The Billionaire Jaguar's Curvy Journalist: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (9 page)

“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?”