Maid for the Alpha

Prologue

The smell of bacon, mixed with cinnamon and sweat is what awoke her. But she didn't remember where she was or how she got there. The room was vaguely familiar but lost in her waking haze. Suddenly she felt someone move behind her, and that someone had his strong arm tightly wrapped around her waist. What the hell? She thought. Thank God her clothes were still on, but still.

Slowly and gently she lifted the arm and scoot-slid down the side of the bed, landing onto the grey carpet with a soft thud. She winced. Did he hear her? She held her breath and waited a moment. When no sound came in response to her noise, she walked on all fours towards the door.

A rustle of sheets made her stop. Then nothing. Oh God, she thought. Was he awake and watching her? The thought of a strange man staring at her round behind made her nervous. But perhaps she was just being paranoid and he was still asleep. The mystery was killing her. She figured if the guy was awake she would face him with dignity, on two legs. And if he was still sleeping then she could find out who the heck she was spooning with all night. Slowly, she stood up and turned around.

Dear God, she thought as she took in the view of the sleeping Adonis, naked and fully stretched on the king-size bed before her. Shadows played games against the soft light that illuminated the peaks and valleys of each and every muscle, to which he had plenty. He was the perfect specimen of the male form. Something inside of her wanted to touch his hard chest and trace her fingers through the divots marking his well-defined six-pack, then follow the thin trail of hair that led down to his long, thick cock and grab hold.

She blushed. What the hell was she thinking? And what had come over her?

"Do you like what you see?" a sexy baritone voice groaned.

Her eyes shot up to find a pair of sea-blue eyes staring at her. His black hair was tossed wildly and he looked, overall, dangerously sexy. Then it dawned on her. She knew this man!

She couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips, and she spun around as fast as she could, running out the door.

"Liz, wait!" he shouted behind her, but she kept going.

Why the hell was she here? Wasn't it just to pick up the stupid purse for that stupid Miss Vaughn? So why the heck did she stay?

"Liz!" She heard his footsteps gaining on her and she ran faster, weaving through hallways that only the night before had seen for the first time. As she neared the kitchen the smell of bacon nearly made her pivot and charge in there. Her stomach was growling after all, but she only looked in. And looking back at her was the cook. There was a momentary silent understanding between them. The help may gossip about their bosses but they didn't rat on each other. A passing nod and she was off again with her pursuer nearly upon her.

"Liz!" He sounded pissed now.

She was fast approaching a wall and she had three choices: right, left, or face him. She chose left. As she ran into his private library-slash-office she realized she made the wrong choice. Without any other options, other than jumping out a three-story window, she stopped before the desk and braced herself.

He came rushing in, all skin and skin, and nothing else. Stopping in the doorway, he stretched to his full 6'3" and crossed his arms over his chest. The full view of him made her gulp, and it wasn't because of the irritated scowl he wore. Damn he was sexy, and naked, still so naked. Liz felt herself blushing again. She looked down.

"I don't like running after my women," he said, his English accent clear now.

His women? Since when did I become one of his women? And how many women does he have? Liz thought, a flash of jealousy threatened to expose her attraction to him. Just because they accidentally, well hopefully accidentally, spooned last night did not make her one of his women. That was all that happened, right? "Could you please cover up?" was all she could manage to say.

It bothered him that she was suddenly so shy, but he obliged by grabbing a book from the shelf next to him and held it over his crotch. He didn't move from the doorway in case she had any more ideas of running away. "There." She looked up and immediately saw the book. Moby Dick. Really? She groaned. Was the universe mocking her?

"Are you ready to talk now, or do you plan on running some more?" He asked.

Why couldn't Leland just do what most rich men do and just fire the help? No, instead he spoons with them and chases them down the halls, while naked as the day he was born, only more developed, and then expects to carry a civilized conversation while holding Moby Dick over his junk! Technically he wasn't Liz's boss; that position belonged to Vanessa Vaughn, his girlfriend. I am so toast, she thought while she took her time to answer his question. "Okay. Talk," she couldn't hide her own irritation. "Please explain to me why I found myself waking up next to you, in your bed, and you're naked."

There it was, the fire that he liked. It was subtle, but there, just hidden beneath her light brown eyes. "You don't remember what happened last night?"

Now she was really feeling nervous. "I remember coming here to get Miss Vaughn's purse and then seeing your dog in the hallway. He's a really nice dog by the way."

"I don't own a dog."

"Sorry, I mean wolf. Gorgeous wolf. I've never seen anything like him. I think he actually understood me when I talked to him." Why was she going on about the wolf? Oh yes, stalling.

Leland smiled. Why is he smiling like that? Liz wondered. "The wolf is very smart. And he does understand you," he said, "but I don't own a wolf."

Liz shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I don't understand."

His smile never wavered. "I am the wolf."

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