Beauty and the Werewolf (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack) Read Online Free PDF

Park, Isabelle checked her reflection in the mirror for the tenth time. Her hair was in the in-between stage, where it looked too plain if she left it down, but couldn’t pull it up without strands falling out. She’d settled for a low updo with tons of bobby pins, and minimal makeup. Her dress was classic. Black silk, down to her ankles, with a slit up the front.
    This wasn’t really a date, after all, so why bother getting fancy?
    It didn’t matter what Jack thought he felt. There was no spark in his touch. Nothing that would make her even think for one second that he was her Luminary.
    Imagine that. A MacGrath and a Connelly. Fated mates.
    Scoffing out loud, she adjusted the top of her dress. Her father would freak if he found out what Jack had said. Even thinking about the pairing would make him go ballistic. He’d probably put out a bounty on Jack’s head.
    Surprisingly, the idea wasn’t entirely grotesque. He was easy on the eyes. But he was also absolutely, undeniably annoying. He wouldn’t even consider selling her the painting until she was halfway out of his drive.
    At least Jack hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. As bad as her father had made a MacGrath out to be. She didn’t like to judge people before she knew them, but he’d pummeled into her brain, for years on end, that the family was full of terrible, deceitful people.
    She had yet to see that side of Jack, but still…a part of her was waiting for her father’s words to ring true.
    Lifting the front of the dress she’d bought a few hours before, Isabelle strode up the steps toward the de Young. She nodded to the men in tuxedos who flanked the doors of the museum and swept inside. The place was bursting with life. From paintings illuminated on the walls to classical music wafting from the speakers to sculptures in the corners, everything was vibrant. Even the people. Men dressed in tuxedos and women glammed-up in formal gowns filled the space, mingling and laughing and happily clinking glasses.
    Despite the festive atmosphere, Isabelle’s shoulders felt tight. Hell, every muscle in her body was on edge. She’d have to bite her tongue for a few hours. Remember not to tell Jack how little her pack thought of his family and the way they did business.
    “I need liquid courage,” she mumbled, and sauntered toward the bar.
    On her way, a server holding a platter of hors d’oeuvres passed in front of her. Looked like snapper crudo with chile, steak lettuce cups, and bites of sesame chicken on sticks.
    Scrumptious.
    Stomach growling fiercely, Isabelle spun in front of the waiter and snatched a handful of each. God, she’d been so preoccupied with dress shopping for tonight, she’d forgotten to eat.
    As she shoved the snapper in her mouth and headed for the bar, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She whipped around, shifted the food to her cheek, and bit back a gasp. From his musky, masculine scent to his ruggedly strong jawline to his sultry brown eyes, Jack MacGrath was a vision of sex appeal.
    “Looking for me?” he asked.
    Choking down the fish, she swiped the back of her hand over her mouth to clear away the crumbs. “No, but I’ve got a throat on me.”
    He chuckled, eyeing her neck. “I’m sorry, what?”
    “I’m thirsty.” She wasn’t back at home, drinking with Neil. She’d do well to remember it. “Anyway, what are you drinking?”
    “Scotch on the rocks is my poison.” He held up a whiskey tumbler full of ice and very little amber liquid. “I was going to ask what yours was, but I see now it’s one-bite hors d’oeuvres.”
    Oh, isn’t this grand? I’m a hungry, hungry hippo.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hiding her hands behind her, Isabelle quickly chucked the rest of the appetizers she’d fisted.
    From the direction of the flying food, a woman squealed in shock. Or maybe disgust. She couldn’t tell unless she turned to see, and she was most definitely not going to make eye contact and