The Billionaire Jaguars Curvy - Zoe Chant

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The Billionaire Jaguar’s Curvy Journalist By Zoe Chant

Copyright Zoe Chant 2016 All Rights Reserved

1 Abby would never get used to parties like this. Back when she was a kid, she'd see her dad putting on a tux once a year, when the local chamber of commerce had its Fall Gala. But this? This was a room full of men who put on tuxes every day, and glittering women in gowns that cost more than what her father used to make in a year. It didn’t help that she never felt glamorous at these things, either. She had a pair of sturdy black dresses she used for formal events that she dressed up with some bright, colorful necklaces, but that was all they were: sturdy. They were work clothes, not the fancy toys the

people with the real money wore. Everyone who looked at her knew the dresses were off the rack and the jewelry was glass. She was always an imposter at things like this. She felt shallow wishing for something, just one nice necklace that would make her look—and more importantly, feel—like she belonged. But it wasn’t worth buying it on a reporter’s salary. Forget feeling like a princess; Abby needed to eat. Speaking of eating, she wouldn’t if she didn’t get to work. Salem Beach Now wouldn’t pay for five hundred words about pretty outfits and feeling out of place: they wanted photos, details. What was said, what was overheard,

what everybody wore. What she really needed was a break. A story like the one that had made Dad’s career such a success, when he’d gotten to the bottom of a fraud case that had cost Salem Beach millions. The closest Abby had gotten was an interview with the sculptor who’d designed the new Veterans Memorial on the park. She probably should’ve taken a job somewhere closer to the city, or even in New York. At least then she’d feel out of place because she was in unfamiliar surroundings. But instead she was a townie in Salem Beach, where the millionaires and billionaires of Boston came to play.

You smiled nice to the rich people and hoped they tipped well, and knew you would never, ever be one of them, no matter what you did. The gala she was attending tonight was a fundraiser for the Salem Beach Children’s Society, which supported early childhood programs for all the families at the other end of the social spectrum. Eventually there’d be a nice speech about giving back to the community and the children being our future, and everyone would feel good about themselves at the end of the night. Abby knew she shouldn’t feel so cynical about it, but sometimes it was hard not to. Half the people talking so passionately about ‘helping the youth of

this community’ would yell at the teenage cashier at the gas station if their change was a penny short. She snapped a few pictures. Eleanor Chu, the Children’s Society Executive Director, was chatting up a tall, slender woman in a black column of a dress. Two gray-haired men were watching from near the ice sculpture (the organization’s logo, two children holding hands, carefully rendered in three dimensions). She’d have to get their names from Eleanor later. She stepped back for a second photo and someone jostled her arm. “Oh,” she said, turning, “I’m sorry—” “It’s quite all right,” the man said, and Abby looked into a pair of the most

intense green eyes she had ever seen. “I didn’t realize you were about to move, you seemed so—focused.” “I—” She was sure focused now. The man was tall—at least six feet, maybe a little taller—broad-shouldered, with sharp, prominent cheekbones and ebony-dark hair. His skin was smooth, a pale tan. “I got so focused on the shot. I should’ve been paying more attention.” “You’re all right?” His hand was almost at her elbow. She felt like she could sense his touch, just out of her reach. Damn. “I’m fine. I’m sorry—” “No need to apologize at all,” he said, extending his hand. “Paul Larson.” Paul Larson? No one told me he

was hot. “Abigail Bailey; Abby. I work for Salem Beach Now…mostly the social and business beats. Around here there’s a lot of overlap.” Paul smiled. “I suppose that’s true. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Oh. Right. He still had his hand out. She took it, and his firm handshake sent shivers up and down her spine. Now that was the kind of hand you wanted to get to know better. All over. Paul Larson, in the flesh. Abby could hardly believe it. He’d come seemingly out of nowhere two years ago to make his name in biotechnology investing. They said he had the Midas touch—anything he invested in turned to gold, and usually sooner rather than

later. She hadn’t expected him to be so humble. Or handsome. Or young—he had to be right around her age, twentyfour. “Nice to meet you too,” she stammered. One advantage of her journalism background: You could strike up a conversation with almost anyone, no matter how distracted you felt. “I heard you’d bought property in Salem Beach, are you planning on spending time here?” “I wanted a retreat,” he said. “But I confess, I’m enjoying the area a good deal. I think I’m going to end up spending more time here than I’d planned.” He looked straight into her eyes as he said it. Shit. She hadn’t planned on anything like this. “So…are

you pursuing any hot news tonight?” “Not really,” she said. “Tonight’s work is probably going to end up on the Style page.” “I suppose the checks cash either way,” he said with a hint of a smile. “And there’s less potential for angry letters.” “Oh, you’d be surprised,” she said. “You’d better not get a designer’s name wrong. And I’d probably have to turn in my press pass if I suggested anyone was wearing a knock-off.” Except me, she added mentally. They like it when I know my place. “Should I tell you what I’m wearing?” He reached back, fiddling with his collar. “You’ll have to read the

tag on the shirt for me, and I’m afraid the suit’s bespoke. I’m sworn to secrecy and can’t possibly reveal the name of my tailor. Gentleman’s honor, you know.” Paul Larson may have come from nowhere, but he sounded like he came from money. “Of course,” she said. “The tie?” He flipped it over nonchalantly. “Ralph Lauren. A little off-the-rack for me, eh?” He shrugged. “New money, I’ll be forgiven. What are you wearing?” “Me?” Her mind reeled for a second. “A…it’s just a dress. I think I got it at Kohl’s.” “No, no,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in, as if he was confessing a deep, dark

secret. “That’s not how you play the game, my dear. ‘It’s just a little something I had in the closet,’ that works. Or ‘I went to this delightful little store, in the suburbs, would you believe it?’” Abby’s heart was racing. What was he doing? This was almost as bad as getting caught with the maid would have been back in the day. Abby was here to take notes, not be flirted with. Men like Paul Larson didn’t flirt with reporters, especially not reporters in off-the-rack dresses. It just Was Not Done. “I…I don’t think I can pull that off. Besides, I’m here to do the seeing, not…be seen.” And she was certainly being seen now. People were glancing at them and she’d

already caught one raised eyebrow. She knew what that meant. What is she thinking? Mostly she was thinking about how solid and strong Paul’s arm felt around her, but that was a very, very bad idea. “I do appreciate the advice, though,” she said, stepping away from him. “Glad to help,” he said. “And… hold your head high. You’ve got just as much right to be here as any of us. After all, without you to write it down, why would any of us even suffer through parties like this?” With those words, he disappeared back into the crowd, and Abby felt as disappointed as she was relieved. The rumors she’d heard about Paul were that

he was savvy, hard-driving, private— not at all the kind of man who would pull someone into his arms at a party and whisper advice for mingling in high society. Not at all the kind of man who would pay attention to a woman like her at all. She pulled herself back together, ignoring the stickiness that had suddenly engulfed her pantyhose, and got back to taking pictures. Lynn Lyon, the heiress to the Lyon diamond fortune, was holding court near the podium. She was the evening’s speaker and chair of the Children’s Society board. She was wearing a gold-and-white dress that looked like it had been sewn to the perfect curves of her body.

Abby wasn’t jealous, exactly. But she wished that once, just once, she could afford to look that good at one of those parties. She lifted her phone and took a few pictures of Lynn and her coterie. Jennifer Ng from the Globe came by and tapped her shoulder. “Abigail Bailey,” she said. “Now how did you do that?” “Do what?” “I’ve been trying to get two words out of Paul Larson for weeks and he just comes by and chats you up.” “Oh,” she said. “Well, I ran into him. Literally.” “I should be so lucky,” Jennifer muttered. “Everyone wants to know his

story, and I do mean everyone. You get the scoop on him, and you’ll buy your own ticket.” “I have a job,” she said. “At a local rag where on a good day you’re covering two beats,” she said. “I know you like Salem Beach, but there’s no future here. You’re going to be making just enough to pay your rent for the rest of your life and we both know it.” Just because she was right didn’t mean Abby had to like it. “I didn’t get into this for the money.” “None of us did,” Jennifer said. “But we all have to eat. And it looked like he liked you.” “He couldn’t—”

Jennifer shook her head. “Look, I’m not telling you what to do, but I think you’re being an idiot if you don’t at least ask for an interview.” She smiled a wicked little smile. “Besides, aren’t you a little bit curious yourself?” She was…a little. “Ask for an interview,” Jennifer said. “Worst thing he can do is say no, right?” “I guess so,” she said. “But don’t you think he’d be more likely to give an interview to someone like you?” Jennifer sighed. “I can’t get two words out of him,” she said. “He put his arm around you. If you can’t get that interview, nobody can. And everybody wants to know more about him. All that

money…that doesn’t come out of nowhere. He’s got some kind of history, and we all want to know what it is. I mean…he’s a billionaire! And none of us know anything about him. It’s crazy.” “I get it, I get it,” Abby said. “If you don’t at least try,” Jennifer said, “I am never going to forgive you. Never.” “Fine,” she said. “But not tonight. I’ll follow up tomorrow morning, all right?” By then, he’ll have forgotten all about me. He’s probably forgotten about me already. “I’m holding you to that,” Jennifer said, and moved on to her next target. She would, too. Oh well. There were worse things

than calling an office and asking for an interview. They’d say no, she’d get back to work. Easy.

2 Paul paced the floor of his office, the cat inside swishing his tail in irritation. What had he been thinking? He’d had the woman—not just any woman, his mate—so close, and he’d just let her go. What a fool. His mother had always said men were lucky—they knew, had the mate sense strong and irresistible. Women? We have to guess. But you? When it happens—she had gestured with her fingers—it’ll hit you like a thunderbolt. It sure as hell had. And he’d let her just walk away. Don’t be stupid, he said to himself, to the cat. She had a job to do. It’s not

like Mom said it once was, when every woman in the city knew who the great cat was and wished to be his mate. He couldn’t exactly carry Abby Bailey off on the strength of being rich. And he couldn’t hide the cat. That…he already knew how badly that could end. No children of his would suffer through that. What if he felt this way and she’d — No, he wouldn’t think about that. It was far too soon to worry. First, he needed her near. He needed her to trust him. Then, he could start telling her the truth. Not like what had happened with his parents—no, he’d go a little at a time. Ease her into things. Then she could get out early, if she wanted to.

Before either of them was hurt too badly. Before…. He thought of Aaron. Did Aaron even remember his mother and older brother? So many times, he’d thought of reaching out. But for years, Father probably wouldn’t have let him, even if he had. Father. He tried not to think about him, but the memories would still come, unbidden. He taught me everything I know about business. And…I guess he taught me what not to do to the people I loved. When he fell in love, it would be without conditions. Without ‘ifs’ or ‘buts.’ He wouldn’t be his father. Never. Abigail Bailey would know, without a doubt, that she was loved.

But how to get her to his door? She was a reporter, and there had never been a shortage of reporters wanting to know more about the mysterious Paul Larson. Offering her an exclusive would do the job. But would it be anything more than an assignment to her? He didn’t want to look like he was trying to bribe her or to buy her affection. If she was the woman he thought she was—and instinct was burning bright within him—that wouldn’t be the way to her heart. And offering her a story wasn’t without its own risks. He’d done some digging around, and Abby Bailey appeared to be a very smart and capable reporter. He wanted her to learn more

about him, but on his own terms. The buzzer went off at his desk. “Paul?” It was Chris, his personal assistant, secretary, and the only real friend Paul had. “That meeting with the board’s in an hour. You need anything? You’ve been radio silent all morning.” Shit. He’d been so hung up on Abby he hadn’t been paying any attention to his work at all. “Um…what do you have ready?” Chris sighed. “I’ll come in. Good thing you got me to save your ass.” Good thing, Paul agreed. Chris came in with a fat portfolio of documents. “You remember what this meeting is about? Please tell me you remember what this meeting’s about.”

“I remember,” he said. “It’s about next quarter’s sales projections…you have those ready for me, right?” Chris winked at him. “Of course I do. But you have to tell me what happened last night. You’ve been out of it all morning.” He spread a few charts out on Paul’s desk. “I don’t mind covering for you, but I’d like to know why.” Paul knew he’d have to tell Chris sooner or later. He braced himself. “There was a woman at the party last night.” Chris lit up. “Oooh,” he said, his dark eyes glistening. “Has our great cat found his mate?” “Just don’t,” Paul said. “I’m trying

to get ready for this meeting, remember?” “She must be beautiful.” She is. “So we’re expecting sales to go down?” “It’s just seasonal variation,” Chris said. “You could do this in your sleep. Tell me what she looks like.” “She’s beautiful,” he said. “Can we do this later?” “Probably. When are you going to see her again?” “Is the board going to believe that this is seasonal variation?” It looked like seasonal variation. They’d…had they talked about this? Shit, he needed to pull it together. “It’s actually slightly better than

last year’s dip,” Chris said, tapping the next chart. “Which is very promising for the year. I sent you the PowerPoint, if you want to actually read it.” “I should do that,” he said. “When did you send it?” “Yesterday, after you’d left. I’ll send it again if you tell me her name.” He’d find it out anyway. “Abby.” “No last name?” “Bailey. I don’t have a date with her. Yet.” “I can fix that.” Chris probably could. “I don’t want to manipulate her. She…she needs to come to me.” “Yeah, like you’re going to have problems with that.”

“I don’t mean—” “Just ask her out.” “I can’t just ask her out,” he said. Chris leaned over the desk, his long ponytail swinging down over his shoulder. “Why not?” Paul took a step back from his desk…which put his back against the glass windows on the 14th floor. “Because…because she’s a business reporter.” Chris gestured for him to go on. “And….” “And I don’t want to bribe her. A date with me, that would be a hell of a scoop.” “Listen, Mr. Man of Mystery,” Chris said. “You’re rich. You’re

mysterious. You’re not going to be able to escape that with anyone. Why not ask out someone you actually like?” “Because I’ll have to lie to her,” he said. Wasn’t that obvious? “I can’t build a relationship on lies.” “And you don’t want to build a relationship on the truth, either?” Chris shook his head. “Look, Paul. If you want a mate—if you want your mother’s line to continue—you have to do something. Lie to a woman, tell the truth, tell her some of the truth. But you can’t just wait to act for the rest of your life, or your life will be over.” “You don’t have to be so dramatic about it,” Paul objected. “It’s not dramatic.” Chris tapped

Paul’s desk for emphasis. “It’s the truth. The truth is, you’ve made yourself a fortune, and you want someone to share it with. You deserve someone to share it with. The least you should do is ask her out.” Okay…he wasn’t wrong. Being at least a little honest with her from the start wouldn’t hurt. “So what’s your suggestion, since you seem to have all the answers?” “I call her up and offer her exclusive access. To the business, not you. Interview comes with the package, but that’s only part of it. She gets the quarterly projections, the vision for the future—the whole nine yards. You can tell her the truth—as much of it as you

want to—at the interview, but however it goes, the article’s hers.” Well, that— That was actually a very good idea. “Fine,” he said. Chris smirked and tapped the pages on Paul’s desk. “Now focus on this meeting and leave the magic to me.” Paul gave him the finger.

3 Abby was supposed to be working on a story about the Salem Beach Children’s Society Gala. Her deadline was 2 pm, it was already 11, and all she had was a paragraph that used the word ‘glittering’ twice. Maybe Jennifer was right and she was starting to outgrow Salem Beach and the endless cycle of charity events and trivial meetings. Or maybe it was just Paul Larson that was the problem. She kept thinking about him, about his dark eyes and hair, about the graceful way he moved. He was long and lean, exactly the kind of guy who spent an hour running every day

and had no patience for anyone who didn’t. Not her type at all. Certainly not someone who would be interested in her. Even though she could still feel exactly where his arm had been on her shoulder. Even though she could still smell his cologne—unfamiliar, no doubt expensive. Not. Her. Type. She took another hour punching her notes into something resembling an article. It wouldn’t be her best work, but no one expected her to be doing her best work on a story about the Children’s Society Gala anyway. Her photos would make or break it—and the photos had come out quite well, especially one

she’d shot of handsome Paul Larson chatting with Eleanor. She’d have to get Eleanor a copy—prominent donors were as good as gold in her business. She went ahead and sent the first draft to her editor. Then it was some more work on a feature article about high-tech companies moving to Salem Beach for ‘lifestyle benefits.’ She really needed another corporation to talk to, but Hughes Group had declined an interview, and chasing someone off-therecord had pitfalls of its own. The phone at her desk rang. It didn’t very often these days—most of the reporters used email and most of her contacts had her cell—but that meant she

usually picked it up just out of novelty. “This is Abby.” “Miss Bailey.” The voice on the other end of the line was male, cheerful, and unfamiliar. “Chris Hernandez here, personal assistant to Paul Larson of Inti International. Do you have a second?” “I…I’m on deadline, but I can talk for a minute.” It wasn’t exactly a lie and would make sure he got to the point. “Wonderful. I’m sure you know our little company’s been getting quite a bit of attention, and I’ve finally managed to convince Paul he should let a reporter in to do a profile.” “Oh.” Wait, you can’t mean me. “Now, he doesn’t have much patience with the big papers, and he

doesn’t want Fortune or any of that crap in here. He mentioned meeting you last night, and I thought, ‘Finally, here’s my chance.’ Do you think Salem Beach Now will be interested?” “Of course,” she said. It could get their little operation national attention. Bill would jump at it. “And…you want me?” “Mr. Larson doesn’t have a lot of patience for most reporters,” he said. “A good first impression goes for a lot. It’s a miracle he wants to talk with you, honestly.” “I suppose I’m flattered.” “Now I know you’re on deadline, but maybe we could schedule a tour later in the week?” This guy was smooth, that

was for sure. “Let me open up my calendar,” she said. “And I’ll need a number I can call you at—an email—” “Give me your email and I’ll send you a comfirmation, my email’s got contact information. How does Thursday look?” “Um, I have a breakfast meeting to cover, but I’m pretty flexible after that.” “Let’s do…will two o’clock work for you? I can give you the VIP tour then.” “There’s a VIP tour?” He chuckled. “There is now.” “We haven’t even met.” “Paul’s a good judge of character,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it.

What’s your email?” After she got the confirmation, she ran to LinkedIn. It all seemed to check out. Chris Hernandez was listed as Paul Larson’s assistant, and he had a host of connections only a few steps away from hers, most of them people like Eleanor Chu. Now she had to go to Laura and explain to her that she’d just gotten exclusive access to Inti International… but just for her, for reasons she couldn’t even begin to explain. “But why you?” Laura asked. “I mean, you’re a good reporter, but—” She shrugged. Laura could cut someone down without saying a word. She clearly

thought she was headed for greener pastures than tiny Salem Beach, and Abby hoped she got there as soon as possible. “That’s what his assistant said,” she said, trying to stay nonchalant and shrug off in the insult—experience had taught her that taking the bait only made things worse. “Maybe he’s had bad luck with reporters, I don’t know.” “And he spoke with you at the gala,” Laura sniffed. “Just briefly. I was surprised I’d made an impression. But…exclusive access, that’s going to be great. Bill will lose his mind.” “Look,” Laura said. “This is a big story. I’ll come along, and we can tackle

it together, all right?” A surge of anger powered through Abby. “It’s not that big a story. I’ve certainly handled a lot more complicated things than a company profile.” “There’s going to be a lot of attention on this,” Laura said. “Cowriting the story’s going to make it a lot stronger.” Abby wanted to strangle her, and Bill too, for promoting Laura to managing editor in the first place. “You’ve got other fish to fry,” Bill had said—she’d been engaged back then, and he must have thought she’d throw away her career. And then the engagement went to hell, and she was still stuck with Laura, who was still

waiting for her big break two years later. “They asked specifically for me.” “Of course,” Laura said. “And you’ll be there with me. I’ll go tell Bill.” She was gone before Abby could even open her mouth to object again. Not that it would have made any difference. Laura’s primary object in life was apparently to cut Abby off at the knees. And it’s not even that big a story, she sulked. Sure, we’ll get some attention but it’s not like we’re breaking some great scandal open. People are just curious, that’s all. Laura would have to do more work than that—and better work than that—if she really wanted to break into New York or Boston.

Well, there was nothing she could do about it now but act professional. Of course, giving Chris Hernandez a heads-up that her managing editor wanted to tag along at her exclusive interview was the professional thing to do, too, wasn’t it? She smiled a little to herself as she composed the email. After all, Laura wasn’t the only one who knew how to be ‘helpful.’ Thanks again for this opportunity. My managing editor Laura Moore would like to come along—Inti International’s turning into something like a local legend—but I wanted to make sure that was all right with II. Please let me know ASAP.

By the time deadline hit, she’d almost forgotten about it, beyond a nagging sense of annoyance at Laura. There was a reply from Chris in her inbox. Understandable. Paul will want the interview exclusively with you, but we’ll see if we can find some material that will interest her as well. (I’m pretty sure she’s the Laura Moore I attended Stone Rock College with back in the day—ask her if she remembers me.) Very much looking forward to seeing you Thurs. C Abby sighed. That just figured. Whatever Laura pulled, there always seemed to be someone who knew her, and was ready to grease the wheels for

her. At least the interview with Paul would still be hers. She’d just make the most of what she had, like she’d done for years.

4 “You will never guess what happened,” Chris said as Paul came back into his office. He was sitting behind Paul’s desk with his feet up. “Meeting went great,” Paul said. “Your slides were a huge help, couldn’t have done it without you—” Chris waved his words away. “I told you you’d be fine. Sit down, I’ve got a story.” “This is my office,” Paul said. “My story,” Chris replied. “You’ve got the interview with Abby, Thursday afternoon, already on your calendar. So I email to confirm, and not half an hour later she emails back. Her managing

editor’s invited herself along.” “You said no,” Paul said. He wasn’t even sure he wanted Abby doing an interview; he certainly didn’t need an extra reporter snooping around asking questions. “I was going to,” Chris said. “But then I realized her name looked familiar.” He held up a tablet with a LinkedIn page. Laura Moore. She was a pale, average-looking white woman with chestnut brown hair. “Who is she?” “You know I was still in college when Mom died. She came to my dorm, all sympathetic, helped me pack stuff for my leave of absence—and then plastered it all over the front page of the campus

paper.” He shook his head and put the tablet back down. “Didn’t say a word to me after that, up to and including graduation.” “I’m sorry,” Paul said. They’d talked a lot about that plane crash, but that detail hadn’t surfaced. “So I said we’d be happy to have her along. I’m planning a personal tour, while you get to have the beautiful Abby all to yourself.” He steepled his fingers together like a supervillain. “Now it’s possible she’s changed and she and Abby are big buddies now. But something about the way Abby wrote the email makes me think she’s up to her old tricks. Anything for a story.” Chris’s smile was bright and sadistic. “So I’m

going to give her one.” “Don’t get us sued,” Paul said skeptically. “She won’t even know what hit her.” Paul dropped the papers from his meeting on the desk. “Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I shouldn’t do an interview.” “Shut it,” Chris said. “You’re doing the interview. It’s going to be great. For both of us.” “I had no idea you were so vicious,” Paul lied. Chris just laughed. Thursday came both too quickly and not quickly enough. Paul woke every

morning thinking of Abby, her soft curves, the way her curly hair framed her face. Every morning he wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked. What it would be like to kiss those round, full lips. Most mornings he woke up with his hand on his dick. Chris had something ‘very, very special’ planned for Laura Moore. Paul hadn’t dared ask for more details. He’d promised—multiple times—that Inti wouldn’t get sued, at least. And he knew Chris would have a hell of a story later. Maybe if Paul was lucky, he’d get a story too. Maybe Abby would…. Shit. He was getting ahead of himself. There was no guarantee that anything would happen at all. He’d do

the interview, play nice, hope for the best. Ask her out at the end, so there was no idea of a quid pro quo. That was all he could do. Maybe, if he was lucky, all he needed to do. There’d been chemistry there, he could tell. He was as nervous as a teenager at the dance, hoping the girl he had a crush on would notice him. Ridiculous. He’d taken an extra hour last night picking out his suit and tie. He’d worn cologne, which he almost never did unless he was going to a fundraiser or something equally ridiculous. Maybe he’d made a good first impression, but anyone could fuck up a second impression if they weren’t careful. Paul hadn’t made it where he was

by not being careful. And when he saw Abby waiting at the door in a beautiful purple suit, he didn’t regret a second he’d spent getting ready. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face, giving him a wonderful view of her high cheekbones and big eyes. He wanted to call off the interview and just take her home, pull her into bed and never let her go. Chris was ushering her and Laura Moore into the waiting room. Paul wondered how he’d explain that Laura and Abby were taking two separate tours. He’d certainly be able to pull it off—Chris could talk an atheist into going to church—but he was a little

curious as to what his method was going to be. Chris would tell him later. He always did. Right now, he needed to focus on Abby. Chris was going to take her straight to his office to start, in part to get Laura off to...wherever she was going, in part because it would finally be his chance to have her alone. All to himself. He swallowed. He was so damn nervous. Over nothing. She was just— Just your mate, the cat reminded him. Maybe he’d been wrong that night. Maybe— No, you’re not wrong, the cat said.

Go on. Meet your destiny. Man, the cat could be cheesy. Lindsay brought Abby to his office. She looked even prettier in person. “It’s nice to see you again,” he said, extending his hand. “Thank you,” she said. “Believe me, we’re very happy to get a look behind the scenes at Inti International. You’ve got a big operation going here, considering how new you are here.” She smelled like flowers and soap and woman. All he wanted to focus on was her beauty, her scent. It wasn’t going to be an easy interview. “I confess, a lot of this space isn’t used. We had an excellent opportunity come our way, and if we don’t expand in

line with projections, we can always rent out some space. I’ve wanted to host an incubator space for a long time, this might be our opportunity. It’s hard to find affordable space in the city.” He gestured at the door. “Do you want the tour first, or—” “The tour would be great,” she said. “If you don’t mind. Though—will we run into Laura and Chris? I wouldn’t want—” “Can I tell you something off the record?” he said. “I know it’s early in the interview—” “It depends,” she said. “Corporate secrets...maybe not so much. But—” “Nah, this is simple,” he said. “Chris went to college with your

managing editor, and apparently she had a little bit of a reputation, shall we say.” “Oh,” Abby said, like everything came into bright focus with his words. He liked the way her mouth made that pretty little O. “I guess she hasn’t changed much?” He winked at her. “You don’t have to answer that. Anyway, he promised me we won’t get sued, but I wouldn’t hold my breath that we’ll run into each other.” He opened the door for her. “It’s not that exciting a tour anyway, mostly nice people sitting in offices typing. One of the reasons I’d like to do an incubator space is it’d be fun to be part of making something for a change. We’re doing a market study right now to see where we

could help support local industry—and you can put that on the record, if you’re taking notes.” They walked into the corridor. “We’re going to go to the end of the hallway, take the first left.” “There’s a woman in town who does jams and jellies out of her house, if you want a number,” she said. “I mean— I know the studies are more official, but sometimes—” “Sometimes it really helps to talk to the people on the ground, no, you’re right.” She walked with such grace. Low heels, practical, but pretty. He could watch her swaying along all day, like there was unheard music in her ears. He couldn’t stop staring. She

glanced at him as she turned. “Is this the right way?” “You’re right on track,” he said. To his pleasure, Abby knew her stuff. She asked the right questions about the operation, about their financing, about their future plans. The interview was half-over by the time they got back to his office. Which, well, was fine with Paul. Chris was sitting back at his desk when Paul and Abby got back. “Oh, hey, did you have a good time?” Chris looked entirely innocent. Suspiciously innocent. “Where’s Laura?” Paul asked. “Oh, she’s all set,” Chris said. “Sent her on her way with a USB drive full of information. A good reporter’d

get a decent story out of it, so I doubt she’ll get much.” He turned casually back to his screen. “Chris,” Paul hissed. “No,” Abby said. She was smiling. “It’s...it’s okay.” She glanced at him, a little shyly. “You trusted me, I guess I can trust you.” “She deserved everything she got,” Chris said, waggling his finger. “She pretended like she didn’t even know me.” “Maybe she didn’t remember you,” Paul said, then realized that would be worse. “She’s terrible,” Chris said. “I regret nothing. I’ll hold your calls until the interview’s done?”

“Thank you,” Paul said, and got the door for Abby. “I like him,” she said, as the door shut. “His job title is Executive Assistant, but don’t let that fool you,” he said. “He’s almost my partner, but he’d rather be the force in the shadows.” “I understand that,” she said. “I bet he doesn’t have to field half the questions you do.” “Oh, he gets more of them,” he said, “but he says ‘You’ll have to ask Mr. Larson about that.’ It’s a good scam, really.” He didn’t want them sitting across from each other at the desk. Too formal. “Would you mind if we sat at the table?”

“Of course not,” she said, “it’s your interview. And I think I have a lot of what I need about the business and the direction you’re going to be taking it in.” Her smile was so sweet. “But a little more about your background, that’d be great. It feels like you came out of nowhere.” He’d been afraid of that question. “There’s really not much to say. Went to the Wharton School, earned an MBA, got a very lucky internship at Castle Investments and went on from there.” He shrugged. “My mother and I...she taught me so much, more than I ever learned at Wharton, honestly. She was...she made me who I am.” “She’s—she’s passed away?”

“She died…years ago, now,” he said. “I miss her every day.” She would have had the answers. She would have helped him through this, helped him figure out what to do next. How to tell Abby the truth. Though she hadn’t really had much luck in love herself, had she? “I’m sorry,” she said. He wasn’t sure what to say to her. He’d always had more luck with the business side of things than the personal. “Thank you. Um...do you have any other questions?” “Of course.” Her smile was so warm. “But I’m not sure you’re going to answer them.” “You’re...very perceptive,” he said,

feeling his gut stir. She was so beautiful, so perfect—why did she have to be so smart, too? He’d always liked intelligent women, but it felt like Abby could see straight through him. He might as well put his cards on the table. “I have to confess something,” he said. “It’s true that we knew there were a lot of questions about me and Inti. But we chose you for a rather...personal reason. I hope you found what you wanted out of this profile, but I also wanted...I wanted the interview to be with you. I—I saw you at the party, and I’d like to get to know you better. But the story is yours, whether or not you want to come to dinner with me.”

“Dinner?” she said. “Or coffee,” he said. “I’m not fussy. I just want to get to know you better.” She looked a little skeptical. “Can we wait until I file the article?” “Of course,” he said. “But I hope you’re not planning on working on it for a month.” She smiled, those soft, full lips looking like they needed to be kissed. “I don’t think I could sit on an exclusive interview with you for more than a week if I tried.” She tapped her pencil against her notebook. “But you’re going to have to be a little more forthcoming for me to have a good interview.” That was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

5 Paul didn’t seem to like that answer. Well, too bad. She had a job to do. “Surely you don’t need to hear me talking about how much I like long walks on the beach.” She shook her head. “I was thinking more about where you grew up, what influenced you as a child. Why you chose investment as a career. Maybe even where you got your first capital.” She raised her eyebrows. These aren’t unreasonable questions, she thought in his direction. He certainly should have expected them in any interview. “That’s quite a few questions.”

“I can ask them again,” she said. He was handsome, and charming, and she’d had a great time learning about the business, but she was still a reporter and he was still a CEO, offer of a date or no. She had a job to do. He smirked. “You’re very professional.” “I hope that’s a compliment.” “Mostly,” he conceded. “At any rate, I grew up in a lot of places, we moved around. Spent quite a bit of time in California. And I think investment chose me more than the other way around; I was good at it, and I kept doing it. My startup was boosted by my mother’s savings...I missed one.” He had a good memory. “What

influenced you,” she said. “Did you grow up reading the stock market reports?” He laughed. “I spent most of my time outside,” he said. “Unless it was raining?” “Even then,” he confessed. “Even now I’d rather be outside than in the office. That’s half the reason we’re all on tablets here, it gives me a lot more flexibility.” He waved at the window. “And half the reason my windows are open most of the time. I wasn’t kidding about wanting to spend more time in Salem Beach. I’d much rather be by the ocean and trees than in the concrete jungle.” That made sense. He was in great

shape, but he didn’t look like any kind of gym rat. She could picture him out in the sun, his face craned back to catch the sunlight. Like a cat on a park bench, she thought, and the wondered where the thought had come from. “Anything else?” She knew he was holding something back, but was there any point in pushing further? Probably not. As it was, she had more personal information from him than any other interviewer had grabbed. That wasn’t too shabby. And maybe she could get a little more if she dug into his mother’s history. She’d been a big influence, and her money couldn’t have just materialized out of nowhere— well, it was unlikely at least. It would

give her something to work with, anyway. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Good. What about the other offer?” His eyes were animated, dancing. “Don’t you want to see if you like the article first?” “That would be wise, I suppose. But gambling’s paid off for me before. I’m willing to take the chance.” There was a buzz. “Paul, I’m sorry, but there’s—there’s something you need to come out here for. Just a second.” “I swear to God, if he gets us sued —” Paul got up. “Would you excuse me? ‘Just a second.’” Abby nodded. “It’s fine,” she said. “Take your time.”

“Make yourself at home,” he said. She looked around after he left. The office was beautiful, sleek and modern, but with some touches that made it feel genuinely human and lived-in. There was beaded art on the wall that looked South American, and a shelf of little sculptures. She got up and looked at them. They looked South American, too, and were all of big cats, panthers or jaguars. They were beautiful. Did they have a special meaning to him, or did he just like cats? Something to keep in mind, anyway. She’d have to ask him about the South American influence in the office. Even if he evaded her, that would tell her something. It’d be easier if he wasn’t so hot.

“You like big cats?” He’d come back in, as quietly as if he was a cat himself. She didn’t jump. It was a little close for a second, and her heart jumped, but she did not jump. “Ah,” she said. “I...I guess so. Maybe not as much as you do.” “My mother—the great cats were very special to her,” he said, and she got the impression that he was choosing his words carefully. “They’re special to me too.” “This art is beautiful,” she said. “Is it all South American?” “Mostly,” he said. “My mother was mixed race—Spanish and Quechua—and she was very proud of our heritage. But

not all this art is Quechua. I’m not...I guess I just pick the things that appeal to me. But I try to keep the pre-Columbian focus. I like having a theme in here, a little personality.” “It’s nice,” she said. It was. “A lot of offices, the big ones, feel like anyone could be there. This...feels more like you.” “Thank you,” he said, turning his beautiful smile on her. It made her chest tighten up. No one should be that handsome or smell that good. There ought to be a law. He picked up a beautiful beaded jaguar head so she could look at it more closely. “This one’s from Western Mexico. Isn’t it beautiful?”

It was covered with beads, probably thousands of them, in eyepopping color. The beads traced line and patterns around the cat’s features as they shimmered in the light. “It is,” she agreed. “I confess,” he said meaningfully, “I’ve always been drawn to beauty.” Well, that was flattering. “You really would like me to go on that date with you.” “I really would.” He put the jaguar back on the shelf. “I’m good company, I swear. And I’m not a cheap tipper. I may be a rich asshole, but at least I’m a rich asshole who won’t embarrass you.” “You...you don’t seem like an asshole,” she confessed.

“Try not to be,” he said. “So, dinner?” “I...I guess so,” she said. “After the article goes to press. And don’t think this means you’ll get a sneak peek.” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Do you like to dance?” “Sometimes,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He took her hand, and pressed it for a second to his lips. The sensation rocked her from head to toe. “But I’ll warn you, that night I’ll be asking some questions. I’d like to know all about you, Ms. Bailey.” “I...I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, taking her hand back from him. “I...ought to be going. I’ll email Chris with any questions?”

“You can email me directly,” he said. “The same protocol, firstname dot lastname at the company domain. I’ll be happy to answer.” “Thank you,” she stammered. She got out before she did something she’d regret.

6 Well, it was a start anyway. She’d seemed to like him. And he and the cat were agreed: she was fantastic, perfect, curvy and gorgeous, and he wanted to cover her in jewels. All he had to do was wait. That would be easier if he had any patience. Chris swept in. “Well?” he said. “She was smiling.” “It...it was all right. Fine. I think she’ll agree to coffee, at least.” He smiled a little. “She liked my cats.” “See?” Chris grinned. “I told you.” “What did you do to Laura Moore?”

“I gave her a personal tour of our state-of-the-art conservation facilities, of course,” Chris grinned. “The recycling, composting, waste sorting—” “You put her knee-deep in trash and shit,” Paul said wryly. Chris shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes you have to go with the classics. Like I said, she could get an excellent article out of it if she was willing to put in the work—we’ve wanted to encourage more businesses to follow our model all along. You want some coffee? I’d kill for a latte.” “Yeah, you can grab me something,” he said. “Um, iced chai? I can give you some cash.” “You can get me next time,” Chris

said. “Besides, I owe you. Did I tell you I took a picture of Laura in her waders at the composter?” Paul laughed. Chris had rented him a temporary place halfway between Paul’s office in the city and Salem Beach, a duplex owned by an older woman who seemed not at all impressed by his expensive suit or Kenzo Pour Homme cologne. He liked her. He liked the duplex even more. It was nice to be out of the city, in a place where he could smell the ocean and see the stars at night. He might even be able to let the cat out on dark nights. He usually went to

one of the state parks when they were closed, but it would be nice to not have to drive half an hour just to go for a run. And he could bring Abby here. A lot easier than driving out to the city. They could both commute. There was a nice fireplace, and in the fall— He was getting ahead of himself. But he wanted to have a place for her. A place where they could stay together, where they could sleep in on the weekend. Watch movies in bed. Where he could cover Abby in jewels. He had a text from Chris. How’s the place? Perfect, you’re right. Told you. We can double date. No sign of the article?

Too soon. Haven’t seen the big feature on our recycling program either. Paul grinned. Want to grab a drink? No can do, hot date. At least one of us has a hot date, he thought. Maybe he’d hear from Abby tonight. He really wanted to see her. Touch her. Kiss her. The cat didn’t like waiting. Neither did he. Maybe he’d just drive out to Salem Beach, hang out for a while. Maybe he’d run into her. It was supposed to rain later, but he didn’t really mind the rain. Pathetic, sure. But worth a try. Salem Beach was a nice little town.

Unlike a lot of the suburbs, it had grown up naturally, and it had a lovely town square with a big green park at the center. The Salem Beach Times had an office just off the square, a converted brick building. He drove past it, but coming in would’ve been too weird. As it was, if anyone saw him, he had no idea what his excuse would be. Maybe looking for that branch office? Getting a feel for the area? That would work. There was a tiny little cafe just around the corner from the office. He parked the car; he could grab some coffee and watch people go by. Maybe Abby would pass the window. He could wave at her, maybe she’d come in.... Eh, at least he could have some

coffee. The woman behind the counter was around his age, a tall, curvy woman. She had pale skin and dark, dark hair, like a raven’s wing, and a face that looked like it was always on the verge of a smile. “What’s your poison?” she asked. “Um, just a black coffee, I guess.” “Ethiopian or Jamaican? They’re both good. The Jamaican’s more of a dark roast.” “Jamaican, please.” “You got it.” It was a nice little shop, with beautiful black-and-white photography on the white-painted walls. The photos used light perfectly; many of them seemed to glow, especially the ones of

the ocean. They looked like they’d been taken locally. There was one picture he liked most of all, of a cat napping in the sunlight. When the woman brought his coffee, in a big white ceramic mug, he asked her about the photos. “Oh,” she said, “friend of mine does them. She’s really good, isn’t she?” He took a sip of the coffee. It was excellent. “Are they for sale?” She grinned. “I’m sure they could be. I’d have to ask her, but I bet she’d make you a print. You want her number?” “That’d be wonderful. I’ve just rented a place not far from here, and the walls are pretty empty. Well, there’s a

framed picture of an ocean scene that...well, I think maybe I saw it in an episode of Miami Vice once. Not really my thing.” Chris had more stuff coming in, but it would be nice to have something up he’d picked himself. She laughed. “I get you there. You moving this way?” “Second home,” he said. “Sounds kind of pretentious when you put it that way, but I wanted a place outside the city.” “Sounds nice. You got your phone?” “Sure,” he said, and pulled it out. “All right, her name’s Abby Bailey, and her number’s—” He laughed. “I’ve got her number. I

just had an interview with her earlier this week.” “Wait—” She squinted at him. “Are you...you’re not Paul Larson?” He couldn’t lie to a friend of Abby’s. Not and hope to get away with it. “Afraid so.” “Well oh well,” she said, like a shark that had just scented blood. “So you’re going to take her out?” “That’s...what I offered, yes.” They were friends, or Abby had done a lot of talking. Paul hoped for the latter. The woman slid into the chair across from him. “You know where you’re going?” “Well, that’ll be up to her,” he said. “I figured I’d ask her if she wanted to go

into the city or tay here in Salem Beach.” “There’s a nice tavern just outside town,” she said. “The Ram’s Head, my cousin owns it. Good food, not cheap but not snooty or anything.” “Sounds nice,” he said. And it wouldn’t make Abby uncomfortable if it wasn’t too expensive. He didn’t want to be the kind of guy who dazzled his date with his wealth. Abby was too important for that crap. “I’d take her there.” She glanced across the coffee shop, checking to see if anyone needed attention. There was only one other person in the shop, an older woman in a pastel green suit reading a book. The sun had disappeared. Were the clouds rolling in? “You won’t regret

it.” “Well, thanks for the advice,” he said. “While I’ve got your attention, any idea how I can get one of these pictures home without her thinking I’m kissing ass?” She tapped her fingers on the table for a second. “I guess I could sell it to you,” she said. “Tell Abby that a guy came in, offered me good money to take it right off the wall.” She smirked. “Of course, you’ll have some explaining to do if you get lucky.” “I’ll cross that bridge if I get there,” he said, lifting his cup again. He liked this woman. “Customer’s always right,” she said, getting out of the chair and getting

up. “You realize I have to charge extra if I’m going to sell the art right off the wall —which one did you want?” “The cat,” he said, “and that’s fine. How much? I might have enough cash.” “Cash sounds fantastic. The cat? That’s one of the bigger ones—four hundred sound all right? It’s professionally framed, right here in town, custom mat they did a great job.” “I’m sold,” he said. “Four hundred’s fine, and I’ve got it.” He pulled out his wallet and started counting out the cash. “She said you liked cats,” she said, taking the picture off the wall. “Cash works better anyway for the story. ‘This guy came in with a fat roll of—’wow,

fifty-dollar bills. Nice.” “You’re right,” he said. “That is a good story. Pleasure doing business with you.” “Likewise,” she said, taking the money from the table and handing him the photo. “You have a great day, Mr. Larson.” “Paul,” he said. “Please. I’m not much on formality.” “Well, I hope I’ll see more of you, Paul.” She smiled. “I’m Tina.” “I’ll stop by again,” he said. “Good coffee. Do I take my cup up, or leave it here?” “I’ll get it,” she said. “You’re good to go whenever.” He drained his cup, got up, and

walked the photo to the door—right as Abby walked through it. “Oh,” he said. “Um...nice to see you.” He heard Tina mutter “busted” under her breath.

7 Paul Larson, billionaire corporate entrepreneur, looked like a little kid who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He had something—he had one of Tina’s photos under his arm. The cat? “He made me do it,” Tina called out. “Do...do what?” What the hell had they been up to? Paul held up ‘Sunday Morning Catnap’ sheepishly. “I liked your picture.” “He didn’t realize it was yours,” Tina said. “I’m a witness.” She picked Dora’s empty plate off her table. Dora

was ignoring all of them, lost in whatever she was reading this week. “He figured if he bought it from me it wouldn’t look like kissing ass.” “You two are a regular pair of secret agents,” Abby said. She looked at Paul. He looked...well, he looked great. He was wearing a collared dark green shirt, no jacket or tie, with dark tailored pants. Slacks, her grandmother would’ve said. “I don’t think I’ll quit my day job for a career in international espionage,” he said. “Have you filed that article yet?” “You’re in luck,” she said. “Just did. But are you sure you don’t want to see it before you get this whole ‘date’

thing set up?” “Hey, I asked even before I knew you were a great photographer,” he said. “And there’s this nice woman I met, real friendly, good cook—” “Oh, really?” “Yeah, and she says there’s a nice place right down the road. The Ram’s Head.” “Yeah, you can’t trust her,” she teased. “Got family there. You know these small towns. Nepotism.” Tina pretended to ignore her. “You dropped in for coffee?” “It’s kind of my treat for a job well done,” she said. She got to hang out with Tina and drink something delicious. “How ‘bout I get yours? I wouldn’t

mind a second cup.” “I’ll fill you up,” Tina said. “You want your usual, Abby?” “Please,” she said. She deserved something sweet. Other than Paul. “You have raspberry?” “I do! You want one, Paul? They’re really good. On the house, since you’ve already been so generous.” “Sure,” he said. “Raspberry what?” “Turnovers,” she said. “With icing on top.” “That does sound good,” he said, sitting back down by what must have been his cup. “Sure.” “So what brings you out here?” Abby asked, sitting across from him. “You can’t just be wondering if I filed

that article.” “Remember I told you I was thinking about getting some property out here?” “You did,” she said. “I just took a nice rental, about ten minutes out of town in Washburn Bay.” He nodded at the photo, which he’d propped up against the table. “That’s what your picture’s for.” “You really do like cats,” she said. “Guys are usually dog people.” “Dogs are fine in their place,” he said. “But I liked the photo. And I am fond of cats.” “I know.” She couldn’t help smiling. It was...nice, that he’d liked her picture. Really nice. And she knew that

Tina wouldn’t lie that she hadn’t told him whose photos they were. “So are the pastries made here?” Abby nodded. “Tina gets up at like four every morning. I don’t know how she does it.” “I go home after the cafe closes and take a nap,” Tina said, putting their pastries in front of them. “Then I get up again and have dinner, whatever else I’m doing for the night. Go to bed at ten, usually, do it all over again. It works pretty well.” Abby shook her head. “I still don’t know how you do it.” “I’ve read that people are more productive if they take naps,” Paul said. “Makes sense.” He lifted up his coffee

and took a long drink. Abby found herself watching his throat work. He had a strong jaw. Nice mouth. I need to stop staring, she thought to herself. She picked up the turnover and took a bite instead. It was perfect, like usual, the sweet and tart flavors balanced and the turnover itself nice and flaky. “That looks so good,” Paul said, and Abby wasn’t sure if he was talking about the turnover or...well, her. “Um, you should try it,” she said, and damn, did she just spit out crumbs? She put her fingers up to her mouth, trying not to feel awkward. “I think I should,” he said, and if that didn’t warm her from top to toe, she

didn’t know what would. His voice was like chocolate. “So...you’ve got a place out here? That’s kind of sudden, isn’t it?” “It probably seems that way,” he said, picking up his turnover. “But nah, I’ve wanted to have a place closer to the branch office for a while; Chris spent a lot of time looking fo me.” He took a bite of the turnover and grinned. He wasn’t self-conscious at all. Abby wondered how it would feel to be like that. “This is really, really good,” he said, through his mouthful. “Mm, ‘scuse me—” He swallowed, picked up his coffee and took a drink. “She’s a good

cook,” he said. “You’ve got good taste in friends—good coffee, good pastries, tried to help me out—” “Lied for you,” she said. “She didn’t,” he said. “She was just ready to...well, stretch the truth a little, that’s all. Selective honesty. Good friends, they do that stuff for you.” “Well, I’m glad you found this place, anyway,” she said. “Tina works hard.” “I guess she does,” he said. “It’s earlier than I’d want to wake up. And while I wouldn’t mind having to work with my hands every once in a while, I’m not sure I’d want to have to make everything right, every time, every day.” The bell rang and a couple came in,

laughing and talking. They went up to the counter and started talking with Tina. “You have to make things right, though,” she said. “But it’s not just me,” he said. “I’ve got a whole staff, not just Chris. They can call me on my bullshit. Honestly, I need that sometimes.” “You’re a lot more candid now the interview’s over,” she teased. He looked a little embarrassed. “I...I just feel like I can be honest with you,” he said. “There’s something special about you. I knew it the first time I looked at you.” “That’s very romantic, I guess,” she said, picking up her pastry again. “But...I don’t know, I guess I never believed in

stuff like love at first sight.” I sure never thought anyone would talk to me about it. “My mother told me that someday I’d find the right woman, and...everything would fall in place.” He waved vaguely, like he was trying to describe the world changing with a gesture. “And you believed her?” “I did,” he said. “Of course I did. She was very rarely wrong.” “I wish I could have met her,” Abby said. “You talk about her a lot.” “She’s been on my mind lately,” he said thoughtfully. “She taught me so much about life, and—things that I didn’t even realize were important, I was too

young.” “How old were you when she died?” “In college,” he said. “Undergrad. It’s—it’s how I met Chris, actually. She —do you remember Ocean Air? Flight 252?” “The plane crash?” Her stomach clenched. “Oh, I’m...I’m so sorry.” “Thank you,” he said, “but—it’s better now. Chris lost his mom, too, we met in a support group for survivors, and...we just clicked, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We had a lot in common—Chris’s parents are both from Columbia, like my mother was. He’s got more Quechua heritage than I do—Mom had a lot of

Spanish, too—but we’ve got a lot in common. He’s pretty much the only guy I know who gets it when I tell him to cut out the sonsochakoq bullshit.” “Sonsochakoq?” “It’s kind of like playing dumb, or putting on a front. When you’re at your desk pretending to work hard, that’s sonsochakoq.” “Interesting,” she said. “So you and Chris go back a while too.” “I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t know what I’d do without him,” he said, lifting his coffee cup again. “What about you and Tina?” “She’s been here her whole life,” Abby said. “I started coming here in college—I had an internship at the

Salem Beach Times—and she worked here. It was different then, this big Greek guy owned it, and Tina just worked there. But she was already baking for him, and he retired to Florida a couple years back. She bought the business from him, redecorated, and now—” She gestured. “It’s hers.” “She’s done a hell of a job,” he said. “I start staying here, I’m going to bring a whole bunch of these into the office. Instant hero.” “I wish that would work at my job,” she said. Would he realize—? He did. Damn it, did he have to be perceptive too? “I thought—they don’t appreciate you?” “I’m—most of them do, it’s fine.”

“Laura,” he said. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t really need to. “Has she always been like this to you?” His face showed concern. He seemed genuine. “I guess so?” She shrugged. “It’s never been a big deal. She wants the big stories, and I don’t really care. I like it here, I don’t really want a big job in the city. I’d have to be on call all the time. I couldn’t just leave my phone at home and just veg out at the beach, or take the weekend off. That’s what she wants, and I hope she gets it.” “Gets her out of your hair sooner, right?” She smiled in spite of herself.

“Everyone wins. But...don’t say too much about it here, okay? The owner thinks she’s the best thing since sliced bread. I don’t want him to think I’m trash talking her or anything.” She took a drink. “Like I said, I like my job.” “I’m eager to see the article,” he said. “You asked all the right questions, even the ones I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t ask.” “You don’t have that many secrets to hide, do you?” His smile was self-effacing. “Aside from my secret identity as a superhero? Nah, not really.” “Well, then, you shouldn’t have been worried.” She didn’t have much coffee left. Pretty soon she’d have to

make some excuses and go. She couldn’t spend all day there, as tempting as it sounded. “The paper’s weekly, right?” She nodded. “Articles are subscription only for the first week. We figure that there might be a little bump in subscriptions this week after people found out about the profile.” He laughed. “A little.” They figured at least the major media outlets would be asking for access. It could give their little operation a real boost. And even though she was annoyed with Ted for falling for Laura’s bull, she wanted Salem Beach Now to do well. She really did like working at the paper, being part of a

community. She traced the edge of her coffee mug with her finger. She didn’t know what to say. Paul didn’t seem to mind her silence. He just sat, drinking his coffee, finishing off his pastry. He...seemed happy just to be with her. A loud crack of thunder hit, so hard and close the building shook a little. Abby jumped in her seat. So much for being cool. Though the lightning seemed to have distracted Paul, too. “That came on fast,” he said. “It was getting dark when I came in.” “Did you—did you walk here? I

should give you a ride.” “You don’t have to do that,” she said. There was another bright flash— she hadn’t caught the first one, but this one was hard to miss—and a second window-jarring crack of thunder. “I think I really should,” he said, his eyebrows raised in alarm. He might be right. “It’s not raining yet,” he said, standing up. “Let’s get going before we get drenched.” He grabbed his photo and tucked it under his arm. “Yeah, I guess we should. You really don’t have to—” Another crash of thunder. “I really think I should,” he protested.

He wasn’t wrong. “All right,” she said, getting up. “Thank you.” What kind of car did he have? Did he go for something showy, or more understated? “Just follow me,” he said. “Have a good afternoon, Tina!” “You too!” she called. The rain started halfway there, but she could see a sleek dark blue car. Sporty, but not insanely expensive. Nice. He lifted up his keychain and pressed the buttons, unlocking the doors. He carefully tucked the picture into the backseat. Abby slid in. The car had leather seats. They felt warmed from the sun, after how cool the rain had been. Her

hair was damp and there were wet drops on her arms. “The rain hit fast.” “It sure did,” he said. “Now...where to? Back to the office?” She didn’t actually have to go back to the office. “Um, I was actually headed home.” “I can drop you off, it’s no problem,” he said. “I’m...not insulted if I just leave you at your door.” “It’s not far. Just a couple of blocks on Oak Street.” “Oak is the one on the left?” “Yeah, left,” she said. “At least you don’t have any oneway streets here. I will not miss that about the city.” He put on his turn signal. “Are you in one of the converted mills?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Right by the river.” She liked how cool it made the apartment in summer, at least compared to the rest of town, and she was lucky enough to be able to see the river when she looked out her window. Sometimes on rainy or snowy days, she worked from home, with her laptop near the window. It was peaceful, then, and quiet. They neared the bridge. There were several cars parked on the side of the road with their four-ways on. “Something’s up,” Paul said, and pulled over. They both got out and walked toward the river. The rain was falling a lot harder now, and it had turned the ground squishy under their shoes. They

got a little closer and realized there were several men and women on the bank, shouting to each other, trying to get down to the water. Something was wrong, really wrong. “What’s going on?” she shouted down to George Chung, who owned the town’s only gallery. “Someone fell in,” George shouted back. “Looked like a kid. We’re trying to get down there—” “Has someone called the rescue squad?” George nodded. “But they can only get here so fast, you know? And the river’s high this year.” It sure was, and it was moving fast. She turned to look at Paul—

Paul was gone.

8 Paul ran. He could hear the boy, clearer than any non-shifter could. He was panicking. Panicking could kill him. He pulled his shirt over his head and ran faster, harder. This was a risk, a big risk. Mostly shifters stayed quiet. People didn’t trust them. But he couldn’t let a boy die for the sake of his career. There was enough vegetation around that, with luck, he would be hidden by cover for most of his run. He unbuckled his pants, and almost tripped kicking his shoes off. He didn’t bother taking off his shorts. They’d slide off on their own.

He was about a hundred yards from the boy when he hit the water. The water was high, cold, and the current was strong. No wonder the boy was so scared. But Paul was a strong swimmer even as a human, and the cat was twice as powerful. He let the current take him until he was close to the boy, then grabbed the back of his shirt with his teeth. Gentle, gentle, he reminded himself. This is a child. The boy screamed, startled. Paul couldn’t speak or do anything else to calm him. All he could do was pull the boy to shore, doing his best to keep his head above water. The screaming seemed even louder

in jaguar form. His ears hurt, and the struggling boy made swimming against the current twice as hard. His heart was pounding. This stuff always seemed easier before you actually dove into the water. Man, you’d think this kid would be out of breath by now. Not that he could blame him: if Paul was the one who’d fallen into the river and then, after almost drowning, was being dragged to the bank by a jaguar, he’d be pretty freaked out too. Hell, Paul could still remember the first time he’d transformed, and that had been terrifying. The boy struck wildly at his back. How old was he, nine or ten? Damn, just

a kid. It felt like forever before he got to the riverbank. He dragged the kid onto the shore. The boy was coughing and sputtering. Coughing meant breathing. Breathing meant alive. There were people running in their direction. He had to go. Now. He didn’t want to answer any of those questions. He had the presence of mind to remember that his keys and wallet were in his pants, and he grabbed them with his jaws before he ran into the underbrush. The advantage of a jaguar’s coat was that it blended into just about anywhere, and it was doubly hard to see in the rain. He got under cover quickly and

found a tree to climb. There was a mist rising from the rain. All he had to do was wait it out. But what was he going to do about Abby? She’s your mate, you idiot! And you just left her there! If she’s my mate, she’ll understand. I had to save that boy! The ambulance had just showed up, the lights flashing. It would’ve taken a while for them to get ready, and by then who knew where the boy would have been along the river? I had no choice. She’ll understand that. Once you tell her you’re a jaguar. How do you think that’s going to work

out? He huddled into the foliage. The rain felt like needles driving into his fur. How had it cooled off so quickly? He was in the Northeast. It wasn’t like where he’d grown up. Sometimes he missed California, the warmth and sunlight. It was easier for him to do business, easier to get away from his family memories, but he was never going to get used to the rapid changes in weather. He watched as the rescue workers tended to the boy. He stirred, which was a good sign, probably. Well, whatever happened, I saved a life. Lost your mate, but saved a life.

Would you really have me choose differently? No. But I wish that it wasn’t so wet. He couldn’t shift back now. Not for a while. He adjusted his pants under his paws to keep them in place— The branch was too wet. They slithered down, before his claws could catch them. Damn it. Up a tree with no pants. Perfect. Just perfect. “That was a shifter,” someone said. “Some kind of spotted animal—” “I didn’t think there were any around here—” The voices buzzed and crossed over one another. Everyone wanted to

see the shifter. Very few of his fellow shifters were open about who they were. There was too much scrutiny. Too many questions. Too many people who would want to put them in a lab and take them apart to see how they ticked. He couldn’t do that. Not to himself, and not— Not to his brother. They hadn’t seen each other in years, but family was still family. If he wasn’t a shifter, everyone would still want a piece of him. And if he was— He hoped for Aaron’s case that he wasn’t. Abby was taking pictures. Paul hoped her camera would withstand the rain. She’d probably done this a hundred

times before. She can take care of herself. You have enough problems. He looked down. He could still see his pants, at least. They were going to be muddy. He had no idea how he was going to explain all this to Abby. Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much; time passed differently when he was a cat. The world was no longer carefully sectioned into seconds and minutes. Everything was slower, smoother. Day slid gently into evening, then night. He knew it was a while, but it was hard to say how long. Eventually, people started leaving. First the boy in the ambulance, then some of the bystanders.

Then Abby disappeared. It hurt a little, but the boy was what mattered. He couldn’t be anyone other than who he was. And he certainly couldn’t have a life on his conscience. The rain had lightened a little, though not enough to make it any drier. But the mist had eased a little, and he could see his sad, forlorn, muddy pants at the foot of the tree. It was probably dark and deserted enough that he could start making his way down. And at least he wouldn’t have to worry about holding his pants in his jaws. “Paul?” That was Abby’s voice in the distance. “Paul...I’ve got your shirt and your shoes. I...I can look for your

pants if you need me to?” She sighed. “I mean, if you’re out here.” He could hear her shoes squelching in the mud. He’d more or less abandoned her. Her shoes were probably ruined. He’d screwed all this up, but what choice had he had? “If you’re out there—I’m not angry or anything. I wish you’d told me you were going to be back, but—if I’m not just talking to myself, or a wild animal, you were really brave.” That sent a shiver through his fur. “So...um, I’ve got your clothes. I’m not really sure what to do? Your car’s still on the bank, I think you’ve got the keys.” Oh. Shit. Of course. He made his

way slowly down the tree. Her eyes went wide, and she stood very, very still. That won’t help you with a cat, he thought. He’d have t9o tell her. He got down on the ground. At least this way he was near his pants. You shouldn’t look at this, he thought. But he couldn’t figure out how to tell her that. At least it was getting dark and the mist was rising. He focused and changed. The human came out, his skin stretching and tightening. His breath came faster, and by the time he was on all fours, he was panting, sweat breaking on his skin. It was always harder to go to human. “I’m sorry,” he said, when his voice had returned. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You saved his life,” Abby said. “They...they said that another minute might have—might have lost him.” “Have they—” “They’re treating him in case he’s got pneumonia,” she said. “His mom’s going to send me a text later, she said. And that whoever pulled him out of the river was a hero, and she’d like to make him a pie.” Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as he’d feared. “Does she make good pies?”

9 “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never had one. I mean, it’s a pie, can’t be that bad, right?” He laughed. “Yeah, probably not.” She had to laugh too. She was soaked to her skin, under a tree, with a man who could turn into a wild cat. Holding the clothes of a man who could turn into a wild cat. Everyone knew there were shifters. That they were rare. That they hid, because people thought they were scary or sinister or evil. But no one really expected the people they talked to—the people they flirted with—to be shifters. To just turn

into.... She didn’t even know for sure. “Can I ask—can I ask what you are? Like, what kind of cat?” She sounded ridiculous. “I guess you have a right to,” he said. “Ah, do you have my pants? It’s getting dark and it’s taking my eyes a while to adjust.” “They’re—” She gestured to the ground in front of him. “Do you need me to get them?” “I should be able to—” He gestured. “If you could just—” “Oh, sure,” she said, turning her face. “I’m a jaguar,” he said. “I...I don’t mind the question. These are—shit, these

are really wet—hold on.” She could hear him struggling with the fabric. She hadn’t seen a lot of him on the ground, but what she could make out was muscular. Watching him now would be — Hot. Wrong. Okay, hot and wrong. “All right,” he said. “You can turn around. Um...I guess I should put my shirt on.” “We’re not that far from my building, actually.” She handed over the wet shirt. “You guys drifted pretty far downriver. I think it’ll be easier to sneak you in over the bank. I’ve got a washer and a drier, so you can—dry out.”

“That would—” He took the shirt from her hands. “I would really appreciate that.” “Everyone was so busy getting Mike out of the river, I doubt anyone was trying to track you. As long as I can get you into the building, we’ll be fine. They might wonder about the car, but I can pull that around while your clothes are drying, if that’s all right.” “You are a hero,” he said, pulling the drenched shirt over his head. “I...I’m not the one that pulled a ten-year-old out of the river.” “That’s—” He sighed. “Maybe we’re both heroes, I don’t know. You really think you can sneak me into your building?”

She tried to grin confidently. “I’m going to try!” “Lead on,” he said. “And then I’ve got some questions,” she said. “Not for the paper. For me.” He sounded a little...resigned? “That’s fair.” “There’s a little path, right here,” she said. “Can you see it? It’s pretty slippery, so just take it easy.” “It’s getting better, I can make it out.” He followed her to the riverbank. “Did I ruin your shoes?” Maybe? “They’ll be fine.” “Next time I’ll tell you I’ll be back at least,” he said. “I didn’t even think. I just—I just ran.”

“That’s how you saved his life,” she said. She hadn’t even heard him go. Like a cat, she guessed. There were wooden steps set into the bank. His feet sounded steady behind her. “I’ll look out when we get up to the top. My building’s not too far away.” “All right.” Fortunately, there was no one in her parking lot. She kept a lookout while he crossed to the building. Normally she didn’t take the elevator, but this felt like a special case. “How much further?” he asked when they were safely headed up. “I’m the first apartment on the right. I’ll look out first.” He pushed his wet hair back. “I

can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” He was drenched and grimy and he looked cold. He also looked like a supermodel on a photo shoot. “I—it’s the least I can do,” she stammered. She was pretty wet and cold herself, though she’d grabbed her umbrella from her apartment once she figured out what was going on. Her hair was spectacularly frizzy, and her shoes were probably completely destroyed. She’d gotten some good shots of the rescue, though, and her article was halfdrafted in her head. Mystery Shifter Saves Day 10-Year-Old Rescued By Unknown

Jaguar The door opened, and she stuck her head out into the hallway. “Coast is clear,” she said. They darted across the hallway and she put her key in the lock, opening the door as quickly as she could. He went past her, fast and quiet again. Must be a cat thing. She closed and locked the door behind her. When she turned around he was already peeling his wet shirt over his head. Oh. Oh, damn he was hot. She went into the bathroom and got a towel. Don’t think about his chest. Don’t think about his eyes. Don’t think

about any of that. “You can dry off before you use the shower,” she said, handing him the towel and trying not to stare. “Or—whatever.” “I won’t drip all over your chair, anyway,” he said. His skin was covered in grime, but that only made his teeth look whiter. There ought to be a law against looking that good. “You should probably go in first,” he said. “If I change back to the cat I won’t be too cold, and you could really get—” She shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said, “you—” “I’m a mess,” he said. “But so are you. And unless there’s something you’re

not telling me, you’re not going to change into a polar bear or anything to warm up.” “Ah, no,” she said. “But I have dry clothes here, and you don’t.” She shouldn’t stare. She was totally staring. “This wasn’t what I had in mind,” he said slowly, balling his wet shirt up in his hands uncertainly. “I—I did want to tell you. But—who says ‘hi, come out to dinner with me, by the way, I can turn into a jaguar?’” Her voice sounded shaky. “Crazy people?” “Would you have believed me?” “I...I don’t know.” It did sound kind of crazy. But if any man she knew could

turn into a jaguar, it’d probably be Paul Larson. Handsome, dark-haired, sexy, Paul Larson, who was shirtless in her living room and not wearing any underwear. “Is it...is it all right?” She hadn’t turned on the lights yet—she hadn’t even thought that far ahead—and it was hard to make out Paul’s expression. Was he worried? Hopeful? Was she? Her heart was hammering in her chest. “All right?” “I don’t—you’re not scared, or—” “No.” How could she be? She’d seen how gentle he had been with the boy. And she trusted this man, even if she had only met him once before. It

wasn’t like he was a wild animal. He...could just turn into one. “It’s...unusual, but—I’m not scared. You’re—I’ve met you. I’ve talked with you.” I’ve looked at you naked. “My mother—she was a shifter, like me. That’s where it was passed on to me. And—when my father found out, he was shocked. Disgusted. He...we were on our own after that.” “I—” Her heart went out to him, and she stepped closer. “I’m so sorry.” “We just had each other for a long time. So—I never want to make the mistake she did. No one wants to be with someone who thinks you’re a monster.” But— “How could he think that?”

How could anyone? They’d been together long enough to have children! “He was—he wasn’t a cruel man,” Paul said slowly. “But he was afraid. And he cared a lot about appearances, about what other people thought. I guess he thought there would be a scandal. That people would think less of him that he married a shifter, that his wife was a big cat.” It sounded pretty cruel to Abby. “Did he know you were a shifter too?” “That’s—the first time I shifted was when he found out. I was just a kid, maybe nine or ten?” She closed her mouth—her jaw had dropped open. “I’m—how could anyone do that? To your mother or you?”

She’d been stepping closer to him, without even thinking about it. Almost close enough to touch. “But you’re not afraid,” he said. She shook her head. “And if there were children—I know I’m getting ahead of myself, I’m sorry, I just—” “No,” she said. “I understand. I...I don’t understand how anyone couldn’t love their own child. Especially a child —” A child like you, she thought, but that sounded ridiculous. “Just for that? For something special?” “‘Special?’” “You changed into a jaguar and saved someone’s life! That’s—that’s magical. I never thought I’d see anything

like that, not in person. But you—” She didn’t know what to say, how to reassure him. But he seemed to have found his reassurance. He stepped forward, just half a step to close the distance between them, and took her into his arms. They were both wet and cold, but his skin still felt warm to the touch. The grime and the cold and the rain didn’t matter. All that mattered were his strong hands, his muscular chest pressed against her breasts. All that mattered was his kiss. And oh, how he kissed. It felt good, so good. He was so strong, so sure of himself with his hands, with the way he moved. He wrapped his

arms around her, strong muscle against the soaked fabric of her blouse. She stopped thinking. All she could do was feel. Feel the passion in Paul’s kiss and the strong hands roaming over her body. It didn’t matter that he was cold and wet. It didn’t matter that he was a hero, or a billionaire. All that mattered was the two of them, man and woman, tangled in one another’s arms. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, when they broke the kiss. “I’m a mess,” she protested. “I’m no better—” He pushed his soaking hair back from his face. “Do you —your shower?” “Shower,” she gasped. “Yes.”

They stumbled to the bathroom together, Abby pulling her blouse over her head, Paul fumbling with his pants. Everything was wet and cold and miserable, and none of it mattered. His hands were warm and sure on her body. Her heart was thumping, and she could feel an intense, pounding ache in her clit. She wanted. God, she wanted. “Shower,” he panted. “Can you—” She started the water one-handed, turned up the heat to what she thought wouldn’t be too much of a shock. Paul had already kicked off his pants. She could see his dark, thick erection, rising from his body. He had some fantastic abs, too. Damn. “You’re amazing,” he said. “So

beautiful.” He reached for her skirt, taking the waistband in his fingers and pulling her close. He kissed her again, warm and wet. Her skin was so damp and cold she was shaky. But Paul held her steady. His hands were so strong. She wanted to get lost in him, in his touch. She didn’t feel nervous or uncomfortable with him, even though it was their first time together. Paul didn’t give her the chance. He was too happy to be with her, too eager. He guided her into the shower and the warm water began caressing her body. His hands, though, were a better caress, his hands strong but gentle. He stepped into the water after her

—thank goodness she’d put that big showerhead in when she moved in—and kissed her. The grime was pouring off his body now. She looked at his muscles, not bulging like a bodybuilder, but not small, that was for sure. He pulled her close, and then lifted her up, to her shock, like she was little more than a feather. He let her open her legs, then braced her back on the shower stall. “Is this all right?” he asked. All she could do was nod. Damn right it was all right. It was the best thing that had happened to her in years. She felt just right. Perfect, like he said. And it was perfect as he slid inside her, hard and urgent. He only needed one

strong hand to hold her up, and he used the other to caress her breasts, teasing first one nipple, then the other with his fingertips. She was shaking, and her heart was pounding. She could feel the throbbing all through her body, but it was strongest in her swollen clit. A thousand tiny raindrops hit her as Paul thrust into her, and she felt like she was getting wetter and more sensitized every second. It felt like electricity was coursing through every inch of her body, and there was no way to control it. Something bigger than her had taken control of her, had maybe taken control of them both. She’d never been with a man like him. He was so strong, so confident. So

damn good at what he was doing. He stopped teasing her breasts and shifted his hand to her clit instead, and she bit back a cry. His touch triggered a rocket fire inside her, and her hips bucked against Paul. She couldn’t stop herself from moving, control herself at all. All she could do was lose herself to Paul’s touch. For his part, Paul didn’t seem like he was in much more control. His eyes were pinned to her, like he couldn’t look away. His mouth moved, but no words were coming out. But through it all, his hands, his touch, stayed steady. The little circles he was rubbing on her oversensitized clit

grew harder, steadier, and Abby bit back a scream. The heat was building inside her, higher and higher, her heart beating faster and faster. She closed her eyes; keeping them open was too much, too overwhelming. Even so, she could hardly hang on. She tipped her head back, letting the water splash over her face. Orgasm took her, pushed her over the edge, her body moving without any control, her hips shaking. She felt him coming too, going over the edge, and he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her madly again and again.

10 Abby sighed again, and Paul held her closer. What the hell had he just done? They were both still in the spray, warm, pressed together, skin on skin. He kissed the side of her cheek. “I’m—I’m on the pill,” she blurted out, and then burst out laughing. “Oh, God.” She put her hand over her face. “I —that’s romantic, huh?” “No, it’s—I’m tested, I—we’re fine.” He shook his head. “I—I can’t quite believe this just happened, honestly.” “Me...me neither.” He pulled her into his arms,

whispering into her ear. “I’m glad, though.” She reached over and turned the shower off. “Are we clean now? Close...close enough to clean?” “I think so,” he said, and he was laughing too. What a day. “I still want to take you to dinner.” “I guess I’ll say yes,” she said, and they both started laughing again. He looked around her bathroom. It looked like her towels were big and fluffy. He grabbed the biggest, fluffiest one he could find and wrapped it around Abby. “There,” he said. “That’s better. I mean, we hopped into the shower to warm up.” “I got plenty warm,” she said. “I

don’t know about you....” “Well, let’s keep you that way.” He found a towel for himself and dried off. “I have a washer and drier right here,” she said. “I can get your clothes clean.” “That’d...that’d be great,” he said. “I don’t think I have any clothes that’ll fit you. Maybe a bathrobe? Though I’m not sure I have one of those that’ll fit you either….” He shrugged. “I’m all right in a towel, if you don’t mind.” She looked him up and down. “Um...yeah. I don’t think I mind.” He kissed her cheek. He wanted to put his hands all over her all over again, but she was going to get cold, and he

really needed dry clothes at some point. “Go ahead,” he said. “Thank you.” “No problem,” she said. “I...I think I’ll just put it all in one load, that’ll be faster. You’re not really supposed to but —” “No,” he said. “I just want them dry. I don’t think anything will shrink. And if it does...I’m not sure I care.” “I’ll check the labels. Anything that says dry clean only I’ll just put on delicate.” “I owe you,” he said. “Oh, you’ll get to pay me back,” she said. “I have a few questions for you. Actually, I have a lot of questions.” He’d been waiting for that shoe to drop. She was beautiful and sexy and

intelligent...and a reporter. Of course she was going to have questions. Anyone would. He just hoped she wouldn’t be taking too many mental notes. He settled down on her couch and looked around her living room. She had framed photographs on the wall; he guessed they were hers, as they looked very similar to the ones he’d seen in the cafe. Most of the living room was black and white— white walls, black couch—but there were touches of color, and personality, everywhere, from the red-and-gold Persian rug to the soft pillows on the couch. The shades were pulled, which was a relief. He hadn’t even thought about it as they stumbled into the apartment.

“How long have you been here?” he called. “In town? Since college, I had my internship here. But this apartment, about six months. I was on the waitlist when they opened up—it’s a converted woolen mill, if you can believe it.” “That makes sense.” It explained the high ceilings in such an old building. “Yeah, I don’t really feel like I’ve moved in yet. I’ve got some of my stuff here, but—” She emerged, wearing a tshirt and jeans and carrying a fluffy blue bathrobe. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really feel like home yet.” “You got dressed,” he said. He felt disappointed. “Sorry,” she said, handing him the

bathrobe. “I thought I should get us something to eat. Cooking naked’s kind of dangerous.” “What time is it?” He wasn’t hungry. “You don’t have to cook for me.” “It’s almost seven, and I don’t think I’ve got anything I can whip up quick,” she said. He got up and wrapped the bathrobe around himself. It didn’t fit quite right, but it kept him covered, and it was nice and soft. “Well, don’t do it on my account. I’d be happy with frozen pizza.” “I don’t think I even have that,” she said. She opened the freezer door and stood there, her hand on her hip. He wanted to walk up behind her and pull

her clothes off all over again. “I’m going to have to do pasta with...canned sauce? I think I have some canned sauce? I normally do grocery shopping tonight, but I didn’t exactly have the chance.” Thunder boomed again outside the window; the storm must have been circling back in. “Does anywhere here deliver?” “There’s a pizza place,” she said. “But they charge for delivery.” “I can handle that,” he said. “It’s not as nice as dinner out, but if you’re hungry, I don’t mind staying in with you.” He patted the couch cushion. “And I’d rather spend time with you than watch you cook.” She looked back and forth between

him and the freezer. “I’ll still take you to dinner—” “I don’t care about that,” she said. “I don’t want you to think—” “I think you’re hungry and I think I want to talk to you. Come on, let’s just get some pizza.” “All right,” she said, opening up a kitchen drawer and pulling out a menu. “What do you like for toppings?” “I’m not that fussy,” he said. “Some kind of meat, if you don’t mind.” “Pepperoni?” “That sounds great.” “Wait—are you like a cat? Do you have to eat meat?” He laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried not eating meat, and I don’t

really know many other shifters. Mom always ate meat.” “Just pepperoni, or do you want something else?” “Surprise me,” he said. “You don’t have any allergies? Or anything you don’t like?” “I’d tell you,” he said. “Do you have—you must have more towels. Could I dry my hair off?” “Of course,” she said. He could hear her ordering as he went back into the bathroom. He looked ridiculous in the fluffy blue towel, and his hair was flopping in his face. He toweled it off and did as much work as he could with his fingers to get it in order. Bad enough he looked like a

blueberry marshmallow, at least his hair could be in order. “Twenty minutes,” she said, when he emerged. She was sitting on her couch, just where he’d patted for her to sit. “So I’ve got some time, if you don’t mind more questions.” “No,” he said. “I’d like to be honest with you.” He hadn’t had a chance to be honest with a woman in years, and last time Karen hadn’t been so kind or accepting. “So you eat, just, normal human food?” “Yes,” he said. “I can eat when I’m a cat, but I don’t, normally. It’s a different feeling, being the cat. You want...well, basically what cats eat, but

you’re still human, so it’s not really that appealing.” “Yeah, that sounds—” She frowned. “That sounds kind of gross.” “It’s a lot better to eat as a human,” he conceded. He sat next to her and held out his arm. “Can I—” She shifted her weight and snuggled in close to him. Perfect. “What else would you like to know?” “I...there’s so much,” she said. “Does it hurt, when you change?” “No,” he said. “It feels...it feels just as natural as stretching. Like you’re shifting your body, but in a good way, in a normal way. The first time, I didn’t

even realize that was what I was doing.” “Were—were you alone?” “Ah, no,” he said. “But...but my mother was there. She helped me through it.” “But your dad didn’t—” He didn’t want to talk about this now. But...he’d already opened the door, hadn’t he? And if he was going to be honest with her, he might as well start. There were...a lot of secrets. “He found out a little later,” he said. “It’s not easy to hide when you’re getting used to shifting.” He pulled her closer. “Try not stretching, especially when you’re twelve years old.” “That...sounds impossible.” “He found out and he flipped out,”

he said. “Accused Mom of all kinds of things, until she told him the truth, that she could shift too.” Abby was warm. That was nice. It was easier to talk about this than he’d thought it was going to be. Being near her made it easier. “And he—he was angry?” “He was beyond angry,” Paul said. “I heard the shouting through the walls. My little brother—he was younger. He slept through most of it, though I remember he woke up and I told him he was having a nightmare.” He shook his head. “And I just remember not caring about Mom or Dad or any of it, just that he believed me. Just that he’d go back to sleep and not know about all of this happening.”

“Did he?” “Yeah,” he said. “And then, a couple days after that, Mom told me we had to go, and we left.” “Just you and your mom?” He nodded. He’d tried to ask Mom why they’d left Aaron behind but she’d never really given him an answer. “She didn’t think Aaron could shift, but—” He shook his head. “It never felt right to me, leaving him behind.” “She probably had a good reason.” “We didn’t have much,” he said. “We moved to the country and she waited tables for a while, worked her way up to manager at a Friendly’s. I went to college on scholarship.” “You said your mom was your first

investor,” she said. “Did she—” “I was getting my MBA when plane crashed...the insurance settlement was my first investment. I don’t like to tell the story like that. She...she would’ve given me her last dime to get me started, if she could have. So—” “No,” she said. “I understand. That’s...that’s kind of nice. It sounds like what she would have wanted.” “I hope so,” he said. “I think she would’ve wanted me to find Aaron too, and I still haven’t figured out how to do that. What if he—” What if he rejects me too? She turned around in his arms and held him tight. “He’d love you,” she said. “I know it.”

“I—I hope you’re right,” he said. “It’s been years and sometimes I just want to call him. Hear his voice.” “Is he—how old is he?” “Three years younger than I am,” he said. “Twenty-one.” He buried his face in her curls, still wet from the shower. “I keep thinking, maybe it’s time to call him, but I’m afraid.” He hadn’t told anyone this stuff for years. Chris knew a lot of it but he’d never let it all out at once, just told the story. Told someone the truth, and the whole truth. And she wasn’t judging him. She didn’t pity him. She just cared.

11 Abby ended up paying for the pizza in the end; they only took cash, and Paul’s wallet was too soaked to fish any bills out. “I definitely owe you dinner after this,” Paul said, taking a slice gratefully. “Two dinners, I think.” “Let’s not worry about that right now.” She sat across from him at her kitchen table. “I’m just glad we’ve got something to eat.” “Thank you,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” “It’s not that big a deal,” she said. “A little pizza, the washer and the dryer —”

“You’ve accepted me,” he said. “Without—without even a question.” “I had a lot of questions,” she protested. “I still have a lot of questions.” “Not—not those kinds of questions.” She wasn’t sure what to say to that. “When I first realized—it was weird. But it wasn’t exactly like I’d seen you growling or snarling or anything. You were...safe.” He chuckled, but it was to hide some inner bitterness. “No one’s ever thought I was safe before.” “I bet Michael does now,” she said. “At least once he gets let out of the hospital.” That reminded her. She picked

up her phone and checked. She had a few texts, one from Tina about the ‘mystery man’ and one from Michael’s mom. “They’re keeping him overnight,” she said, sending her a text thanking her for the information. “I should probably be writing the article now.” “Pizza first,” Paul said, tapping her plate. “Everyone works better on a full stomach. Remember I told you that everyone has to take real lunch breaks at Inti? It’s not just because I’m such a nice guy.” “You are a nice guy,” she said, picking up her own slice of pizza and taking a bite. “I don’t know about ‘nice,’ he said. “I try to be fair. And kind when I can

be.” “That’s better than nice.” He smiled at that, and there was no bitterness this time. They were finishing the pizza as the washer buzzed, and she got up to put Paul’s clothes in the dryer. The fabrics were...really nice. Really expensive. She’d just put them on the low setting for now. At least then they could tell if they would shrink. She could just imagine handing Paul back a pair of pants half the size of his body. It was fun having him half-naked in her kitchen, but it wouldn’t get him back to his car, much less without the whole town knowing about it. That could lead to a lot of questions

neither of them wanted to answer. He came up behind her. “Everything all right?” “I don’t want to shrink anything. You might have to wait it out a while.” “I’ll stay as long as I have to,” he said, slipping an arm around her. “I don’t have to be anywhere until the morning, and I can postpone my first business meeting if I have to.” “All right,” she said. “Hmm.” He pulled her closer. “I wonder what we should do while we’re waiting for my clothes to dry?” “We could watch a movie,” she teased. “We could,” he said, putting a hand in her hair. “I like movies.”

“You have one of those big theaters at home? With the surround sound?” “No,” he conceded. “But I do have a Blu-Ray player.” “Even I have a Blu-Ray player,” she said. She’d gotten it refurbished, sure, but it was still a Blu-Ray player. “Do you like surround sound? I could get surround sound.” “I...I don’t think I need it,” she said. “What do you think you need?” “I don’t know,” she said, even as her body started burning. “You have any ideas?” “I think I do,” he said. “I was just thinking I’d like to see that bedroom of yours.” “I’d love to show it to you,” she

said. He lifted her up, scooping her into his arms like a bride he was about to carry over the threshold. “Just tell me which way to go.” She pointed. He carried her past the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Ah,” he said. “A big bed. I do love the right-sized woman with a jaguar-sized bed.” Abby’s face heated up. She was just glad she’d remembered to make the bed. He gently placed her on top of the quilt. “Now,” he said. “It doesn’t take much to get me naked, but you—” She pulled her t-shirt over her head as he went to work on her jeans,

unbuttoning them and sliding them down her hips as she wiggled them to try to get them off faster. He kissed his way down her stomach, then buried his face between her legs. Oh, God— He was just as good with his mouth down there as he was with a kiss. His hands were on her thighs, firm and assured, spreading them apart as he dipped his head further down. Oh, he was good at this. So good. Her whole body was shaking again, like she hadn’t even come earlier, like she’d been without sex for months, years. His tongue flicked gently against her clit and she had to bite back a scream.

Every touch sent the fire burning higher, more intensely. The heat between her legs was becoming unbearable. How was he doing this to her? Was it the cat, still hidden deep inside him? She closed her eyes and let her body take the sensations, all of them, rolling over her like a thousand tiny waves. The heat and pressure built and built, higher and higher, pushing her into — Ooooh. Oh, yes, yes— She came, her body shaking uncontrollably, white lights flashing in her vision. This was— What a man, she thought to herself. What a man.

“Abby,” he said, sounding breathless and a little out of control himself. He shifted his weight, moving sleek and fast, and he was on her, in her, before she could even catch her breath. He felt big and hot inside her. He thrust inside her, hard, rocking her body. The air felt hot and cool against her skin as he moved. It was all she could do to hold on. He came inside her, hard, his hips bucking, and even though she couldn’t come again, it was like she could feel Paul’s pleasure. That was good. So good. He rolled off her, taking her body with him, pulling her on top of him. It felt good, so good. Skin on skin. “Oh,”

he said. “I’m never going to get tired of making love to you.” Never? Never seemed a little...optimistic. “We just met,” she protested, gently. “Just consider me a confident man,” Paul said. He pulled her face down to his and kissed her. They did end up watching an old movie on TV, both of them on the couch, Paul’s arm tight around her waist. It felt more like being with an old friend, maybe an old lover—she’d never had a boyfriend long enough to have an ‘old lover,’ but she thought she could guess at the feeling. She’d never felt so comfortable

with anyone before, so warm and safe. “Oh, Bringing Up Baby’s next,” he said. “I love that movie.” “Isn’t that the one with a leopard?” “Yeah,” he said. “Apparently Cary Grant was terrified of it, and Katherine Hepburn treated it like her best friend.” “Is it weird? Seeing, like, a big cat in a movie, or a zoo?” “Not really,” he said. “Not much different than seeing a monkey at the zoo. We have...shifters are different. When you’re a jaguar, you’ve got the cat’s senses and appetites, but your mind’s still human. Totally human.” “You—you’re not the only one you know,” she said. He shook his head. “No, I’ve been

lucky. I’ve found friends over the years.” He squeezed her waist. “They’re pretty private about it, like me. But...they’ll trust you, the same way I do.” “I don’t understand—I mean, I’m glad, but I don’t understand how you can just trust me like this.” “I’m lucky,” he said. “Male shifters, at least the cats—we see our mate, and we know. No questions, no doubts. Mom said it was different for women, they had to guess just like humans do.” “Really?” He nodded. “Mom thought it was maybe something way back in our history, from the cat side of things. Like, male lions will kill the alpha males and

take over the pride. Can you imagine what it’d be like? Losing the guy you knew, for sure, was your mate, and having to be with the man who killed him? But—but I don’t know. I wasn’t even sure it happened like that, until—” He stopped, almost swallowing the end of the sentence. “...until you saw me?” “Yeah,” he said, very softly. “Sensed you. I’m sorry—this sounds so creepy.” “It’s okay,” she said. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me. It means a lot.” “I...I have to be honest with you,” he confessed. “And I want to, anyway.” “Even to a reporter?” she teased, bumping his foot with her own.

“Yes,” he said. “Because it’s you.” He put his hand on hers. “So, Bringing Up Baby?” “Sure.” Abby got up and checked Paul’s clothes a few times, letting them dry slowly so hopefully they wouldn’t shrink. They’d watched most of the movie by the time it was done. It was a good movie. They both laughed a lot. It was getting late by the time it finished. “Your things should be dry,” she said. “Or—you can stay if you want.” “You’re sure?” He stood up, putting a hand on her waist. “I don’t want to pressure you.” “No,” she said. “It’s...it’s all right.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I want it to be more than ‘all right,” he said. “Can you come to dinner with me tomorrow? Somewhere nice.” “Yes,” she said. “I mean, as long as you like the article—” He laughed and pulled her closer for another kiss. “I’ll love it. I know it.” His clothes were dry enough to wear, so she drove him over to his car. He gave her one more long, passionate kiss before he disappeared. When she got back home, she checked her phone again. She had another text from Tina: How did it go?! She also had two texts from Sam, who was the typesetter at Salem Beach

Now. Both of them were just two words: Call me. Well, it was close to eleven now, and Sam was one of the old guard. She probably went to bed at nine. She’d call her at home in the morning. Sam always took the day off after putting the issue to bed. She did text Abby back. He’s super cute. Super nice. Dinner tomorrow. Yay!!! Does he have a brother? Abby’s eyes went wide. I don’t know, she said, which was a little bit a lie, but really just the easiest way of saying I don’t know if his brother will ever speak to him again or not. Find out. We could double date. ;-) Abby smiled. OK.

By then she might have figured out what to tell Tina about Paul’s brother.

12 “We have a problem,” Chris announced, tossing a copy of Salem Beach Now on Paul’s desk. “Two problems, technically, but I think they share the same name.” The headline, in big black letters, read Who Is the Mystery Jaguar? Paul sighed. “Well, I’d expected that.” “Oh,” Chris said. “We haven’t even gotten started. Your profile’s below the fold, and you’ll never guess whose byline’s on it.” Paul flipped the paper over. “It’s not Abby?” “My guess is it’s mostly Abby’s

work, but it’s got Laura Moore’s byline. And her greasy fingers all over it.” Chris leaned over Paul’s desk and tapped a paragraph. More than capable, Mr. Paul Larson’s smooth manner and joie de vivre—”Joie de vivre? I don’t have any joie de vivre. She wasn’t around me long enough to see any joie de anything anyway.” “And then, like two paragraphs later, the article snaps into a completely different voice, who knows what they’re actually talking about. That’s Abby. You can tell from reading her other articles.” “What about the jaguar article?” Chris sighed. “That isn’t great either. She does a lot of speculating. Had

to be someone from out of town, male— which is bullshit, but she’s right, so strike two. It’s like watching someone flail around throwing wild punches. One of them’s going to hit.” “That’s still not much. I can’t be the only person who came into that place from out of town yesterday.” “I still don’t like it,” Chris said. “And I like this shitty profile even less. And putting both of those things together —” He stood up and punched a fist into his palm. “Ugh. I hate her.” “I already knew why but this kind of underlines it.” The article about Inti was infuriating—one or two paragraphs of solid reporting and then a paragraph of ill-written mush. But the jaguar story

could do a lot more damage. At least it was mostly garbage, but he found himself wishing no one had gotten a photo. Had it been Abby? She probably hadn’t realized he was a jaguar at first. There was no photo credit, which didn’t help. He’d have to ask Abby. Had she seen this? Did she know what had happened? She’d be upset. A profile—a good profile—of Paul and Inti would’ve made her look good. Made everyone look good. Instead, the paper looked like a badly edited hack sheet, and Paul looked like an idiot for giving them the exclusive interview. It didn’t matter that much to Paul, not really, but it was annoying. And he

was angry on Abby’s behalf. He checked his phone. No texts from Abby. He decided to send one. Are you okay? A text came back ten minutes later, when Chris had gone out to his desk to sulk. I’m so sorry. You don’t have anything to apologize for. I don’t know what to do. I can call your editor. No, don’t do that. He pressed the Call button on his phone. Abby picked up on the first ring. “Paul?” “Why not?” “Because I don’t need you to fix my

problems for me, for one thing. For another thing, he wouldn’t listen to you anyway. He doesn’t listen to anyone but Laura any more.” “Is he sleeping with her?” Abby sounded scandalized. “No! He’s just—snowed, I guess.” “Look, I want—it’s my business, too. It’s a terrible article.” “I know it’s a terrible article,” Abby said. “And if there’s any way I could make it up to you—” “It’s not about that,” he said. “I don’t blame you. But...I’ve got an interest in having a better article too. You know that, don’t you?” “Of course I do,” she said. “But—I mean, you’ve dealt with a lot of

corporate bullshit. You’ll be fine. It’s not a bad article from your perspective. You look...you look like you care about charitable causes like my sad little weekly.” He heard her sigh. “At least it doesn’t have my name on it, I guess. That’s the good side of her wanting all the credit.” He wanted to take her in his arms and pull her close. He couldn’t think of anything he could say to her to console her. “Was that your photo on the front page?” “Of the jaguar? No. I didn’t realize they’d stop the presses for the story and…I don’t know if I would have passed it on, anyway.” “Look, I...I’d still really like to see

you tonight. Would that be all right?” “Yeah,” she said. “It might cheer me up, right?” “I’ll do my best,” he said. “Do you want to go to the tavern, or would it be better to be out of town? There are some nice places in the city.” “That’d be nice,” she said. “Thank you.” “Abby,” he said. “Honestly, if there’s anything I can do—” “I need to take care of this myself,” she said. “I don’t know. Maybe I need to look for another job. But—” She sighed again. “I don’t know.” “Let me take your mind off it, at least. What time should I pick you up?” “I don’t know—six, maybe? I

volunteer at the library this afternoon, we normally have the day off after we put the paper to bed unless we’ve got something to cover. That’ll give me time to get changed.” “Sounds good,” he said. “Pick you up at your place?” “Sure,” she said. She sounded a little cheered up. “I can’t wait.” “Me neither,” he said. He was halfway through reading Dominic’s projections for the second quarter when Chris came back into his office. “Check your email.” “Sure?” He wiggled the mouse to wake up his laptop. “What’s going on?” “A little chatter on the lines,” he

said. “Thanks to your appearance yesterday. Someone’s looking for you.” “My father knows where I am,” Paul said, coldly. “I know,” Chris said. “It’s not him. It’s your brother.” “What? Seriously?” “Has to be,” Chris said. “I did some digging. He’s very curious about what anyone knows about this jaguar, if anyone’s seen him before.” Paul shook his head. “He didn’t know. I know he didn’t. We left—we left when he was just a kid.” He swallowed. He thought about Aaron all the time, but he’d wondered for years if Aaron ever thought of them, if he forgave them for leaving.

He and Mom had talked about it, years later. If they’d done the right thing, if they should have brought Aaron with them. But Dad wouldn’t have stopped looking for them—ever—if they’d had Aaron. Dad would’ve been convinced that Aaron wouldn’t be a shifter—and he probably wasn’t—but— What if they’d done the wrong thing? “I think he wants to find you,” Chris said. “It sure looks that way.” “I don’t know,” Paul said. “How would I even start?” “You could always blame your mom,” Chris said. “Very funny.” “Hey, they’re the ones who left us.”

Chris smiled, a little sadly. “I blame stuff on being an orphan all the time.” “I just figured you blamed your bird brain.” “Ha, ha, you’re a riot,” he said. “He’s looking for you. You should reach out to him.” “Let me deal with the rest of my problems first?” Chris sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But the next time you tell me how much you miss your brother, you remember this.” He got out of the chair and went back to his desk, leaving Paul alone in the office. Paul got up and looked out the window at the city. What was he still doing here? He

wanted to be outdoors. He’d done well in the corporate world. Mom had always said for a jaguar, getting money was no trouble— that it would gravitate to him—and that had certainly been true. And there were plenty of things he liked about investing. He liked the competitiveness. He liked the people he worked with and the amount he could siphon off quietly to charity. But he was tired of the city. Spending more time in Salem Beach...it was time. Past time. For himself and for the company. And having Abby out there too, that would just make it better. As long as she kept her job. As

long as Salem Beach Now stayed around. If they’d hoped to get a boost from that exclusive interview with almost no content, they didn’t get what they’d bargained for. A little poking around the internet had revealed that #JoieDeInti was trending. And not in a good way. That Laura woman...what was wrong with her? The only consolation was that she’d sealed her own fate. Any further requests for interviews from her would be denied with lightning speed, and Chris would make sure that no PAs in Boston would even return her phone calls. Chris’s powers of spite were impressive even when it didn’t come to someone who had exploited his mother’s

death and messed with his best friend and his company. Hell, Paul would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he was angry with her too. Bad enough she’d lied to Chris back then. Now she’d lied to the woman he loved. His mate. Back in the old days, anyone who hurt the jaguar’s mate— But that was the old days. Hell, he was more English than Quechua, no matter what his instincts said. And he was in New England now, hiding half of who he was to all but his closest friends and other shifters. If Mom had been here— If Mom was here, she’d tell me to calm down and think, he realized. She

wouldn’t let me sulk like this. She’d tell me that I could complain all I wanted to but a real leader would make a plan. So that’s what I’ve got to do.

13 This isn’t running away, Abby told herself as she drove out to Whitefin Lake. This is just taking a break. She’d sent Paul a text asking for a raincheck. She just needed a night to herself. A little time to get her mind clear. Not running away. Totally not running away. The lake was nice, far enough inland that the water was clear, not brackish. Usually she went swimming, but she didn’t want to fuss with taking a suit and a towel. She just wanted out, and the sooner the better. She’d turned off her phone before she even got in the

car. She pulled in at the boat landing, took her car key off the hook and slipped it in her pocket before locking the door. She decided to walk the lakeside trail. It wasn’t that challenging, but it would keep her mind busy enough, and a lot of times she saw birds or other wildlife. Sunlight. Fresh air. Animals that weren’t from the South American jungle. No South Beach Times and no Laura Moore. Exactly what she needed. The lakeside trail didn’t go around the whole lake, only about half of it, but

that took a good half hour if you were just walking for fun. It was a nice day, sunny after yesterday’s downpour, and the rain had cooled things off a lot. She managed to focus on that for the first half or so of the walk. Then everything else started creeping in. Laura. Why was she so...mean? It was bad enough she insisted on credit for things she didn’t deserve, on all the best stories. This had been Abby’s. They’d asked for Abby. And she’d still stuck her byline on it. And changed Abby’s words! Her own words! It just wasn’t fair.

Sam had tried to warn her, but she’d been— Damn it, now she was thinking about Paul too. He’d trusted her and she’d let him down. She should have been more careful. She shouldn’t have given Laura a second alone with her copy, much less run off to make out with a billionaire. No matter how great he was. There was a rock on the trail, flat and round. Perfect skipping rock. She picked it up and aimed, trying to skim it across the lake. Instead, the damn thing dropped into the water like—well, like a rock. That just figured. Well, no way she’d see any ducks

or loons now, she’d probably scared them all off. It was still a nice day. A nice view. So nice she wanted to scream. You’re being foolish, she told herself. You could be out with Paul right now. Having a good time. Instead you’re out here sulking. She wanted to have a good time with Paul, though. She didn’t want him to have to cheer her up on their first real date, or make apologies for the mess at the paper. A night to herself would let her calm down, relax a little. She liked Paul. A lot. She didn’t want him to have to deal with her crappy mood this early in their.... Relationship?

Well, whatever it was. She’d figured she’d startled any animal off, but there was something in the underbrush just ahead of her. It looked like it might be struggling. A bird? She glimpsed feathers as she got closer. It looked like it might be a duck, or a Canadian goose. It had been hurt, or caught on something, maybe fishing line. It couldn’t fly, and it was getting increasingly distressed, though it stayed unusually silent. And then she saw another, second motion. Something was stalking the bird, getting closer and closer. She froze. Part of her wanted to help the bird, but she also knew better than to get in the way of

a coyote. They wouldn’t attack humans but if they were already headed to kill— The animal caught her eye— A jaguar. “Paul?” Abby blurted out, then realized that no, it wasn’t. The animal didn’t look quite the same; the markings were slightly different. Whatever the animal was, shifter or jaguar, it wasn’t Paul. Shit. She was alone in the woods with a strange jaguar. She couldn’t even be sure the animal was a shifter. Maybe it had escaped from someone’s personal zoo or something. She tried to remember what she knew about wild cats. Playing dead didn’t work, did it? No, they’d just play

with you like a house cat would. Instinct overrode anything else, and she turned and ran like hell for her car. She’d locked the door, but she managed to have her key in her hand. She didn’t bother looking behind her, she just leapt into the seat, started the engine, and went. What the hell had just happened? Had she— She’d said Paul’s name. If anyone was looking to find out who the mystery shifter was, she’d just told them. Damn it. She’d have to tell him. This was the worst day ever. Chris picked up Paul’s office phone. “Abby? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I just...I just needed some fresh air. Is Paul in?” “He left about a half hour ago, do you need him?” “I...I’ll call his cell,” she said. “He’s not angry,” Chris said. “He’s worried about you.” “He doesn’t need to be.” I can take care of myself. “I’ve got some ideas, if you’re looking for the best way to take revenge.” “She—what did she do to you?” His grudge had seemed personal. Intimate. “I...when my mother died she—she turned it into an exclusive. That’s the best way to put it.”

“The plane crash,” she remembered. “The plane crash.” He sighed. “I thought I was giving her my revenge with that story, and instead she turned everything against you. I’m really the one who needs to be apologizing.” “You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “This is...just how she works. You only got it once, but I’ve worked with her for years. She’s a master at this stuff, she really is.” And Abby was starting to feel like she was too tired to play her stupid games. There were other towns, other papers. Sure, she loved her work, and she’d miss her friends—especially Tina—but maybe it wasn’t worth trying to swim upstream any more. Whatever

she did, Laura came out on top. The better job, the better headlines, all of it. “I’m not sure Paul quite gave you the full picture,” Chris said. “See, you seem like a lovely woman. Smart, kind, all those good things. Me, I’m a vindictive, evil son of a bitch. I’ll find it. Whatever her weakness is, I’ll find it. And I’ll crush her.” His tone was light, but she believed him. “Well...if I can help, let me know.” “Oh, I will,” Chris said, warmly. A light went on in the back of her mind. “Look, I—while we’re talking about that. All that stuff on the USB drive, the stuff about the waste disposal —did she use any of that in the article?” His laugh was bitter. “Of course

she didn’t. Do you want it? I’ll give it all to you if you promise to shop it to another publication. You don’t have, like, a non-compete or anything, do you?” “No,” she said. The light was burning bright now. “I can freelance. You said a good reporter could get a great article out of it—” “You could,” he said. “I’ve read your other stuff. I’ll email it all to— wait, do I have your personal email?” “You can send it to my TransferBox,” she said, and gave him her username. “Thank you.” “No, Ms. Abby,” he said. “Thank you. You’ll be Phase One of my revenge campaign, and I couldn’t be more

grateful.” “Well, I’d—I’d better call Paul,” she said. “I’ll look forward to getting that stuff.” “You’ll have it within the hour,” he promised. “Have a good night.” Well, time to bite the bullet, she thought, and sent a text to Paul. When you have a second, can we talk? The phone rang in her hand almost immediately. “Abby,” he said. “You didn’t change your mind about dinner, did you?” “It’s—I might have told someone who you were. That you were—you know. Can you talk?”

“Yes, of course—what—what do you mean?” She explained what she’d seen. What she’d said. “I just—I blurted it out,” she said. “I didn’t even think—” “Well,” he said. “I can’t really blame you. Two jaguars in two days. I might’ve done the same thing.” “Really?” “Well, um,” he said, “if I wasn’t a jaguar? We can...tell, pretty quickly. But I totally called a CEO the wrong name last week, if it’s any consolation.” “Are you going to be safe?” “Well,” he said, his voice even and serious, “Whoever it was would presumably have as much to lose as I would, and you only said my first name.

I won’t say I’m totally unconcerned, but it’s not like you handed some guy on the street my name and address and said I was a shifter.” “I guess not,” she said. “But I’m still—I can’t believe I did it.” “Don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “I’m glad you told me. Still taking a raincheck on dinner? I still haven’t eaten, if you’re up to it.” “I’ll be better company tomorrow,” she said. “If that’s okay.” “I don’t mind waiting,” he said. His voice was so warm she felt her own body warming. “Well...good,” she said. “Same time would be all right, if that works for you.”

“That sounds perfect. Should I come pick you up? At your apartment?” “Sure,” she stammered. “That’d be great. I’ve got a story to work on tonight anyway.” And I need to figure out who to sell it to.

14 “So she didn’t describe the jaguar at all,” Chris said. Paul shrugged. “She said it was a jaguar, and she realized it wasn’t me right away. Then she got out of there. Can’t say I blame her. I wouldn’t want to stick around for follow-up questions after that.” He smiled at Chris. “Not everyone can do what you do.” “Well, we all know that,” Chris said with a grin. “More seriously, there’s not much I can do. Nothing’s come up on my Google alerts aside from the stuff about the rescue. I’ll keep checking the blogs that don’t show up on Google, but...there just isn’t much, and I

wouldn’t expect there to be. No one’s going to start bragging about seeing another shifter, even if they do think it’s you. I’ll let you know if there’s a spike in traffic on the website or your social media.” “It won’t be from that Salem Beach Now article.” Chris snorted. “You can say that again.” “I should go out there,” Paul said. “See if I can pick up any scents. At least I’d know better what I was dealing with.” “You shouldn’t go alone.” “Oh, I was planning on taking you with me.” He gestured upward. “I’ll need that eye in the sky.”

“We have a meeting in half an hour about the Nygard initiative.” “After that, then,” he said. “I don’t want the scent to fade too much.” “No,” Chris said. “But if you want people to look at you funny, running off into the woods for no reason...that’ll do it.” “We’ll just leave early,” he said. “We’ve done that before.” “And we’ll do it again,” Chris said, going back out of Paul’s office. He paused at the door. “Do you think your father—do you think you’ll have any problems with him?” “He’ll see the article,” Paul said. “But I don’t think he’s going to do anything about it, if that’s what you’re

asking.” Mom had said that his father had made his opinions on shifters very, very clear. Paul doubted anything had happened to change his mind. Maybe he missed his elder son, but if he did, he’d done nothing to reach out, or even indicate that he’d had an elder son. Father had written Paul out of his life, and Paul doubted either headline in Salem Beach Now would change his mind. “And your brother?” “I don’t even know if Aaron remembers me,” Paul said. Aaron was five years younger. Who knew what he’d remember? He’d probably remember his mother and brother abandoning him. We should have brought him with

us, Paul thought, not for the first time. Mom had wanted to keep both her sons safe, and she’d thought splitting them up was the best way to do that. If she’d taken Aaron, Father would have tried to find them. Probably pulled out all the stops, maybe even exposing them both as shifters. “We disappeared so we could be free,” Mom had said, the only time they’d really talked about it. “So you could be safe. And I could—he realized, when he knew you could change, that I could, too. He knew you were his son— at least he never doubted that.” It had always seemed like cold comfort to Paul. It had made Paul cynical, more

cynical than he’d realized at first. He didn’t believe any of the stories his mother had told him about shifters finding their mates. He didn’t even believe her hopes that she could find love again. He’d hated every man she’d gone on a date with. Probably screwed more than one relationship up for her, he’d understood years later. But that had all been before Abby. There was something else he felt when he talked to Abby, a passion he felt down, deep into his bones. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, curvy, funny. It wasn’t just that she was smart and capable. There was something inside her that drew him like a magnet. That was the kind of woman you

could believe in. That you could imagine spending the rest of your life with. That he wanted to spend his life with. He supposed it would be premature to propose on their first real date. Maybe they could walk by a jewelry store and see what she liked for rings— He had a meeting in half an hour. He should really be preparing for that. He buzzed Chris. “Are we ready for that Nygard meeting?” Chris sounded amused. “Daydreaming in your office again?” “Just...are we ready? What do I need to know?” “Come out here and I’ll brief you,” Chris said. “I’m still fixing the agenda.”

The Nygard meeting was tedious, but it went quickly, and he drove Chris out to the park. “So you want me to be eyes up?” Chris said. “Is there anywhere there we could change?” “I’m not sure,” Paul said. “Port-apotties, maybe. I’m just hoping it’ll be as quiet as Abby says it is.” His sense of smell wasn’t really much different than a human’s when he was in human form. If he couldn’t change, there wouldn’t be much value in even going out there. There was no one else at the park, but no port-a-potties, either. They shed their clothes in the back of the car and left the windows open. Chris went out first, his wings skimming the edges of

the windows. Paul could tell as soon as he changed that the other cat was long gone. But still, going out on the path would let him have a better picture. He could easily smell Abby’s rich, lovely scent, and he used that as his guideline. One his paws began tracing Abby’s steps, he let his nose look for the panther. He found its scent trace easily enough, and he knew immediately the animal had been a fellow shifter, not a runaway from a private home or a zoo. The jaguar was a male, and an adult, though Paul suspected he wasn’t very old—the scent he could pick up had none of the telltale signs of age. Chris soared overhead, riding the

wind currents. It wasn’t often they got out together like this. They spent so much of their time at the office. Here was where Abby and the jaguar had met—almost running into each other, really, and there’d been a terrified duck in the mix, too. Both of them had turned back in opposite directions—that was a good sign, Paul thought, that the shifter hadn’t wanted to hurt or scare Abby. Now he just wanted to try to figure out who the shifter was and what they’d wanted in the first place. The smell was a little familiar, but nothing Paul could place. There were the usual smells of modern life—automobile exhaust, metal, fabric and what smelled

like fast food. He started following the animal’s path, which followed the lakeside trail. Whoever the shifter had been, he’d been careful. He hadn’t scent marked at all, not even rubbed his sides against a rock on the trail. Was he hoping to run into Abby? Or just hoping not to be noticed? The scent trail ran out at the edge of the water, where the jaguar had slipped in. Had he emerged in jaguar form or human? Paul decided that he’d better cover as much of the lakeshore as he could. There could be more hints, more scent, something he’d be able to recognize. Shifters needed to stick together...but only if they could trust one

another. He’d need to know a lot more about this stranger first. Maybe Chris had seen something in the air. When he’d made the full trip around the public areas of the lake, with no further scent of jaguar, he slunk back to his car, jumping through the window. No sign of Chris yet, which either meant he’d seen something, or he just didn’t want both of them vulnerable at the same time. Paul pulled his pants and underwear back on. He should have asked Abby to meet them there. Not only would they have gotten her memories, he would’ve had the chance to see her again.

Maybe pull her close. Lose his senses in her hair, her scent. His reverie was interrupted by Chris, diving in through the window. “People coming,” he panted. “Drive.” “Um, okay,” he said, and jumped into the front seat. He started the car. “Can we just pull out here?” “Yeah,” Chris said. He was crouched down in the back. “Just go, I’ll get my jeans on.” Paul grinned in spite of himself. “We get caught, we’ll be dealing with a whole different scandal.” “Does she know about me?” “Of course not,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot just as a black sedan with Michigan plates pulled in.

“That’s your secret to tell.” “She’s your mate, we can trust her.” “Besides, she might not believe me.” “The big animals get all the press,” Chris said, popping up in the back seat of the car and zipping up his jeans. “We’re just as tough as you guys.” “Of course you are,” Paul said, and he really didn’t mean it to sound as condescending as it actually sounded. But in his defense, Chris in his shifted form wasn’t much more than a mouthful to a jaguar. A pointy mouthful with a lot of attitude, sure, but— “One of these days,” Chris muttered, “I’m going to divebomb your head, and then where will you be?”

Paul smirked. “Annoyed.” “Big talk,” Chris said. “Big talk.” “What did you think of the car?” “Looked like tourists,” he said. “It’s a rental, I don’t know if you realized.” Jaguars might be more powerful, but it was hard to beat the sharp eyes of a hawk. “How could you even tell?” “Trade secret.” He winked. “They had a bunch of stuff in the back, looked like suitcases. I don’t think they’re your panther, though I couldn’t say for sure. I can swing back and check if you want to stop in half a mile or so.” “They might spot you.” “I look enough like the local birds, no one’s going to notice. If they do, well,

we’ll know what we’re dealing with, right?” “All right,” he said. “But be careful.” “Always,” Chris said. He turned the radio on after Chris left. It was nice to have a little time to himself to think about all that had happened. He’d found his mate, and there was the chance there was another jaguar shifter out there. He hadn’t really had any others to talk to since Mom died. He and Chris had shifter friends who understood to some extent, and Chris’s family was great, but none of them were cats, and it wasn’t quite the same.

There was a brief mention of the company in business news, but it was about the possibility of it going public, nothing to do with the Salem Beach Now profile. The business wasn’t going public any time soon—probably ever—but Paul supposed the speculation kept Inti in the headlines. Keeping the business successful had been his primary focus— honestly, his only focus—for so long. That would have to change. He needed to make time for his friends. A wife. Chris had told him over and over again to remember there was more to life than Inti, but he’d wanted to prove his worth. To his father, to himself. And what kind of partner would he be if he could only

bring a struggling business to the marriage? Mom had been incredibly savvy, and she’d worn her own gold with her wedding gown. Paul had inherited that pride. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Waiting was boring. He’d rather be out, being active, doing something. He was staring out the window, looking for Chris, when he felt it. Fear. Pure, uncut fear, worse than when he’d felt years ago when he’d first learned Mom’s plane had dropped off radar. Something was wrong. It was Abby. His mate. She was scared. In danger? Chris was still wheeling around

above. They’d worked out a signal years ago, but he still didn’t like leaving his friend alone. The panic crept along his spine again. Go. Take care of her. Now. He reached into the glove compartment and found the bright greenand-yellow ribbon they’d chosen years ago. He pulled it out and threw it out the driver’s side window, letting it unspool as it flew. Chris would see the color and know Paul would come back for him. Sharp hawk’s eyes counted for a lot. Paul started the car and headed for Abby’s apartment.

15 To Abby’s relief, the article was an easy sell. There was still a lot of mystery around Inti and a peek inside an innovative recycling system would make a great feature. The Boston Common wanted to run a full feature in the Sunday edition; all she’d need to do was stop by and take a few more pictures of her own. Best of all, the money they offered was great. Maybe she could buy that new purse she’d had her eye on at the shop across the street from the office. She managed to channel all her frustration from the day into writing the article, though at first it wasn’t easy to focus. She couldn’t stop thinking about

that jaguar out at the lake. Would Paul be all right? He’d said he was going out there, and he should be fine. Any guy who could turn into a jaguar would be perfectly fine. It was ridiculous to worry about him. She moved her attention to Inti. Paul was clearly a brilliant investor, but he also really seemed to care about his employees. Environmental policy had also been a cornerstone of Inti’s work. Made sense, she guessed. Of course a jaguar shifter would care deeply about the natural world. And the innovations they made at their corporate warehouse could set a standard for the rest of the industry. “You don’t have to be a

manufacturer to make huge strides in using less and saving more,” he’d told her. She used that quote as her leading paragraph. It gave a better idea of who Paul really was than Laura’s whole butchery of her article did. She didn’t have to resort to cheating to have a great story. Her own work would prove that. She was well into the zone by the time she finished the final paragraph. She printed it out to look over the draft. She felt completely confident about her work. The writing had flowed so well. She sorted through the pens at her desk, trying to find her favorite red one. She’d put it on there at one point—had it rolled off?

She was under the desk looking for the damn thing when she heard a knock at the door. “Coming,” she called. Was it Paul? A little part of her hoped he had come to see her anyway, no matter what she’d said. Even though she’d probably be annoyed with him if it was really him. Well, who said love had to be rational, right? She didn’t have a chain or a peephole. The neighborhood was safe and she’d always had good neighbors, the kind of people who’d come running if they thought anything was wrong. She didn’t recognize the man in the suit. He was tall, a little taller than Paul, with gray hair and steel blue eyes. “Miss Bailey?”

“Um, yes. What is—can I help you?” “I certainly hope so.” His smile was warm, but it was a false warm. “May I come in? I’d like to speak with you about something...a bit personal.” “What?” “A mutual friend of ours,” he said. “Paul.” Paul? “Do you mean Paul Larson? I did an interview with him earlier in the week.” Was this man the shifter she’d seen earlier? Maybe this man was someone Paul would want to know. Even if he wasn’t, she wasn’t sure she could tell him no without rousing even more suspicion. She stepped back and let him in.

“Well,” he said, stepping forward, a little too close. “That’s what I’d like to talk with you about.” He extended his hand. I’m Abe Garner. I work at Brisbane Chemical, and we’ve had trouble with an environmental terrorist near our site.” Abby shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Garner. I really don’t know what that would have to do with me. Or Mr. Larson.” “Our property borders the Whitefin Lake territory. An animal—a jaguar— has been caught on camera in conjunction with several acts of sabotage. Acts that could potentially harm the lake.” “I don’t know anything about that,”

she said. “We’ve increased security as a result of this,” he continued. “Video, audio surveillance. They’re pretty sensitive.” He was well into her space. She wanted to back away from him, but she wouldn’t. Whatever he was trying to say, it wouldn’t look good if she started backing down. “I’m still really not sure what this has to do with me.” “You were at the site today,” he said. “Our audio surveillance caught you saying a name, just as the jaguar appeared. ‘Paul.’” This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. “I know a lot of Pauls,” she said. “And that’s public property you’re

recording on. Not yours.” Her mind was whirring. What exactly had Brisbane been up to? A legitimate company would call the cops. Not track her down like this. “We’re within our rights to capture anything within a reasonable distance on public property,” he said. “The lake is public property. That’s why we’re concerned about this individual—” “If you have an accusation to make, go ahead and make it,” she said. It was maybe a little stupidly brave, but she still felt good about saying it. He wasn’t pretending to be warm any more. His jaw was set and his eyes were cold. “You know Paul Larson,” he said. “He’s one of our competitors. He

could easily be the person making our lives difficult...and if you know his secret, you can easily be a person who could persuade him to stop.” “This is—” She shook her head. “I don’t understand what you think you want from me. And I don’t think I can give it to you.” “I think you can,” he said. He opened his suit coat and she could see the butt of his gun showing. “Now, it’s customary to warn you not to scream at this point,” he said. “I won’t kill you— you’re too useful to me for that—but I can make things very, very painful for you.” She had no doubt from his voice that he was sure he could do just that.

It felt like she was caught in some kind of nightmare. Who was this man? She’d heard plenty of rumors about Brisbane Chemical, but she hadn’t ever imagined they’d hire the kind of people who would pull guns on people. Who the hell would do that? This couldn’t be real. Maybe it was a stunt. Maybe Tina had hired a stripper? No, that was ridiculous. Tina wouldn’t—even if she had, she wouldn’t know all this— “Now,” he said. “You’re going to come with me, and we’re going to talk. And then we’ll have a little chat with your jaguar friend.” She stepped back, out of instinct

more than anything else, and he grabbed her arm before her foot hit the floor. He was fast, and his grip was tight. “Right now,” he said. “We’re going down the stairs, and out the back door. Remember. No screaming. No trying any tricks. Where’s your phone?” “I don’t remember,” she lied. “I put it down, somewhere.” “Guess I’ll have to check your pockets,” he said, pulling her closer. “Just to be sure.” “I—it might be by my desk,” she stammered. She didn’t want this creep touching her at all. He glanced over. “That better be your only phone,” he snarled. “Or you’ll have a lot more problems than you’re

planning on.” “It—it is,” she said. She sure wasn’t going to lie to him about that. He dragged her toward the door. “Can I put my shoes on?” “Just keep moving,” he said. “You’ll be fine.” She was going to be murdered, and she was going to be murdered in her bare feet. It shouldn’t bother her, it should be the least of her problems, but damn it, she wanted at least to have a nice pair of flats on. He started pulling her through the door. “Don’t slow down,” he warned, “or there’s going to be a problem.” Her heart was pounding. This can’t be real, she thought. This can’t be

happening. But it felt real enough. “I should shut my door,” she said. “Someone might think—” He kicked the door viciously shut. “No more from you,” he said. “Not until we’re in the car.” What would you do if I did scream? He probably could think of a lot of ways to hurt her. He didn’t seem particularly imaginative, but you didn’t need imagination when it came to making people hurt. She knew that well enough. He had the gun pressed to the small of her back. “Keep moving,” he said. “Don’t hesitate or it’ll cost you.” She nodded. She hoped the back stairs were clean. Bad enough she was

going to die. She didn’t need to die with a cut on her foot. They walked toward the door. Abby could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She was going to die in bare feet for a jaguar shifter she didn’t even know. She could laugh if she didn’t want to cry so much. “Open it,” the man commanded when they reached the door. She turned the knob of the heavy metal door. The stairs looked...well, no dirtier than usual. She’d have to settle for that. “You first,” he said. She took a step onto the landing and something happened behind her. The gun that had been pressed into her back was

suddenly gone. And then— She heard the man cry out. She spun around. What had just happened? Paul had just happened. He was in jaguar form, pinning the man down, thick, powerful claws sunk into the arm that had held the gun. The gun itself was now on the floor. She grabbed it. She couldn’t call him by name. The man already suspected way too much about Paul. “I—I don’t know who you are,” she stammered. “But—but if you can understand me, keep him there. I’m going to call the police.” She ran back to her apartment and called 911.

Paul had moved so quietly. She hadn’t heard anything at all. But that was what a cat did, wasn’t it? They watched and waited in the shadows. Whoever this guy was, he hadn’t suspected a thing. She felt a surge of admiration for Paul. He’d done more than just protect her—he’d done it without hurting anyone. Well, maybe the man’s arm hurt. But he kind of deserved that. Paul was still sitting on the man when she came back, as content as a cat guarding a favorite toy. “When you hear the sirens,” she said. “You should go. He says there’s been a jaguar around messing with their stuff. He might accuse you of—I don’t

know. Doing whatever he’s angry about. Just go, so you’ll be safe.” “It’ll be your word against mine, then,” the man said. Paul shifted his weight and put a paw directly on the man’s throat. “So I just randomly picked a man up off the street, stole his gun, and accused him of trying to kidnap me?” She shook her head. “Do you really think that’ll work?” Now that the crisis was over, she could breathe more normally. Think more normally. “No. You came here, you threatened me, and you were ready to do—I don’t even know what. No one’s going to believe you. But they might be really interested in what you told me about that jaguar, and what he

was doing. They might want to take a careful look at that company of yours.” Maybe she didn’t know the second jaguar, but she could guess. There’d been an investigation of Brisbane a while back. That cat was looking for something. Maybe he’d even found it. And Abby would bet cold hard cash that it wasn’t anything good. “No,” the man said. “No one’s gonna believe you when I’m done. We’ve got plenty of lawyers who’ll make you look like a cheap, desperate fame whore. You work for this tiny little paper, probably were ready to make anything up for a scoop—” His words cut off with a choking sound. Paul must have been pressing

harder against his throat. “You can tell the cops whatever you want,” Abby said. “I don’t think I’m the one who’s going to come off badly.” She could hear the police sirens in the distance. They were coming fast. No big surprise after what she’d told them. She looked at the jaguar. “You’d better go.” Paul shook his head. She could read his body language: Not yet. She didn’t want him to risk discovery. But she couldn’t deny she felt safer with him pinning this guy down. “All right,” she said. “But...don’t stay too long, whoever you are.” Paul made...well, it was almost a chirruping sound, like a housecat would

make when it was saying hello. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. “You’re working with it,” the man said. “You’ve been—” Another strangling sound. “Don’t kill him!” Abby squeaked. She wanted to know what he’d been doing. What Brisbane had been doing. Paul paused for a second, then darted away like—well, like a cat. Abby could already hear the officers in the building. Abby held the gun on the man, who immediately put a hand up to his throat. It looked like it was already starting to bruise. “Don’t move,” she said. Could she shoot him if she had to? After what he’d done to her,

probably. Maybe in the kneecap or something. They did that in the movies. The door to the back stairwell opened, and a man in uniform came through. It was Gary, one of the patrol officers—he must have been closest. What a relief. “Thank goodness,” she said, and started lowering her gun. “Abby?” he said. He looked flabbergasted. “Hi,” she managed. “This man—” The man had gotten to his knees while she’d been distracted—she’d let her guard down!—and moved toward Gary. “No,” she said, and pulled the

trigger.

16 Paul was already in the woods when he heard the shot. His whole body tensed. Was she— No. She was still alive, he could sense it. And he could sense no danger, not any more. The police must have things under control. He’d wait until they left and get his clothes and phone. The smarter choice would be to wait until dark, but he’d left Chris flying around the park, and while Chris could hang out for a long time, Paul didn’t want to leave him that long. At least his jaguar’s coat kept him safely hidden most of the time. And it was

amazing how you could slip by people when they weren’t actively looking for a jaguar. First he had to see Abby leave that building. He had to watch the police pull out—after all, they would be looking for a jaguar. Until he saw her in one piece, he wouldn’t, couldn’t believe that she was safe. He had to be sure; his instincts weren’t enough. He needed the proof of his senses. Needed to see her face. What had happened? The man had smelled strange. Chemical. Toxic. Paul hadn’t recognized his scent, but he didn’t often encounter people in both jaguar and human forms. It wasn’t easy to compare.

A sudden movement hit the corner of his eye. A bird, a big one—usually big birds knew better than to— Oh. Chris fluttered next to him, shook his feathers out, and turned human. “So,” he said. “I won’t stay here long, but I know you’ll understand me like this. She okay?” “Safe,” he tried to say, and remembered he was still a cat. He settled for inclining his head. “Where’d you park the car? I could change. Might be easier than standing out here naked.” Paul shook his head. He couldn’t change yet. Not until Abby was safe. And Chris didn’t speak panther in bird

or human form. “Right,” Chris said. “Anyway, when you can talk we...we have stuff to talk about. I think I found out why people cared so much about that lake. Maybe why Abby’s in danger.” Paul turned, just a little to Chris, hoping Chris would get the hint. “You’re probably not going to be surprised when the words ‘Brisbane Chemical’ come up.” No. That would explain the smell. The back door to Abby’s apartment building opened, and Chris changed in a ruffle of feathers, flew up into the tree above Paul’s head. The man came out first in handcuffs, a uniformed police officer on

either side. Then Abby followed. Her heart was still pounding, but she was safe, and she was calmer than he’d been when he’d come to rescue her. She’d be all right. She looked over, into the woods. Almost like she could see him through the trees. She was his mate. Maybe she could. He lowered his eyes toward her, then caught himself again. She might be your mate, but she’s still a human. She won’t see it. She probably wouldn’t understand it if she could. He couldn’t smell the gunpowder from there, but he knew it was there. Her

shot had gone wide, fortunately, but it’d certainly stopped the man from trying anything further. She’d be with the police for a while. He needed to get back to the car, back to his phone, to tell her he was safe, offer her— Offer her anything she needed. At least Chris’s clothes would be in the car, though he should probably wait to change until they were away from Abby’s building, just in case. It would be suspicious enough when Paul snuck back to the car and threw his clothes back on. “Did we really have to go this far

back before you’d let me change? I’m starving now,” Chris said. Flying burned a lot of calories. “Can we hit McDonald’s or something?” “Yeah,” Paul said. Maybe he’d gone a little on the far side. But it was important that Chris be safe too. “But there’s an energy bar in the glove compartment for now.” “You’re a lifesaver.” “So tell me what you saw at the lake.” “Our friends at Brisbane are up to something,” Chris said. “I’ve been looking around at their storage facilities, and there’s a sheen on the water there. Chemical. I think something’s leaking. Maybe intentionally. It’s pretty quiet out

there.” He took another bite of the bar— it was already halfway gone—and chewed for a second. “I bet you’ll be able to smell it. All I’ve got out there are my eyes.” Like any bird, when Chris was shifted, he couldn’t smell a damn thing. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and the other cat will be out there waiting for us.” “And want to be buddies?” Chris rolled his eyes. “I admire your optimism.” “Hey,” Paul said. “We’re friends, right?” They’d been friends since the day they met, both of them smarting from their losses. Paul had always wondered if what exactly it was they’d sensed in

each other, aside from that shared grief. Was it just that they were both shifters? Their shared heritage? They had a lot in common, though Chris’s life had been completely different from his in a lot of ways. Chris’s mother had grown up working to keep her family fed, while Paul’s mom had been born to a family with status and privilege; Chris was surrounded by sisters, while Paul had lost the only family he had on the day of the accident; Chris went through boyfriends like a libertine, while Paul had only dated a little, waiting for someone as special as Abby. But those differences seemed small compared to what mattered. He’d never thought he’d feel that

kind of instant connection with anyone else. Then he’d met Abby. “So we’re gonna ask him to join our special shifter club?” Chris leaned back in the seat and grinned. “Might be a girl.” “Nah, he should be a guy. A hot one.” It had been a guy. But damned if he was going to tell Chris that. Chris had enough guys to keep himself distracted with. Paul’s phone buzzed. “See if that’s Abby,” he said. Chris picked his phone up. “Yeah, you want me to read it? Or should it be private?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Just read it, asshole.”

“She’s still at the station. She’ll be there a while longer. Wondering where you are.” “Go ahead and tell her we’re going out to the lake,” he said. “Tell her I can pick her up. I don’t want her to be alone.” “I bet you don’t,” Chris muttered, but he sent the text. He stretched a little in his seat. “Shit, I haven’t been naked this many times in a day since college.” “I don’t need to know that,” Paul chided. “Should I tell her you’re getting naked?” “I’d better not,” he said. “Someone’s looking for me. Or the other jaguar. I’d rather not change unless I

have to. The kind of people who send thugs after reporters normally keep more than one asshole on staff.” “True enough. So what, we walk? I won’t be able to tell you what I saw without pointing, and they’re definitely going to think it’s weird if you talk to a hawk. And it’s not like I’m a species you see around here. It’s fine if I keep to the skies, but I hang around too much, someone catches on. Especially at the park. More birdwatchers.” That was a good point. “You’ll be able to see it?” “Pretty sure,” he said. “I can explain if—” The car Paul had seen pulling in as he left was still at the park. “We’ll play

visitors,” he said. “I just got that apartment, we can be seeing the sights. Looking for the right place to kayak or something.” “You know how to kayak?” “No,” Chris said. “You do, though, right? You hike and all that shit.” “You hike, sometimes.” “Visiting home doesn’t count as ‘hiking.’ You’re doing that shit for fun.” Chris scratched the back of his neck. “Give me a nice climate-controlled gym any time.” He frowned at Paul’s phone. “Abby says the guy’s a known criminal, at least that’s what the cops are saying.” Paul took his phone back. You’re all right? After a second he added, this is Paul now.

Good, came the reply. I’m okay. A little shook up. Thank you. I’d do far more for you, he thought. No problem, he typed. I’d like to take you back to my place when you’re done. You’ll be safer. OK, she sent back, and he felt a wash of relief. That was the most important thing of all, keeping Abby safe. Everything else could wait, or be dealt with later. “All right,” he said, sliding his phone in his pocket. “Let’s take this nature walk. See what we can see before I have to pick up Abby.”

17 Paul picked her up from the police station. I don’t care if it looks suspicious, he wrote. I want to see you. Abby had to confess, she didn’t care either. She wanted to see Paul too. She wanted to be back in his arms. Her apartment felt dangerous, and she had to go back to finish the article. She’d done so much work. She couldn’t stop now. “You’re sure you need to submit this article,” Paul said, skeptically. “Yes,” she said. “I was almost done!” “That’s not the point,” he said. “Someone tried to kidnap you. You—” “The point is that I’ve worked my

—my ass off,” she said. “And I had a terrible night. And I at least want to get this story published.” “Okay,” he said. He shook his head. “If you’re sure.” “I’m sure,” she said. “Can you at least finish it at my apartment? Chris promised the wi-fi’s working and the furniture’s all there now.” That didn’t sound bad. Not bad at all. “If you insist,” she said. “I have to pick my stuff up first, though.” He pulled in. “Let me go in with you,” he said. “Please.” “All right,” she said. That sounded pretty good, honestly. For all she insisted on going back in, she wasn’t

really looking forward to it. And she definitely didn’t want to do it alone. They got out together and he put an arm on the small of her back as they walked to the building. It felt good. She felt safe. Even when she got to the door of her apartment. Even when her pulse jumped when she saw the laptop, just as she’d left it, her stack of papers. “I should find my pen,” she said. “I’ll buy you a pen,” he said. “Take what you can’t live without to get the article done, some clothes for tomorrow —but we don’t need to waste a lot of time here.” “Yes, sir,” she said. But he was right. She was distracted, not thinking about what was important. Paul could

keep her safe—she was sure of that—but she didn’t want to have him exposing his secret if she could help it. She went over to her closet and dug out her suitcase, threw in a pair of jeans she knew fit and some clean underwear. Shirts were trickier. She didn’t want to look too casual or too slutty. Just...pretty. Finally she settled on a light sweater and two nice short-sleeved shirts, plain colors, classic styling. No slogans or anything. She didn’t fuss this much over her clothes in her last job interview. She grinned at herself. You’re being ridiculous. “Nice to see you smile,” Paul said gently from her bedroom door, where

he’d been quietly hovering. “You have any medications, anything like that? I probably have a spare toothbrush, but if you want your own, I can grab it.” “I—thanks,” she said. “You’re...kind of rattled,” he said. “Let me help.” She took a look at her half-full suitcase. “Maybe...maybe you should,” she admitted. He came up and put an arm around her waist. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re pretty rattled. I’d only be surprised if you weren’t.” “That helps,” she said. He kissed her neck. “That’s what the mate bond’s supposed to be about. Comforting each other, even if it’s just

by being in the same room.” “Well, it’s working.” His hands felt warm, and his touch was calming. Well, not just calming, but calming would do for now. “You said you have a bed at this new place of yours? Sheets, all that stuff?” “I promise,” he said. “No, I just—I thought we could pack that stuff. If we needed to.” “So. Medications?” “No,” she said. “I mean, painkillers and stuff, but only when I need it.” Despite everything, she didn’t have a headache. She just felt a little shaky. “All right. I’ll get your toothbrush. Should I get your makeup?” “I can use what I’ve got in my bag,”

she said. She had some mascara in there and lipstick. She wouldn’t need more than that, at least for a little while. Most everything she’d need but clothes was in her bag. The toothbrush would be good, though. “I apologize,” Paul said, setting her bags down inside his apartment. “I haven’t moved in, really. Just had Chris set a few things up.” “Don’t apologize,” she said. Whatever he said, the apartment was beautiful. Abby had seen these apartments before, but only on the outside: they were the kind of expensive, remodeled places that commanded high

rent and normally went to weekenders, whether it was tourists or people like Paul, who worked in the city. There was a big, spacious main room with a thick-looking creamcolored couch. Leather? It looked sleek. Modern. There was a big blue Oriental rug covering most of the gleaming hardwood floor, and an old-fashioned armchair with blue brocade. It looked friendly and open. Her photo was leaning on the wall by the fireplace. “This is nice,” she said. “It’s not me yet,” he said. “Chris did a lot of it. I mean, he’s got good taste, don’t get me wrong. And he knows me pretty damn well.” “I’ve gotten that impression,” she

said. “I know, it’s weird,” he said. “No,” she said. “I’m glad. Tina and I are kind of the same way.” She’d had boyfriends who thought it was weird, how close she was to her best friend. But there was nothing wrong with having a friend you could rely on. Especially for people like her and Paul, who couldn’t rely on their families. Being in a new place helped. She felt like she could breathe a little easier. And Paul was there. Handsome. Strong. He’d kept her safe once and she was sure he could do it again. “So,” she said. “You told me you were going to tell me what was at the park.”

“I was,” he said. “We didn’t have to sneak around too much, it was kind of hiding in plain sight.” He pulled out his phone. “Actually, it might work out pretty well as a follow up to the story on Inti. Goofus versus Gallant, that sort of thing.” “What did they do?” “Pretty sure they’re dumping chemicals. Not sure if it’s outright dumping or just poor storage practice, but it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to the water. Between Chris and I, we saw a lot of the signs. Whoever that strange panther is, they must be getting close to proving it.” He showed her a picture. “See that on the water? The little scum there? Normally

that comes from decomposing leaves, but you can see the color isn’t right. It’s too thick, too, if you get close. And these storage containers are way too close to the water anyway, it’s got to be against regulation. It’s just no one’s been looking.” She looked. It did seem unusual. And it was pretty clear that the containers were too close to the water, even if they weren’t leaking. “There’s my next story, I guess,” she said. “Though I don’t think I’ll say anything about—what did you say? Goofus and Gallant?” “What, you never read Highlights?” What the hell was he talking about?

“Um...no?” “They’re—they’re like good idea, bad idea, I guess. Gallant does the right thing, and Goofus is a goofus.” “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll get into that,” she said. “I’ll...just let you look good by contrast.” She wanted to curl back up into his arms and stay there. But it was getting late, and she really needed to finish that article. “Um...where can I work?” “Wherever you want to,” he said. “Chris set up the wi-fi so the password —um. Well.” “Well?” He looked abashed. “‘Kitty2000’. No spaces.” “You’ll have to thank him,” she

said, walking over to the couch. “That’s the first laugh I’ve had since—you know.” “Do you want some company, or should I leave you to work?” The last thing she wanted was to be alone. “Please—please stay,” she said. “It won’t be that long, anyway.” “I won’t get bored, don’t worry. I am going to make some hot tea, though. Would you like some?” “Yes.” She sat down on the couch and pulled out her laptop. “Please. Thank you. For...for everything.” “You know you don’t have to thank me,” he said. “But you’re welcome. Any preference for tea?” “Something herbal, probably, so I

might be able to sleep tonight.” “It’s all right,” he said. “I bet I can get you to sleep.” He leered a little at her before disappearing into the kitchen. “Yeah, I...hope you can.” Back to work, she reminded herself. She was just lucky that the article was almost done. She hadn’t been short on distractions today. She was afraid being away from him would take away that feeling of safety, but she could hear him working in the kitchen, and that reassured her. He’s right there. You’re going to be all right. “Do you like cream and sugar?” he called from the kitchen. “Just a little sugar, please.” Soon, she was working on her

article, just as if she was at home. She heard the tea kettle whistle, but didn’t pay it much attention until Paul came in with two big blue pottery mugs full of tea. “You must like blue,” she said. “Cats don’t see colors like humans can,” he said. “I can see blues and greens better when I’m a cat, so I like to have them where I live. I keep more variety in the office, because there are a lot more people coming through than just shifters. You mind if I sit next to you?” “Of course not.” “I don’t want to be distracting,” he said, settling down next to her. “But I’d like to be here.” “You’re fine,” she said. “I’m

almost done, anyway.” “Good.” The tea was good. Warm and just sweet enough. Paul picked up his phone and started tapping at the screen. She took a final read of the article and carefully checked her email from the Boston Common before sending it off. There. Done. She’d finished work, and when she turned to her left, she could see Paul, playing something on his phone. It felt like the kind of night any couple might be having. So what if one of them was a jaguar and someone had tried to kidnap Abby earlier in the day, right? Normal. Everything was totally normal. Her hands were shaking.

“Abby,” Paul said. “Abby, are you —” He caught her in his arms just as she felt the tears in her eyes. “I’m all right,” she said. “I’m all right, I—it’s just—” She didn’t know what to say. “You’re safe now,” he said. “I’m here. It’s all going to be all right.” She kissed him. It felt just as good, just as right, as it had the first time. He pulled her closer, and she felt his warm, strong chest. You’ll keep me safe, she thought. I know you will. He was so strong. Even being in his arms told her that. But that was nothing compared to what he did next.

He scooped her up in his arms as easily as if he was lifting a bag of groceries. He kissed her cheek then carried her, bridal- style, to his bedroom. She laughed again. It felt good. It felt good just being close to him. He flicked the light on with his left hand, still holding her tight, then carefully placed her on the bed. There was a thick blue-green blanket on the bed, the color of the sea, almost. It was very soft. “You—you finished your article, right?” “I finished it!” She smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. He was an amazing kisser, and he tasted like honeyed tea. She wanted to stay here,

like this, forever. Lost in his touch. In his taste. He pulled her t-shirt over her head and started on her jeans—it was a relief to be free of the denim, to feel the warmth of his body. He was still wearing all his clothes, though. Let’s fix that. She reached out for him, tugging at his shirt —a nice collared polo. Light blue. Very money. But Paul looked even better when he pulled his shirt over his head. She let go of the shirt and traced his muscles, lightly, with her fingertips. He shivered. “You’re amazing,” he said. No one ever talked to her like this. “Yeah?” she asked, smiling up at him.

“Yeah,” he said, and dipped down for another kiss. It felt so good to have his skin against hers, his strong hands on her back, pulling her closer. She clung to him after they broke the kiss, wanting him closer, closer. “I guess this is all right,” he said, a little sheepishly. “More than all right.” She stretched out her legs and wrapped them around him. “This is exactly what I needed.” “Well.” His smile stretched out like the Cheshire Cat. “Then I better give you exactly what you need.” He moved, as quick as a cat could, and before Abby knew what was happening he had her legs balanced on his shoulders, and was mouthing at—

Mouthing at her panties. Oh. My. God. She couldn’t remember anyone who wanted to…consume her like this. Like he was trying to tease and devour her, all at once. Oh. She was going to melt. And he seemed to be loving every minute of it. His teeth grasped the fabric of her panties, and his tongue darted into her folds, teasing, tasting. Oh, that was good. Every motion of his tongue sent tiny shivers through her body. She could feel the heat rising in her, too quick, too soon. “Don’t—” she said— “if you do too much, I’ll—” She could hear him, feel him, laugh. “Are you sure? I don’t mind doing it

more than once.” Oh, it felt good. So good. But she wanted him inside her. “Please,” she said. “Please—” He pulled her panties off. His hands were so strong, so sure. “All right,” he said. “Do you want to—do you want to turn over?” God. God, she did. She nodded and rolled over onto her stomach, then pulled her knees up and got on all fours. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I can hardly believe you.” His hand landed on her thigh and stroked it, his hand so gentle and light she could hardly stand it. “Please,” she said again. She was burning; her whole body was burning, from her tight, hard

nipples to her throbbing cunt. “I need you.” She wanted him. All of him. Everything. “All right,” he said, sounding a little breathless himself. “Abby—” He slid into her, thick, hard, perfect. “Oh,” she said, because she couldn’t say anything else. Everything in her was focused on Paul. Paul moved inside her smoothly, but she could feel the strength that guided his every movement, every thrust. Every time he slid in all the way, she could feel the pressure against her clit, building and building from behind. By the time he slipped his hand to her clit, she was already dripping wet,

and every motion of his just drove her more and more wild. His fingers teased her clit lightly at first, then pressed tiny, almost delicate circles into her, and she wanted to scream. “You’re so gorgeous,” Paul whispered. “So wet, so tight—” Abby couldn’t speak. All she could do was want. Want more, want him deeper, harder. She moaned, and he seemed to understand what she wanted, needed. He thrust faster, harder, still so sure of himself, so strong, so good— Suddenly her whole body was shaking uncontrollably, a wave of sensation taking her from her head to her toes and back up again. She closed her

eyes and let the rest of her senses feel the wave, her body letting go of everything in a rush of ecstacy. She did her best to keep her hips up, her body tight around Paul, but too much was happening at once for her to remain focused on anything but the pleasure inside her. But that must have been enough for Paul. She could feel him coming inside her, his hips thrusting, his strong hands now gripping her hips. “Oh,” he cried out, and then, as he caught his breath, “I...oh, Abby.” “Hey,” she said, as they moved together, Paul sliding down and Abby turning so they could be side by side. He pulled her tightly into his arms.

“So...was it good for you?” He laughed. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he said, and kissed her dark hair.

18 He felt Abby’s breathing ease and slow, and after a little while she drifted off into sleep. That was good. She needed the rest. He wouldn’t be able to rest for a while, but that was all right. If Brisbane Chemical was the kind of company to send one thug after Abby, they might well send another one. Paul’s apartment was new enough that it might not even hit their radar. But the whole thing still made him nervous. Part of him wanted to shift and give the whole place a good smell, but he didn’t want to do that while Abby was asleep. She’d handled his transformations very

well, but she’d been through enough, she didn’t need to adjust to going to bed with a human and waking up to a jaguar. He thought of Mom’s necklace. She’d told him he needed to give it to his mate, when he found her. He’d been certain he never would, but he hadn’t minded. It had reminded him of her, of what she’d done to take care of him. He wondered if Aaron even remembered her. He’d been thinking a lot more about his baby brother lately. Maybe it was just because having Abby around made him think of family, brought all those memories back. He wasn’t going to let any children of his go through what he had. What Aaron probably had. Paul’s

memories of his father were fuzzy, but they were mostly of fear, of a strict, hard man. If only he knew the right way to reach out to him. Paul had changed his last name, but he was certain Father still knew who he was. And who knew what he would have told Aaron about him? About Mom and their family? “Hello, I’m your brother, don’t listen to anything our father says” was no way to begin a conversation. Or a relationship. Abby mumbled something in her sleep, and he smiled. It was nice, being next to her. Comfortable. He’d just moved in, but having Abby in his bed made the whole place feel like home. He stroked her dark hair. It was so soft. Like

silk. He should buy her a silk nightgown. A dark color. Purple, maybe? She looked lovely in purple. She looked lovely in any color. Maybe he should buy her a few silk nightgowns. A rainbow of colors. He could— A knock at the door interrupted his reverie, and for a fleeting instant he missed his apartment back in the city, with its efficient built-in security system. It might be fine. It might be Chris, checking in on them, though he would probably send a text first. And wait for an answer. Paul got up and pulled his pants on. Whoever it was, they were still there.

“What—what is it?” Damn it. Whoever it was, they’d woken up Abby. “Someone at the door,” he answered, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. “You just sit tight.” “We told the police I’d be here,” she said. “It might just be—” The knock came again, a little louder. “Get your clothes on, just in case,” he said. “But don’t come out.” “All right,” she agreed. He grabbed his phone as he walked toward the door. No messages. That could mean anything, but probably nothing good. No peephole at this place, either.

He let the human step back and the cat step forward and took a sniff. No, that’s not possible— Two scents, one recent, one just a memory, flooded together, and he slid the deadbolt back and opened the door. The man standing in front of him was tall, dark-haired, and so familiar it felt like a punch in the gut. “I was hoping,” Aaron said. “But I wasn’t sure it’d be you.” Paul threw his arms around his brother, unable to speak. The panther at the park. It’d been him. Of course it’d been him. He felt like a fool. “I’m so glad,” Aaron said. “I—I missed you so much.” “Mom was sure—” he managed to

stammer. “She was sure you were human. If—if she’d known—” “Dad said she hated me,” Aaron said. “But I didn’t think it was true. I never thought it was true.” “She loved you,” Paul said. “She loved you so much. I—” He stepped back. He hadn’t seen Aaron’s face outside a magazine since...well, it felt like forever. “I love you too. I can’t believe you’re here.” “I always wanted—I thought, maybe I should just pick up the phone, call him, you know? But I was afraid. I was so afraid—” “He was wrong,” Paul said. “Wrong about her, wrong about me. He —he found out about me, and then he

found out about her, and she...she just ran. Ran from Dad, and thought he’d chase after us harder if we took you along.” Aaron had tears in his eyes. Hell, Paul did too. “And she was sure you were human, all human, like Dad. You looked so much like him, and she said it’s really rare to have one shifter in a mixed family, much less two.” “There’s two,” Aaron said softly. “Oh, man, I’m so glad it’s you. There’s so much I want to—” “Wait,” Abby said from the bedroom door. “Wait just a second—this is your brother?” “I’m his brother,” Aaron said. “Um, sorry about how we met.” “And this is Abby, my mate,” Paul

said. “Someone came looking for you tonight at her place.” “I’m sorry about that too,” Aaron said. “That’s actually why I’m here.”

19 Paul had called her his mate. There were a thousand other thoughts in her mind—about Brisbane Chemical, about what Aaron’s brother had been doing to investigate them, about Paul and Aaron’s relationship, about their father—okay, maybe more than a thousand thoughts—but above all that, more important than any of that, was Paul introducing her as his mate. His mate. He’d said something about it, and she’d half-believed it, but that had been when they were alone together. Abby knew from hard experience not to listen to what guys said in private until they

owned up to it in public, too. But here he was, owning up to it in front of his brother. His brother who shared the same secret. “Um, I think there’s tea,” she said. “I can...get some around anyway.” “Any we have left over is ice cold by now,” Paul said. “I’ll start a new pot.” They needed some time to themselves, though the best she could do was go into the kitchen and heat up some water. She dumped the old water out and put new cold water in; she didn’t make tea that often, but the ritual was soothing right now. She even found a ceramic teapot in the cupboard—it had a beautiful blue-green glaze she’d have to thank Chris for later—and put some

teabags in. She went with caffeinated. She had a suspicion that they’d be up for a while. She’d wanted to leave them their privacy, but she couldn’t help listening a little as they talked. “We don’t have a lot of time,” Aaron said. “The faster the word gets out the sooner Abby’s safe, so that’s fine with me—” She took the old cups and put them in the dishwasher; she couldn’t remember which of them had which. It didn’t really matter (after all, she was his mate, right?), but it gave her something to do while she was busy not listening.

“—doing it for years—” “—she’s got great research skills, you should see what she—” The second jaguar had been Aaron. And he was sorry he’d scared her! She shook her head. This whole thing was so strange. It was like she’d walked into a whole new world the second she opened the door to Paul’s office. She wiped the counter down, but there really wasn’t much else to do. Paul did a good job picking up after himself. Paul was on the couch talking when she gave up and walked back into the living room. “You’ll have to meet him,” he was saying. ‘When he’s human. He said he thought he had eyes on you at one point, but—”

“Yeah, I work pretty hard to blend in.” Aaron was sitting on the big armchair, his knees turned toward his brother. “I do all right, for self-taught. I did know a woman—well,” he shrugged. “That was years ago. Knew she wasn’t going to be my mate, felt it, but...it was still hard to let her go. Go back to being the only one.” “You’re not the only one now,” Paul said. “You’ll never be the only one again. We know plenty of shifters. Kind of got a little underground going.” “‘We’?” Abby asked. “Well,” Paul said. “He said I could tell you, so I guess I will. Chris and I— we don’t just have that plane crash in common. He’s a shifter, too.”

“A cat?” Paul laughed. “A bird. But a big one, a hawk.” She tried to picture Chris turning into a hawk. He certainly had enough energy to fly, she’d believe that. “Wow.” “And he’s South American, like we are?” Aaron asked. “More than we are. Mom was half Spanish. Both Chris’s parents were Quechua—she was a doctor, went to medical school in the States and stayed here until his dad died; that was cancer. Then she went back home, but Chris stayed up here for college and never left. She still came up to visit him, or he’d go down—probably just a coincidence that she was on the flight, not him.”

“Pretty big coincidence,” Aaron said. “Yeah,” Paul said. He looked over at Abby and stretched his arm out. “Come on, there’s plenty of room for you.” “Well,” she said. “If you insist.” She smiled a little and settled down into his embrace, enjoying that feeling of belonging she got every time she touched him. “Aaron’s got a hell of a story for you.” “It’s not much of a story, honestly,” Aaron said. “Just a lot of suspicions. Well, it was a lot of suspicions until they went after you. That...that’s a little hard to dismiss as just my imagination.”

“I’d say,” she said. “How did you track me down?” “I googled a bunch of local papers and found your picture online,” he said. “Then I knew who you were, and I knew you’d called me ‘Paul,’ which—that’s my brother’s name, you know? I didn’t figure the odds of there being another panther shifter around here with the name Paul who didn’t look like me were very high.” He sat like Paul too, poised like the panther he was. “I tried your apartment, but I saw about half a dozen police cars, so I didn’t figure I should go knocking on your door. So...I called in a couple of favors. Figured out that Paul had rented some property here, and figured—” He shrugged. “Worst case

scenario, I’d say, ‘whoops, wrong address.’” He shrugged. “I changed outside your parking lot, and I knew the smells were familiar. From there, it was just knocking on the door, and crossing my fingers.” “I’m so glad you’re here,” Abby said. “I...Paul’s said so much about you.” “Yeah?” Aaron’s face just lit up. “I...I thought about you, all the time.” “We wanted to—we could never think of a way to find you. Not without Dad knowing, and he—” Paul fell silent. “He what?” Aaron said. “What did he want?” “He just...he found out, about me. And he didn’t want anything to do with

us. Mom thought you’d be all right, she said hardly anyone has two shifter children. And—I don’t know what he would have done if we’d tried to stay. Mom left with nothing but her jewels. And me. She sold...she sold so much off just to give us a place to live. To get started again. And by the time I was on my own...I didn’t even know where I could start. If you weren’t a shifter, how would you believe me? And if you were...then I’d abandoned you. How could I even begin to apologize?” “You don’t have to,” Aaron said. “Well, I know that now.” Paul grinned and pulled Abby tighter. “And now...I’ve got everything. My brother back. My mate.”

“I have so many questions,” Aaron said. “But...I think they can wait. We need to figure out what Brisbane Chemical is doing, and we need to figure it out sooner, rather than later. They’re definitely dumping or leaking something —I can smell the chemicals. Figure you can too.” Paul nodded. “But it doesn’t smell much worse than...well, any of these chemical plants. I can’t see anything unusual.” “Something’s out there,” Aaron said. “Seeping in. I’ve taken some samples, and there’s something off, but my scientists have only seen what’s broken down—the component parts. I’m not sure what exactly it is, and they can’t

tell, either. We’re going to have to get in closer, or find another way.” “Abby might be able to help with that,” Paul said. “She’s pretty good at her job.” “You definitely caught the wrong kind of attention,” Aaron said. “And I bet you can figure out what’s going on here. Especially with our help.” “You have more favors you can call in?” Abby asked. Aaron shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m kind of stuck. Dad’s a major investor in Brisbane Chemical. I’ve had to be really careful.” “Are you going to be okay if he finds out...we’ve found each other again?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Aaron said. “He doesn’t exactly talk about you a lot. Doesn’t talk about family at all, really. I spent a lot of years off at boarding school so he could wine and dine the glitterati.” “I’m sorry,” Paul said. “It’s not your fault,” Aaron said. “I —I thought about calling you a bunch of times, too. Just never seemed like the right time, and then it seemed like it was too late.” “No,” Paul said, and Abby couldn’t see his smile, but she could feel it. “Definitely not.” “I think you should both put the blame where it belongs,” Abby said. “And it’s not you guys. You were kids.

Don’t be so hard on yourselves.” “I thought about you all the time,” Aaron said. “Me too,” Paul said. “Well, I thought about you. All the time.” “I should let you guys—” “No,” Paul said, squeezing her. “I don’t want you to go. Not yet. I...something could’ve happened to you today. I’m not ready to let go.” “I’d just be in the next room,” she said. “Are you tired? I’ll let you—” “No, I’m fine,” she said. “As long as you guys are all right. I just—you guys have a lot to catch up on.” “I wouldn’t even know where to start if it was just the two of us,” Paul

said. “At least this whole pollution thing gives us something to talk about.” “Do you—do you have anything written down? I could start going through things.” “I have a lot written down,” Aaron said, getting his phone out of his jacket. “I can share files with you, or let you look through my phone—” “Let me get my laptop, that’ll be easier.” Paul kissed her cheek. “Go. Do what you were meant to do.”

20 There was so much to talk about with Aaron. It started slowly, but then they were talking about everything. College. Girls. Work. What life had been like without each other. “She never stopped thinking about you,” Paul said. “I know she was hoping to find you, when you were older. I knew I should’ve done it myself, I just—” I just couldn’t, with her gone. Aaron had found out he could shift when he was sixteen. He’d done it over and over again in the mirror, watching himself, trying to figure out how it had all happened. He’d never dared tell Dad. “I knew I couldn’t,” he said. “I

don’t know how I knew, but I did. For a while, I was worried I was the only one.” “You’re not,” Paul said. “You’re not...not even close.” “Yeah, I know. Finally figured that out thanks to the Internet. And a couple of leaps of faith.” “You—do you have anyone? A mate?” Paul glanced over at Abby, happily researching on her laptop. He hadn’t known her long, but her reporter’s instincts were impossible to hide. Aaron shook his head. “I’ve got some good friends. But...it’s been easier not to date, honestly. I’ve felt like I have plenty of stuff going on. And I sure couldn’t introduce a shifter girl to Dad,

if she turned out to be my mate.” “No,” Paul said. At least Aaron’s instincts there had been solid. Of course, if he’d looked around online he would have known that shifters ran in families. “Do you...do you remember anything about when we left?” Aaron shook his head. “Not really. I think—I more remember impressions. That there were things we weren’t supposed to talk about. That dad was really, really angry. I think I remember Mom crying.” “We cried a lot,” Paul said. “Though for me it was mostly after we left. She moved fast when she realized —” He shook his head. He still remembered the look of horror and

disgust on Dad’s face. He’d never forget that. “I was kind of hoping you’d miss all that.” “Dad doesn’t know,” Aaron said. “He thinks I’m...normal.” He crossed his arms over his chest, nervously. “I’ve been saving some money of my own. Working to establish my own contacts.” “I can help you, too.” He wanted to. He remembered walking to school with his little brother, looking out for him. He wanted that back. “I’m an adult now, you know,” Aaron said, with a little smile that looked like the one he’d had when he was a kid. “I know,” Paul said. “But you’re

still my kid brother.” “I missed you,” Aaron said. “I missed you so much.” “I missed you too. I kept wondering —” “Got it!” Their heads both turned toward Abby. “Don’t tell me you solved this already,” Paul said. “That’s cheating.” “Not exactly,” Abby said, swiveling around in Paul’s rolling chair. “But I’ve got a nice smelly lead. Three years ago, Brisbane Chemical was investigated for off-the-books experimentation. On humans. Without authorization from...well, just about anyone. Some of the chemicals they were using match the traces that Aaron

found here in the water.” “Interesting,” Paul said. “Veddy interesting.” He leaned back, stretching his arm out. “Come here, get your reward.” “Very funny,” she said, “but you two need to catch up, and I’m just getting started.” Aaron laughed. “She’s great,” he said. “She sure is.” They talked until Paul felt his eyes drooping. “Shit,” Aaron said. “We’re both ready to drop. Abby, how’re you?” “You guys can go to bed,” she said. “I’m almost done.” “She’s a machine,” Aaron

whispered to his brother. “I heard that,” Abby said. “Well, will you come to bed with me?” Paul asked. “Aaron needs to sleep out here, if he’s staying. You don’t want to keep him up, right?” She sighed. “All right, I guess not. But let me work while you get around.” “Fine, fine,” he said. “But then we sleep. You need it, too.” By the time Paul woke up, Abby was already out of bed. He could sense her back at the desk, her senses alive, her heart beating with what the panther knew was happy excitement. He smiled. She certainly was a mate he could be proud of, though he had

missed having her warmth and scent at his side. “Aaron’s out getting breakfast,” she said without turning around when he walked into the living area. “He said he wanted to surprise us, and he’d be back.” “Did you send him to your friend’s place?” “Thought about it,” she said. “But he said he was too hungry to drive that far.” Her fingers clicked on the keys, then came to a stop. She turned around and smiled happily at him. “Hi,” she said. “I already called into work. Told them I had a scare last night.” “That was true, anyway,” he said. She nodded. “I don’t feel afraid

now, though. Not when you’re here.” “Well, I’m glad,” he said. He couldn’t stand at the bedroom door for long; he had to walk over to Abby, touch her, taste her. But she wiggled a little when he took her in his arms. “Wait,” she said. “I’ve got to finish this. I think it’s going to get us one hell of a headline.” “This a proposal?” She nodded. He read over her shoulder: Is Brisbane Chemical back to their old tricks? Sampling at Whitefin Lake indicates that unauthorized experiments may be happening again. “You can tell that? Because Aaron said he didn’t get very far.”

“I found an old FOIA—Freedom of Information Act—request that had a lot of detail. A lot of detail. And then I checked with my friend Irene this morning—she’s a chemist—and she helped me walk through what the potential by-products of dumping the chemicals in the FOIA stuff would be. And voila, I had a bunch of matches. I’m not sure they’re really dumping this stuff, it might be an accidental leak. I wouldn’t think they’d want the FDA to know they’re doing this stuff again.” “So pretend I don’t know anything about the first time Brisbane Chemical. Because I don’t. What did they get in trouble for the first time?” He balanced his chin on her shoulder so he could

watch her work. “The first time, they were doing research on human subjects without sufficient approvals, with chemicals that had never been used before in combination, and—oh yeah—they didn’t tell the human subjects the full risks of what they were exposed to, probably because they were doing it in secret without sufficient approval.” Wow. “How...how did they get away with that? How are they still in business?” She shrugged. “No one actually got hurt, that was the most important thing. They still got in a lot of trouble. Huge fines, and the whole company, not just the R & D department, reorganized.

Most of the people responsible for those first experiments aren’t in place any more.” “Most.” “The investors are still the same,” she said. “So it may be that someone holding the purse strings has taken charge.” She sighed. “That’s...where things get a little complicated.” “Complicated how?” “There are two major holding companies that are the primary investors in Brisbane Chemical, who’ve been key since the founding. And one of them is...well, it’s Mallory Holdings.” Mallory Holdings was his father’s company. Aaron’s company. “Complicated,” he said, as he thought

about what that might mean. “Yeah,” she said. “Exactly.” “So you think he knows?” “He knows that Mallory Holdings has interest in Brisbane Chemical,” she said. “He’d have to. And he probably knows it’s a long-standing interest. But he didn’t seem to have made the connection to the research.” She leaned back into his chair, and by happy coincidence back into Paul’s arms. “I’m not sure how to tell him. Though...it may be what he’s expected all along.” “What he’s feared,” Paul corrected. “I mean, I hate to think Dad’s involved in something like this, and I thought I’d seen the worst of him.” She nodded. “But I don’t know.

What do you think? You did a lot more talking with him last night.” “I think he’ll be ready for the worst. And we don’t know yet what the worst is. You just suspect.” “I just suspect,” she said. “But...I still don’t really know what those experiments were all about. That’s a lot more work. And I’m not sure any intrepid reporter can do it. We might need some help from...I don’t know, maybe the Feds.” “I...might know some people,” he said. When you ran in shifter circles and high finance, you met all kinds of people. The cat would rather go in and take care of it with jaws and claws—they’d

hurt his mate—but even the cat knew that it would be smarter in the long run to think strategically. If they were in jail, not only could they not hurt anyone else, it’d be much easier to figure out what they were doing and how any damage they’d done could be dealt with. His people had always been protectors. That was more important than vengeance, as long as his mate was safe. “Hey, you still there?” She waved her hand in front of his face. “Sorry,” he said. “Just...thinking of who I could call.” It couldn’t be anyone connected to Dad, that was for sure. If he was involved as anything but an investor, both he and Aaron could be

treading on very thin ice. He had to look out for his baby brother, too. Not so baby any more. They both turned when they heard Aaron’s knock at the door. “It’s him,” Paul confirmed, when Abby shot him a worried look. His cat knew, recognized his brother’s scent already. “And whatever he’s got smells great.” “Hot fresh donuts,” Aaron said, when the door opened. “Abby cracked all this wide open yet?” “Pretty much,” Paul admitted. “It’s not all good news, though. Dad...well, there’s no good way to say it. Dad might be connected.” Aaron nodded. “I’ve been afraid of that. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been so

cautious.” “Well, I don’t have to be,” Paul said. “But you’ll have to be careful, I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.” Aaron clapped Paul on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve been working hard to get my finances straight, and separate from Dad’s. If anything happens, I won’t be out on the street. Or indicted.” “I wouldn’t let that happen to you anyway,” Paul said. “Come on, let’s eat.”

21 “I have an idea,” Abby said. “But I will need your help.” “Well,” Paul said, slipping an arm around her waist, “lucky for you, I want to help.” “You said you might know someone who could investigate this?” He nodded; he’d mentally gone over his short list in the shower, and Joel—or as Chris called him, ‘that hot FBI dude’—was probably the best place to start. “I want you to get in touch with him. And I need to write my paper. I’m not sure they’ll take the story, but I know a bunch of places who will if they

don’t.” “Maybe you don’t want them to,” he suggested. She frowned. “What do you mean? It’s a great story, it’ll—” “Exactly,” he said. “Maybe this story’s too good for them. Maybe you’re too good for them. I’m sorry, but any publication that could hack up your story like that—” She sighed. “I don’t know. They’re like family to me. I like working there. If only we could get around—” She paused for a moment. Then a slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “That’s it! You’re right. Not about the paper, but about having them turn it down.” “Ohhhkay,” he said skeptically.

“More importantly,” she said, “getting Laura to turn it down. Then when the editor—the real editor—asks me why I didn’t go to him first, I’ll tell him the truth. That I did.” She sat back in her chair. Her wicked grin was incredibly sexy. “And I’ll finally have proof that she wouldn’t know a decent story if you waved it right in front of her. If that’s not enough...well, then I’ll have to agree with you and look somewhere else.” He squeezed her. “I like it.” “So...when can you talk to your person?” “I’ll call him this morning. He’s usually busy so we might not hear until the afternoon, but he’ll like the fact that

it’s all happening on public land.” He let go of her waist and straightened up. “Don’t have to get a search warrant to take samples in a public place.” “Good point,” she said. “And I’ll write up my pitch.” Her grin brightened up. “Two pitches. One for Laura and one for someone who deserves this story.” “Good plan,” he said, and headed for his phone.

22 Breakfast was nice. Not as good as Tina’s pastries, but Dizzy Donuts was a good place too, and Aaron had brought back an insanely big box stuffed with every possible flavor. “I didn’t think to ask what you guys might want,” he said, a little sheepishly. “This is great,” Abby said, grabbing one she recognized. Strawberry something. Maybe strawberry lime? She took a bite. Strawberry lime. Oh yes. Delicious. “What kind is that?” Paul asked. He was still scanning the box, apparently overwhelmed by choice. “Strawberry lime,” she said. “It’s

good. Different, but good.” Paul took a chocolate one out. “Just chocolate you think?” Aaron frowned. “Um, there was chocolate and mocha cream. I think that’s chocolate. Sniff it.” Paul sniffed it. “Mocha, I think,” he said, and took a bite. “Mmm.” They talked a little more normally this time, about what Aaron did at his father’s firm and the work that Paul had been doing. It felt relaxed, comfortable. Like family. “And you’re a reporter,” Aaron said. “For the local paper?” She nodded. “I just sold a second story on Paul’s recycling and waste disposal to my friend Jennifer at the

Globe, though,” she said, “and I’m probably going to end up pitching the Brisbane Chemical story, too. Stepping up my game a little, I guess.” “Your game is fine,” Paul said. “And pretty soon everyone’s going to know that.” She smiled to herself a little and took another donut. The regular chocolate, not the mocha cream. “As much as it pains me to say it,” Paul said, “I probably should run out at some point this morning, check in on the branch office. Just so everyone knows things are fine and there won’t be any attacks from the rumor mill. Aaron, are you—can you stay for a little while?”

“Of course,” Aaron said. “I have a long weekend, anyway. I told Dad I wanted to focus on planning. Which...I mean. I am. Just maybe not the kind of planning he’s thinking of.” He shrugged. “And I can work on that Sunday, anyway.” “You should take over the business,” Paul said. “Don’t feel guilty about that.” “It should be ours,” Aaron said. Paul grinned. “Don’t you remember? I never was any good at sharing. You’ll be better off with your own company.” “Unless we start competing,” Aaron grinned back. “Well, then it’s merger time,” Paul

said. “Besides, I was always pretty careful to stay out of Dad’s business. I didn’t want—” He sighed. “Well, you know. I’m always wondering if I’ll run into him anyway. Dreading it.” “You have every right to be—to be wherever you want to be,” Abby said. “He’s got no right to take that from you.” He flashed her a little smile. “I know,” he said. “But knowing it and doing it are two different things.” She took his hand. “Aren’t you the one telling me not to sell myself short? You’d better take your own advice.” “Right,” he said. “I’d better get going, if I don’t I’ll never leave. As nice as it would be to spend the day in bed with you, I suspect you’re going to want

to do some more work, anyway.” “I do have a couple more emails to send,” she confessed. She needed to write the perfect email for Laura to turn down. That was going to be fun. “You’re sure you’re all right just hanging out here a while?” “Of course,” Aaron said. “That’s the advantage of having a father who doesn’t really trust you with the business.” He winked. “We have the freedom of the underestimated,” she said, holding up her fist. “Solidarity.” He grinned and bumped his fist against hers. “Right,” he said. “Let’s kick some ass.”

So she went to kick ass. It was a fine needle to thread: a can’t-miss article, described as honestly as possible, in a way that would make Laura roll her eyes and pass the story over. Hey Laura, Have a potential story, not sure it’s the right fit for Salem Beach Now. Involves Brisbane Chemical and maybe some dumping? They seem really aggressive about not wanting people in their business. If anyone asked why she didn’t mention the attack on her, she could say she wanted to ask the police if it was all right first. That wasn’t a lie. She actually probably should check. She got up and

walked over to her wallet, resting on the kitchen counter from last night, and pulled out the officer’s card. Mark Nguyen. That was right. She’d been so agitated, it probably wasn’t a surprise she couldn’t remember his name. She was walking back toward her laptop when the shots rang out. She wasn’t sure which was the greater shock: the sound, or how quickly Aaron jumped to protect her, his heavy paws hitting her back. I hope he didn’t rip his clothes, she thought, feeling a little dazed, and then she remembered that Paul hadn’t left that long ago. Not long ago at all. Paul. Please be safe, she thought. What

will I do if I’ve lost you already? She could hear a low growl in Aaron’s throat. He was crouched over her, his paws still keeping her down, though he didn’t have any real weight on her. It was more like a reminder. She found herself listening intently to the silence, straining for any sound, hoping that she’d have a clue about what would happen next. Aaron gently took his paws off her shoulders and then nuzzled gently at her arm, pushing her wordlessly toward the bathroom. She crawled, as quietly and softly as she could, in that direction. She didn’t like feeling helpless, but she didn’t have any kind of weapon. She thought of the knives on the rack in the

kitchen—they’d looked very sharp—but they wouldn’t do much against someone trying to shoot through the walls. And she wasn’t as strong or big as a panther, that was for sure. She slid onto the cool tiles of the bathroom and tried to think. Aaron was still in the living room. He’d moved again, but so smoothly and quietly she couldn’t tell where he’d gone to. And she still didn’t have any idea where Paul was. If there had been shots before, she would have known it, right? She or Aaron would have heard it. So he was probably okay. Maybe he was even clear of all this. That would be better, even though a little part of her wanted him to swoop in and save her.

Maybe a big part. She looked over the bathroom. Toilet, sink, plunger. None of those were very good weapons. She wanted something, anything in her hand. She wouldn’t feel so vulnerable then. The bathroom sink was almost empty, but there was a toothbrush holder, sleek and black, and a sculpture of a walking black cat. Maybe that was heavy. She scooted over, slowly, on her butt. She didn’t want to make too much noise, and she knew it would be dangerous to stand up. She waited until her back was touching the sink and then reached up for the panther. It felt heavy, but she’d just curled her fingers around it when she heard another noise and

froze. Aaron was out there. She shouldn’t have left him. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a panther. He’s got big teeth and claws. You’ve got a pretty statue that you’re really hoping is heavy. She scooted her butt a little further back and strained up to reach the statue. She heard a crashing noise—was it the door? She couldn’t tell from the angle she was at. Her heart was pounding. Twice in two days. Don’t I get a day off from this? “Here, kitty, kitty,” a man’s voice called. “Come on out kitty, I won’t hurt you much.” Abby rolled her eyes. Couldn’t he

be a little less cliched? She tried to pull the statue a little more closely to her, but she didn’t want to make any noise. “Come on,” he said. “Paul. Little Paulie panther, come on out here.” That’s not Paul, and if you keep calling him, you might get more than you planned on, she thought. “I’ve got the bedroom. You check the bathroom,” the man said. Shit, there were two of them. When had that happened? They must have come in closely together. Of course, she wasn’t a panther. She didn’t have their ears. Okay. Two people. Probably men; if they sent two guys already they probably had three. The last guy had a

gun, so safe to assume these guys would, too. She could hear someone coming toward her, slowly. Someone big, with heavy steps. “Come on,” the man said. “This is ridiculous. We’ve got the guns. What do you have, little kitty claws? Maybe you got the drop on Chad but—” That must have been when Aaron decided to attack. She could hear a struggle, then a horrible, electric buzzing —a taser, she guessed. Whoever had been moving toward her turned and ran toward the noise. She couldn’t leave Aaron out there alone. She grabbed the statue—it was heavy—and ran as quietly as she could

toward the main room. They had Aaron. Oh, shit. She couldn’t tell if he’d been hurt, but he was struggling. Two men were kneeling over him, trying to pin him down; she saw that one man had a syringe in his hand. His gun was in a holster at his side. The other man had a pistol in one hand and a Taser in the other. “Did you see the girl?” the man with the syringe asked. He was the first speaker, the one who had been barking orders. The second man shook his head. “You think she’s here?” The man shrugged. The first man sighed. “Guess it

doesn’t matter. Don’t think she’ll be taking this mess on. Pretty soon he’s off in la-la-land and she ain’t gonna try to carry him out by herself. Doc said this should be enough to put him to a nice, quiet sleep but watch his breathing, she wouldn’t know for sure without weighing him.” They want him alive. To ask questions? Find out what he knew? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good, she was sure of that. She clutched the panther statue to her chest. It might be her only weapon, but it was big and heavy, at least. Smooth, though, a little too smooth: she had to keep her fingers tight onto it. It was marble, she thought. Some kind of

polished stone, at any rate. Big and heavy. Just hang on to it. It might be your only hope. Should she crouch down? Move? What the hell should she do? When would they realize she was there? She couldn’t let them drug Aaron. Who knows how he’d actually react to the drug. The woman had just guessed. It could hurt him. Kill him. There was only one thing she could do. She had the element of surprise, and she had to use it. “Hey!” she cried. They both turned in her direction, and she threw the statue, as hard as she could, at the man with the syringe. “Shit!” the syringe guy said, and

she ran, as fast as she could, behind the kitchen counter, grabbing a knife out of the rack on her way down. She heard another shot, and then a growl. A cat’s growl. Was that Aaron waking up, or was it Paul? She moved, slowly, carefully as she could. Maybe if she played dead— “Deal with her later!” That was the guy with the syringe again. “Help me!” Another fierce, ferocious growl. That was Aaron, she was pretty sure. He was fighting back, and they didn’t want to kill him. Good. She put her head around the edge of the counter, trying to get a better look. The three of them were still struggling, but Aaron didn’t look good. Had he been

tased? His paws were massive, but they were shaking. He looked helpless. The statue had rolled back across the floor. She ran for it. She had to help, however she could. She couldn’t just cower under the counter and wait to be rescued. The man who hadn’t talked heard her and turned his head just as she swung the statue at his head, as hard as she could. She caught him between his neck and shoulder, and he cried out in pain, trying to stay on his feet. She hit him again, harder this time. “You—” His fist waved wildly in the air, and she stepped back. What was she going to do if this didn’t work? What

was the other man going to do? Her back hit something—someone —solid. She knew immediately it was Paul. Relief flooded through her. “Help me,” she said. Paul had already stepped past her. He grabbed the second man by the shoulder and hit him with a heavy punch. The man dropped, just in time for Paul to catch him in the stomach with a second hard blow. Abby held the statue over the other man. “They don’t want me—or you probably. Just the cat.” Aaron growled again. He sounded pained. She and Paul wrestled the man who

hadn’t spoken to the ground, Abby sitting on his feet and Paul getting his arms twisted together. “There’s kitchen twine in the drawer,” Paul told her. “Got it,” she said, and ran back, pulling drawers open until she found it. It probably wasn’t enough to hold anyone for long, but it was certainly enough to keep him slowed down while they called 911 again. At this rate, she was going to be good friends with the operator. She wrapped the twine around the man’s wrists over and over. He moaned a little when she pulled it tight. Good, she thought. It was the first time he’d made any sound at all.

“He talk?” Paul asked. He was holding the other man down, watching Aaron, who finally seemed to be coming back to normal. The Taser was just past the man’s reach, but Paul was ready if he tried to grab for it. The guy’s wrists were as tied as they were going to be. She cut the twine with the knife and started on his ankles. “Haven’t heard him, no.” “Huh,” Paul said. “This other guy talks, though, right?” “Yeah. He said, ‘Here, kitty, kitty’ and everything.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, creative. I wonder how long he thought that up.” He leaned over. “How long did you think that up, guy?” “Screw you,” the man spat, and

began to struggle again. Aaron got up and settled on him, which stopped the struggling pretty quickly. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you,” Paul said calmly. “That’s a pretty big animal on top of you. What’d you think it is, Abby? Panther? Jaguar?” She couldn’t repress her smile. “Jaguar, I think, but I don’t think it wants to tell us.” “Might have to Google it later.” “We better tie this guy up, too, let the gentleman be on his way.” “Might be a girl,” she corrected. “That is true,” he conceded. “I’m sorry I made assumptions about your gender, Mister or Miss Jaguar.” “Ms,” Abby said.

“Now you’re just needling me.” He took the twine from her. “I got this. You call 911.” “Again,” she sighed, but she got up and walked to the phone. They didn’t just call 911. Paul knew someone from the FBI, and he figured two attempted kidnappings would be more than enough to get them interested. The police took a lot of notes, too. They’d let Aaron sneak out the back door after the two men were tied up, figuring that if anyone asked they’d just say when a wild animal that might weigh two hundred pounds decided to go, you let it go. Abby certainly wasn’t going to run out of things to write about any time

soon. The biggest challenge would be making sure everything that had happened to her didn’t overshadow what she should be writing about. Brisbane Chemical had leaked something into the water, and it was pretty clear they’d been in trouble before. She’d already filed a few Freedom of Information Act requests about some of the settlements that had happened. The EPA and some other local agencies had been involved, in a few different states, but most of the records were sealed as part of some kind of settlement. They’d paid a big fine, though. A really big one. Were they up to their old tricks or trying to find some new ones? Too soon to tell. Maybe Paul’s friend would be

willing to dish. “I think I owe you that dinner,” Paul said, when they finally got out of the police station. “It’s not that late—is it?” She reached for her phone. “It’s three,” he said. “I was thinking early dinner, since we didn’t really have lunch.” She was starving. “Have you heard from Aaron?” “He’s fine, though he wishes he’d listened to me and put an extra set of clothes in his glove compartment right away. He borrowed some boxers from me, but apparently he had to be pretty careful sneaking back into his car.” She laughed at that. It was funny;

she’d felt so scared at her own apartment, but somehow she’d managed to keep her cool at Paul’s. Had she realized he’d be close, that he wouldn’t let her be hurt? Or was it just being in his space, his territory, that had made her feel safe? They twined their hands together as they walked to Paul’s car, and that felt good too. Natural. Like they’d known each other for years, not just a few days. Being with Paul made her feel like there was a place she belonged. Where she would always belong. “I heard from Joel too,” he said. “That’s my friend at the FBI. His people are going to be at the lake, probably tomorrow. He couldn’t say for sure,

because he’s not allowed to tell me...but I think we should swing by.” “Reporters have a right to be on public property,” she said, happily. “My thoughts exactly.” He unlocked the car and held the door open for her. “You don’t need to do that,” she said. “I know I don’t,” he said. “But you’ve had a rough couple of days. Let me be nice to you.” “I can’t believe you’re used to dealing with kidnappers and...people like that, either,” she said. “No, but I’ve had close calls of a different kind. Like I said, I told Aaron to put extra clothes in his glove compartment for a reason. Once you’ve

been a naked seventeen-year-old boy trying to sneak back across the neighbor’s lawn to your own house, you pretty much get nerves of steel.” “You’re going to tell me that story,” she said. “And soon.” “But not today,” Paul objected, as he opened his own car door and slid into the seat. “I’ve been through enough.” They went to the Ram’s Head, where Karen recognized Abby and ushered the two of them to a booth near the back. “What the heck, Abs?” she said. “Don tells me the cops were out at your apartment yesterday!” “Yeah, it was—I mean, it was kind of scary, but it’s not really a big deal,”

she said. “I was out by the preserve and some guys thought I was getting in their business or something, I guess. Cops say they’ll figure it out. And Paul’s been taking care of me—Paul, this is Karen Choi, she co-owns the restaurant and kind of does anything that needs doing. “Sophie’s on bed rest,” Karen said. “As of three am.” “No!” Sophie was close to her due date, but not that close, and she’d been planning to work as long as she could to save up for more time off when the baby came. “Is she okay?” “Yeah, they’re worried about her blood pressure, but it should be fine as long as she stays off her feet. I’ve given her some ordering to do so I can pay her,

and that way I’ll have a little less on my plate. Tim Regan wanted to pick up extra hours, but he can’t until the end of the month, so I’ll probably just have to make do with what I’ve got until then. By the time I had someone else trained, he’d be ready to go.” Maybe I could wait tables for a little while if I resign from Salem Beach Now, Abby thought to herself. Put that together with some freelance work— “Abby, you there?” Paul asked gently. “Oh, of course.” She rewound what Paul and Karen had been talking about while she was out to lunch. Karen had asked what she’d wanted to drink. “Um, just a ginger ale, I guess.”

“No wine?” She shook her head at Paul. “Not in the state I’m in now. I’m having enough trouble staying focused.” “I don’t mind,” he said. “I do.” Especially if Paul heard more from the FBI. No way she was letting her leads drop. “I guess I’ll stick with water, for now,” Paul said. “Thank you.” Karen listed the specials—a steak drenched in ‘beer-drowned onions’ caught Abby’s attention—and left them to pore over the menu. “Any recommendations?” Paul asked. “I haven’t been here in a while, actually,” Abby confessed. It had never

seemed to be in her budget. It was always easier to grab a sandwich or something from the co-op just down the street if she wanted to eat something better than fast food. “They usually get good seafood in, I know that. Tina’s told me. Nice and fresh and high-quality.” “Not big on seafood?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Dad always liked it, but Mom didn’t, so we didn’t eat a lot of it.” They’d never had a lot for expensive restaurant meals in their budget either. “What about oysters?” His eyes looked wicked. “They’re supposed to stimulate the romantic appetite, you know.” “I think my romantic appetite’s

probably stimulated enough. But...I’m not sure I’ve ever had them.” “Then you should try some,” he said. “I’ll eat what you don’t want, all right?” “Okay,” she said. “I think I’m going to try that steak special. What do you think?” “I haven’t had Seafood Newburg in just short of forever,” he said. “If your friend says the quality’s good, I think it’s time to try it again.” “Tina says they need to update the menu, but that’s too popular to get rid of.” “It’s a little old-fashioned, but there’s nothing wrong with that,” Paul said. “Especially if it tastes good. And

when it’s done well, it tastes divine.” He winked at her. “I’ll let you try some.” “Only if you take some of the steak too,” she said. “If it’s rare,” he said. “I won’t eat well-done steak, that’s just a crime.” “Lucky for you, I like it rare.” He leered at her, and then almost started giggling. Probably just as well neither of them were drinking in the state they were in. They were both pretty tired. “I don’t even know what to say to that,” she said, just as Karen came by for their orders. As promised, she ordered her steak rare, and Paul ordered oysters on the half-shell for an appetizer along with his meal.

“I know it’s rude to check my phone at the table,” Paul said, pulling his out of his pocket, “but I do want to know if Joel’s gotten back to me yet.” “Your FBI friend? You can have the phone in the middle of the table for that.” She was dying to know what he would say. “I’m afraid you’re far too important for me to do that,” Paul said. “And I haven’t heard anything from him anyway. The phone should vibrate but once in a while—” He shrugged as he slid it back in his pocket. “I’ll check after the meal. This is time for you and me now. And you’re the most important thing in the world to me, so I’d be pretty pathetic if I didn’t give you my full attention.” The

emphasis he put on full made her heart pound and her insides get squishy. She only realized that oysters on the half-shell were raw when Paul offered to pour one down her throat. “You’re sure they’re safe to eat?” “People have eaten them like this for thousands of years,” he said, gently. “And you told me yourself the seafood here is very high quality.” He balanced the shell in his fingers. “Now you don’t have to try one, but I can assure you that they are delicious.” She looked at the oyster. It was...weird-looking. But it smelled all right. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll try it.”

He held the shell for her, and she hoped that it was all romantic and not faintly ridiculous. But the oyster did taste good as it slid down her throat. Really good. “All right,” she said. “Maybe you have a point.” He smiled. “Let me serve you another.” She felt her face heating a little. “I’m not sure—” “There you are,” a male voice said. “Sorry to interrupt your meal, but with what you told me—” The man was tall, almost as tall as Paul, and his shoulders were broad where Paul’s were narrow. He was dark-skinned; not black. Maybe

American Indian, she couldn’t really tell. “Joel,” Paul said, getting up and grabbing his hand. “Go ahead, sit down. I’m betting Abby will want to talk to you even more than I do.” “This is the reporter?” Joel said, shaking Paul’s hand and shooting a glance Abby’s way. “I’m not sure I’m authorized—” “Just ignore him,” Paul said, “he does this every time.” “Oh, you date a lot of reporters?” Abby teased. Joel laughed. Paul sighed, clearly defeated. “I see you two can handle this,” he said, waving his hand at them both.

“I filed a Freedom of Information Request—actually, a bunch of them— about the last time Brisbane was under scrutiny. Is there anything you can tell me?” “There’s a lot,” he said. “I can see you’re at dinner, so I’ll give you the quick rundown. The rest will have to go through formal channels, but it shouldn’t take long. Have you ordered and everything?” “Yeah, you’re fine,” Abby said. It was a small place, they were used to people coming in to chat. “I really don’t want to be a pain. But—they’ve tried to kidnap you already. Maybe twice.” “I think the second time they were

after the, eh, shifter,” Abby volunteered. “But...whatever you want to let us know, we’re all ears, anyway.” “There’s protection at your duplex now,” Joel said. “We can provide it at Abby’s apartment as well, but it’s easier to keep an eye on just one spot. You said she was staying with you, so—” “She is,” Paul said, his hand darting automatically to hers. “At least, as long as she wants to.” She nodded. It felt safer with Paul. No matter what had happened. Just being with him helped. “Aaron’s fine,” he said. “Back home with Dad, who doesn’t seem to be

any wiser about what he’s been doing. Or...anything else.” She nodded. In this case, no news was definitely good news. “Will he come out again next weekend?” “Probably not, he doesn’t want anyone getting too suspicious, especially with the FBI crawling around. But we’ll see him again soon.” He grinned. “He says he likes Salem Beach.” “Of course he does,” she said. “It’s a great town.” “Nice people,” he said, squeezing her. “Smart reporters. Capable.” “So I’ve heard,” she said, winking. Paul waved in the direction of the black sedan as they went through his apartment door.

“Well,” she said. “Here we are, alone, in your well-guarded apartment.” She pushed the door behind her with her foot. “What should we do?” She waggled her eyebrows. “I do have an idea or two,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “But first there’s something I need to show you. Something important.” “Oh,” she said. Something about his tone said pay attention. This is important. “What is it?” “Sit—sit on the couch,” he said. “And close your eyes.” “All right,” she said. She walked over to it and closed her eyes. She could hear Paul walking around. She heard

something that sounded like a key in a lock, then a drawer opening. “Now hold still,” he said, as he walked closer to her. “I’ll let you know when you can open your eyes.” “All right,” she said. Something cool touched her neck. Metal? A necklace? It was a necklace. She felt its weight as the cool metal went around her neck, and he clasped it behind her back. “You can look now,” he said, and he stepped away. She put her hand up to the necklace as she opened her eyes. It was heavy. Old-fashioned. She looked down. Emeralds. Emeralds and diamonds,

set in gold. She knew without asking that it was real. “What—this is beautiful,” she stammered. “It’s beautiful on you,” Paul said. He looked stunned by her. “I...I haven’t seen anyone wearing it in years, and it looked so different on my mother.” “Was...this was hers?” He extended his hand to her. “Come,” he said. “Come look.” She took his hand, and he led her to the bathroom, to the full-length mirror behind the door. “What do you think?” he asked. The necklace was spectacular. Not a ‘statement necklace.’ Something more than that. Glittering diamonds alternated with round teardrop-shaped emeralds.

They almost glowed in the light. “I don’t even know what to say,” she said. “They’re all real but one,” he said. “This was my mother’s fortune. All she took with us when we left Dad. It’s her family necklace and he didn’t have any claim to it. She sold two of the emeralds —one when we left, and another one, later, when we were short—but I got one back. I’m still looking for the other.” “It’s spectacular.” Like the kind of necklace she’d pretended to have when she was a kid. When she thought she might grow up to be a princess. She looked at herself in the mirror. The emeralds and diamonds stood out against her dark shirt and pale skin. Behind her, Paul was beaming.

This was even better than being a princess. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, just above the necklace. “I told you,” he said. “It’s beautiful on you.” He scooped her up into his arms, easily. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you into something more relaxing.” “The bed?” “Sounds good to me,” he said, and carried her into the bedroom. He gently placed her on the mattress. “Perhaps we should loosen this up a little.” ‘This’ was the buttons of her blouse. She shivered a little as his fingers brushed at the fabric, and then at her skin. How was he so good at this? She’d had boyfriends for years who

weren’t half that good. Maybe he was a fast learner. Maybe it was part of that whole ‘mate’ thing. Whatever it was, she sure didn’t want to complain. He peeled the fabric back from her skin, like her blouse was a flower and he was opening the petals. The air of the room felt cool on her skin. The necklace had warmed up quickly, though. She reached her arms up to take it off. “Don’t,” he said. “Please. You look so beautiful wearing them.” His finger traced where the central emerald touched her skin. “And I’ll find the last one. So it’ll be perfect. Just like you.” “It’s perfect just as it is,” she said. He kissed her, passionately, his

hand curling around her waist and pulling her close. She put her arms around him, too, his expensive jacket smooth against her skin. They kissed for a while, and for a while Abby was content to just be with Paul, to smell his spicy cologne and feel his touch. But not for that long. Everything in her was rising, rising, a wave of passion she couldn’t resist or deny. Not that she wanted to. He set her on fire, warmed to the tips of her fingers and beyond. She was so wet she felt drenched, even before Paul started pulling her jeans and panties off. His face dropped between her legs, as he teased and tickled her with his mouth. She felt her

hips buckling, and he took her breasts in his hands, teasing her nipples with his fingers. The world was a earthquake and she was at the epicenter, trapped. But it was good, still. So good. She felt her hands twisting in the sheets. Her only anchor was Paul, Paul’s steady hands and warm, skilled mouth. She moaned, helplessly, shaking with pleasure. It felt good. Everything felt so good. The emeralds were heavy on her collarbones, and the air felt cool against her skin. She wanted to say ‘please,’ but the words were stuck in her throat. Everything was building, building. Paul moved his body up, straddling Abby. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded. She had to bite back a scream as he slid into her. It felt like fireworks were lit throughout her body, just waiting, the fuse burning down. She felt the ache in her body rising, rising. Everything in her building to the moment, the second— She came, and there were the fireworks, throbbing through her, light and motion overwhelming her and the whole world spinning to a stop. Paul was coming too, she realized, his own hips thrusting hard and fast. Coming inside her. God. “You’re amazing,” he panted. She just shook her head. He was the amazing one. She was just an ordinary woman. Well, maybe the luckiest woman

alive. But she wasn’t about to complain about that.

23 It’s not every day you get to take photographs as a criminal suspect is led away in handcuffs. Abby adjusted her lens and took another few shots. The CEO of Brisbane Chemical had clearly dressed for his arrest—nice three-piece suit, but not too nice, a conservative, plain blue tie—but that didn’t make him look any less awkward as he walked out of the building and into the FBI car. Abby wasn’t the only reporter there —there were even some TV cameras— but she’d still been the one to break the story, and she had an appearance on

public radio to record as soon as the cars pulled away. It felt good. Aaron had sent her a good luck text that morning. I’m still digging. I know there’s more to find, and you’ll be the first to know. Paul was at work; they’d decided it would be better to draw as few connections between the fall of Brisbane and the CEO of Inti International as they could. Paul and Aaron’s father would still probably figure it out, but a little plausible deniability could go far. There was no one there from Salem Beach Now. Abby felt a little guilty, but what could she do? Laura had told her to never darken their door again ‘after the stunt you pulled with the Brisbane leak.’

She’d miss everyone, but the fact was she could make as much freelancing, especially now that the Brisbane story was in full swing. A few people had even suggested she dig in deep and write a book about Brisbane’s shady history. That was premature, but she wouldn’t have to worry about the bills for a few days. Once the FBI had gotten involved, neither she nor Paul had seen any shady people hanging around, much less trying to break into their places. Abby had even slept in her own apartment once or twice when Paul had had business in the city. She wasn’t sure how much longer they’d keep two apartments, though. It was a lot more fun staying with Paul.

They loaded the last of the suspects (CEO, Executive Vice-President, Director of Research and Vice-President for Biomedical Progress) into the cars, and they pulled away. “We’ll do anything for a good shot,” muttered Stan Hall, the local public radio reporter. “Here I am, recording as the cars pull away, just in case someone says something stupid. You ready for the Q & A?” “Sure,” she said. “Where should we set up?” “Right here in the parking lot’s fine,” he said. “Unless Brisbane tells us to take a hike, but considering they’re ‘fully cooperating with the press and authorities’ we should be safe.”

“Sounds good,” she said. It was always weird to be on the other side of the interview, even when she was talking about her own reporting and research. “Can you rephrase that last thing you said? Or just say it again in case I need to pull it out?” “Um, sure. What did I say?” “‘It’s not clear what their research goal was, but it related directly to the building blocks of human life.’” “Oh, sure.” She paused to have a few seconds’ silence for him. “It’s not clear what the goal of their research was, but it is clear that it related directly to DNA—the building blocks of human life.’” His grin was bright. “Perfect. Just

what I wanted. Always a pleasure working with a pro.” “Thanks,” she said. “You ever want to be on radio, give me a call. We’d kill to have someone like you on board.” “I’m more comfortable in print.” “That’s what I said fifteen years ago,” he said, and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ll be in touch.” “Thanks,” she said. Sam, her favorite copy editor, was waiting by her car. She was wearing a blue print sundress; Abby couldn’t help thinking that Paul would like it. “Hi,” Abby said. They hadn’t really talked since she’d cleaned out her desk at

Salem Beach Now. “I didn’t think anyone from the paper was here. How are you?” “I’m not here for the story,” she said. “I’m here for you.” “Don’t tell me Laura thinks I—” “Laura’s gone,” she said. The wheels turned in Abby’s head, but they didn’t go anywhere. “What— what?” “A few of us got together and talked to Bill,” she said. “We told him what really happened. Everything. The way Laura talked to you—to a lot of us. What she did to your story. Things we should’ve said a long time ago. And then we told him that she’d told his best reporter to walk because her big ego got bruised.”

Abby shook her head in disbelief. “Wh—for me?” “For all of us, honestly,” Sam said. “We were ready to walk. All of us. Ellen told him if he was too dumb to see that he’d just fired his best reporter, than he didn’t deserve to have a paper, much less Salem Beach Now.” “What happened then?” Sam shrugged. “Well, he yelled at us, and then he told us to all get the hell out of his office, and he sulked for half an hour. But I left your article on his desk—the one about Inti, before and after Laura’s edits—and he must’ve read it, because after that half hour was over he called Laura into his office. And the next thing we knew she was gone, and he

was asking us which one of us would be the best person to ask you to come back.” “And it was you?” She grinned. “Lucky me. Now if you don’t want to come back, none of us are gonna blame you. But he knows the score now. And I don’t think he’ll take you for granted again. Now, we all told him you’d be in your rights to tell him where to go, but...we’d really love to have you back.” Abby grinned back. “Well...tell him I’ll think about it. But not without a promotion. And a raise.” “I’ll see what we can do,” Sam said, and gave her a hug. As she got back into her car, she

checked her phone. She had a text from Paul. How did it go? Great. Got a job offer. Tell me about it at dinner? Meet me at the tavern? I’d love to, she sent back. I have a lot to tell you.

“Well,” Paul said. “You weren’t kidding when you said that was a lot.” It was a busy night at the tavern, and she’d seen half-a-dozen people she knew, most of them wanting to stop by her table and ask about the FBI. She’d had to stop and start her story more times than she could count. But she’d

finally gotten to Sam and the job offer. “What do you think you’ll do?” Paul asked her. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I mean...I love Salem Beach, and I want to stay here, so steady work here would be great. But maybe freelancing is enough. Especially since I’d like to follow this story through to the end.” She picked up her sparkling water and took a sip. “Maybe I could go back part-time, keep working on the Brisbane Chemical angle while doing some work for the paper. “Best of both worlds.” “I could ask Bill,” she said. “Worst thing he could say is no.” “You’d better ask him to trust you going forward, too,” he said. ‘You

deserve a full apology, in person, at the very least.” “I guess I do.” It was certainly nice to have Paul in her corner. “Now, what about you?” “What about me?” he asked. “Didn’t you talk to Aaron today?” “Yeah,” he said. “But...not much news. We just talked.” Abby knew that any conversation Paul had with his brother was more than ‘just talking.’ It was giving Paul his family back. “Do you think...do you think you’ll see your father again?” “I don’t know,” Paul said, shaking his head. “It’s way too soon to think about that, I guess. Having my brother back in my life, and you—that’s enough

for now. More than enough.” He reached over and took her hand. “More like...everything I ever hoped for.” Abby felt her face flushing at that. “Everything?” “Everything I need, anyway.” He squeezed her fingers. “And then some.” “Me too,” she confessed. “And then some.” ***

A note from Zoe Chant Thank you for buying my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to be emailed when I release my next book, please click here to be added to my mailing list. You can also email me; I’d love to hear from you! Please click on the title to write a review of The Billionaire Jaguar's Curvy Journalist. I love hearing what my readers think! Page down to read a special preview of Country Star Bear. The

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More from Zoe Chant Protector Panther. (Protection, Inc. # 3). A curvy paramedic who doesn’t know the meaning of fear + a mysterious panther shifter bodyguard with the power to inflict terror + sinister experiments and desperate passion = one heart-pounding romance! Alpha Lion. A frightened but determined BBW + a sexy lion shifter martial artist + a dangerous enemy = one unforgettable romance! In the Billionbear’s Den. A stressed-out BBW in need of a break + a

sexy billionaire bear shifter in need of a mate to share his home + the remote woodland house he built himself = one steamy romance! Loved by the Lion. BBW looking for a family + hot alpha lion shifter protecting his pride + a dangerous stalker = one sweet and steamy story! Joining the Jaguar. A BBW doctor with no time for love + a protective alpha jaguar shifter + a kidnapping = one sizzling hot love story. And many more!

Special Preview: Country Star Bear When Colin Losev's tour bus slips off the road, he doesn't expect to be helped out by a lady mechanic--much less a tall, curvy lady like Irene "Renie" Redmond. Renie makes his heart pound, and she's just the right size for a Kodiak bear shifter like him. But they've got a tour date to make in Montreal. Can he convince Reine to hop on for the ride? Once Renie dreamed of traveling the country. Then her brother got sick, and she had to take over the family business. By the time he got better,

she'd been running the garage for years. Then she met Colin, and the promise of the ride of her life. She can't just leave everything behind. Or can she? But there are storm clouds in the horizon for Colin's band--and the weather is the least of their worries. Can Colin keep his band and mate safe-and can he convince Renie they're destined to make beautiful music together? “Anyway, the roads should clear up by morning, but I’m not sure about your bus. You might be able to charter something, there are a couple of folks

you can call.” “Probably that’s what we’ll do if we need to,” he said. “But we’ve got a little time to figure it out. When do you think you can take a look at the bus?” “We can get started tomorrow morning. Big rig like that, you’re lucky we were so close, not many people do them around here.” “I know,” he said, and his face turned back to her. “Believe me, I feel lucky.” He didn’t sound like he was talking about the garage. “You’re pretty flirty for someone who hasn’t even seen my whole face.” “Didn’t they tell you we’re bears? Our eyesight ain’t that great. We rely on our other senses. Smell, touch. Feel.” He

put a heavy weight on the last word. She ignored the way her pulse jumped and swallowed hard. “You haven’t felt anything, either.” “It’s not just about touch,” he explained. “It’s instinct, too. What you feel in your gut and in your heart.” “So your gut’s usually right?” “Usually,” he said. “And the heart…that doesn’t lie.” This guy was smooth. “Must be nice,” she said wryly. “But we just met. No one’s heart is that good.” He thought over his next words before he spoke. “It’s not about skills,” he said. “It’s more like…do you play any music?” “Not since high school.”

“What did you play?” “The saxophone.” Not for very long. She’d felt so awkward, the big girl stuck with an even bigger tenor sax. “You remember what it felt like when you hit the note, when it sounded right? When the whole band was on and everything was in place?” “Um, kind of?” Playing music hadn’t been all bad. She did remember that feeling, like the music was flowing through them all. “It’s kind of like that. That feeling that you’ve found a groove and you’re going to stay there.” She glanced over at him. “Are you calling me a groove?” He laughed. “More like talking

with you feels that way. Like finding a groove and leaning right into it. Steady. Do you really not feel it?” She shook her head. “I’m human, you know.” “Yeah,” he said. “But you ain’t immune to chemistry. No one is, human or bear.” His voice sent a sweet little shiver up her spine. “Now a lot of people—and bears —they don’t always have that feeling. Some people go their whole lives without finding a connection like that. But when it happens—my dad said it hit like a thunderbolt.” He glanced over at her. “And that’s kind of what I’m feeling right now.”

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