True Nature (7 page)

He pushed through the door of the doughnut shop. Instantly, his senses went to full alert. His nostrils flared as he caught a scent. Of her.

The red-haired woman sat at a table facing the door, sipping coffee and working at a laptop. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her here. Several times over the past weeks, he had detected her scent despite the overhanging aromas of deep-fried sugar and rich coffee. She smelled like herbal soap and body lotion, undercut by the outdoors, and a trace of something wild.

Today, she was dressed in her usual jeans, with sturdy hiking boots tucked under the table. They were scuffed but in good shape, the mark of a regular hiker. She wore a flannel shirt over a thermal undershirt. Her heavy fall of vibrant hair was scooped back in a long ponytail. A thick curl just brushed her shoulder. She shouldn’t appeal to him. This outfit was pretty much her standard uniform. And he usually liked his women expertly made up and wearing sleek, sexy clothes. But there was something about her.

She glanced up. A tiny smile curved her lips. Their gazes met, and she didn’t look away.

Hunter’s body responded immediately. He grinned, then went to the counter for coffee and doughnuts. Once he had his order, he headed straight to her table. She watched him approach with an amused expression.

“Good hike?” he asked.

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Your boots give you away,” he replied by way of explanation. “I’ve seen you in here before. I hike nearby, too.”

Her dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she returned his smile. “Yes, I’ve seen you before, too.”

He waved his coffee cup toward the empty seat at her table. “Can I join you?”

“Sure.” She clicked a few keys on her computer before closing the screen. “Are you headed into the woods today?” she asked.

“Depends…” Hunter bit into a cream-filled confection.

“On what?”

He swallowed. “You mostly.”

“I really don’t see how I could possibly figure into your plans,” she drawled.

“You just need to use a little imagination.” It was a short stretch for Hunter to imagine what he wanted to do with this nature-loving redhead. “We could head into the woods. Together.”

She laughed, a throaty sound. “I’ve read ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ I don’t mess around with wolves.”

Hunter enjoyed her honesty. “I’m just a big pussy cat. I would never try to take away your goodies like the wolf did.”

“That’s great, because I take care of my goodies.”

He laughed again. “You can trust me. Look, no fangs or nasty claws.” He wiggled his fingers for her.

“My mamma taught me never to go in the woods with a strange man.”

“Then let’s not be strangers.” Hunter brushed sugar off his fingers with a napkin, extended his hand and introduced himself. “I live in Jersey City but my law office is in Wayne, so I like to come up here and take a break occasionally.”

She eyed him skeptically, then took his hand. “I’m Cynthia Donelson. My friends call me Cyn.”

“Sin,” he said with a low laugh. “I definitely want to be one of your friends.”

“That’s spelled C-Y-N,” she said, her eyes darkening as she looked into his.

“Still, a good name.”

She pulled her hand from his, but he sensed her reluctance. However, he scented the slight tang of pheromones.

“I think I’ve seen your law firm advertised,” she said.

“We do some ads in the local paper. What do you do?”

“I’m a writer, working on a new book.”

“Truth or fiction?”

“Depends on who you ask. I’m doing research on the New Jersey Devil.”

Hunter couldn’t have been more surprised. The New Jersey Devil had been a creature of legend in this state for more than 250 years. Supposedly, he had been born cruelly deformed and hidden by his parents until the day he sprouted wings and flew away. Since then, there had been frequent sightings of the demonic creature with the pointed ears, hoofed feet, and a long tail. As much as Hunter had roamed the woods, he had never happened upon the Devil. But who was he to disbelieve the existence of a fellow mythical beast?

He didn’t blink at Cyn. “Are you finding much evidence?”

“There’s plenty in the public record,” she replied.

“Lately?”

“Some odd reports of activity in the forest.”

He shifted in his chair, thinking of his grandfather’s warning. He studied Cyn a bit closer, but her expression was bland. It was rare to hear someone admit so freely to a belief in the supernatural, but he certainly wouldn’t argue the point.

“Animals have been stirred up as of late. Surely you’ve heard reports of bears and coyotes attacking people in the open. It’s like something is up that humans don’t know about.”

“Do you think that’s a sign that the Devil is visiting the area?”

She returned his gaze steadily. “Possibly.”

“And you write about this kind of thing for a living?”

“Before coming up here I spent two years studying the Bell Witch legend in Nashville.”

“Sounds familiar,” Hunter said.

“The Bells lived near Nashville in the 1700’s. They were haunted, terrorized really, by an unknown entity. Their property has been the site of well-documented paranormal activity ever since. I wrote my dissertation on the subject and turned it into a book published this past summer.”

“That’s cool. A bestseller?”

Again a smile curved her lips. “Not really, but I have high hopes for the Devil. In the meantime, I’m guest lecturing in folklore at Wayne Paterson University.” She hesitated, then added, “I also write for a couple of publications. Ever heard of
Out There?
”

“I read it all the time,” Hunter said with enthusiasm. “You’re awfully pretty to be running around looking for monsters.”

“And you’re awfully smart to use such a stupid line on a woman who has two PhDs,” she retorted.

Hunter had the grace to blush. It had been a while since he’d been in a battle of wits and lost. “Can I make up for that by taking you out for dinner in the city?”

“Maybe another time,” she said, then checked her watch and slipped the computer into her backpack.

“Have to get home to someone?” Hunter was surprised to feel a spark of jealousy. No matter that he already had a hot date with Mandy, he was used to women being very interested in what he offered.

“No one at home.” Cyn’s smile was easy. “But I’m busy tonight. And I’d prefer we stay around here when we go out. I put in long days and usually like to grab a meal late.”

“When” they went out, not “if.” Slightly mollified, Hunter rose and followed her to the door. “That works for me. I’ll give you a call…if you’ll give me your number.”

She handed him a business card. “You can reach me at this number. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can.”

She left him with a dazzling smile and her strong and alluring scent. Hunter noticed that she looked around, surveying the parking lot before she got in a dark green Jeep Grand Cherokee. She drove away without looking back, which irked a little. But mainly he felt a tug of sexual curiosity he hadn’t felt in a long time.

With a woman who hunted legends for a living.

“Shit, this is crazy,” he said, but grinned as he headed to his car.

He went home instead of the wildlife preserve, thinking of what Cyn had said about the local animals being stirred up. His frequent runs of late might be the cause, not the New Jersey Devil. He could work out his physical frustrations with the punching bag in his home gym. He had learned that part of being a shifter was exercising control.

Then there was Mandy to consider.

Funny, an evening of whipped cream and Mandy just didn’t seem as appealing now. He was almost relieved when she cancelled. Seems her husband stayed up late and didn’t want her to go out “to tend to a sick friend.”

On Sunday, Zoe had a break in the hospital CEO case. The wife really was cheating. Zoe was bummed, and Hunter ended up spending much of the day with her.

He thought about calling Cyn. However, all thoughts of the redhead fled when Mandy showed up at his office on Monday morning.

He, Zoe, and Darla were in the front office when Mandy walked in wearing a black, belted trench coat and black leather boots with stiletto heels. Her dark, glossy hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkled when she took off her sunglasses.

“Mr. MacRae, I was hoping for a moment of your time.” Mandy looked at him and only him.

Zoe sucked in her breath. Darla giggled. Hunter gestured toward his office. As Mandy disappeared down the hall, clearly familiar with the layout, he turned to the two other women, grinned and opened his arms wide. “What’s a guy to do?”

He turned his back on his colleagues, went into his office and locked the door.

Mandy had already dropped her coat on the floor and leaned on the edge of his desk. She wore only a black silk teddy and panties with a black garter belt and fishnet hose that dipped into her black boots. A silk rose rested just above her soft mound like a cherry on a sundae.

Hunter growled and was already shedding his pants as he pulled her toward the plush sofa against the wall.

Somewhere, faintly, he heard Zoe cursing.

Chapter 5

“Well, hell,” I muttered as I walked back to my office cubicle. Darla and I were aware of the entertainment Hunter sometimes provided for his female acquaintances and clients while we worked nearby. But this was pretty brazen. Mandy Morris’s husband was well known in the business community.

No doubt she and Hunter would have a slick answer if caught.

“I sure hope so,” I muttered as I sat at my desk. If Charlie Morris was as connected as he was purported to be, even Hunter’s ability to run and claw his way out of trouble might not keep him from getting whacked.

My belief in happily-ever-afters was taking it on the chin these days. First, another sad chapter unfolds with Eric and Kinley. Then, on Sunday, Walter Corbin’s wife ends up at a beach house where she spent the afternoon with the 20-year-old son of a family friend. She wasn’t tutoring the young man in French. Turns out the cheating bastard was right about his cheating wife.

Now Hunter was down the hall screwing another man’s wife.

What I needed to do was change my focus. I had an appointment to see Lizzie Howerton this afternoon, so I went to the Internet to learn everything I could about the Howertons.

Lizzie and her mother, Camilla Baines Howerton, ran the charitable foundation of the Howerton family. There were countless pictures of them hosting thousand-dollar-a-table luncheons and speaking at various civic clubs on behalf of their favorite charity, St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee.

A feature article explained that a child of a sorority sister of Camilla had large-cell lymphoma, a rare cancer, at age eleven. The girl was treated at St. Jude’s and survived. She was now 22, cancer free, finishing her nursing degree and planning to work in pediatrics. Camilla had devoted her time and money to the cause.

I read the gossip in the New York Post and found Camilla mentioned frequently, but never a hint of marital problems or scandal. Camilla and Douglas Ray Howerton were photographed together during fashion week and other big events around town. He was at her side in public along with their daughter, but in the end, Camilla had cut him out of her will, leaving everything to Lizzie.

Maybe the Howerton marriage was for the society columns only. Hunter’s parents had maintained such a marriage for nearly thirty-five years. My own parents had been terribly unhappy but still together when my mother was murdered. Maybe the mystery of the morning should be why I even still believed in marriage.

Forging ahead in my research, I found Douglas’s name in some financial articles. He had been one of Bernie Madoff’s victims, and had taken a few more hits in the Great Recession. But according to how their financials looked on the surface, it shouldn’t have made a difference. Camilla’s family really held the purse strings. She died a billionaire.

But why had Camilla cut Douglas out of the will? Why hadn’t sweet Lizzie mentioned it to me when we were talking? She acted as if the only problem she had in the world was finding the sister everyone else said she didn’t have. It was time to go find some answers.

Darla was printing a stack of paperwork when I emerged from my cubicle with my briefcase in hand. She looked up and smiled. “You’ve been quiet this morning.”

I explained about our new client who had walked in on Friday afternoon.

Darla seemed unperturbed as she put various copies into folders. “Who in the world would come in here to do business that late?”

“People who think we’re open until six o’clock like the sign on the door says,” I said, waiting for her to acknowledge her absence.

She shrugged. “Usually it’s dead here on Friday afternoons.” She picked up the stacks of paper and began putting them in folders.

I started to admonish her but decided it would fall on deaf ears. Hunter wouldn’t back me, and it wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause.

“I’m working on the Howerton case this afternoon and won’t be back until late.”

Darla gave me a wave, but still I hesitated. I asked, “I know Hunter has court this afternoon. You’re not nervous to be here alone, are you? After the body in the woods?”

Hunter and I had updated Darla on the events of Friday night as soon as she came in this morning.

The pretty blonde paused. “Do you think I have reason to worry? I’m just not sure someone interested in him would be interested in me,” Darla said with her usual supreme confidence.

I nodded, not sure why it hadn’t crossed my mind that Darla could pretty much handle anything. “All right.” I turned toward the door.

“Don’t worry about me,” Darla called. “You know I’ll be leaving well before dark.”

I resisted the urge to respond to that tiny dig and went to my car. I hit Highway 23 and went to the New Jersey Transit stop to grab a bus into the city. Occasionally I enjoy driving into Manhattan, but most days I just hop on a bus.

It’s a pleasant ride to cruise through the Meadowlands past Giants Stadium and the IZOD Center and whiz by Secaucus to enter New York City through the Lincoln Tunnel.