Page 1 of Falling for the Werewolf
Chapter 1 – The Interview
Jace Stevens refrained from running his finger along the collar of his white dress shirt. The pale blue silk felt more like a noose than a necktie. Instead, he smiled politely, nodding occasionally and pretending to listen as the older man droned on and on about how wonderful it was to work at the prestigious investment firm of Pompano, Calhoun, and Bentley.
As if on cue, a very pretty—and very young—assistant entered with a tray of refreshments, wearing a snug-fitting black skirt that reached to around mid-thigh, and a white, tailored shirt that was opened one or two buttons more than a female boss would have considered appropriate. Her gaze lingered on Jace a bit longer than necessary. Even if his acute shifter senses hadn’t picked up her flare of lust, her eyes and body language suggested she wouldn’t mind offering him more than just a cold drink.
Jace politely declined and turned his attention back to the man behind the desk, effectively declining anything else the young assistant might be offering, as well.
She left shortly after, shooting one more, slightly pouty glance toward Jace. The older man didn’t seem to notice, his eyes glued to her backside as she made her exit.
Returning to his well-practiced spiel, Mr. Pompano touched on the standard list of benefits: medical, dental, stock options, retirement. Important things, to be sure, but more so to full-humans, like the comb-over droning on and on.
Shifters, by nature, were a healthy lot, and on those rare occasions when they weren’t, they sought out their own pack healers. And, as for financial security, well, Jace had a knack for turning small investments into big returns, which was exactly why firms like this one wanted to hire him. They, and their clients, stood to make a lot of money.
Feeling slightly claustrophobic in the dark paneled office, Jace found it difficult to focus. Just like his last four interviews, he had decided two minutes in that there was no way in hell he could work here.
At least this was the last one for a while. His uncle had more than enough work to keep him busy over the next few months, and he was in no hurry to trade in days of fresh air and hot sun for a stuffy, climate-controlled office.
Working with his hands beneath the open sky, building things with his uncle Amos, that was where his heart really lay. Which begged the question: why was he even here? Sure, he had the fancy degree and the financial acumen to play with the big city dogs and make lots of money in the process, but what good was that if he was miserable?
“... very discreet, of course,” Mr. Pompano was saying, dropping the names of a few major players as if that might entice Jace to sign on the dotted line.
It didn’t.
Jace pasted the smile back on his face and sat through the remaining twenty minutes, trying to quell the urge to tell him what hereallythought about the position and the company as a whole.
The tie came off the second he walked out of the building. Maybe it was time to admit the truth. He just wasn’t cut out for the white-collar life.
When he looked down at his watch, his frown increased. He was supposed to meet Amos to finish up the Chandler’s deck an hour ago. If he hurried, he might be able to make it back in time to—
“Umph!” Jace felt something smack into his chest, at the same time he heard the decidedly feminine grunt.
He stopped his forward progress and looked down as a young woman bounced back and downward. Too late, Jace reached out to catch her and missed, causing flailing arms to release a flurry of papers as she landed soundly on her backside.
Without looking up, the woman immediately got to her knees with a groan and began gathering her papers as the light afternoon breeze tried to carry them away.
“Are you all right?” Jace asked as he bent down to help.
“I’m fine,” she answered breathlessly.
It had been a solid hit. Jace was mildly surprised she could get the words out at all.
She took the papers from him and tucked everything safely back into her legal-sized, soft-sided bag.
“I’m sorry,” she said, offering a sheepish smile from down on the sidewalk.
Jace barely heard her. He was too busy thinking about what pretty eyes she had. Not quite blue and not quite green, they held mesmerizing swirls of both that made him think of the glass marbles he’d had when he was a kid.
“Totally my fault,” she said, accepting his hand as he helped her up.
Two things registered in his mind in those few moments. The first was that this woman with the pretty eyes was smiling at him. Not yelling at him for not looking where he was going, or complaining that her papers were now most certainly messed up, but smiling apologetically as if she had actually causedhimsome difficulty. The second thing he noticed was that her hand was pleasantly warm and soft, and fit perfectly in his. His wolf roused in interest.
Even in the strappy-heeled sandals she wore, the young woman barely reached his shoulders.
Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise when she took her first good look at him, starting somewhere around his chest and moving upward to his face. It was such an honest, innocent reaction that Jace couldn’t help smiling.
Her blonde hair, gathered in a large comb-like clip in the back, had streaks of bronze and dark red. A few wayward tendrils escaped the confines of the comb here and there, framing her delicate face. His large hands twitched with the sudden urge to remove the clip and bury themselves in all that multi-colored silk.
Jace inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the subtle scents of oranges and coconuts as images of tropical beaches flashed across his mind. It cleared the last residual traces of the stuffy, Polo-scented office he had just left, and for that alone, he was grateful. She smelled like freedom and desire, and it was making him hard.
