Karen Whiddon: Billionaire Wolf

“Are you all right?”1

Ryan made no attempt to hide the fact that he wanted her. Maria could see that the darkness of his eyes and every shadow in his perfectly chiseled face all attested to his desire.

“Yes,” she said as she slipped off her high heels and carried them, so she could walk barefoot in the sand.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” he asked.

Tilting her head up at him, Maria smiled. “I love the way sand feels between my toes. You should try it.”

To her amazement, he did exactly that, removing his boat shoes. “Nice.”

When he took her hand, she couldn’t suppress a tiny cry at the contact. A hot ache grew in the back of her throat, making her realize what they’d all said would happen was true. Desire, want and need had the potential to morph into so much more.

“Maria?” He turned to her, and swept her into his arms. She felt her body soften as her curves molded to his hard, muscular body. Her skin tingled from the touch of his hands as his long, elegant fingers caressed her arms.

And then he kissed her.

KAREN WHIDDONstarted weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at eleven. Amid the Catskill Mountains, then the Rocky Mountains, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty surrounding her. Karen lives in north Texas and shares her life with her hero of a husband and three doting dogs. You can email Karen at KWhiddon1@aol.comor write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com.

Billionaire Wolf

Karen Whiddon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As always, to my beloved husband, Lonnie.

Contents

Cover

Introduction “Are you all right?” 1 Ryan made no attempt to hide the fact that he wanted her. Maria could see that the darkness of his eyes and every shadow in his perfectly chiseled face all attested to his desire. “Yes,” she said as she slipped off her high heels and carried them, so she could walk barefoot in the sand. “Are you sure that’s safe?” he asked. Tilting her head up at him, Maria smiled. “I love the way sand feels between my toes. You should try it.” To her amazement, he did exactly that, removing his boat shoes. “Nice.” When he took her hand, she couldn’t suppress a tiny cry at the contact. A hot ache grew in the back of her throat, making her realize what they’d all said would happen was true. Desire, want and need had the potential to morph into so much more. “Maria?” He turned to her, and swept her into his arms. She felt her body soften as her curves molded to his hard, muscular body. Her skin tingled from the touch of his hands as his long, elegant fingers caressed her arms. And then he kissed her.

About the Author KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at eleven. Amid the Catskill Mountains, then the Rocky Mountains, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty surrounding her. Karen lives in north Texas and shares her life with her hero of a husband and three doting dogs. You can email Karen at KWhiddon1@aol.com or write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com .

Title Page Billionaire Wolf Karen Whiddon www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication As always, to my beloved husband, Lonnie.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Maria Miranda had always liked her name—almost as much as she loved the sea. The melodic sound of the six syllables always made her smile. Even now, trying to fulfill the destiny she’d been given, a walk along the waves did much to soothe her frustration at her repeated failure.

All her life, she’d taken great pains to hide her beauty. Until now. She’d just turned thirty, and her father and the Drakkor Council had grown impatient. The time had come to accomplish what she’d been born to do. Somehow. So far, nothing had been as easy as it should be.

Another Friday night. She’d decided to give this place one more shot—how could she resist a bar called Sea Dragon? She took the same seat at the bar as she had the previous two Fridays and swiveled to face the crowded nightclub. Women shot her envious and sometimes downright hostile glares, while the men couldn’t seem to tear their eyes from her. Not for the first time, she found herself aching to scoop her hair back into an unflattering bun and slip her oversize, tortoiseshell glass onto her nose.

Lookin’ for love in all the wrong places ...

Despite the hip-hop music blasting on the nightclub’s speakers, the old eighties song kept running through her head. As she got up and gyrated on the dance floor with yet another handsy, overly self-confident man, she wondered why on earth she’d ever thought coming here would be a good idea.

Because desperation fueled her, that’s why. Some women talked of their biological clock ticking. Well, hers had gone into overdrive. Not just because she yearned for a baby, but because her entire race’s survival depended on it. Unfortunately, for her, getting pregnant was a bit complicated.

Breathing a sigh of relief as the song ended, she gazed into her escort’s eyes and tried to imagine letting his lips touch her. Nope. Not feeling it. So she thanked him and turned to go. When he grabbed her arm, she pulled free, gave him a don’t-you-dare-try-that-again glare and headed back toward the bar.

Immediately, several other men jostled each other, clamoring for her attention. Ignoring them all, she raised her hand to signal the bartender, but someone stepped in front of her and ordered a drink for her, his treat.

“No thank you,” she said, her voice clear and cool. And discouraging. Who knew men would think that if a reasonably attractive woman came to a bar alone, it was a signal to a bunch of hungry sharks to begin a feeding frenzy?

At the lame analogy, her inner Drakkor licked its chops. Of course, the fact that she actually had come here for that reason made the irony even more delicious. And painful.

Though she wished she could be outside strolling near the waves crashing up against the seawall, she finally ordered her own drink. The bartender brought it and three more. “From the gentlemen there, and there, and over there,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“No, thanks,” she said again, pushing them away. The pounding beat of the music had begun to make her head ache. Once again, she surveyed the room, feeling out of place and unsettled. More and more she had come to realize that trying to meet someone in a scene like this didn’t work for her.

This was the third time in as many weeks that she’d come to this place. Maybe she should give up and move on. Though she’d danced with many, there hadn’t been a single man who’d generated even the faintest flicker of interest, and she knew all too well the rules governing the task ahead of her.

One last look around the bar, and she’d knock back her drink and go home. Failure, again. Though, as a consolation prize, she felt quite sure she could find something interesting to watch on television.

And then, as her gaze swept through the packed room, she saw him. Everything else—the music, the noise, the crowd, faded away.

Gorgeous, ruggedly handsome, devilishly sexy—a hundred superlatives couldn’t even begin to do him justice.