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

admit fault.
    Damn it, what were the chances she’d actually hit someone?
    “Come on,” Isabelle said, snatching Jack by the sleeve of his coat. She jerked him toward the bar. “Think the bar has the black stuff?”
    If he knew that she’d just chucked a bunch of bite-sized meat at an unsuspecting guest, he didn’t let on. Thank goodness for small victories.
    “Black stuff?” He kicked his foot up on a barstool. “You mean tar?”
    “No, I mean Guinness.”
    He winked. “I know what you meant, but some would think those two were one and the same. A Guinness for the beautiful lady,” he called to the bartender, and then set his almond-shaped eyes on her. “Anything else?”
    “My painting.” Smiling smugly, she propped her elbow on the bar. “Since you’re offering.”
    He smiled, but only one corner of his lips quirked, and it was sexy as hell. “We’ll get to that.”
    “I figured, but it was worth a shot.”
    “Of course it was. Come on,” he said, sliding her drink from the bar and handing it to her. “I want to show you something. A taste of home, perhaps.”
    She followed him reluctantly, merging into the crowd and zigzagging toward an area with a sign that read National Galleries of Scotland . He hesitated as she passed through a marble archway, and ghosted a hand over the small of her back. Even though he didn’t touch her, she chilled, her skin going tingly all over.
    Had they walked under a vent?
    They entered the Scottish gallery, and knots of tension loosened in her shoulders. Her arms dropped to her sides.
    “Wow, this is grand.” She filled her lungs and let out a deep, relaxed sigh. “Really grand.”
    This was the type of experience she wanted her father to have with her work before he died. He should feel enraptured by the art. As if it were a part of his soul. That’s the way she felt when she painted, and why she felt connected to every single piece.
    “How long will you be staying in San Francisco?” Jack asked from behind her.
    Completely enthralled, she paused in front of a nature painting by Paul Cézanne. “I’m not sure, but I’m anxious to get back.”
    “What’s the hurry?”
    If she wasn’t mistaken, he sounded genuinely disappointed. But MacGraths didn’t feel anything. Ever.
    “I miss home.” While that was true, there was more to it than that. She wanted to spend every last second with her father, before there weren’t any seconds left. Her stomach clenched into a knot as dread seeped in. “I have family waiting for me.”
    Jack stood beside her as she kinked her head to the side to analyze a painting of a man ice-skating on Duddingston Loch circa 1795. It was a masterpiece. Painting perfection. It’d been created “en plein air” too, if she had to guess by the wisps of light in its layers.
    “Have you enjoyed your time in the city?” he asked, his voice tight.
    “I find it hard to believe that you bargained tonight for the painting, yet you want to spend our time talking about how much I like the city or how long I’m staying. Is that really why you wanted me here?” She tipped back her drink. “Because I think there’s more to it, and it’s about time you let me in on the secret.”
    He leaned in close, and she couldn’t help but inhale a generous helping of his masculine scent. He smelled divinely fresh, like amber and sandalwood. An intoxicating combination that had her stunned.
    “Oh, I’ve got secrets,” he whispered against her ear. “But this isn’t one. Is it so hard to believe that I simply craved your company?”
    Good God, her earlobes shivered. Was that even possible?
    The thought of this gorgeous man craving anything had her mouth watering. Words evaporated from her brain, which didn’t happen very often, if ever. Despite herself, she relaxed. Probably had something to do with that smooth-as-silk voice.
    “That’s your big secret?” she asked, stepping up to the next painting. “You wanted to spend time with me and