The Wallflower Read online

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  The Wallflower: A Hunting Love story, Halle Puma Series Book 1.

  Copyright © 2008 by Dana Marie Bell

  ISBN: 1-59998-918-2

  Edited by Angela James

  Cover by Anne Cain

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2008

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  The Wallflower

  Dana Marie Bell

  Dedication

  To Mom, for always helping me look on the bright side and cheering me on even when you weren’t certain you knew what you were cheering about.

  To Dad, who grinned so wide I thought his face would crack when he heard I was going to be published. Yes, I promise I’ll write a fantasy story one day, just don’t expect me to leave out the romance.

  To my grandmother, who’s read every word I’ve ever written and loved it even when we both knew it sucked. I love you, Memom!

  To my husband, Dusty; you’ve made all my dreams come true. (Other than the cabana boy one. But that’s okay. You’re not getting your big-breasted masseuse either, so we’re even.) Thank you for believing in me. I love you, sweetheart.

  Special thanks to A and BR for reading this, helping me fix it and polish it up, and for cheering with me when I got the contract. Also thanks to JG and JW for the technical assistance.

  Prologue

  “So, have you heard? Max is back.” Marie watched with a friendly smile as Emma carefully wrapped her purchase. Emma felt her heart give a little jump at the news, though it wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. The knowledge that the hunky Dr. Cannon had moved back home for good after ten years away was hot gossip to all the women who trooped through her store.

  Marie Howard was there to pick up a hand-crafted mirror with beautiful hand-painted tiles. Livia was there, even though she hated both Emma and Becky, because she was friends with Marie. As far as Livia was concerned, they were directly responsible for her breakup with Max.

  Livia Patterson was one of the town beauties and knew it. Fine boned with alabaster skin, she had just the right dusting of rose at her cheeks to set off her pale blonde perfection. Add blue eyes the color of forget-me-nots and a tall, wispy build, and she was the epitome of the fragile blonde. The woman could brawl like a linebacker when the time came; she could shriek, and bats for miles around fell dead to the ground; but man if she didn’t work the whole Penelope Pitstop thing, and men fell for it. They loved that whole delicate flower of womanhood crap she managed to pull off so flawlessly. Not that Emma envied her or anything. Not really.

  Men looked at Emma and saw sturdy womanhood. Hips made for birthing, plain brown eyes and nondescript brown hair, at five-foot-two inches Emma would never, literally, be able to stand up to Livia. Add in the fact that most of the town thought she was in a gay relationship with Becky and her social calendar remained depressingly empty.

  “Apparently Max is planning on taking over Dr. Brewster’s practice; he and Adrian will be partners,” Livia cooed.

  “So you’ve already spoken to him?” Marie’s expression of polite curiousness didn’t quite mesh with her tone of voice. Emma didn’t dare look too closely, but she thought Marie was almost exasperated with her friend. Everyone knew how hard Livia had once chased Max. Maybe she thought she could get the old fires burning once again?

  “Yes, Max just bought his parents’ old house. I can’t wait to get in there and redecorate.” Emma could practically see Livia rubbing her hands in anticipation. “Of course, nothing in this shop will do. No real craftsman things. I want genuine antiques, not knock-offs.” Livia’s contemptuous gaze raked the store, and its owner, with equal derision.

  When Livia’s back was turned, Emma, in a fit of childishness, mimicked the blonde as closely as possible. Marie wound up choking on a sip of tea as Emma put her hand on her hip and mouthed along with Livia’s words. “Of course, everyone knows Max would never set foot inside Wallflowers. Does he even know you exist, Emma?”

  Emma tapped her nail on her chin thoughtfully as Livia turned back to her. “Yes, actually, I believe he does. Something…something to do with…punch. Cherry punch, if I recall correctly.” That had been the incident that broke up Max and Livia; Becky had spilled cherry punch all over Livia’s white prom dress in retaliation for some comment of Livia’s concerning Emma. Max had, apparently, taken Emma and Becky’s side and had broken off his relationship with Livia. Livia had hated Emma and Becky ever since. Emma was pretty sure Livia was the one who kept the whole gay couple rumor alive.

  The look on the blonde’s face was filled with hatred until she smoothed it out, once again the cool, delicate woman most of Halle knew. She smiled at Emma with pity. “I hear Jimmy left town recently. What’s wrong, Emma, didn’t he like sharing you with Becky? Or perhaps you couldn’t talk her into a ménage a trois?”

  Emma smiled back, hiding the hurt over Jimmy with practiced ease. They’d known before he left that their relationship wasn’t going anywhere, and it wasn’t Jimmy’s fault. “So you’ve been invited to Max’s housewarming party?” Sometimes it helped to have friends in odd places; Max’s best friend had become one of her best artisans and closest friends. He’d made Marie’s mirror and supplied quite a bit of glass wall art for the store.

  Livia’s eyes flickered; she knew nothing about the party. Emma mentally chalked up a score on her mental scoreboard. On the downside, Emma hadn’t been invited either, not that she’d expected to be.

  “That party is supposed to be a surprise.” Livia waved her hand airily. Emma merely raised an amused eyebrow, not deceived in the least. “Oh, well, hopefully you won’t spill the beans to Max. Oh, wait. When, exactly, was the last time you spoke to Max?” Livia smiled coldly.

  Emma clapped in mock approval. “Wow, Livia. Way to express your inner twelve year old.”

  Grinding her teeth on a fake smile, Livia turned to Marie. “I’ll wait for you outside. The atmosphere in here is so cloying and sweet. I really don’t know how you can stand it.” She stepped outside and sat on the bench Emma and Becky had put out front, looking dainty and sweet as she waved hello to her friends and acquaintances.

  “Sorry about that, Emma. I forgot how much she dislikes you.”

  Emma turned and looked at Marie’s apologetic face. She grinned. “It’s no problem, Marie. If she actually came in here to buy something I’d take great pleasure in charging her double.”

  Marie laughed just as Becky stuck her head out of the curtained-off back room. “Has the wicked witch ridden off on her broomstick yet?”

  Emma waved towards the picture window. “Not quite. She’s flying our bench at the moment.”

  Becky carried out the mirror with a sigh. “Here you go, Marie. Hope you and Jamie like it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we will,” Marie replied, her eyes glued to the boxed up mirror. She paid, chatting quietly with Becky and Emma, then left the store with a cheery wave. The two women could see her giving Livia something of a hard time as they crossed the street, but quickly lost sight of
them.

  “So. Max is back in town.” Becky leaned back against the counter, obviously hiding a grin.

  “Yup.”

  “You going to make a play for Dr. Yummy? I mean, since you’ve had a crush on him since, what, grade school?”

  “Given half a chance? Maaaybe.”

  The two women looked at each other and laughed; they both knew Emma didn’t stand a chance in hell of catching Max Cannon’s attention. She hadn’t done it in high school, and she certainly hadn’t changed all that much since.

  What would a man like Max want with someone like her?

  Chapter One

  “God, he is so fucking hot.”

  Emma Carter looked out the front window of Wallflowers and watched the most bodacious backside it had ever been her pleasure to see saunter down the street. Said backside was encased in a pair of tight blue jeans, causing many a female to send a prayer of thanks heavenward for the makers of Levi’s. Sunlight gleamed on his golden blond hair, hair that brushed his wide shoulders, just long enough to make a stubby ponytail. Even under the bulky leather jacket you could tell he was built, his body muscular without being a temple to the god Steroid. And he had the brightest, clearest blue eyes in the state, not that she got to look at them often. He usually had them trained on someone else, like one of the sleek, beautiful women who flocked around him all the time. God, he was gorgeous. His face was almost too beautiful to be real; the only thing that marred his perfection was a small scar just along one side of his nose, barely noticeable unless you looked for it. When he spoke to her, which hadn’t happened in more years than she cared to count, Emma kept her eyes trained on that scar.

  When the finest ass in the world turned the corner, Emma and Becky leaned back with identical sighs. “All I want for Christmas is a piece of that.” Becky sighed again, her green eyes gleaming with laughter. Her untamable brown curls danced around her head in wild abandon as she shook herself all over like a wet dog. Becky was too thin, bones showing through at wrist and ankle, and if Emma didn’t know for a fact that she ate like a horse she’d have worried she was anorexic. But Becky had been cursed with a metabolism that just wouldn’t quit, forcing her to eat more than most people just to maintain her weight. Emma had the opposite problem. The best that could be said about her figure was Marilyn Monroe had also been a size twelve. No matter what she did, Emma couldn’t seem to drop weight. Neither woman envied the other.

  “What, not a piece of Simon Holt?”

  Becky blushed bright red. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, sinfully handsome Simon had featured in more than one of Becky’s drunken fantasies. Emma slicked a hand through her hair. “As for me, Max Cannon could be naked and tied up with a bow under my Christmas tree and the first thing he’d probably say is, ‘Hi, Edna, right? Could you untie this please? I have a date tonight’.”

  Both women looked at each other and giggled, then got back to work.

  Emma was so proud of what she and Becky had accomplished. Friends since grade school, both women had been wallflowers. Boys didn’t go for the frizzy, too-skinny Becky Yaeger or chunky, dull Emma Carter. Especially when there were girls like Livia Patterson and Belinda Campbell, both beautiful, blonde cheerleader types, around Both Becky and Emma had decided to go to the local college and major in business, while a number of people, including Max and Livia, had chosen to go out of state for college. After graduation, Emma had taken the inheritance from her maternal grandmother and used it to buy the building that now housed Wallflowers.

  Wallflowers was a business that catered to people who enjoyed hand-crafted, artisan-made pieces. Emma loved it. Their eccentric store carried hand-carved cuckoo clocks, paintings, old-fashioned mirrors, masks, plaques…anything that could be used to decorate a wall. Becky had come up with the idea for the business and talked Emma into it over a long night of burritos and margaritas.

  Emma paused to look around their “parlor”. An antique rug covered the distressed hardwood floors. A small Victorian sofa covered in soft cream brocade graced the center of the floor. A Queen Anne coffee table in rich cherry wood sat before it, a silver tea service placed on it. Two Victorian chairs in that same cream fabric faced the sofa, creating a cozy little conversation group that the two women, and the occasional customer, used frequently. Against one wall was a gas fireplace with an ornately carved mantelpiece. On that mantelpiece were silver-framed photos, all of them either black and white or sepia toned. In one, Emma was dressed in a Victorian dress of ivory lace, a black cameo at her throat, her hair done up, a sweet smile on her face. In the other, Becky was dressed as a Wild West saloon girl, her frizzy hair teased out and feathers stuck in every which way. Her dress was pulled up on one side to show black boots and striped stockings. Neither photo had a place of prominence, both intermingled with other pictures. Unless you stood and went through the pictures thoroughly, you’d never find them.

  A cherry and glass counter, as Victorian as they could make it and still have it be functional, graced one wall. On it sat an old-fashioned looking cash register; hidden underneath the counter was the credit card reader.

  They’d done their best to have the atmosphere of a by-gone era and still keep the place warm and inviting. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace on this cool October evening; the walls had a lovely cherry wood wainscoting, with rich rose floral wallpaper above it. It was very feminine, and both women loved it.

  They’d had the store now for three years, and while they knew they’d never be rich off it, they also knew they’d never been happier.

  Emma sighed, a smile of satisfaction on her face as she finished polishing the old, gilt-edged mirror they’d hung just behind the counter.

  Life was good.

  Dr. Max Cannon’s life sucked. Once again he crossed the street, determined to avoid Livia’s obvious attempt to get his attention. He’d been back in his small hometown for three months now, but she just couldn’t get it through her overly highlighted head that he just wasn’t interested. Hell, the woman’s vision was perfect and yet she’d tried to schedule three different eye exams in the last three months! Thank God his partner Adrian was willing to run interference, or Max might have been forced to some extreme measures. Until he had a Curana who could safely deal with the woman, Livia was going to continue to be a serious problem. He ducked into the workshop of his best buddy and Beta, Simon Holt, determined to get away from the blonde barracuda bearing down on him.

  “Hey, Max.”

  “Simon.”

  Simon’s deferential nod was all that it should be from his Beta. “Hiding out from Livia again?”

  The laughter in Simon’s voice nearly had Max growling. “She’s getting persistent.”

  “Have you told her to fuck off yet?”

  Simon’s approach to the pushy female was beginning to appeal. The idea of her as his mate made his skin crawl. The Puma inside him yowled in protest. There was no way in hell he’d make her his Curana.

  “No, but I’m getting there.”

  Simon pointed discreetly towards the workshop’s front window. “Incoming.”

  Max gritted his teeth just as the door opened.

  “Max, how nice to run into you!”

  Soft, perfumed arms tried to circle his neck. In a swift move, Max glided away, turning to face the woman who’d tormented him since his return to Halle. “Livia.”

  It wasn’t a greeting; it was a warning. Her eyes flared briefly with fear before she laughed it off. “I just wanted to remind you about the masquerade party over at Marie’s. You’ll be going, won’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Livia frowned, her expression turning hard and calculating. “Most of the Pride will be there.”

  Max nodded; as Alpha he was well aware of that. Marie’s father, the old Alpha, still held the annual masquerade at his house just outside of town. It was his pride and joy, that house, and he loved to entertain. His daughter, safely mated to Jamie Howard, acted as his hostess since the death of his mate some four year
s ago. Human and Puma mingled at the masquerade, the humans totally unaware of the Pumas in their midst. The Pride did its best to make the event a night to remember, for both races, and Jonathon Friedelinde did an excellent job of that. It was also the event at which an unmated male could unofficially signal his interest in a female. Hence Livia’s interest in his attendance; if she could get him alone long enough, get him to signal in some way that there was a spark of interest, she could force him into a declaration he didn’t want to make.

  “Who are you taking?”

  The question was asked with a seductive coyness that nearly made Max shudder. He suppressed it; he couldn’t afford a sign of weakness. “At present, no one.”

  The chill in his voice should have made her back off. Instead, the stupid woman took it as a challenge. “Oh?” Her lashes fluttering coyly, she reached out with one manicured finger. When her blood red claw touched his chest, Max snarled a warning, his eyes flashing gold as the Puma warned her off.

  With a gasp she backed away. Her head dipped in submission, an instinctive response to the Alpha power Max now exuded. It surrounded him in an unseen cloud, forcing all before him to do his will. Max rarely found himself in need of it, but today she’d pushed too far. She slowly backed away from him as a growl rumbled in his chest. He kept it going until she was completely out of Simon’s workshop, pissed beyond belief at her persistence.

  “Okay, I gotta admit, that was probably more effective than ‘Fuck off, you skanky ho’. Think she got the message?”

  And that was why Simon was his Beta—he’d flinched but stood his ground, something none of the other Pumas could do. Their reactions were more akin to Livia’s when he chose to exercise his power.

  He was also one of the few people Max trusted completely. If anything were to happen to Max, Simon would become Alpha.

  Max turned with a laughing snort to answer his buddy’s question when Simon’s phone rang. His Beta punched the speakerphone button, still grinning at Max. “Hello?”