The Billionaire Jaguar's Curvy Journalist: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (5 page)

“You really do like cats,” she said. “Guys are usually dog people.”

“Dogs are fine in their place,” he said. “But I liked the photo. And I am fond of cats.”

“I know.” She couldn’t help smiling. It was...nice, that he’d liked her picture. Really nice. And she knew that Tina wouldn’t lie that she hadn’t told him whose photos they were.

“So are the pastries made here?”

Abby nodded. “Tina gets up at like four every morning. I don’t know how she does it.”

“I go home after the cafe closes and take a nap,” Tina said, putting their pastries in front of them. “Then I get up again and have dinner, whatever else I’m doing for the night. Go to bed at ten, usually, do it all over again. It works pretty well.”

Abby shook her head. “I still don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve read that people are more productive if they take naps,” Paul said. “Makes sense.” He lifted up his coffee and took a long drink.

Abby found herself watching his throat work. He had a strong jaw. Nice mouth.
I need to stop staring,
she thought to herself.

She picked up the turnover and took a bite instead. It was perfect, like usual, the sweet and tart flavors balanced and the turnover itself nice and flaky.

“That looks so good,” Paul said, and Abby wasn’t sure if he was talking about the turnover or...well,
her.

“Um, you should try it,” she said, and damn, did she just spit out crumbs? She put her fingers up to her mouth, trying not to feel awkward.

“I think I should,” he said, and if that didn’t warm her from top to toe, she didn’t know what would. His voice was like chocolate.

“So...you’ve got a place out here? That’s kind of sudden, isn’t it?”

“It probably seems that way,” he said, picking up his turnover. “But nah, I’ve wanted to have a place closer to the branch office for a while; Chris spent a lot of time looking fo me.” He took a bite of the turnover and grinned. He wasn’t self-conscious at all.

Abby wondered how it would feel to be like that.

“This is really, really good,” he said, through his mouthful. “Mm, ‘scuse me—”

He swallowed, picked up his coffee and took a drink. “She’s a good cook,” he said. “You’ve got good taste in friends—good coffee, good pastries, tried to help me out—”

“Lied for you,” she said.

“She didn’t,” he said. “She was just ready to...well, stretch the truth a little, that’s all. Selective honesty. Good friends, they do that stuff for you.”

“Well, I’m glad you found this place, anyway,” she said. “Tina works hard.”

“I guess she does,” he said. “It’s earlier than I’d want to wake up. And while I wouldn’t mind having to work with my hands every once in a while, I’m not sure I’d want to have to make everything right, every time, every day.”

The bell rang and a couple came in, laughing and talking. They went up to the counter and started talking with Tina.

“You have to make things right, though,” she said.

“But it’s not just me,” he said. “I’ve got a whole staff, not just Chris. They can call me on my bullshit. Honestly, I need that sometimes.”

“You’re a lot more candid now the interview’s over,” she teased.

He looked a little embarrassed. “I...I just feel like I can be honest with you,” he said. “There’s something special about you. I knew it the first time I looked at you.”

“That’s very romantic, I guess,” she said, picking up her pastry again. “But...I don’t know, I guess I never believed in stuff like love at first sight.”
I sure never thought anyone would talk to me about it.

“My mother told me that someday I’d find the right woman, and...everything would fall in place.” He waved vaguely, like he was trying to describe the world changing with a gesture.

“And you believed her?”

“I did,” he said. “Of course I did. She was very rarely wrong.”

“I wish I could have met her,” Abby said. “You talk about her a lot.”

“She’s been on my mind lately,” he said thoughtfully. “She taught me so much about life, and—things that I didn’t even realize were important, I was too young.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“In college,” he said. “Undergrad. It’s—it’s how I met Chris, actually. She—do you remember Ocean Air? Flight 252?”

“The plane crash?” Her stomach clenched. “Oh, I’m...I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said, “but—it’s better now. Chris lost his mom, too, we met in a support group for survivors, and...we just clicked, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“We had a lot in common—Chris’s parents are both from Columbia, like my mother was. He’s got more Quechua heritage than I do—Mom had a lot of Spanish, too—but we’ve got a lot in common. He’s pretty much the only guy I know who gets it when I tell him to cut out the
sonsochakoq
bullshit.”

“Sonsochakoq?”

“It’s kind of like playing dumb, or putting on a front. When you’re at your desk pretending to work hard, that’s sonsochakoq.”

“Interesting,” she said. “So you and Chris go back a while too.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t know what I’d do without him,” he said, lifting his coffee cup again. “What about you and Tina?”

“She’s been here her whole life,” Abby said. “I started coming here in college—I had an internship at the Salem Beach Times—and she worked here. It was different then, this big Greek guy owned it, and Tina just worked there. But she was already baking for him, and he retired to Florida a couple years back. She bought the business from him, redecorated, and now—” She gestured. “It’s hers.”

“She’s done a hell of a job,” he said. “I start staying here, I’m going to bring a whole bunch of these into the office. Instant hero.”

“I wish that would work at my job,” she said. Would he realize—?

He did. Damn it, did he have to be perceptive too? “I thought—they don’t appreciate you?”

“I’m—most of them do, it’s fine.”

“Laura,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t really need to.

“Has she always been like this to you?” His face showed concern. He seemed genuine.

“I guess so?” She shrugged. “It’s never been a big deal. She wants the big stories, and I don’t really care. I like it here, I don’t really want a big job in the city. I’d have to be on call all the time. I couldn’t just leave my phone at home and just veg out at the beach, or take the weekend off. That’s what she wants, and I hope she gets it.”

“Gets her out of your hair sooner, right?”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Everyone wins. But...don’t say too much about it here, okay? The owner thinks she’s the best thing since sliced bread. I don’t want him to think I’m trash talking her or anything.” She took a drink. “Like I said, I like my job.”

“I’m eager to see the article,” he said. “You asked all the right questions, even the ones I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

“You don’t have that many secrets to hide, do you?”

His smile was self-effacing. “Aside from my secret identity as a superhero? Nah, not really.”

“Well, then, you shouldn’t have been worried.” She didn’t have much coffee left. Pretty soon she’d have to make some excuses and go. She couldn’t spend all day there, as tempting as it sounded.

“The paper’s weekly, right?”

She nodded. “Articles are subscription only for the first week. We figure that there might be a little bump in subscriptions this week after people found out about the profile.”

He laughed. “A little.”

They figured at least the major media outlets would be asking for access. It could give their little operation a real boost. And even though she was annoyed with Ted for falling for Laura’s bull, she wanted
Salem Beach Now
to do well. She really did like working at the paper, being part of a community.

She traced the edge of her coffee mug with her finger. She didn’t know what to say.

Paul didn’t seem to mind her silence. He just sat, drinking his coffee, finishing off his pastry. He...seemed happy just to be with her.

A loud crack of thunder hit, so hard and close the building shook a little. Abby jumped in her seat. So much for being cool.

Though the lightning seemed to have distracted Paul, too. “That came on fast,” he said.

“It was getting dark when I came in.”

“Did you—did you walk here? I should give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

There was another bright flash—she hadn’t caught the first one, but this one was hard to miss—and a second window-jarring crack of thunder.

“I think I really should,” he said, his eyebrows raised in alarm.

He might be right.

“It’s not raining yet,” he said, standing up. “Let’s get going before we get drenched.” He grabbed his photo and tucked it under his arm.

“Yeah, I guess we should. You really don’t have to—”

Another crash of thunder. “I really think I should,” he protested.

He wasn’t wrong.

“All right,” she said, getting up. “Thank you.” What kind of car did he have? Did he go for something showy, or more understated?

“Just follow me,” he said. “Have a good afternoon, Tina!”

“You too!” she called.

The rain started halfway there, but she could see a sleek dark blue car. Sporty, but not insanely expensive. Nice.

He lifted up his keychain and pressed the buttons, unlocking the doors. He carefully tucked the picture into the backseat.

Abby slid in. The car had leather seats. They felt warmed from the sun, after how cool the rain had been. Her hair was damp and there were wet drops on her arms. “The rain hit fast.”

“It sure did,” he said. “Now...where to? Back to the office?”

She didn’t actually have to go back to the office. “Um, I was actually headed home.”

“I can drop you off, it’s no problem,” he said. “I’m...not insulted if I just leave you at your door.”

“It’s not far. Just a couple of blocks on Oak Street.”

“Oak is the one on the left?”

“Yeah, left,” she said.

“At least you don’t have any one-way streets here. I will not miss that about the city.” He put on his turn signal. “Are you in one of the converted mills?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Right by the river.” She liked how cool it made the apartment in summer, at least compared to the rest of town, and she was lucky enough to be able to see the river when she looked out her window. Sometimes on rainy or snowy days, she worked from home, with her laptop near the window. It was peaceful, then, and quiet.

They neared the bridge. There were several cars parked on the side of the road with their four-ways on. “Something’s up,” Paul said, and pulled over.

They both got out and walked toward the river. The rain was falling a lot harder now, and it had turned the ground squishy under their shoes. They got a little closer and realized there were several men and women on the bank, shouting to each other, trying to get down to the water. Something was wrong, really wrong.

“What’s going on?” she shouted down to George Chung, who owned the town’s only gallery.

“Someone fell in,” George shouted back. “Looked like a kid. We’re trying to get down there—”

“Has someone called the rescue squad?”

George nodded. “But they can only get here so fast, you know? And the river’s high this year.”

It sure was, and it was moving fast. She turned to look at Paul—

Paul was gone.

8

Paul ran.

He could hear the boy, clearer than any non-shifter could. He was panicking. Panicking could kill him.

He pulled his shirt over his head and ran faster, harder. This was a risk, a big risk. Mostly shifters stayed quiet. People didn’t trust them. But he couldn’t let a boy die for the sake of his career. There was enough vegetation around that, with luck, he would be hidden by cover for most of his run. He unbuckled his pants, and almost tripped kicking his shoes off.

He didn’t bother taking off his shorts. They’d slide off on their own.

He was about a hundred yards from the boy when he hit the water.

The water was high, cold, and the current was strong. No wonder the boy was so scared. But Paul was a strong swimmer even as a human, and the cat was twice as powerful. He let the current take him until he was close to the boy, then grabbed the back of his shirt with his teeth.

Gentle, gentle,
he reminded himself.
This is a child
.

The boy screamed, startled.

Paul couldn’t speak or do anything else to calm him. All he could do was pull the boy to shore, doing his best to keep his head above water.

The screaming seemed even louder in jaguar form. His ears hurt, and the struggling boy made swimming against the current twice as hard. His heart was pounding. This stuff always seemed easier before you actually dove into the water.

Man, you’d think this kid would be out of breath by now.

Not that he could blame him: if Paul was the one who’d fallen into the river and then, after almost drowning, was being dragged to the bank by a jaguar, he’d be pretty freaked out too. Hell, Paul could still remember the first time he’d transformed, and that had been terrifying.

The boy struck wildly at his back. How old was he, nine or ten? Damn, just a kid.

It felt like forever before he got to the riverbank. He dragged the kid onto the shore. The boy was coughing and sputtering. Coughing meant breathing. Breathing meant alive.

There were people running in their direction. He had to go. Now. He didn’t want to answer any of those questions.

He had the presence of mind to remember that his keys and wallet were in his pants, and he grabbed them with his jaws before he ran into the underbrush. The advantage of a jaguar’s coat was that it blended into just about anywhere, and it was doubly hard to see in the rain.

He got under cover quickly and found a tree to climb. There was a mist rising from the rain.

All he had to do was wait it out.

But what was he going to do about Abby?

She’s your mate, you idiot! And you just left her there!

If she’s my mate, she’ll understand. I had to save that boy!