didn't think the sweats had expressed poorfashion sense. He'd actually liked the way she'd looked inhis oversize garments. Sort of small and sexy and tasty.
Shit.
He was saved from thinking himself into deeper troublewhen the door opened to reveal an exceedingly short
man with unruly dark curls and skin the color of Dutchprocess cocoa.
"May I help you?"
Fiona gave the brownie her patented sugar-sweet smile.
"We're here to see Dionnu."
The brownie didn't move. For someone so small, he didan admirable job of blocking the entrance. Maybe the Jets should consider him as an early draft pick.
"Is he expecting you?"
"Oh, I doubt it," she breezed, "but you can tell him his
niece is here."
The brownie didn't blink. He took a step backward andallowed them in, closing the door behind them and thenushering them a few steps down the hall to a sitting room.
"If you will wait here, please, I will let the master knowyou have called."
Master? What, had they wandered into an old episode of Upstairs Downstairs ! Fiona seemed to take it in stride,wandering farther into the elegantly furnished room andtaking a seat on one end of a sofa that looked as if it hadcome out of some little corner of Versailles. It also lookedlike it would snap in two if Walker tried to settle his 250pounds on it. Lips tightening, he took a post at the end ofit and leaned his hip against the back near Fiona's head. Arms crossed over his chest, he waited for an audiencewith the king.
The concept struck Walker as a little surreal. He'd metplenty of important people in his life, and in his line ofwork he had spent a good amount of time with some of
them. Beta of the Silverback Clan was a position of respect and a calling in its own right, but the pay sucked —meaning it didn't exist. So he worked a day job as well, as chief of security for the Vircolac club. He'd taken over the job from the former pack beta, Logan Hunter, who had moved to Connecticut a couple of years ago and become alpha of his own pack. Before that, Walker had worked on Logan's crew, bouncing unruly customers, installing and maintaining the club's intricate and sophisticated security system, and taking a few private protection gigs on the side. He was good at it, not just because of his sharp Lupine senses, his strength and speed, but because he had the mind for it. And the nerves. He didn't flinch and he didn't fail in his duties. Ever.
Of course that had been BP. Before the Princess.
Since meeting her, he figured his nerves had frayed tobloody spaghetti strands, and now here he sat in theliving room of the King of Faerie trying to determine if theguy might be up to something a little fishy.
Damn, he needed a vacation.
Eyes on the door and attention on his thoughts, Walkerreflected on the
behind her to the wide wooden door with the gleaming brass numbers designating Dionnu's apartment and waited while she pressed the buzzer.
He fought a losing battle to look away from the smooth,pale skin of her upper chest and the hint of cleavageexposed by her sapphire blue velvet top. The materialclung to her form in intriguing hills and valleys…
His expression snapped into a frown, and he raked hisgaze over her petite form. Sometime between thebuilding entrance and the apartment door, his sweatpantsand button-down shirt that had bagged off of her soconcealingly had disappeared and been replaced by theclinging velvet top and a slim-fitting skirt in charcoal graythat fell past her knees. For all its length, the garmentshunned modesty with the way it cupped her ass andopened along a tantalizing slit in the side that offeredpeeks at smooth, silk-stockinged thigh.
He raised his eyes to her face and lowered his brows intoa scowl. "What the hell happened to your clothes?"
She slanted him a wry look. "Trust me. I can't go to visitmy uncle wearing your workout clothes. This would notbe a good idea. Poor fashion sense is a sign of weaknesswhere I come from."
Walker didn't think the sweats had expressed poorfashion sense. He'd actually liked the way she'd looked inhis oversize garments. Sort of small and sexy and tasty.
Shit.
He was saved from thinking himself into deeper troublewhen the door opened to reveal an exceedingly short
man with unruly dark curls and skin the color of Dutchprocess cocoa.
"May I help you?"
Fiona gave the brownie her patented sugar-sweet smile.
"We're here to see Dionnu."
The brownie didn't move. For someone so small, he didan admirable job of blocking the entrance. Maybe the Jets should consider him as an early draft pick.
"Is he expecting you?"
"Oh, I doubt it," she breezed, "but you can tell him his
niece is here."
The brownie didn't blink. He took a step backward andallowed them in, closing the door behind them and thenushering them a few steps down the hall to a sitting room.
"If you will wait here, please, I will let the master knowyou have called."
Master? What, had they wandered into an old episode of Upstairs Downstairs ! Fiona seemed to take it in stride,wandering farther into the elegantly furnished room andtaking a seat on one end of a sofa that looked as if it hadcome out of some little corner of Versailles. It also lookedlike it would snap in two if Walker tried to settle his 250pounds on it. Lips tightening, he took a post at the end ofit and leaned his hip against the back near Fiona's head. Arms crossed over his chest, he waited for an audiencewith the king.
The concept struck Walker as a little surreal. He'd metplenty of important people in his life, and in his line ofwork he had spent a good amount of time with some of
them. Beta of the Silverback Clan was a position of respect and a calling in its own right, but the pay sucked —meaning it didn't exist. So he worked a day job as well, as chief of security for the Vircolac club. He'd taken over the job from the former pack beta, Logan Hunter, who had moved to Connecticut a couple of years ago and become alpha of his own pack. Before that, Walker had worked on Logan's crew, bouncing unruly customers, installing and maintaining the club's intricate and sophisticated security system, and taking a few private protection gigs on the side. He was good at it, not just because of his sharp Lupine senses, his strength and speed, but because he had the mind for it. And the nerves. He didn't flinch and he didn't fail in his duties. Ever.
Of course that had been BP. Before the Princess.
Since meeting her, he figured his nerves had frayed tobloody spaghetti strands, and now here he sat in theliving room of the King of Faerie trying to determine if theguy might be up to something a little fishy.
Damn, he needed a vacation.
Eyes on the door and attention on his thoughts, Walkerreflected on the
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