"Ingrid Weaver's Loving the Lone Wolf (4.5) combines a tortured hero and heroine with desperate goals, nonstop complications and constant sexual tension into a deeply satisfying story."  Romantic Times

Years ago, hoodlum Nathan Beliveau made a deal with the devil to reinvent himself.  Now a legitimate multimillionaire, he stands to lose everything unless he settles his debt to the shadowy Payback organization by righting a wrong.  But Nathan's daring mission to bring Stephan Volski down hit a snag when he met the gangster's hauntingly beautiful girlfriend...

Feeling the walls closing in, Kelly Jennings had to escape her former lover's clutches and disappear with her son.  But as she lured Volski's sexy "business associate" into her web of deception, Kelly's traitorous heart ached for Nathan's soul-shattering kiss.  Could she bring herself to double-cross the man she hopelessly loved to save her son?

"This story was an emotional one for me to write because to fully understand what Kelly does, I had to tap into that primal fear any mother experiences when her child is threatened.  What lengths would you go to in order to protect your baby?  And how can you resolve your love as a mother...and your needs as a woman?  I hope Kelly and Nathan's story moves you as much as it moved me."

Ingrid

     This would be the last time, the very last time, that Kelly would negotiate a deal for Stephan.  All she had to do was set this business into motion and she and Jamie would be as good as gone.  The smuggler she had been sent to meet was about to become their ticket to freedom.  Yet even knowing that, Kelly still felt her stomach rebel as she stepped off the stage.  She paused to smooth her dress until the queasiness passed, then put on her best performer's smile and kept her gaze on the back wall as she moved between the tables.  Rand was already here.  One of Stephan's watchdogs had pointed him out to her as soon as the set had ended.
     He sat alone at a table in the shadows, his chair casually tipped back against the wall.  He'd extinguished the candle that had burned in the glass bowl on the table, so she couldn't yet see his face, but she could feel his gaze on her as she worked her way closer.
     Fine.  She knew how to handle that.  If Rand was like most of Stephan's associates, he'd be too busy ogling her to realize he was about to be played.  She decided to put on a show for him, too, and give him what he expected.  She added a hint of extra sway to her hips.
     This had to work.  She couldn't let herself think of what she might be driven to do if it didn't.
     She paused when she reached his table, inhaled from the diaphragm to calm her nerves and held out her hand.  "Hello, Mr. Rand," she said, deliberately pitching her voice low so that he would have to draw closer in order to hear.  "I'm Kelly Jennings.  Sorry to keep you waiting."
     He hesitated briefly before he rose to his feet.  He was a tall man.  Despite the four inch heels Kelly wore, her eyes were only on a level with his chin.  A loosely knotted tie hung from the open collar of his white shirt, likely a token concession to the Starlight's dress code, but the jacket that stretched across his wide shoulders was biker black leather.  It creaked as he extended his arm to take her hand.  "I wasn't expecting Volski's man to be a woman," he said.
     The deep voice went along with his size.  It was as masculine as the scent of leather and the hint of spicy aftershave that rose with him.  She cranked up the wattage of her smile.  "I hope you're not disappoint--" 
     She never finished the inane comment.  The first touch of his palm against her own stole her breath.  Maybe it was due to anxiety, or maybe it was a result of fatigue, but when he closed his fingers around hers, she felt a thrill chase across her nerves. 
     His hand was large, his fingers long and tanned.  The strength in his grip was wrapped in a gentleness that was at odds with his size and his choice of wardrobe.  Kelly lifted her gaze from his hand to his face.
     Good Lord, she thought.  Whatever crimes this man did for a living, whatever he was on the inside, there was no denying that the outside was gorgeous.  He had a square jaw and broad cheekbones, with a bold hawk-like nose that evoked the image of a native warrior.  His jet black hair was cut short and combed straight back from his forehead, but he would have looked just as good with it long and braided.  She could picture him on horseback, his shoulders clad in buckskin and his chiseled face bathed by moonlight... 
     "Surprised would be more accurate," he murmured.
     Kelly blinked, wrenching her mind back to business.  What was wrong with her tonight?  Rand's appearance meant nothing to her.  She wasn't looking for a man.  She was looking for a patsy, a sucker.  A scapegoat.  She gestured to the chair beside his. "Well, I hope you mean that in a good way. Do you mind if I join you?"
     He held her chair for her.  It wasn't a showy courtesy, it seemed to come naturally to him.  He resumed his seat, picked up a book of matches from the table and lit the candle. 
     His eyes were the color of amber, reflecting the flame with flecks of gold.  And despite her revealing neckline, he kept his gaze on her face.  "I have what you need," he said quietly.
     How right he was, she thought.  "That sounds promising.  Would you care to elaborate?"
     "I'm in the transportation business.  Volski's looking for a new method to move his product.  The math seems simple enough."
     "We checked out your background, Mr. Rand.  We heard you ran a successful operation in Detroit ten years ago, but your experience was limited to stealing cars."
     "I prefer to regard it as redistributing them."
     "That's an interesting way to put it."
     "It's accurate.  I either broke them down for parts or shipped them overseas."
     "Yes, so I heard.  You had a good reputation."  She maintained her smile as she continued to scrutinize him.  "But you dropped out of sight.  Why is it that no one seems to have heard of you since then?"
     "Because I've moved up from stealing cars, and I'm very good at what I do."
     "And that is?"
     "I told you.  Transportation."
     She crossed her arms on the table and angled her shoulders toward him.  Cool air wafted across her breasts as her neckline gaped.  She didn't pull back, she wanted to put him off balance and she would take any advantage she could get.  "You must understand why we would be concerned.  Your timely arrival seems too convenient.  We need to be sure you are what you claim to be."
     "Sorry, I wasn't aware you would require references.  I left my resumé in my other suit."  A muscle in his jaw twitched.  Still keeping his gaze on hers, he moved the candle holder aside.  "You might want to be careful where you lean.  That dress looks combustible."
     "Do you like it?"
     "If I say yes, is it going to help our negotiations or hurt them?"
     This was going to be tougher than she thought.  She let her smile fade.
     "Perhaps you could explain why we should trust you, Mr. Rand."
     "That goes both ways, Miss Jennings."
     "Oh, please.  There's no need to be so formal.  Call me Kelly."
     "Let's quit playing games, Kelly.  Volski must already trust me or he wouldn't have arranged this meeting."
     "He's interested, yes, but--"
     "But he sent you to distract me so he can negotiate a better deal." 
     Normally, that would be true.  Stephan had recognized her potential from the start and had been quick to exploit it, but this time it was her own agenda, not his, that had her pulling out all the stops.  "Nathan," she began.  She splayed her hand on the bare skin at the base of her throat in a gesture that was a sure-fire attention getter.  "I can call you Nathan, can't I?"
     He touched his index finger to her knuckle, then traced his way down the back of her hand until he rested his fingertip on the upper curve of her breast.  Incredibly, his gaze still didn't waver from hers.  "You can call me whatever you like, Kelly, as long as it doesn't include fool.  I'm here for business, and regardless of what you're trying to accomplish with this lovely display--"  He pressed lightly, stroking her breast along the edge of her little finger.  "--I believe you're here for business, too."
     She had to exercise every ounce of her control to stay in character and keep from jerking back.  Not because someone might see them and report this to Stephan--with her back to the room and the table positioned in the shadows, no one else would be aware of Nathan's caress.  And not because the contact repulsed her.  It was quite the opposite.  His touch on her breast wasn't invasive, it was tender, almost...regretful.  This was as unexpected as the thrill she'd felt from his handshake and so help her, despite what she knew about him, she found it pleasant.
     That was why it had to end.  This wasn't what she had planned.  Just who was distracting whom?  She eased her shoulders back, reducing the contact until all she could feel was the warmth from his fingertip. 
     "I have what you need," he repeated.  "I have a network in place that can move the merchandise Volski has stockpiled in Vladivostok."  He withdrew his hand, ending the caress as casually as he had started it.  He crossed his arms.  "The only question here is if you can make it worth my while."
     Her skin tingled where he had touched her.  Beneath it, her heart started to pound.  This was the opportunity she had been waiting for.  She fought to keep her eagerness from showing.  "You seem like an intelligent man, Nathan.  Intelligent and ambitious.  I like that."
     "And you sing as if there's a hell of a lot more to you than you're pretending, Kelly.  I'm not sure whether I like that or not."
     This time she did jerk.  His touch on her body was one thing, but that comment was just too personal.  Pretending?  God, he couldn't possibly know the truth.  "I'm glad you enjoyed the show."
     "Was that what it was?"
     "Why, of course.  I'm a singer.  That's what I do."
     "No, what you do is work for Volski.  From what I heard on that stage tonight, singing is what you are."
     Damn, his insight was right on target.  It appeared that she had underestimated him.  She had to wrap this up before he sliced any deeper.  "Then on behalf of Stephan, I have a proposal to present."
     "I'm listening."
     She slid her hand along her breast and under the neckline of her dress until the tips of her fingers slipped into her bra.  "Let me show you a sample of what we're offering."
     His arm shot out across the table.  His touch wasn't gentle this time as he clamped his fingers around her wrist to hold her hand in place.  The flame that was reflected in his eyes flared dangerously.  "Kelly..."
     The warning in his voice was plain--she had pushed the game as far as he would allow--but she wasn't playing now.  She twisted her hand so that he could see the small, condom-sized packet that she had taken from her bra. 
     He exhaled hard enough to make the candle waver.  Muttering an oath, he released her wrist. 
     Kelly turned the packet between her fingers.  The clear plastic didn't hold a prophylactic.  It held a tablespoon of fine white powder. 
     It was pure, uncut heroin, gram for gram, one of the most valuable commodities on the planet.  It was the primary source of Stephan's wealth, and being this close to it was making Kelly want to throw up, but she did some more deep breathing until the urge passed. 
     Almost there, she told herself.  She had put out the bait.  Now it was only a question of how fast he would take it. 
     Nathan plucked the heroin from her grasp and closed it in his fist so tightly his knuckles paled.
     Good, she thought.  Until now, his expression had been unreadable, but his body language betrayed him.  This deal appeared to be almost as important to him as it was to her.  "It's yours to keep," Kelly said.  "I believe you'll want to test it." 
     "I intend to."
     "There are two more tons where this came from, Nathan.  Your share would make you a rich man."
     The mention of the amount of heroin didn't appear to move him.  Nor did the prospect of riches.  He slipped the dope into a pocket on the front of his jacket and zipped it closed.  "What kind of percentage did Volski have in mind?"
     "That's what I'm here to negotiate."
     He regarded her steadily.  "Name a number."
     "First I need to see what you have to offer."  Kelly pinched the shoulders of her dress and hitched it back into place.  "Now that I've shown you mine," she murmured, "it's your turn to show me yours." 
 

LOVING THE LONE WOLF, Ingrid Weaver, Silhouette IM, June 2005 ISBN 0373274394