The Billionaire Jaguar's Curvy Journalist: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (6 page)

The ambulance had just showed up, the lights flashing. It would’ve taken a while for them to get ready, and by then who knew where the boy would have been along the river?

I had no choice. She’ll understand that.

Once you tell her you’re a jaguar. How do you think that’s going to work out?

He huddled into the foliage. The rain felt like needles driving into his fur. How had it cooled off so quickly?

He was in the Northeast. It wasn’t like where he’d grown up. Sometimes he missed California, the warmth and sunlight. It was easier for him to do business, easier to get away from his family memories, but he was never going to get used to the rapid changes in weather.

He watched as the rescue workers tended to the boy. He stirred, which was a good sign, probably.

Well, whatever happened, I saved a life.

Lost your mate, but saved a life.

Would you really have me choose differently?

No. But I wish that it wasn’t so wet.

He couldn’t shift back now. Not for a while. He adjusted his pants under his paws to keep them in place—

The branch was too wet. They slithered down, before his claws could catch them. Damn it.

Up a tree with no pants. Perfect. Just perfect.

“That was a shifter,” someone said.

“Some kind of spotted animal—”

“I didn’t think there were any around here—”

The voices buzzed and crossed over one another. Everyone wanted to see the shifter. Very few of his fellow shifters were open about who they were. There was too much scrutiny. Too many questions. Too many people who would want to put them in a lab and take them apart to see how they ticked.

He couldn’t do that. Not to himself, and not—

Not to his brother. They hadn’t seen each other in years, but family was still family. If he wasn’t a shifter, everyone would still want a piece of him. And if he was—

He hoped for Aaron’s case that he wasn’t.

Abby was taking pictures. Paul hoped her camera would withstand the rain. She’d probably done this a hundred times before. She can take care of herself. You have enough problems.

He looked down. He could still see his pants, at least.

They were going to be muddy.

He had no idea how he was going to explain all this to Abby.

Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much; time passed differently when he was a cat. The world was no longer carefully sectioned into seconds and minutes. Everything was slower, smoother. Day slid gently into evening, then night. He knew it was a while, but it was hard to say how long.

Eventually, people started leaving. First the boy in the ambulance, then some of the bystanders.

Then Abby disappeared. It hurt a little, but the boy was what mattered. He couldn’t be anyone other than who he was. And he certainly couldn’t have a life on his conscience.

The rain had lightened a little, though not enough to make it any drier. But the mist had eased a little, and he could see his sad, forlorn, muddy pants at the foot of the tree.

It was probably dark and deserted enough that he could start making his way down. And at least he wouldn’t have to worry about holding his pants in his jaws.

“Paul?” That was Abby’s voice in the distance. “Paul...I’ve got your shirt and your shoes. I...I can look for your pants if you need me to?” She sighed. “I mean, if you’re out here.” He could hear her shoes squelching in the mud. He’d more or less abandoned her. Her shoes were probably ruined.

He’d screwed all this up, but what choice had he had?

“If you’re out there—I’m not angry or anything. I wish you’d told me you were going to be back, but—if I’m not just talking to myself, or a wild animal, you were really brave.”

That sent a shiver through his fur.

“So...um, I’ve got your clothes. I’m not really sure what to do? Your car’s still on the bank, I think you’ve got the keys.”

Oh. Shit. Of course. He made his way slowly down the tree. Her eyes went wide, and she stood very, very still.

That won’t help you with a cat,
he thought. He’d have t9o tell her. He got down on the ground. At least this way he was near his pants.

You shouldn’t look at this,
he thought. But he couldn’t figure out how to tell her that. At least it was getting dark and the mist was rising. He focused and changed. The human came out, his skin stretching and tightening. His breath came faster, and by the time he was on all fours, he was panting, sweat breaking on his skin. It was always harder to go to human. “I’m sorry,” he said, when his voice had returned. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You saved his life,” Abby said. “They...they said that another minute might have—might have lost him.”

“Have they—”

“They’re treating him in case he’s got pneumonia,” she said. “His mom’s going to send me a text later, she said. And that whoever pulled him out of the river was a hero, and she’d like to make him a pie.”

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as he’d feared.

“Does she make good pies?”

9

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never had one. I mean, it’s a pie, can’t be that bad, right?”

He laughed. “Yeah, probably not.”

She had to laugh too. She was soaked to her skin, under a tree, with a man who could turn into a wild cat.

Holding the clothes of a man who could turn into a wild cat.

Everyone knew there were shifters. That they were rare. That they hid, because people thought they were scary or sinister or evil.

But no one really expected the people they talked to—the people they flirted with—to be shifters. To just turn into....

She didn’t even know for sure.

“Can I ask—can I ask what you are? Like, what kind of cat?” She sounded ridiculous.

“I guess you have a right to,” he said. “Ah, do you have my pants? It’s getting dark and it’s taking my eyes a while to adjust.”

“They’re—” She gestured to the ground in front of him. “Do you need me to get them?”

“I should be able to—” He gestured. “If you could just—”

“Oh, sure,” she said, turning her face.

“I’m a jaguar,” he said. “I...I don’t mind the question. These are—shit, these are really wet—hold on.” She could hear him struggling with the fabric. She hadn’t seen a lot of him on the ground, but what she could make out was muscular. Watching him now would be—

Hot.

Wrong.

Okay, hot
and
wrong.

“All right,” he said. “You can turn around. Um...I guess I should put my shirt on.”

“We’re not that far from my building, actually.” She handed over the wet shirt. “You guys drifted pretty far downriver. I think it’ll be easier to sneak you in over the bank. I’ve got a washer and a drier, so you can—dry out.”

“That would—” He took the shirt from her hands. “I would really appreciate that.”

“Everyone was so busy getting Mike out of the river, I doubt anyone was trying to track you. As long as I can get you into the building, we’ll be fine. They might wonder about the car, but I can pull that around while your clothes are drying, if that’s all right.”

“You are a hero,” he said, pulling the drenched shirt over his head.

“I...I’m not the one that pulled a ten-year-old out of the river.”

“That’s—” He sighed. “Maybe we’re both heroes, I don’t know. You really think you can sneak me into your building?”

She tried to grin confidently. “I’m going to try!”

“Lead on,” he said.

“And then I’ve got some questions,” she said. “Not for the paper. For me.”

He sounded a little...resigned? “That’s fair.”

“There’s a little path, right here,” she said. “Can you see it? It’s pretty slippery, so just take it easy.”

“It’s getting better, I can make it out.” He followed her to the riverbank. “Did I ruin your shoes?”

Maybe? “They’ll be fine.”

“Next time I’ll tell you I’ll be back at least,” he said. “I didn’t even think. I just—I just ran.”

“That’s how you saved his life,” she said. She hadn’t even heard him go. Like a cat, she guessed.

There were wooden steps set into the bank. His feet sounded steady behind her. “I’ll look out when we get up to the top. My building’s not too far away.”

“All right.”

Fortunately, there was no one in her parking lot. She kept a lookout while he crossed to the building. Normally she didn’t take the elevator, but this felt like a special case.

“How much further?” he asked when they were safely headed up.

“I’m the first apartment on the right. I’ll look out first.”

He pushed his wet hair back. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

He was drenched and grimy and he looked cold.

He also looked like a supermodel on a photo shoot.

“I—it’s the least I can do,” she stammered. She was pretty wet and cold herself, though she’d grabbed her umbrella from her apartment once she figured out what was going on. Her hair was spectacularly frizzy, and her shoes were probably completely destroyed. She’d gotten some good shots of the rescue, though, and her article was half-drafted in her head.

Mystery Shifter Saves Day

10-Year-Old Rescued By Unknown Jaguar

The door opened, and she stuck her head out into the hallway. “Coast is clear,” she said.

They darted across the hallway and she put her key in the lock, opening the door as quickly as she could. He went past her, fast and quiet again. Must be a cat thing.

She closed and locked the door behind her. When she turned around he was already peeling his wet shirt over his head.

Oh.

Oh,
damn
he was hot.

She went into the bathroom and got a towel.
Don’t think about his chest. Don’t think about his eyes. Don’t think about any of that.

“You can dry off before you use the shower,” she said, handing him the towel and trying not to stare. “Or—whatever.”

“I won’t drip all over your chair, anyway,” he said. His skin was covered in grime, but that only made his teeth look whiter.

There ought to be a law against looking that good.

“You should probably go in first,” he said. “If I change back to the cat I won’t be too cold, and you could really get—”

She shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said, “you—”

“I’m a mess,” he said. “But so are you. And unless there’s something you’re not telling me, you’re not going to change into a polar bear or anything to warm up.”

“Ah, no,” she said. “But I have dry clothes here, and you don’t.”

She shouldn’t stare.

She was totally staring.

“This wasn’t what I had in mind,” he said slowly, balling his wet shirt up in his hands uncertainly. “I—I did want to tell you. But—who says ‘hi, come out to dinner with me, by the way, I can turn into a jaguar?’”

Her voice sounded shaky. “Crazy people?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“I...I don’t know.” It did sound kind of crazy. But if any man she knew could turn into a jaguar, it’d probably be Paul Larson. Handsome, dark-haired, sexy, Paul Larson, who was shirtless in her living room and not wearing any underwear.

“Is it...is it all right?” She hadn’t turned on the lights yet—she hadn’t even thought that far ahead—and it was hard to make out Paul’s expression. Was he worried? Hopeful?

Was she? Her heart was hammering in her chest.

“All right?”

“I don’t—you’re not scared, or—”

“No.” How could she be? She’d seen how gentle he had been with the boy. And she trusted this man, even if she had only met him once before. It wasn’t like he was a wild animal. He...could just turn into one. “It’s...unusual, but—I’m not scared. You’re—I’ve met you. I’ve talked with you.”
I’ve looked at you naked.

“My mother—she was a shifter, like me. That’s where it was passed on to me. And—when my father found out, he was shocked. Disgusted. He...we were on our own after that.”

“I—” Her heart went out to him, and she stepped closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“We just had each other for a long time. So—I never want to make the mistake she did. No one wants to be with someone who thinks you’re a monster.”

But— “How could he think that?” How could anyone? They’d been together long enough to have children!

“He was—he wasn’t a cruel man,” Paul said slowly. “But he was afraid. And he cared a lot about appearances, about what other people thought. I guess he thought there would be a scandal. That people would think less of him that he married a shifter, that his wife was a big cat.”

It sounded pretty cruel to Abby. “Did he know you were a shifter too?”

“That’s—the first time I shifted was when he found out. I was just a kid, maybe nine or ten?”

She closed her mouth—her jaw had dropped open. “I’m—how could anyone do that? To your mother
or
you?”

She’d been stepping closer to him, without even thinking about it. Almost close enough to touch.

“But you’re not afraid,” he said.

She shook her head.

“And if there were children—I know I’m getting ahead of myself, I’m sorry, I just—”

“No,” she said. “I understand. I...I don’t understand how anyone couldn’t love their own child. Especially a child—” A child like you, she thought, but that sounded ridiculous. “Just for that? For something special?”

“‘Special?’”

“You changed into a jaguar and saved someone’s life! That’s—that’s magical. I never thought I’d see anything like that, not in person. But you—”

She didn’t know what to say, how to reassure him.

But he seemed to have found his reassurance. He stepped forward, just half a step to close the distance between them, and took her into his arms.

They were both wet and cold, but his skin still felt warm to the touch. The grime and the cold and the rain didn’t matter. All that mattered were his strong hands, his muscular chest pressed against her breasts. All that mattered was his kiss.

And oh, how he kissed.

It felt good, so good. He was so strong, so sure of himself with his hands, with the way he moved. He wrapped his arms around her, strong muscle against the soaked fabric of her blouse.