Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel (28 page)

Do I ever. “Not that I'm aware of,” I answer.

Kane continues. “Now the lab has a problem. They have a mother carrying a baby with some type of birth defect. Norma Billington works for the company. She's newly married and maybe she already knows she can't have kids for whatever reason. The laboratory offers a baby to her. Wendy Underwood's baby. The details are handled through a legit adoption agency so everything looks normal. Wendy Underwood takes her payoff and disappears. Norma Billington takes her defective child and moves away to raise the child in a small town in Texas.”

What type of drug could they have been testing that would make me a werewolf? I think drug testing for the market is a stretch and then some to explain what has happened to me. But
something
happened in Nevada.

“You need to let me go to Nevada,” Kane stresses again. “Something fishy is going on at that lab.”

He might find too many answers. “No, I told you, this is something I want to do together. I want a sense of place where my biological mother lived. I also think you need me to help you get information. The lab owes it to me to tell me if I have some type of defect I'm not aware of. I'll threaten them with legal ramifications if they don't. You just need to sit tight until I get back from a modeling shoot I have in Vermont this weekend.”

Kane sits back in his seat with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “Okay, you're calling the shots. I just thought you'd be anxious to find out what's going on.”

“I am,” I assure him, which is the truth. “But first I have to honor my work obligations. I leave in two days. I'll be back in five. We can wait.”

“Contact me the minute you get back so we can make arrangements to fly out.”

“My dime, I'm assuming,” I say sarcastically.

He shrugs. “Your problem. Your dime.”

What Kane doesn't know is that he's not going. I'll call him from Nevada and tell him I decided to snoop around on my own. He'll be mad as hell, but like he said, I'm the one calling the shots. I don't dare tell him now because he's just the type to go without me while I'm in Vermont.

“So what's happening in Vermont, cupcake?”

I've figured out bitching at him about his pet name for me does no good. I won't waste my breath. “Just a normal shoot. Skiwear.”

“Taking your boyfriend?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, and for the record, he's not my boyfriend.”

“Your decision or his? On the boyfriend part?”

Gathering my beauty bag, I rise and head toward the door. Kane hurries from behind his desk and meets me at the door.

“You know, you don't strike me as the turtleneck type.”

Before it registers what Kane is about to do, he pulls my turtleneck down. I swat his hand away.

“Wow, that's some hickey,” he says. “Got a little rough, didn't he?”

I knew the day would come when Kane pushed me too far. Today is the day. I slam him up against the wall. “Keep your hands and your comments to yourself!”

He gives me that shit-eating grin. “Nothing wrong with the rough stuff. If you like it, that's fine. I'll tell you a secret. I like it, too.”

He's not just saying that. We're pressed up against each other and he has a boner to beat the band. Pun intended. I shove away from him, grab the door, and storm out. “Pervert,” I mutter on my way to the elevator. I don't have to turn around to know Kane stands in the hall; I'm sure he's staring at my ass as I walk away. He can stare all he wants but he's never getting a piece of it.

Now I don't feel the least bit guilty about not telling him he's not going to Nevada with me. It's for his own good. I'm sure if I had to spend more than thirty minutes with the man I would end up killing him.

*   *   *

At home, Rick has left me a note. What is it with men and notes? Cops, vampires, they all leave them. At least Rick didn't sign his. It's short and to the point.

“Thanks for letting me crash on your couch. See you around.”

In the kitchen, I find another note.

“I left dinner in the refrigerator for you. If you want company later, let me know. Natasha.”

What's the deal? I thought the rule was to never feed a stray or they wouldn't leave. Not the other way around. I'm still in a pissy mood because of Morgan. I'm intrigued by what he had to tell me, but the whole cab ride home, I kept thinking about his boner. I gave two men a boner in the same day. I know what's under Terry's towel, and I know it's nice. Morgan felt … well, almost twice as nice if you get my meaning. Wonder if he stuffs something down his pants? I hear a lot of rock stars do.

And why am I thinking about this now? I have a ton of other things to think about. One of them is my upcoming travel plans. I've decided to go with Karen, and probably against my better judgment, I'm asking her if Natasha can tag along with us. If Karen says no, I'll tell her Natasha will bake us goodies for the road. That should seal the deal.

Stefan sounds disappointed when I tell him I'm going with Karen. I ask what's bothering him and he says his dad isn't doing well. His dad lives in Ireland, so Stefan can't just rush over to see what's wrong with the guy. He says he thought we could “talk” on the ride. I'm thinking about two boners today; adding a third would make me a real slut. I suggest we “talk” later, maybe while we're relaxing at the inn. Maybe by the time I get to the shoot location, I'll have figured out what to say to him, or where I want our relationship to go, or not go.

Because of my pissy mood, I don't invite Natasha over. I feel guilty about this because I'm scarfing down her goulash. Terry calls at seven, asks me where exactly in Vermont I'm staying. Natasha left the information for me along with her note. I give it to Terry and ask how he feels. He says okay, he's working on the possible connection between murders and missing girls in other states during his time off. I think he's lonely, but he doesn't ask me to come over. We hang up after a strained silence.

My freakin' phone rings again. I glance at the caller ID. It's Cindy. “Hey, stranger,” I say when I pick up.

“Hey, stranger yourself,” she says back. “What's going on with you? You never go out at night and I haven't been able to reach you for the past two.”

Because I love Cindy and figure she has enough to deal with in the real world, I don't tell her about vampires who bite nice and vampires who bite mean and girls who take being wolfy to the extreme. “Just hanging out,” I say. “Coffee with Terry.” Which isn't a lie.

“Have you gotten him in bed again yet?”

“No, but I gave him a hard-on today,” I offer.

“I guess that's something.”

I move to the couch and plop down. “Tell me what's happening on your end. Did you talk to your dad today?”

“What a nightmare,” she says glumly.

My heart sinks. I'd hoped that her meeting with her dad went well. “Don't tell me he was an ass.”

“He was an ass and then some,” she says. “He not only yelled at me, said I was going to hell, but he yelled at Mom for asking me to come home and visit. The only bright spot of the day was that she yelled back at him.”

“Your mom?” I'm shocked.

“Yeah,” Cindy says with a laugh, and the fact she can laugh makes me feel better. “She got right in his red face. She said he wasn't going to tell her what kind of a relationship she could have with their only child. She ended up telling him to go to hell.”

“Where is she now?”

“Downstairs in the hotel lobby, having a drink.”

I sit up straight. “A drink drink or a soda or something?”

“Apple martini, per my suggestion. I've got to get down there in a minute and make sure she's not getting looped and hitting on the lounge singer.”

The picture of that makes me laugh. Cindy laughs along with me. “Hey,” she says, sobering. “You're being okay to Natasha, right? I'd hate to think telling her you were really a nice person was a mistake.”

“You could have let me know you told her she could camp out at your place,” I scold her. “But yeah, I'm being all right to her. I'm even letting her cook for me. She's pretty good.”

“Okay, I really have to go check on Mom. I can't wait to see you in a couple of days. I miss you, kid.”

My eyes get misty. I sniff. “I miss you, too. See you in Vermont.”

As soon as I hang up, the phone rings again. Sheesh. “What?” I snap upon answering.

Nothing. Then heavy breathing. “Kane, is this you?”

No answer.

More heavy breathing.

“Very funny. Real mature.” I start to hang up, then the laughter begins. Chills race up my spine. I slam the phone down. How the hell does everyone get my unlisted number? I'm off the couch in two seconds, out the door, and pounding on the one next to mine. Natasha answers.

“I thought we were going to hang out.”

She practically beams. “I made brownies just in case.”

“Brownies! I love brownies!” My enthusiasm is a little too much. I push past her, shut the door and lock it, then head toward Cindy's kitchen. If I'm lucky, Natasha knows how to make happy brownies. Two days can't get here fast enough for me.

CONFESSION NO. 25

Beware of photographers asking you to bare your gifts.

The little inn nestled away near Mount Snow is fabulous. It has Colonial charm and all the furniture inside is antique. Karen and I take in our surroundings while Natasha hugs and laughs with the owners. The car trip wasn't too bad. We mostly pigged out on the baked goodies Natasha brought. The rest of the time we sang songs none of us knew the words to and enjoyed the beautiful scenery.

Stefan comes inside, stomping snow from his boots and looking very handsome in a black stocking cap. The man really needs to grow some hair. He smiles at us, walks over, and hugs each of us in turn. He hugs me the longest so I know I'm still his favorite model.

“I've been scouting around for a good location,” he says. “The snow is marvelous. I can't wait to get started.”

“Can we unpack first?” Karen asks sarcastically.

About that time what sounds like a herd of horses comes down the stairs. Cindy materializes a minute later.

She squeals when she sees me. What the hell, I squeal, too. I drop my bags and we hug. “I've missed you so much!” she exclaims. “And you,” she says, hugging Karen. “And you!” she shouts toward Natasha and rushes over to give her a hug.

Cindy looks great. There's a bloom in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. Going home has done her good, even if things didn't turn out so great with her dad.

“The inn is busy,” Stefan says. “Ski season and all. Afraid you girls are going to have to double up, so pick your roommates.”

Karen loops her arm in mine. “I get Lou.”

This is odd. I normally thought if anyone had to pair up, I'd be with Cindy. Cindy knows it's close to my PMS time and won't be shocked if I walk out of the bathroom with hair sprouting from my chin.

“Guess Natasha and I will room together,” Cindy says, casting me an apologetic glance.

I can't make a scene without hurting Karen's feelings. She doesn't know Natasha that well and asking her to room with her would be awkward. Rooming with Karen is awkward for me. But what else can I do?

“Great,” I say, putting an enthusiastic face forward.

“Why don't you ladies take your luggage up. Meet me in the restaurant in thirty minutes and I'll buy you lunch. We need to talk about the shoot and what I expect.”

Karen groans. “Work work work,” she mutters. “He's such a spoilsport.”

We grab our luggage and head for the stairs. As rustic as the inn looks, each room has its own bathroom and fireplace. Karen and I have two double beds and a view that I'm sure I've seen on Christmas cards. “This is something,” I say, staring out the window. “I don't like snow, and I hate snow in the city, but it's really beautiful when spread like a blanket over the countryside.”

“I'm catching a power nap,” Karen declares. She throws her luggage in a corner and claims a bed. “Wake me up when it's time for lunch.”

“Sure.” I place my luggage on the unclaimed bed and start to unpack. There's an antique wardrobe complete with cloth hangers. The wardrobe has two drawers at the bottom. I'll claim one for the dozen or so turtlenecks I brought along with my underwear and leave the other for Karen.

Deciding to scope out the bathroom, I take my beauty bag and toiletries into the small area. Shower only, but that's okay. I seldom take baths. I close the door and take a look at my neck. The bite marks have almost healed, but they're still noticeable. Hope Karen doesn't find it odd for me to wear a turtleneck beneath my favorite flannel pajamas.

When I exit the bathroom, Karen's already asleep. I go next door to Cindy and Natasha's room and knock. They don't answer for a moment and I wonder if they've already gone downstairs to the restaurant. I move away and the door opens. Cindy looks even more flushed than she did downstairs.

“Hey, Lou, what's up?”

I motion her out to the hallway. She glances behind her, says something, and comes out and closes the door.

“Where's the stuff you brought me?”

“I packed it in a suitcase. Maybe I should hold on to it if you don't want Karen snooping in it.”

“Who says Natasha won't snoop in it?” I ask.

“Because my luggage was already here. Karen knows what you brought. She might think an extra suitcase showing up out of the blue is suspicious.”

Cindy's right. I'm itching to get my hands on that suitcase. It's been so long since I had anything from my life before I ran away. I also want to see the note the Billingtons left me. “Okay,” I agree. “You hold on to it, but make sure Natasha doesn't snoop around in it.”