The Billionaire Jaguar's Curvy Journalist: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (3 page)

“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.