Taming the Wolf Read Free Page A

and as I already assured you; my life was never in any danger.”
Marcus cocked an amused eyebrow. “Pandora?”
“That’s right.” There was a hint of defiant pride in the eyes that swung back to him. “She’s a South African Bengal tiger, on loan to us from the Johannesburg Zoo. I was there when she was born, and her breeders allowed me to name her.”
Walt chuckled, leaning down to plant a fatherly kiss on Samara’s forehead. To Marcus he warned, “Don’t get this young lady started unless you want to hear a sermon on the importance of humane, responsible breeding to maintain the genetic diversity of the endangered tiger species. Samara has been befriending wild animals for as long as I’ve known her, sneaking in strays at every available opportunity. If her mother would have allowed it, Samara would’ve owned a menagerie of pets ranging from parakeets to raccoons.”
Samara laughed, the sound as mesmerizing as her voice. “What an exaggeration!” she protested, looking embarrassed as her glance shuttled away from Marcus. He was more intrigued than ever.
Walt grinned. “Anyway, I didn’t come over here to lecture you on the dangers of playing with wild animals—although I do plan to give your mother a piece of my mind when I find her. I wanted to introduce the two of you, but I see you’ve already managed on your own.”
“Actually,” Marcus said, looking at Samara, “we hadn’t gotten around to that yet.”
“Well, then, allow me to do the honors.” With a gallant flourish, Walt made the introductions, explaining to Samara, “Marcus and I met several years ago when we served as committee chairmen on a community revitalization project in Washington, D.C. Marcus was barely out of Georgetown Law School at the time, if memory serves me correctly, but he was already passionate about community issues and brought quite a lot to the table.” Walt grinned broadly as if an idea had suddenly struck him. “You two have a lot in common. Samara is very active in the community herself. She works as an executive director for a community outreach organization based in D.C.”
“Is that right?” Marcus didn’t know which part of the revelation pleased him more—Samara’s shared interest in civic affairs or the fact that she lived in Washington, D.C., where he’d recently relocated to. “So you don’t live in New York?” he clarified, just to be sure.
Samara shook her head. “I’m only here as a favor to my mother. I don’t model on a full-time basis.”
“That’s surprising,” Marcus said. “You were amazing tonight. Captivating.”
She inclined her head in simple acknowledgment of the compliment, but Marcus had the vague impression she was less than pleased.
Walt was observing them with sharp, discerning eyes when someone across the lobby called out a greeting to him. “You two keep chatting,” he urged his companions as he started away, only too pleased by the diversion. “Get to know each other. You won’t be disappointed.”
In amused silence, Marcus and Samara watched the older man retreat. “Good ole’ Mr. Floyd,” Samara drawled wryly. “The art of subtlety was never lost on him.”
Marcus chuckled. “Walt’s matchmaking attempts aside, would you like to get a drink somewhere? I’d love to hear more about the work you do.”
“I can’t drink,” Samara blurted, then looked as if she wanted to take back the words.
“All right,” Marcus said evenly. “No drinks, then. How about dinner?”
She shook her head. “Look, Mr. Wolf, I’m sure you’re a very nice guy and really deserving of Walter’s high praises—”
His mouth curved with irony. “Which would rationally explain your refusal to have dinner with me.”
She bristled at his mocking tone. “Not that I need a ‘rational explanation’ to refuse your dinner invitation,” she said crisply, “but if you must know, in my experience with doing these fashion shows, there are usually three types of men in attendance.