Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel (9 page)

“Well, I can vouch for Lou's credibility,” Stefan says. He hardens his puppy-dog eyes on Terry. “I've known her for a long time. A very long time.”

I guess that's supposed to mean something, the added “very long time.” If Stefan is suggesting we're lovers, he can take a number. Cindy is obviously my lover in the minds of all present. Even Karen looks a little surprised.

“Maybe this isn't a good idea.” Terry directs the comment to Karen. “I'll leave you all to enjoy your lunch.”

Karen reaches forward and slaps his hand with a menu. “Don't be silly,” she croons. “You have to eat, right? Stay so we can get better acquainted.”

Recalling Karen's comment about Shay's ass, I know why she'd want to get to know him. Since I sit with another woman's arm draped around me, Karen feels she's been given the go-ahead to pursue Terry Shay sexually. That thought does not improve my mood.

“Maybe just some pie and coffee,” Shay agrees.

The waitress appears and takes our orders. The moment she leaves is awkward, to say the least. Everyone keeps glancing at Cindy's hand plastered to my shoulder.

“So, Detective Shay, since this isn't business, can we call you Terry?” Karen attempts to save an awkward moment.

“I guess that would all right.”

“Let me introduce you to everyone,” she says, batting her lashes.

Shay's thigh is pressed against mine. I wonder if he's as aware of the contact as I am. Probably not, since Karen is vying for his undivided attention. “I already know Ms. Kinipski and Ms. Emerson,” he says. “And I remember you and the photographer from before.”

“Stefan O'Conner,” Stefan says. He glances at me, at Cindy's hand, and raises a brow.

I rub my arms to signify “I'm cold,” as if that were some type of explanation. Karen asks Shay about himself. She manages to pry information from him, although I get the feeling he'd as soon eat his pie, drink his coffee, and be on his way. I learn that Shay was born and raised in the city.

His father was a cop and his father before him. At one point Cindy rather loudly announces, “You feel cold, honey,” and she helps me into my coat. At least I can move again. We finish our salads, and when the waitress brings the check, Stefan gallantly picks up the tab.

Shopping will have to be cut short. I can't shop during a fur outbreak. My apartment building is within walking distance. Cindy and Karen can proceed without me. We all climb from the booth.

“I'd like to talk to you,” Shay says to me. “Alone, since you want our business to remain private.”

There's a little of Morgan Kane in Terry Shay. I'm curious about what he wants to discuss with me. “I guess you can walk me home. Or at least partway.”

Once we file out of the café, Shay hangs back as I make my excuses to the rest of the group. Cindy offers to continue the hunt for expensive shoes with Karen. I wonder if Cindy will end up dragging her into a Red Wing like she always does me. Stefan doesn't look pleased by the development.

“I thought I might give you a lift home,” he says. “I wanted to apologize for what I said to you last time we were together. I think we should kiss and make up like Karen wants us to do.”

Kissing and making up isn't an objectionable thought. Even if I had guilt feelings for not thinking much about Stefan the last few days, I realize that I miss him. He does care about me, and I care deeply about him. I value his friendship, regardless of whatever else goes on between us. Stepping forward, I place a hand on his arm.

“Some other time, okay? How about Friday after the shoot? You can give me a lift home then.”

His gaze strays past me to Shay. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Lou? If you are, I want to help.”

I'm beginning to understand other people can't always fight my battles for me. Stefan helped me out tremendously seven years ago. Cindy helps me out all the time. What's happening now is something I have to do myself.

“I know you want to help,” I say. “And I appreciate that, but I'm a big girl. I'll handle this.”

He glances away and then back at me. “I just like to look out for you. I care about you, Lou. You know that, right?”

Terry may send my hormones into overdrive, but Stefan touches me on a deeper level. I wish I could share what is happening to me with him. I wish I could tell him about my past and what I was running from when he found me. But I prefer that he only sees the surface. There's nothing wrong now with the outside of me … well, besides the fact I have fur on my shoulder.

“Sure I do,” I answer. Giving him my best cover-girl smile, I squeeze his arm and walk away. “I'll see you Friday,” I call over my shoulder.

Shay waits a short distance from me. Karen and Cindy walk arm in arm toward the expensive row of shops that line Fifty-fourth. I'm sure Karen's intentions were good when she got Terry and me together, even if she later decided she might want him for herself. Thanks a lot, girlfriend.

CONFESSION NO. 7

There's nothing worse than having an itch you can't scratch. Okay, that may be a little melodramatic. There are worse things, a lot worse. But I'm still living in the moment. And this moment is damn uncomfortable.

I itch like the devil as Shay and I start toward the general direction of my apartment building. My shoulder area seems particularly vulnerable to the recent outbreaks. Kind of like a stress zit that pops up in the same place when a normal woman's life gets crazy. I'll take the zit any day.

My jacket is too heavy to allow deep scratch penetration. I'm forced to deal with the discomfort. Both the shoulder fur and Shay walking beside me as if we're a normal couple out for an afternoon stroll in the city. I'm anything but normal, and Shay is … well, I'm not sure what he is besides hunkalicious. Maybe it's time to find out if he's more than a pretty face.

“You said your father was a cop,” I say. “Do your parents live in the city?”

“Brooklyn,” he answers. “Been there all their married lives.”

“So that's where you grew up?”

As we stroll, it doesn't escape my notice that Terry's eyes constantly search the area. “Yeah. Me and my three brothers, and my sister. The house has only three bedrooms so Sis got the one room and the four of us boys were crammed into the other one. That'll make you tough.”

I smile. It's hard to imagine not being an only child. “Are you close to everyone?”

“Yeah, we're all tight,” he answers, his eyes still roaming the streets. “Got a couple of nephews and a niece, too. Kids are the best.”

Before I get too many warm fuzzies, I remember Terry has dragged my friends into my business. “Let's clear something up. Leave my friends out of this. I'm not involved in the murders you're investigating. You had no right to contact Karen.”

Suddenly Terry takes my arm and steers me into an alleyway. He glances around the corner as if checking to make sure we aren't being followed. I think Stefan is right. Shay takes his job too seriously.

“Here's the deal. Something interesting came up during DNA testing, and again when the profiler talked to the detectives on this case. I needed to know about your credibility. Psychics are a hard pill for me to swallow. I don't believe in the supernatural. I don't want to share information with someone trying to put something over on me.”

I wish I didn't believe in the supernatural. I'm walking, talking proof that most people are blessedly ignorant about the monsters roaming their cities. Wait a minute; did Shay just say he wants to share information with me?

“What kind of information?”

He glances around the corner again. “Private information regarding these two cases. Information we wouldn't want leaked.”

I wait until I have his undivided attention again before asking, “Why would you share information with me? I told you that I'm not involved in these murders. They have nothing to do with me.”

I've never noticed how long and slender his fingers are until he runs them through his hair. He doesn't have detective hands. He has musician hands. “I'm still not convinced you might not be a target,” he says. “It's conceivable that the killer might only be fulfilling his fantasies about you with women who resemble you and are easier to get to.”

“Oh, that makes me feel better,” I say sarcastically. “Is this what you wanted to tell me? Stuff that will make me paranoid?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “That's not what I wanted to discuss with you. What you told me the other day in your apartment. I thought it was crazy. But because of the bite marks and furlike hair found beneath the victims' nails, the profiler on these cases suspects the murderer suffers from lycanthropy. You know, that disease where someone believes they're a werewolf?”

If anybody knows what lycanthropy is, it's me. I've done a ton of research on the condition. I've even tried to make myself believe I suffer from it. But like the murderer, I don't think that's the case. I wish now I'd never told Terry what I did. I've connected myself to the case, and I don't want to be connected. It's bad enough that I dream about the creep, and about his victims.

“So, why are you sharing this information with me?” I ask. “Just because my psychic abilities allowed me to pick up information on the killer doesn't mean I can actually pick him out in a crowd. Why drag me into it when I assure you I have no desire to be dragged into it?”

Shay looks away. He appears to be measuring his words before he glances back at me. “I've never believed in psychics. I do know how killers operate, and this guy isn't finished. I want to contact you and get your thoughts when and if he kills again. I also want to warn you to be vigilant. I think he might come after you.”

He's totally creeping me out. And that's a hard thing to do to a girl who, at the moment, has an unnatural fur growth on her shoulder. Thinking about it only makes the itch worse. Thinking about it also reminds me that regardless of what I am, or what I seem to be becoming, I have a human duty to my fellow man … and woman.

“I'll help if I can,” I grudgingly agree. “And I'll be vigilant when I'm out and about, but I really don't think these attacks are aimed at me personally.”

Shay guides me back toward the street. “You still have my number, right?” he asks.

I'm not about to tell him his card still rests on my nightstand, as if I'd actually get up the nerve to call him some lonely night. “I think I have it somewhere.”

Digging into his back jeans pocket, Shay removes his wallet, slips out another card, and hands it to me. “Just in case.”

I drop the card into my beauty bag as we walk. “All right, business concluded. You don't have to walk me the rest of the way.” I need to scratch. I can barely suppress the urge.

“You're real good for my ego, Kinipski,” he says flatly. “You're always trying to get rid of me.”

If it weren't for the itching, I'd be enjoying myself a little too much. I like the fact that Shay comes from a big boisterous family. I've always fantasized about being part of a big family. He likes kids, too. That always wins a man points with a woman. That thought makes me frown. I'm not sure if I can have kids. What kind of children would I produce? And would it just be one kid at a time or a whole litter? That thought makes me shudder.

Shay stops me and pulls my collar up around my neck. His hands are cold. “Sure you don't want me to walk you the rest of the way?”

It's tempting. Even with the itch driving me nuts. Which is exactly why I need to send him on his way. “I'm a big girl. I think I can handle walking two more blocks home. You'll have to go make someone else's day.”

That gets me a smile. He has white, straight teeth. His hands still grasp my collar. His smile fades as he stares down at me. I'm thinking now might be a good time for him to kiss me. He's obviously thinking something else.

“Well, take care, Ms. Kinipski.” He releases me and steps back.

I might be blushing. Like I expected something and didn't get it. I brush my hair off my cheek and try to act casual. “Since we're almost working together, I think it would be all right if you call me ‘Lou.'”

He smiles that killer smile again. “All right,” he agrees. “Lou it is.”

About now I wish I hadn't chosen an ugly name to remind myself that I was once an ugly girl. Even Shay can't make it sound good. There's nothing else to say or do but leave. “See you around.”

“Call me if you get any weird vibes, or whatever it is you do. And watch your back. Be alert to your surroundings.”

I give him a little salute, which makes him smile again. He finds me amusing. Then I remember he also finds me gay. Is that the reason he didn't kiss me? Maybe he didn't kiss me because he's not attracted to me. That's a hard pill to swallow.

Turning away, I move on. As I walk along the street, sharing my energy with others, I feel Shay's eyes follow me. I feel them for a long time. Too long. Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. A feeling of unease settles over me. It's not a feeling a person gets from having the object of that person's desire staring after her. It's a creepy feeling.

Nonchalantly, I glance over my itchy shoulder. I don't see Shay. I do see a man stopped at a corner a block down, staring in my direction. He wears a hooded sweatshirt, hands stuffed inside his jacket pockets. Maybe he isn't staring at me. I can't see his face. There's only a black hole inside the hood of his sweatshirt. But he is staring, I know this instinctively. My senses sharpen in a heartbeat.

There's a peculiar scent in the air. In a sea of human bodies, human smells, his is different. A growl rises in my throat. Surprised, I suppress it. My gums suddenly ache. My fingertips sting. What the hell is going on? I'm in danger. I sense, smell, and taste it. Whatever is happening to me, it has to do with the hooded man on the corner.