The Billionaire Jaguar's Curvy Journalist: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (17 page)

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.