Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel (18 page)

Cindy nods approvingly. “I do believe you've finally become cool, Lou. Way to put him in his place.”

“Thanks for the reminder that I'm still a geek at heart,” I mutter. “Terry will be giving us a lift home. He's even putting on the siren for us.”

She fake-claps her hands. “Oh, goody, but sorry, I have to go. You two should be alone.” She gathers her coat.

“Wait,” I insist. “You don't have to leave. We're both going to the same place. Don't be silly.”

Her eyes are still puffy and I'm not sure Cindy doesn't have snot in her eyebrows. “We're not both going to the same place. I'm supposed to meet someone and I'm already late.”

Cindy's love life is starting to sound more interesting than mine. Well, who am I kidding? It's always been more interesting. “Same chick you were with earlier?”

She frowns at me. “Lesbians do not refer to themselves as ‘chicks'. We are women … and, well, sometimes we're men.”

“She's the dyke, right?”

I get another dirty look. “She's actually quite beautiful if you must know. She puts me to shame.”

Now is a perfect opportunity to make Cindy more aware of her own looks. “You have great bone structure, Cindy. Nice features. With a little effort, you could be gorgeous, too. If you let me work on you a little, I can help you get any woman you want.”

Her face turns splotchy red. Cindy rises from her chair. “Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment, Lou? A girl who has to wax her facial hair, and whose hot new lover left her a note this morning, shouldn't be telling anyone how to get whoever they want.”

Cindy stomps off and I'm not only stuck with the check, I'm stuck sitting alone. I had that coming. Cindy has never been insecure about her looks. She doesn't care about being attractive. She's more interested in a person's insides than their outsides. That's why she was always my best friend. Even during my Sherry years. I could learn a thing or two from her.

Another drink sounds good and I glance up to hail a waiter. I am confronted by a tall drink of water in a leather jacket who makes me realize I'll always be into a person's looks. I have become shallow. That's the sad truth.

Terry slides into a chair across from me. He glances around. “Where's Cindy? I thought she would be here.”

For a second, I get a vibe. It's almost as if Terry is nervous to be alone with me. After what we did together last night, I realize I'm being silly. Self-doubt can still do a number with my head. It usually only takes a long look in the mirror to straighten me out.

“She had a date. You just missed her.”

He tilts his head to one side and rubs his shoulder. A grimace crosses his face. “I needed to talk to you about business, so I guess it's better that she's not here.”

Business? Do we really have to get right to that? How about a kiss, a smile, something that lets me know I didn't imagine we had great sex last night, or rather, early this morning. Since I'm new at the actual relationship game, I play the “last night never happened” one that he's playing. “Have any hospital reports come in on the creep I burned last night?”

Terry shakes his head. “Nothing. No one who matched the kind of guy we're looking for.”

I'm disappointed by the news. “Maybe he crawled off somewhere and died. I torched him pretty good.”

He stares across the table at me, his deep-set, long-lashed blue eyes absent the proper amount of lust I wish were there. “He's not dead, Lou. When I left your building this morning, Gus the doorman was outside sweeping the sidewalk. He commented to me that someone must have gotten a haircut in front of the building. There was hair all over the sidewalk. I bagged it and took it in for analysis.”

The nearly raw meat I ate for dinner rolls around in my stomach. It wasn't Dog Breath's hair all over the sidewalk. What if the analysis ties the hair to me? How the hell do I explain that? I paused while running for my life to give my hair a trim?

“So, that's why you wanted to see me?”

I hope my question will get us on another subject, a more personal one. No such luck.

“I didn't talk to the lab until tonight. I was at the hospital all afternoon. Lou, it was fucking weird. The analysis reports that the hair was actually wolf fur.”

At least he didn't say wolf hair combined with
my
hair. Instead of sighing with relief, I lean forward and put my elbows on the table. “I told you he thinks he's a werewolf. The mask he wore could have very well been made of real wolf fur. I read somewhere that practicing lycanthropes often use actual wolf fur to summon a transformation.”

Terry reaches forward and grabs my half-empty water glass, takes a drink, and sets it back down. “That's what the profiler said. It gives me the creeps.”

So would finding out that he slept with a werewolf last night. I feel guilty that I must deceive him. But lovers lie to each other about a lot of things, right? For example, being faithful, being married … being human.

“I hope I at least slowed him down if I didn't kill him. He might still need medical care for his injuries at some point. We can hope anyway. That's why you were at the hospital all afternoon, right? Checking things out?”

Terry's gaze slides away. He studies my water glass again as if it holds all the secrets of the world. “Actually, I had a couple of broken ribs I had to have taken care of.”

I gasp. “What happened? Did you get hurt at work?”

His face flushes. “No, not at work.”

I know he has brothers. He'd said he'd been at his parents' house when he called. “Let me guess,” I tease him. “A friendly game of football with your brothers turned deadly.”

He smiles and rubs his shoulder. “I got the cracked ribs last night, Lou, or I guess it was early this morning.”

I'm trying to process what he's telling me. He was with me early this morning. Another vision of me elbowing him in the ribs flashes through my head. Oh, my God.

“I hurt you.”

He laughs as if it's nothing, but it's something to me. “Cindy was right. You are freakishly strong.”

My face is on fire. I had hoped he'd be reliving our hot sex all day in his mind, and instead he was at the hospital having his ribs taped. To my knowledge, I have never sent one of my former lovers to the hospital the next day … but then, I had never stuck around long enough to find out.

Now I stare at the half-empty water glass as if I find it as fascinating as Terry did a minute ago. “I guess that's a real turn-on,” I say.

He laughs again. “Let's go. I'll take you home.”

I have to give him points for bravery. Uninhibited sex with me is obviously dangerous. Terry is willing to be alone with me again … but is he willing to have sex with me again?

Terry stands. I grab my beauty bag and my coat. We walk from the steak house. Terry's El Camino is still warm, which is good since I'm sure he's not brave enough to cuddle with me. Clear plastic and duct tape replace the glass on the passenger side. I thought last night had one bright spot. That spot is getting darker by the moment.

We don't speak. I can't think of anything to say in my defense. Terry pulls up along the curb in front of my building a while later. Was I the only one having a good time in bed? I had an orgasm with a man, which is a first for me. Should I invite him up, or would that just be setting myself up for rejection?

“I suppose a repeat of last night is out of the question?” There, I go ahead and set myself up.

His hand is warm against the back of my neck. I turn to look at him, expecting him to pull me close and kiss me. Instead, he says, “Maybe after the bruises heal.”

I'm bad in bed. No one would guess that to look at me. Not even me. “I didn't realize you weren't having a good time.”

Terry gives my neck a squeeze. It doesn't make me flinch. He can be strong and be gentle. Why can't I? “I wouldn't say that, Kinipski. Despite the cracked ribs and a few bruises, I've been thinking about you all day.”

A warm feeling settles in my stomach then moves lower. “So I wasn't that bad?”

He laughs. “You were incredible. I'm just not in good enough shape to go another round with you. I'll have to buff up first.”

Terry is buff. Who do I have to sleep with? Superman? Does Superman exist? I didn't think that werewolves existed at one time in my life. I've learned a lot since then.

“There's another reason we should cool things down, Lou,” Terry says, his tone serious.

It had better be a good one or I might be traumatized for life. “I'm listening.”

His thumb brushes the side of my neck, sending a little shiver through me. “What I said about it getting personal, I meant that. It's harder to do my job when my emotions are involved. Until we catch this weirdo, I don't think it's a good idea to be having sex.”

“You mean with anyone, or just each other?” This is something I did even as Sherry Billington. Joke when someone hurts my feelings.

He frowns. “Just each other.”

“Oh, that's good to know.” About now is when I need to vacate the El Camino. My cool only lasts so long and then Sherry breaks through with all her insecurities and geekiness. I should be thankful Terry has given me an out. It isn't smart for a werewolf to date a cop. Not if she has any self-preservation instincts. I reach for the door.

“Lou.” Again, Terry's touch is gentle as he grips my arm. He pulls me back and kisses me. If it's a goodbye kiss, it's a damn good one. “Now you're just rubbing it in,” I say against his lips.

He laughs and pulls away. “Resisting you is going to be a challenge, Kinipski.”

“You got that right.” And I intend to make certain Terry regrets choosing job over sex. I open the door and climb out. Terry will watch me until I get inside. The building has good security. Cameras alert both the day and night shift doormen about whoever is coming and going, and they never open the door to someone they don't know lives in the building. Since I feel secure, I put a little extra swing in my walk.

Cindy is still on her hot date, so I can't unload on her, or apologize for wanting to make her more attractive to the same sex. I take a shower and go to bed. When a girl has nightmares, going to sleep isn't a high priority. After an hour of tossing and turning, I manage to fall asleep, and stay asleep. I wake to the sound of my alarm. I reach to turn it off but someone beats me to it. I sit up, a scream in my throat.

Cindy perches on the edge of my bed. “I need your help.”

Once I swallow down the scream, I shove the hair out of my eyes and throw the twisted covers back. “Cindy, you have a key in case I need you and the humane society to intervene on my behalf, not so you can just come and go as you please. Did it occur to you that I might not be alone?”

She smiles. “I listened in on the monitor. I didn't hear extra snoring or anything.”

I turned on the monitor before I went to bed in case I had the nightmare again. All I have to do is remember to turn it off when I have company … and I plan to have company again. “So what do you need?”

“I've been thinking about what you said last night.”

It doesn't surprise me that Cindy won't let that go. One of the things I admire about her is that she stands up for her beliefs. “I shouldn't have said that. I planned to apologize to you today. You look great just the way you are.”

“I know,” Cindy says. “But last night I noticed how my date kept getting hit on and stared at, and I thought, what the hell, it wouldn't kill me to pluck my eyebrows.”

“Damn. Who is this woman you will pluck your eyebrows for? I've got to meet her.”

Cindy shakes her head. “Not yet. I want to see if it's going to work out first. My batting average hasn't been too good lately.”

At least she has an average. One up, one down; not a good season for me, either. “Okay, we'll get started right away. I'll get the tweezers and the Vaseline.”

“Sounds kinky.” Cindy wiggles her unibrow. “Why are you alone this morning, by the way? Terry did pick you up, right?”

It's too early to talk about beating Terry up in bed. “Put coffee on while I get everything together,” I say, rising to search for the needed beauty tools. “I do have some, don't I?”

“I brought some over with me,” Cindy calls, headed toward my kitchen. “It should be ready. I'll get us a cup.”

While I have Cindy at the mercy of her well-hidden vanity, I decide a facial is in order, maybe even a manicure and a pedicure. Depends on how long she can take the girlie stuff.

“Here we go, nice and hot,” Cindy says upon reentering the bedroom. She holds two steaming mugs. “I'm assuming we'll do the torture in your bathroom under the bright lights.”

“You assume right, come in and sit on the toilet, we'll get started.”

“You do understand that I could do this myself?” Cindy joins me under the bright lights.

“I know, but the problem is that you won't.” I take my mug and have a sip. “You feel better when forced into good hygiene. I remember your mother had to yell at you several times to get you to even brush your teeth when I spent the night.”

Plopping down on my toilet seat, Cindy says, “You were all about looks even when you didn't have any. You've always wanted to be Barbie.”

Placing my cup on the bathroom counter, I grab the tweezers and the Vaseline and approach Cindy. “At least I didn't want to do Barbie. Your folks should have seen the foreshadowing when I had Barbie and Ken and you had Barbie and Midge, who now that I think about it was obviously gay.”

Cindy tilts her face up and I smear Vaseline on her eyebrows. “Midge was a tomboy, not a lesbian.”

“Yeah, right.”

“A few freckles and pigtails does not a lesbian make,” Cindy insists. “Although my Midge was definitely hot for Barbie.”