The Wallflower

Chapter One

“God, he is so fucking hot.”

Emma Carter looked out the front window of Wallflowers and watched the most bodacious backside it had ever been her pleasure to see saunter down the street. Said backside was encased in a pair of tight blue jeans, causing many a female to send a prayer of thanks heavenward for the makers of Levi’s.

Sunlight gleamed on his golden blond hair, hair that brushed his wide shoulders, just long enough to make a stubby ponytail. Even under the bulky leather jacket you could tell he was built, his body muscular without being a temple to the god Steroid. And he had the brightest, clearest blue eyes in the state, not that she got to look at them often. He usually had them trained on someone else, like one of the sleek, beautiful women who flocked around him all the time. God, he was gorgeous. His face was almost too beautiful to be real; the only thing that marred his perfection was a small scar just along one side of his nose, barely noticeable unless you looked for it. When he spoke to her, which hadn’t happened in more years than she cared to count, Emma kept her eyes trained on that scar.

When the finest ass in the world turned the corner, Emma and Becky leaned back with identical sighs.

“All I want for Christmas is a piece of that.” Becky sighed again, her green eyes gleaming with laughter.

Her untamable brown curls danced around her head in wild abandon as she shook herself all over like a wet dog. Becky was too thin, bones showing through at wrist and ankle, and if Emma didn’t know for a fact that she ate like a horse she’d have worried she was anorexic. But Becky had been cursed with a metabolism that just wouldn’t quit, forcing her to eat more than most people just to maintain her weight.

Emma had the opposite problem. The best that could be said about her figure was Marilyn Monroe had also been a size twelve. No matter what she did, Emma couldn’t seem to drop weight. Neither woman envied the other.

“What, not a piece of Simon Holt?”

Becky blushed bright red. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, sinfully handsome Simon had featured in more than one of Becky’s drunken fantasies. Emma slicked a hand through her hair. “As for me, Max Cannon could be naked and tied up with a bow under my Christmas tree and the first thing he’d probably say is,

‘Hi, Edna, right? Could you untie this please? I have a date tonight’.”

Both women looked at each other and giggled, then got back to work.

Emma was so proud of what she and Becky had accomplished. Friends since grade school, both women had been wallflowers. Boys didn’t go for the frizzy, too-skinny Becky Yaeger or chunky, dull Emma Carter. Especially when there were girls like Livia Patterson and Belinda Campbell, both beautiful, blonde cheerleader types, around

Both Becky and Emma had decided to go to the local college and major in business, while a number of people, including Max and Livia, had chosen to go out of state for college. After graduation, Emma had taken the inheritance from her maternal grandmother and used it to buy the building that now housed Wallflowers.

Wallflowers was a business that catered to people who enjoyed hand-crafted, artisan-made pieces.

Emma loved it. Their eccentric store carried hand-carved cuckoo clocks, paintings, old-fashioned mirrors, masks, plaques…anything that could be used to decorate a wall. Becky had come up with the idea for the business and talked Emma into it over a long night of burritos and margaritas.

Emma paused to look around their “parlor”. An antique rug covered the distressed hardwood floors. A small Victorian sofa covered in soft cream brocade graced the center of the floor. A Queen Anne coffee table in rich cherry wood sat before it, a silver tea service placed on it. Two Victorian chairs in that same cream fabric faced the sofa, creating a cozy little conversation group that the two women, and the occasional customer, used frequently. Against one wall was a gas fireplace with an ornately carved mantelpiece. On that mantelpiece were silver-framed photos, all of them either black and white or sepia toned. In one, Emma was dressed in a Victorian dress of ivory lace, a black cameo at her throat, her hair done up, a sweet smile on her face. In the other, Becky was dressed as a Wild West saloon girl, her frizzy hair teased out and feathers stuck in every which way. Her dress was pulled up on one side to show black boots and striped stockings. Neither photo had a place of prominence, both intermingled with other pictures. Unless you stood and went through the pictures thoroughly, you’d never find them.

A cherry and glass counter, as Victorian as they could make it and still have it be functional, graced one wall. On it sat an old-fashioned looking cash register; hidden underneath the counter was the credit card reader.

They’d done their best to have the atmosphere of a by-gone era and still keep the place warm and inviting. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace on this cool October evening; the walls had a lovely cherry

wood wainscoting, with rich rose floral wallpaper above it. It was very feminine, and both women loved it.

They’d had the store now for three years, and while they knew they’d never be rich off it, they also knew they’d never been happier.

Emma sighed, a smile of satisfaction on her face as she finished polishing the old, gilt-edged mirror they’d hung just behind the counter.

Life was good.

Dr. Max Cannon’s life sucked. Once again he crossed the street, determined to avoid Livia’s obvious attempt to get his attention. He’d been back in his small hometown for three months now, but she just couldn’t get it through her overly highlighted head that he just wasn’t interested. Hell, the woman’s vision was perfect and yet she’d tried to schedule three different eye exams in the last three months! Thank God his partner Adrian was willing to run interference, or Max might have been forced to some extreme measures. Until he had a Curana who could safely deal with the woman, Livia was going to continue to be a serious problem. He ducked into the workshop of his best buddy and Beta, Simon Holt, determined to get away from the blonde barracuda bearing down on him.

“Hey, Max.”

“Simon.”

Simon’s deferential nod was all that it should be from his Beta. “Hiding out from Livia again?”

The laughter in Simon’s voice nearly had Max growling. “She’s getting persistent.”

“Have you told her to fuck off yet?”

Simon’s approach to the pushy female was beginning to appeal. The idea of her as his mate made his skin crawl. The Puma inside him yowled in protest. There was no way in hell he’d make her his Curana.

“No, but I’m getting there.”

Simon pointed discreetly towards the workshop’s front window. “Incoming.”

Max gritted his teeth just as the door opened.

“Max, how nice to run into you!”

Soft, perfumed arms tried to circle his neck. In a swift move, Max glided away, turning to face the woman who’d tormented him since his return to Halle. “Livia.”

It wasn’t a greeting; it was a warning. Her eyes flared briefly with fear before she laughed it off. “I just wanted to remind you about the masquerade party over at Marie’s. You’ll be going, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

Livia frowned, her expression turning hard and calculating. “Most of the Pride will be there.”

Max nodded; as Alpha he was well aware of that. Marie’s father, the old Alpha, still held the annual masquerade at his house just outside of town. It was his pride and joy, that house, and he loved to entertain. His daughter, safely mated to Jamie Howard, acted as his hostess since the death of his mate some four years ago. Human and Puma mingled at the masquerade, the humans totally unaware of the Pumas in their midst. The Pride did its best to make the event a night to remember, for both races, and Jonathon Friedelinde did an excellent job of that. It was also the event at which an unmated male could unofficially signal his interest in a female. Hence Livia’s interest in his attendance; if she could get him alone long enough, get him to signal in some way that there was a spark of interest, she could force him into a declaration he didn’t want to make.

“Who are you taking?”

The question was asked with a seductive coyness that nearly made Max shudder. He suppressed it; he couldn’t afford a sign of weakness. “At present, no one.”

The chill in his voice should have made her back off. Instead, the stupid woman took it as a challenge.

“Oh?” Her lashes fluttering coyly, she reached out with one manicured finger. When her blood red claw touched his chest, Max snarled a warning, his eyes flashing gold as the Puma warned her off.

With a gasp she backed away. Her head dipped in submission, an instinctive response to the Alpha power Max now exuded. It surrounded him in an unseen cloud, forcing all before him to do his will. Max rarely found himself in need of it, but today she’d pushed too far. She slowly backed away from him as a growl rumbled in his chest. He kept it going until she was completely out of Simon’s workshop, pissed beyond belief at her persistence.

“Okay, I gotta admit, that was probably more effective than ‘Fuck off, you skanky ho’. Think she got the message?”

And that was why Simon was his Beta—he’d flinched but stood his ground, something none of the other Pumas could do. Their reactions were more akin to Livia’s when he chose to exercise his power.

He was also one of the few people Max trusted completely. If anything were to happen to Max, Simon would become Alpha.

Max turned with a laughing snort to answer his buddy’s question when Simon’s phone rang. His Beta punched the speakerphone button, still grinning at Max. “Hello?”

“Simon?” The voice on the other end of the phone drawled Simon’s name with an amused authority that had Max’s eyebrows rising into his hairline. He waited for Simon to put the woman in her place.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Hey, Emma.”

Max blinked. Emma? Emma Carter?

“Your stained glass Madonna is late. Reverend Glaston is getting antsy.”

Max blinked again. That sexy voice was Emma?

“I’ve been…distracted.” That last was said with a quick glance at Max. He’d been the one keeping

Simon busy. As Beta, Simon took care of a great deal of Pride business, something Emma wouldn’t know about.

“Well, could you please ask your distraction to go home so you can finish the reverend’s window?”

Her tone of voice raised Max’s brows back into his hairline. His Beta’s reaction had his jaw nearly dropping open.

“Emma,” Simon nearly whined, “I’ve been working night and day, here. Give me a break!”

Emma?!? Plump little wallflower Emma?

“Just who have you been working, Simon Holt?”

Emma, who couldn’t look him in the eye, making double entendres?

“No one, damn it! I’ve been working on…other things.” Again, Simon shot Max a quick, furtive look.

Emma? Emma had his Beta shaking in his sneakers?

“Well, get your thing back under control and finish the reverend’s window, okay?”

The irreverent authority in her voice stirred his interest. A vision of a dark-haired girl in a sunset colored prom gown flashed through his mind.

“Damn it, Emma!” Simon sighed, leaning back against his workbench. “Where’s Becky?”

The entreaty in Simon’s voice barely registered. Max was waiting to hear Emma’s voice again.

“Oh, no, don’t think you can get out of having that window finished today by sweet-talking Becky. I’m on to your tricks, buster.”

Simon winced. Max’s cock twitched.

Emma?

Hmmm. Emma .

“Okay, okay. I’ll have the damn window done today. Anything else, Little General?” Simon’s shoulders were quaking with laughter, his voice filled with respect. Max frowned at the affection in his Beta’s voice.

“Mm-hmm. Becky and I will be going to the masquerade. Just thought you’d like to know.”

Emma would be at the masquerade? Suddenly he was dying to see her. How had she turned out? Was she as sexy as her voice implied?

“Oh, yeah.” The purr in Simon’s voice had Max frowning. The small, predatory smile had his eyes flashing gold in protest as a wave of possessiveness rose inside him. The owner of that voice was his .

“Mm-hmm. See you later? With the window?”

“Count on it. Bye, Emma.”

“Later, Simon.”

Simon hung up the phone, that sexy smile still on his face. When he turned back, Max had himself back under control, merely raising a brow at Simon.

Simon flushed. “What?”

“When are you delivering that window?”

Simon looked over at the window waiting for its finishing touches. “Probably just after lunch. Why?”

“I’m going with you.” Max grinned.

Simon straightened up, frowning slightly in confusion. “Why? I thought you had some other things to deal with.”

“I want to check something out.” At Simon’s raised brow, Max’s grin widened.

“Man, I’m not sure you want to go there.”

Max’s grin faded. “Why not?”

“Because Wallflowers has been known to suck the testosterone out of every single male who’s ever entered.”

“Huh?”

“It’s pink. And frou-frou. And lacy. And pink .”

Max laughed as Simon shuddered. “If your masculinity can handle it, so can mine.”

Max watched his friend work on the stained glass window, his mind once again turning to Emma.

He hadn’t seen her in eight years. She’d been seventeen, just about ready to graduate, smiling and laughing at the prom in a way he’d rarely seen her do. She’d been striking in her dress, a one-of-a-kind done in the colors of a rich autumn sunset, a strapless number in reds and golds with a sweetheart neckline and flaring skirt. He’d had a hard time keeping his eyes off her, but he’d been with Livia, and Max was not a man who cheated. By the time he’d broken up with Livia it was time for him to leave once again for college. Between earning his doctorate in optometry, his internship and residency, and learning from Jonathon how to run the Pride during his summers off, Emma had been quickly forgotten.

Going out of state for college had been the right choice for him, and he’d been lucky that Jonathon agreed with him. Now, with his partnership with Adrian and Jonathon’s official retirement he could finally start looking for his Curana. And he had a feeling he knew just who he wanted for the position.

She’d been sweetly innocent back then; slightly overweight, but with serious curves. It had been that innocence, and Livia, that had held him back.

She didn’t sound so innocent now, and Livia was nowhere in the picture.

It was definitely time he got better acquainted with little Miss Emma.

Emma watched as Simon’s shiny red pickup truck pulled up to the curb of Wallflowers. She grinned, knowing Becky had hidden in the back office to avoid meeting up with Simon. Simon was the only person on the face of the planet who made Becky lose the power of speech. In an odd, karmic sort of way, Emma had no problem handling the hunky Simon, laughing and chatting with him with ease.

Emma watched Simon climb out of the truck. The passenger side opened up as well, and a familiar tall blond got out, a grin on his face, his unbound hair blown about by the cool autumn breeze.

Emma was horrified. Oh, no. Not him! She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She was no longer the shy teenager he’d once known; she was a grown woman with a shop of her own. She could handle Max Cannon.

Then he grinned at something Simon said, and her hands began to shake. She took another quick breath and blew it out, trying desperately to steady her racing heart.

The two men wrestled the stained glass window out of the flatbed of the truck. With care, they got it to the door of the shop. Emma rushed to open it just as the reverend arrived.

Reverend Glaston smiled at the two men. “Hello, Simon, Max. Is that the church’s window?”

Emma smiled at the reverend. He was a kind soul, with smiling whisky brown eyes and balding gray hair.

He never failed to make Emma feel comfortable, and she was counting on that now to get her through his presence.

“Sure is, Reverend. Let’s get it inside so I can show it to you.”

Simon’s deep voice reverberated through her, making her shiver a little. If she weren’t so hung up on the blond hunk behind him, she’d have made a play for Simon a long time ago. Although, considering how Becky had always reacted to him…

“Becky? Can you come give me a hand with this?” Emma yelled into the back, struggling to hide her grin when Simon’s gaze glued itself to the curtained off area that led to their office. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have gone after Simon.

She heard Becky’s muttered oath as she stomped into the front room. Simon’s gaze never left Becky as he and Max maneuvered the window into the store. His dark brown eyes heated as Becky scowled at him and took a step back.

“Becky?” Emma asked, waving her forward. With a false cheerfulness, Becky smiled at Emma, then joined her by the propped up window.

“Emma?” Emma turned to Simon, who was staring at her now. “You remember Max, right?”

He’s kinda hard to forget, Emma thought as Max stepped forward.

“Hi, Emma.”

She looked up, getting a quick peek at the face that had starred in every single one of her naughty fantasies before lowering them to the scar next to his nose. “Hi, Max.”

He cleared his throat, a sound filled with amusement. She glanced back up at him to see him staring at her with a raised brow. Looking down, she noticed he’d held out his hand. With a false smile she took it, pumping it up and down twice before dropping it like a hot potato.

Her heart fluttering from just that simple touch, she turned to Simon, the lesser of the two threats. “So, Simon, are you ready to unveil your masterpiece?” Her smile for him was genuine; she truly liked Simon.

His work was exquisite. On top of that, he had one of the best senses of humor she’d ever seen. It felt like having a brother, something she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing, being an only child.

He lifted one brow, grinning at her. “Yes, Little General. Right away, Little General.”

Putting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. Although, from the twitching of his lips, he wasn’t all that impressed. “Now, Simon.”

She could hear the reverend coughing on a laugh behind her. Simon just rolled his eyes and began unwrapping the window.

When it was finally unveiled, Emma was astonished. It was easily one of Simon’s finest works. The Madonna sat, her blue robes gently waving around her, a small Mona Lisa smile on her face as she stared down at the dark-haired baby held gently in her arms. The Madonna was beautiful, but it wasn’t a classic beauty. It was the gentleness in her face, the love she so obviously bore her child that made it so special. He’d managed to capture that special smile that new mothers everywhere gave their newborns, and it took an otherwise normal face and made it radiant.

“My God, Simon. It’s gorgeous,” Max breathed from right behind her.

“Thanks.” Simon’s eyes didn’t rest on the Madonna, though; they were on Becky, who stared at the Madonna with something akin to awe. “Becky?”

Becky’s gaze went from the Madonna to him. The reverence on her face seemed to stun Simon, who drew in a quick breath.

Emma felt Max stir behind her. When one of his hands came to rest at her hip, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Well!” She clapped her hands, moving away from the dangerous heat of the man behind her to go to the reverend. Not surprisingly Becky, after nearly jumping out of her skin, refused to meet Simon’s eyes again.

“What do you think, Reverend?” She put on her best salesman’s voice, for once not flustered to be using it in front of real people.

The reverend’s slow smile was all the answer she needed.

Hot damn, Max thought, watching the little dynamo that was Emma in action. Why the hell didn’t I stop here sooner? He’d been busy setting up his practice, true, but you’d think he’d have made the time to stop by. Be neighborly.

When Max had stepped out of the truck, he hadn’t really been expecting much; after all, most women couldn’t live up to the voice Emma had. It was slightly husky, like she’d spent the night moaning in some man’s arms, a visual Max could do without. She managed to infuse it with an authority that had his Beta jumping to do her bidding, something that spoke to the Puma in him. Max wondered if she’d try to take the lead in bed, as well. A challenge, that; he loved taking a strong woman and reducing her to a quivering, begging mass of bliss.

Her straight, dark brown hair was caught up in a ponytail that hung to just between her shoulder blades.

Big brown eyes dominated her face, artfully made up to accentuate them. Her lips were slicked with a pale rose. Her features weren’t classically beautiful, but something about the animation in them drew Max like nothing else ever had.

And her body…

Hell, her body…

The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, something he normally wasn’t attracted to, but on Emma it aroused protective instincts he didn’t even know he possessed. She had the most sweetly rounded ass encased in tight black jeans and the most magnificent breasts Max had ever been privileged to watch bounce under a lacy rose camisole. With a real waist and hips a man could grab on to for the ride of his life, she reminded him of an old-fashioned pin-up girl, all soft curves and feminine strength.

Then she turned, laughing up at something Simon said, sensuous and innocent at the same time, and Max was a goner.

Holy. Fucking. Damn.

Emma. Little Emma Carter sure as hell had grown up.

His hands burned to touch her again. That fleeting touch she’d allowed him had merely whetted his appetite. He longed to rip that camisole off her body and feast at her breasts, hear her moans as he slipped her jeans down those incredible, edible legs, her soft cries as he feasted on her juices.

She would scream his name as she came.

He would tie her to his bed, torture her into ecstasy, and then start all over again. He’d bend her over the arm of his couch and take her from behind over and over until she begged him to come, biting into her shoulder and marking her as his for all to see. The thought of slipping his cock into that luscious ass nearly made him come right there in the middle of her store.

When she laughingly hugged Simon, he nearly went for his Beta’s throat.

Mine!

Only Simon saw the way his eyes gleamed gold, heard the low, purring growl that erupted from his throat before he could stop himself. Sucking in a breath, Max turned away, desperately trying to get himself under control.

He’d been told he’d know his mate when he met her; now he knew what they meant. He’d spoken to Emma when she’d been a teenager, felt a little spark of something , but had dismissed it as nothing serious. Just young lust. Now he knew what that spark had been and wanted to kick his own ass. Not all Pumas got lucky enough to find his or her mate; to know he’d not only met her, but walked away from

her, hell, forgotten her, galled him.

He forced himself to look around her shop, at anything but the laughing group of people around the Madonna, before he walked over there, plucked her up and carted her out of her shop to somewhere private.

She’d done well for herself. Emma’s stamp, mixed with Becky’s, created an atmosphere both women seemed at home in. He could see women flocking to the store, much to the horror and amusement of their male companions. He walked over to the mantelpiece, seeing a silver picture frame his mother would probably appreciate as a gift for her birthday. Something about the picture in it drew his attention.

He leaned forward, trying to see why the Victorian lady in it looked so familiar when he felt a small hand touch his arm.

“Is everything okay between you and Simon?”

That husky voice, combined with her soft touch, had his cock once more threatening to burst out of his jeans. He looked down into her face and saw nothing there but concern. Before she could move, he put his hand over hers, trapping her at his side. He was ridiculously pleased when she didn’t try to pull away.

“Everything is fine between me and Simon.” As long as he keeps his paws off of you.

She looked away, back towards the group, and bit her lip. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Her voice was hesitant, shy in a way she wasn’t when she talked to Simon or the reverend, but her expression begged him to say yes. A fierce wave of protectiveness rose in him, and his hand tightened over hers. He nodded.

He allowed her to pull them to the side, quiet and private but still in plain view. She looked up at him again, obviously uncertain before she focused, damn it, back on his scar. “Um, do you have any idea how Simon feels about Becky?”

She peeked up at him again before dropping her gaze once more. A flush rose in her cheeks and she bit her lip again.

He took a deep breath, striving to control the possessiveness that roared through him. “Not a clue.”

Her softly muttered “Damn” had him nearly smiling, it was so filled with aggravation, but the possessive monster in him couldn’t get past her possible interest in his best friend. “He’s not for you.” He could feel wisps of his power flowing out of his control, trying to force her to acknowledge the truth of his words.

Emma looked him full in the face for the first time since he’d entered the store. He knew he sounded like a caveman, and probably looked like a jealous jackass, but he couldn’t help it; little Emma did that to him.

Then she laughed at him. Not one bit intimidated, frightened or cowed.

“Not me, you idiot.” His eyes widened in astonishment as she turned back to the group around the Madonna. “Becky. She’s had a thing for him since high school, but she can’t seem to act on it and he’s never shown any real interest.” She looked back up at him. “Until recently, that is. So, I wanted to know, you being his best friend, if you know how he feels.”

He felt his whole body tense at the devilish calculation on her face. “What are you planning?” He

maneuvered his body, and hers, until they were in the corner, effectively cutting her off from the crowd behind them. His power was back under control, but his curiosity was roused.

She puffed out an impatient breath, focusing once more on him. Some of her shyness had evaporated, but in its place was an irritation he wasn’t used to seeing in feminine eyes. “Becks and I are going to the annual masquerade. Mr. Friedelinde invited us, for the first time. I’m hoping I can get either Simon or Becky moving in the right direction, but I don’t want Becky hurt or embarrassed if Simon isn’t really interested.” She looked up at him, her little chin tilted as she demanded a response. “So. Is he?”

Max turned back to look at his Beta. From the way Simon was sniffing the air around Becky, he’d say Simon was very interested. He looked down at Emma, who was tapping her foot impatiently. “Yes.”

Relief flickered across her face and her body relaxed as if he’d lifted a weight off her shoulders. “Thank God. They’d be perfect together.”

“What makes you say that?” Truly curious, he watched as she turned thoughtful.

“Simon knows he can have any female he wants just by snapping his fingers, but Becky backs away from him every time he approaches. He’s never quite certain where he stands with her. He gets bored so easily with the ones that fall in the palm of his hand that he winds up dumping them pretty quickly. He can’t predict what Becky will do, so she’d never bore him. Also, Becky loves his work and understands how much time and devotion it takes to make the kinds of things Simon does, so she wouldn’t resent that if she knew he’d be coming home to her. She would challenge him; keep him on his toes, while he would cherish her like she should be cherished. No one’s truly loved her before, or shown her her own worth.”

Emma focused on him again, her expression gleefully vengeful. “But if he hurts her, I’ll scoop out his nuts with a grapefruit spoon.”

The change from dreamer to avenger had Max grinning even as his balls drew up at the visual image she’d created; although, from the way Simon was acting she had nothing to worry about. “Remind me not to get you mad at me.”

“Oh, no, I’m not the one to be afraid of.” She motioned him closer with a crooked finger, and he obligingly bent closer, getting a whiff of her rose scented perfume as he did. “Becky had a friend in college who showed her how to use a goat emasculator,” she whispered softly in his ear.

Max reared back, staring at Becky and then back down to the innocent looking little devil nodding solemnly in front of him.

He threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in months.

Max climbed into Simon’s truck with a grin.

“What the hell did Emma say to you to get you to laugh like that, anyway?” Simon asked, his tone aggravated.

Max shook his head. “Nothing you’d be interested in, I’m sure.”

“Try me,” Simon snarled.

Max snarled a warning to his Beta, who had the grace to look guilty.

“Sorry.”

“Want to tell me what that was all about?”

Max wasn’t asking, and Simon knew that. He sighed. “Becky. She won’t talk to me, barely looks at me and leaves the room the minute I enter it. Hell, if she can arrange it she makes sure she’s gone before I get there!”

“So you’re not interested in Emma?”

The look Simon shot him was part amazement, part horror, and Max relaxed, his fears that Simon was interested in Emma eased. It was the look a brother would give someone if asked if he thought his sister was hot.

“Emma wants to do something to bring the two of you together. I thought I’d verify that it’s what you want before I start helping her.”

“Man, if you and Emma can get Becky to agree to give me a chance, I’d be forever grateful.” Simon shook his head, frowning ferociously. “I have no idea what I did to turn her off me so thoroughly, but if something doesn’t give soon I’m going to lose it.” Simon looked thoroughly miserable. “I’m pretty sure she’s my mate.”

Max mentally rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “We’ll see what we can do.”

He ignored Simon’s sideways glance, his Beta’s slow grin too close to a smirk. “Emma sure grew up pretty, didn’t she?”

Max tried his best, but he couldn’t hold back his grin. “Yes, she did.”

Simon nodded his approval. “She’d make a great Curana . ”

Max smiled. The idea of Emma as his Curana, ruling at his side, mated to him for all eternity appealed mightily. Not one to waste time when he wanted something, he began outlining his plan to win over their women