Dana Bell - The Wallflower

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.