Wren and the Werebear Read Free Page B

hotel room, somewhere discreet. She looked at his hand – no wedding ring. That didn't mean much. She wasn't going to play his game. Not in the mood.
    "No, this is where I live. I'm actually here with my roommate," Wren said, searching the crowd for the tall girl.
    "Why don't we step outside for a second?" the man said, leaning forward. She could smell the whiskey on his breath. His eyes swept over her body so obviously that she could feel it. "We can chat for a bit. Get some fresh air."
    Wren opened her mouth to reply but before she could say one word another man had stepped in between her and the businessman.
    "Sorry, this beautiful lady is already taken." The tall, handsome man with black hair took her by the elbow. Wren let herself be guided away toward the dance floor, leaving the businessman holding his whiskey at the bar.
    "Olivier? What are you doing here?"
    "Making sure you don't get stolen away by some other rich politician," he said, beaming down at her. One hand wrapped itself around her waist, and then he was leading her in a formal box waltz. Wren followed his lead easily. She loved to dance, all kinds of dance. Although she could follow the formal ballroom dances, she preferred the sensual rhythms of tango and salsa.
    When they'd first started dating, Olivier had gone out with her dancing many times. Then the election had encroached, and she'd had to go by herself, but she knew he didn't like her going out on her own. Lately, she'd quit dancing altogether. So this moment was one she savored—his hand on her waist, his other hand supporting her palm. She smiled brightly up at him.
    "Seriously, what are you doing here?"
    "Seriously, Jessica texted me and said you had the night off. I thought I could take a moment away from the office to come down and do cocktails for a while with my girl. You look amazing. You should wear makeup more often."
    "Yeah, we'll see about that," Wren said. Olivier's smile faltered a bit.
    "I'm sorry, should I not have come?" he asked. "Did you want to flirt with the wealthy socialites? You know I can't resist a good charity ball."
    "Spoken like a true wealthy socialite," Wren said, poking him in the side. "No, I'm just tired. I shouldn't have come. Jessica dragged me away from my work."
    "It's good that you're working," Olivier said. "You'll get a raise soon, with all the overtime you put in."
    "Maybe," Wren said, resting her head on Olivier's shoulder. They swayed back and forth to the sounds of the piano coming from the other room. She tried to get back into the moment, the feeling of dancing with him, pressed against him, but it wasn't working.
    "Are you okay?" Olivier said. He pulled back, concern written all over his face. "You seem kind of down."
    "I'm fine," Wren said. His insistence irritated her. "You know, I think that guy was right. I could use a breath of fresh air. Can we walk outside a bit?"
    "Sure," Olivier said, casting a distracted look across the charity party. "Let me just say goodbye first. The head of AeroCon was telling me about their lobbyist's plans, and it's really my one chance to impress him...There he is!"
    He strode away quickly, leaving her standing on the dance floor alone. Of course. That's why Olivier had shown up at the party. Not to have drinks with her, but to schmooze with the bigwigs he knew would be here. The company exec he'd been talking with shook his hand and gestured to the other men in the group. Wren slunk back to the front door to wait for him.
    “Chocolate pomegranate dip?” a waiter asked, bending to offer a silver tray of fondue.
    “Sure, thanks,” Wren said. She took the tray from the waiter and set it down on the table next to her, swiping a handful of bread through the chocolate dip and into her mouth in one motion. The tartness of the pomegranate pips contrasted with the bittersweet chocolate.
    “Delicioush,” she said with a half-full mouth. Wide-eyed, the waiter blinked and didn’t ask for the tray back.
    It took five more