The Wolf Prince by Karen Kelley Page B

want to hear this.” She glanced warily at Surlock.
    Surlock reached over and took her hand, squeezing it lightly, before bringing it to his lips and lightly kissing her knuckles. “But I do. I want to know everything about you.”
    She returned his smile, but when he grazed his thumb across the palm of her hand, she drew in a sharp breath and automatically leaned toward him.
    “See,” Peter said, interrupting what was going on between Surlock and Darcy. “I told you they would want to hear the story.” He cleared his throat. “By the time we got to the dance we were both tipsy.”
    Darcy leaned her head against Surlock’s shoulder. He put his arm across hers, and she leaned more into him. Surlock watched Peter from the corner of his eye and saw the flare of his nostrils, the anger he barely held in check.
    “We were very young back then,” Darcy said, but she looked into Surlock’s eyes as if Peter and Annette weren’t even in the car.
    “Dar and I go way back. We were practically raised together from the cradle. We probably know each other better than anyone. And how long have you known her?”
    Darcy stiffened beside him.
    Surlock was not intimidated. “Not long, but I’m sure we’ll make our own memories. In fact, we already have.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter fisted his hands.
    Darcy laughed. “Peter, you’re acting like an overprotective big brother.”
    Peter visibly forced himself to relax. “You’re right, of course.”
    “Annette, tell us about yourself,” Darcy said, changing the subject.
    Annette preened. “I own a hair salon. I’m up to three chairs and a manicurist. If the place keeps growing, I’ll have to rent a bigger shop.”
    Her voice was sharp and high-pitched. For a moment, Surlock thought the horrible humming was back, but then she cleared her throat and continued in a softer voice.
    “I’m doing very well,” she went on, fidgeting with her hands, smoothing the material of her slacks.
    “It sounds like it,” Darcy said.
    “Oh, I am. I couldn’t afford to catch the eye of one of the sexiest bachelors in the county if I wasn’t. I spent one hundred and fifty dollars on this pantsuit.”
    “It’s very glittery,” Darcy said.
    “A girl has to have her bling-bling.” She looked at the others, then slunk down a little farther in the seat.
    “We’re here,” Peter called out, looking vastly relieved that Annette would have to stop chattering.
    The driver pulled to the curb. Annette started to reach for the door handle, but Peter stopped her.
    “Oh, yeah, I forgot,” she said. “I’m not very sophisticated.”
    Peter’s face changed colors almost as fast as the tiny lights on the interior roof of the limo.
    Surlock wondered why Peter had brought the young woman. They didn’t seem to suit each other very well. Peter acted embarrassed by her.
    The driver opened the door and they slid across the seat. Surlock preferred Darcy’s car. It was much easier to get out of. He was grateful to stand on the walkway and stretch his legs.
    “Welcome to the Lavender Club,” a man in a dark uniform said, then opened the door.
    Peter led the way inside.
    “Oh, wow, talk about fancy-shmancy!” Annette breathed.
    “Could you please lower your voice,” Peter said between gritted teeth. “And try not to let it show you’re a country bumpkin.”
    “I’m sorry.” Annette looked at Surlock, then Darcy, biting her bottom lip. Her hands began to tremble and tears filled her eyes.
    Peter sighed deeply. “No, I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge. Problems at the office.”
    Darcy glared at Peter, then took Annette’s arm in hers. “It is pretty fancy-shmancy, isn’t it?” Darcy said, staring at the lavender carpet, then the chandeliers. “You know, Annette, I need to make an appointment to get a trim. You’re the expert, what do you think?”
    Annette brightened. “Maybe just a little off the ends. You must have a great hairdresser, though. The style suits