Taming the Wolf Read Free

help celebrate the successful unveiling of my spring collection.”
Samara scraped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and rose from the chair, eager to escape the oppressive tension of the tiny dressing room. She knew, realistically, that there was no escaping the volatility that always simmered between her and Asha.
“Samara? I asked you a question.”
Smothering a deep sigh of resignation, Samara answered evenly, “I’m going back to my hotel room to pack, Mother. I came here and did what you asked me to do, and now it’s time for me to return home where I’m really needed.” She paused halfway to the door, her back facing her mother. “Congratulations on another successful premiere. I’ll understand if I don’t see you tomorrow before I leave.”
Her mother said nothing as Samara strode purposefully from the room.

1
    Marcus started across the plush lobby where celebrities and fashion heavyweights milled aimlessly about, basking in the afterglow of the event. He’d excused himself to take a call on his cell phone, ignoring Walt’s reproachful look. Walt was not the first person in Marcus’s life to complain about his workaholism, and he wouldn’t be the last.
    Marcus rounded the corner and walked right into the path of Samara Layton. His arms came up automatically to steady her as she lifted her eyes to murmur an apology.
    At about five-seven, she wasn’t as tall as Marcus had originally estimated. She’d abandoned the sheer goddess gown in favor of a simple white shirt and electric blue jeans that molded long, shapely legs that were made for wrapping around a man’s waist and leading him straight to paradise. If he’d thought she was beautiful before, she was even more breathtaking up close. Her rich brown skin was flawless. Lustrous ebony hair stemming from a widow’s peak had been scooped into a ponytail that paid homage to an exquisite face—high cheekbones, a slim nose, a delicate chin that hinted at a stubborn streak and a lush, sensual mouth created for pleasuring a man. Marcus got hard just looking at her mouth. And then there were her eyes. Wide and incredibly dark, thick-lashed and tilting exotically at the corners.
    Those mesmerizing gypsy eyes settled on his face, registering surprise and a flicker of recognition. But the look was so fleeting Marcus decided he’d only imagined it.
    “I’m sorry,” she offered in a soft, throaty voice that made his mouth go dry. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Marcus forced himself to stop staring, a feat requiring the strength of Goliath. Damn, she was fine. “No problem,” he said softly. “Where’s the fire?”
For a moment she just gazed up at him, as if he hadn’t spoken. The look in her eyes, something soft and smoky, almost brought Marcus to his knees.
And then just like that her expression cleared, and her arms stiffened beneath his hands. “If you’ll excuse me…” she said pointedly.
He let his arms drop to his sides and took a step back. “Of course,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”
“Just the pair I was looking for!” boomed a hearty voice across the crowded lobby.
Marcus and Samara glanced up to see Walter Floyd approaching, causing several curious heads to turn in his direction. Tall and solidly built, with silver hair sprinkled liberally at the temples, Walt remained an impressive sight at the age of sixty-two. As a prominent businessman who’d recently been voted “Entrepreneur of the Year” by Black Enterprise, Walt could be a shrewd and formidable competitor—and as warm and generous as a beloved grandfather.
As Marcus watched, Samara’s lips curved into a smile of undisguised pleasure, and for one insane moment, he envied his friend for getting such a warm response from her.
“If you’re coming over here to give me another earful about the tiger,” she said lightly as Walt drew near, “you’re wasting your breath. Working with Pandora was the only part of the performance I enjoyed,