Make Me Howl

by Susan Shay

After a heart-pounding breathless moment, I said, “This is Jazzy Cannis, Bella’s sister—”

  “Gypsy Dancer?” he teased, his voice a bit softer but every bit as fascinating.

  A thousand thoughts darted through my mind. Why was it simple words, even from miles away, could turn a girl on?

  I pictured his mouth, full and well defined, and imagined the words coming from them. I loved the way he smiled and laughed, which made me wonder, would his lips be soft, yet warm? Firm and sweet?

  I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. “Yes, the gypsy dancer. I was trying to reach my sister. It seems her cell is either turned off or she has a dead battery.”

  “Want to leave a message with me? She’s in surgery so she can’t talk. “

  Brain going numb, just like it did when Bella started speaking vet, I decided to break off. “Sure. Tell her I might be late tonight. I have to meet with the models for the fashion show later this month.”

  After hanging up, I hurried to get dressed. I had to look good. After all, I had an appointment. But with the way my head pounded, I needed comfort more. So I did a quick makeup job, except on my eyes. There I had to pull a couple of tricks out of my bag to keep the hangover from being obvious. Next I pulled out my Scarlett Johansen ensem. Designed as it was, the body skimming fabric and dip-down-to-there neckline kept people from noticing, without a waistline, it was as comfortable as a bathrobe.

  Too bad I couldn’t do that with my shoes. For some reason, women who could afford to hire a fashion consultant expected them to have fabulous footwear. Or maybe I was just known for having shoes to die for, but anytime I tried to go easy on my feet, my ladies whined.

  Extremely grateful for condo garages so I wouldn’t have to go outside, I grabbed my bag, put on my sunglasses and rushed to ours where I slid into my Z4. Starting the car and shifting into gear, I took off for the office.

  Although the drive to the high-end mall where I kept my office was, in Texas terms, just around the corner, getting there seemed to take forever. And the line at the drive-thru at Starbucks didn’t help matters.

  What is it about a hangover that can stretch time?

  Naturally, after I chipped a nail in my rush to get the office door unlocked, there was a message on my voicemail, canceling the afternoon appointment.

  Irritated enough to bite the furniture, I stormed to the desk and flicked on my laptop so I could check my calendar. Nothing for the entire day until that evening, when I had a meeting with the models for the fashion show.

  Since most of my afternoon was open, I decided to do a little reading. Online. When I clicked on the Internet, my browser opened to the Dallas Morning News. I read through a story about the party at Safari Land and what a roaring success it had been—apparently that stupid pun was intended. A related story announced a dedication dinner in a few weeks, where Dr. Chase Holliday would be the main speaker.

  Then I tried to remember the name of the wolf gene he told Bella he wanted to eradicate and decided to Google it. After spelling it about every possible way, I found it. The Syzygia Gene was the topic of an article about a doctor in South America. From the way it was written, the reporter thought it was a joke, calling the gene that caused lycanthropy mythical.

  I stared in disbelief at the screen as realization penetrated my still cloudy brain.

  Doc Holliday—a werewolf hunter.

  Chapter Two

  Anger poured over me, flamed my veins, scorched my lungs and filled my heart with fire. I could hardly breathe, much less think. I was so furious, my nails curved into claws. My muscles tensed with energy as the fury grew. Unable to sit, I prowled the office from my desk past the loveseat and chairs to the door and back, into the next room with its mirrored dressing space, then started over.

  Most people didn’t realize Lycans actually existed. Now the first man I was truly attracted to in eons, and he wasn’t just a werewolf killer. He was a destroyer. Not satisfied to rid the world of them one at a time, he wanted to completely eradicate them.

  Throwing myself into my desk chair, I closed my eyes for a moment and thought about the sexy gunslinger from the night before. Taller than me, even in my stilettos, he had to be over six feet tall by several inches. He was smart, easy to be with and, unless I was mistaken, knew how to have a great time.

  Damn him!

  Unable to sit still a moment longer, I sprang out of my chair, snatched my bag from the desk drawer and stormed out of the office. Maybe a little shopping would make me feel better.

  My trip through the mall might not have helped my mood, but it helped the Texas economy. The first stop was at Saks, where I loaded down my Visa, and the next was at Nordstrom’s. In the shoe department, I maxed out my American Express and, in bags, my Mastercard. By the time I hustled back to my office for my meeting, I was exhausted.

  I’d just put away my bags when the door whooshed open and I was greeted by the high giggle of female voices. The hackles on the back of my neck rose at the sound.

  Rather than acknowledge me, the trio of young women kept their heads together and whispered. Shoving my irritation with their rudeness away, I strode toward them, a smile firmly fixed on my lips. “Emily? Hannah? Madison? I’m glad to meet you. I’m Jazzy Cannis.”

  “We saw the sign.” The blonde with very long, straight hair slid a glance at the others, then in a pseudo whisper said, “But I thought it was the door’s name.”

  The giggling started again, so I walked back to my desk and looked at the list on my clipboard. “Which one are you?” I asked the blonde.

  She looked away from her friends, her mouth turned downward while she shrugged one shoulder. “Hannah.”

  I nodded, focusing on the next girl before Hannah could make another stupid joke. “And you?”

  The girl next to Hannah looked at the floor, turning her double chin into a quadruple one. “I’m Emily.” I couldn’t tell if Emily had really narrow eyes or if her cheeks had so much fat on them, they just crowded everything.

  “And you must be Madison,” I said to the third girl.

  She shot me a self-confident smile. “I must be.” With a toss of her head, she sent her curtain of shining brown hair sliding behind her shoulders.

  At least one of the girls might make it all the way to the end of the runway without getting rug burn.

  “All right. I have names on the clothes you’ll be wearing, hanging outside the dressing rooms off the next room. I’d like you to try them on.”

  While two of the girls started to shuffle toward the dressing room, Madison planted her feet and ditched the smile. “What do you mean?”

  “What is it you’re unclear about?” I shot back.

  Madison narrowed her eyes as she lifted her chin. “I thought we’d pick out what we’re going to wear.”

  I gave a soft laugh. As if I’d trust a college girl to choose what she’d wear in one of my shows? “No. You can help me decide if what I’ve chosen fits you well and is flattering to your coloring, but I make the choices.”

  “What if we don’t like them?” the girl with the fat cheeks—Emily—whined.

  “Then you don’t have to buy them.” More than a little irritated, I got out of my chair and walked to the front of my desk. “This event isn’t so you can do some extra-curricular shopping. It’s so the stores in the mall can get their fashions out for our audience to see. And to be honest, college girls aren’t the target clientele for this mall.”

  Nose wrinkled as if she smelled something bad, Madison raised an eyebrow. “Maybe we should be.”

  Leaning a hip against my desk, I nodded. “I see. How often do you drive over here to shop?”

  “If they had anything I liked, I’d probably shop here every weekend,” Madison said, then shrugged when Hannah gave her a sharp look.

  “And how much disposable income do you have?”

  “I get an allowance for clothes.”

  I kept my voice very soft. “The allowance you get is nothing compared to what the
average woman who shops in this mall spends.”

  “How do you know?” Surprisingly, the question came from Hannah, and from the curious look on her face was sincere.

  “Because it hasn’t been that long since I was in college, with a set of very affluent parents who enjoyed spoiling me and my sister.” I thought of telling them about our college graduation presents—my first BMW and my sister’s Escalade—but thought better of it. “As much as we’d like to have you as regular shoppers, it’s your mothers’ business we really want.”

  Without another word, Hannah turned and went into her designated dressing room. After a moment, Madison did the same, and finally, so did Emily.

  As they tried on the clothes, I took notes. Emily had lied about the size she wore and, not surprisingly, nothing fit.

  After a very long hour, we were finished. “All right, girls. I’ll see you the Friday evening before the show at six. Emily, you be here at five.”

  “Why do I have to come back early?” Emily asked, her whine becoming more pronounced.

  “Because I have to find something in your size.” I leaned close and whispered, “Next time, don’t lie. It only causes trouble.”

  The girl gasped. “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t.” I held up a hand to cut her off before her whine did me in.

  “So why do we have to come back before the show?” Madison asked.

  By that time, I had to dig deep for patience. “To practice on the runway so you’ll know where to go and what to do.”

  Emily and Madison charged out of my office, but Hannah lingered a moment. “I think the practice is a good idea. Some of us might walk onto the runway and get lost.”

  I chuckled as she left. I could only wish—fervently—that the rest of the models would be more like Hannah and much, much less like the other two. But I didn’t have much hope.

  I was shocked to see the disaster the girls had left in the dressing rooms. The clothes they’d tried on weren’t cheap by anyone’s estimation, but no matter the cost, they’d all been thrown on the floor and looked as if they’d been walked on. At least I had a steamer to freshen them up. I spent half an hour picking up ensembles, sportswear and dresses and putting them back on hangers, sorting them between keepers and returns. Next year, no matter how badly the mall owner wanted to use the girls in her old sorority to model for us, I’d have to put my foot down. Professionals were so much easier.

  After checking my calendar, I decided to finish up in the morning. I snagged my purse from its drawer, picked up my packages from under the desk, locked the office and headed for the parking lot.

  Just as I stepped out the door, lot security pulled up in the official golf cart. Recognizing me, the white haired rent-a-cop offered me a ride to my car. Exactly what I needed after the exhausting night and day I’d had. Giving him my brightest smile, I climbed in. It took only a moment to get to my Z4, which was a good thing since I’d have fallen asleep if it had been much longer.

  To be sure I’d stay awake I turned up the radio, rolled down the windows and let the breeze blow through my hair as I drove home.

  I parked in the garage, so tired I was almost as giggly as the girls had been. Lack of sleep can do that to me. Thankful it wasn’t far to our apartment, I dragged myself out of the car and over to the elevator.

  Finally I stood at our door, which I’d painted red right after we moved in, much to the annoyance of the property owners. As I shoved the key in the hole, I remembered it was my night to cook.

  I was lousy at it, but no matter how awful my food tasted, Bella wouldn’t take over that chore. More than a little disgusted, I dropped my stuff, turned on the oven to preheat, hurried to the freezer and looked for something I could warm up. After pawing through freezer snow for a few moments, a burnt orange package caught my eye. Lasagna! Just what I needed.

  Adjusting the oven temperature, I yanked the food out of the box, made a tent out of the metal lid, shoved it in the oven and set the timer. Then I crashed on the couch. So exhausted I didn’t even turn on the TV, I dropped into the sleep of the dead until an incessant blaring woke me. I blinked several times, my eyes burning, but I couldn’t focus. Finally I realized the room had filled with black smoke.

  Understanding gradually filtered into my brain—dinner was on fire. Grabbing a magazine, I fanned at the smoke. When it had cleared enough to see my way into the kitchen, I turned off the alarm. I battled my way to the oven, opened the door and saw the lasagna was blackened beyond reclaiming, but at least it wasn’t actually blazing, as I’d half expected.

  Using a couple of turkey shaped potholders that Bella had bought in honor of the upcoming season, I took the dish to the sink and dropped it there to cool when I heard Bella’s key in the door.

  She was chattering before she had the door open. “Jazzy? I brought home a guest for din—” Although I couldn’t see her through the fog, the first wave of smoke must have hit her because she stopped talking mid-word to cough.

  “Bella, I’m fine,” I called out, but apparently she couldn’t hear over her fright.

  “Jazzy! Where are you? What’s on fire?” Just like our mother, her voice grew sharp with distress.

  Before I could answer her, a large, very male form materialized in the dense haze. Fireman? I continued to fan as I considered the man, made blurry by the tears filling my eyes. There was no helmet, no center-stripe-yellow coat, no puss-in-boots footwear. He came straight to me, knocking my Elle from my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Doc! My heart did a triple beat as he slid an arm around me to guide me through the smoke. I took a breath, intending to tell him I was fine, but the smoke curled in my throat and I had another coughing fit instead.

  Soon I found myself outside the apartment with Bella and Doc. After taking several long breaths of delicious, smokeless air, I could finally breathe without hacking like a nicotine addict. I leaned against the wall. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Bella’s face gleamed white. “What happened?”

  At that moment, my nose started running to match my eyes. I gave a long sniff, so she reached into her purse and pulled out a packet of tissues, which she shoved into my hands. “Now tell me why our apartment looks like the inside of a smoker at a barbecue cook off.”

  I took my time, drying my eyes and blowing my nose before I tried to answer. When I thought I might be able to talk, my throat was as rough as if I’d been on a howl all night. I almost forgot…I had.

  I swallowed hard, cleared my throat, and rasped, “I fell asleep.”

  “Fell asleep?” She repeated my words as if they were a new concept. “With dinner in the oven, you fell asleep? Didn’t you set the timer?”

  Closing my eyes—as much to shut out her face as to stop their burning—I nodded. “Yeah. I set it, but I must have slept through it.”

  Bella glanced at Doc, her eyes widening as if she’d forgotten he was there. “My car wouldn’t start again, so Doc drove me home. I invited him to stay for dinner.”

  A vision of the three of us, sitting around the charred remains of the lasagna to dig in, popped into my mind. I tried to control the smile curling my mouth, but the more I tried, the funnier the image became. As I grew more and more tickled, Bella grew redder with anger.

  If she’d inherited the werewolf blessing, she’d have gone animal right there.

  Before she could find the words to gripe me out, Doc gave us both an easy smile. “Hey, no harm done. I’ll just take you out to dinner.”

  Bella glowered at me for a few more seconds, then without answering Doc or speaking to me, she turned and started toward the parking garage.

  “Hey, Bella?” I called after her.

  She stopped and, after a very long moment, turned toward me. “What?”

  “Don’t forget to lock the door.”

  We went to dinner at a nearby family restaurant, and were seated at a small round table. While Bella and I both ordered salads, Doc ordered a steak. Rare.

  There�
��s nothing on the menu of most restaurants that a werewolf likes better than rare beef, but I’d learned over the years that ordering it bloody would just make me hungry for more. Besides, seeing me tear into one might just make a Lycan hater grow suspicious.

  Doc leaned toward Bella, a smile in his gaze. “Have you told Jazzy about the wolf pups?”

  He obviously tried to get her to lighten up. She hadn’t spoken except to order dinner since I told her to lock the door.

  I put a smile on my face and tried to look interested. “The ones born during the Halloween party? Did they all survive?”

  She gazed at him for a moment before heaving a sigh—a sure sign she would give in. “Not all of them. It was her first litter, and she slept on one of them. But the other five are fine.”

  I tried to think of another question. “Are they still in the nursery where you can watch over them?”

  She nodded as she tried to retain her angry look. “Yes, they’ll stay for two or three more weeks, until they’re about ready to wean. But we leave them alone as much as possible, hoping to keep them from imprinting with humans. It is a wild animal park.”

  I chuckled, pretending she hadn’t been mad enough to imprint me just an hour earlier. I knew she couldn’t stay mad. Not at me. “If you need help feeding them, let me know.”

  “That would be a first.” Bella shot me a bright smile. “You’ve never been fond of any kind of babies.”

  Thanks for reminding me. I rarely used our telepathic link because it gave me a grinding headache. Maybe I could use a headache to keep me from enjoying Doc’s presence too much, and to help me keep in mind his life goal. I let my gaze drift toward him to make my meaning clear.

  No problem. She gave me a miniscule, smug smile. How’s your head?

  When they brought the food, it was all I could do to accept the plate of vegetables while Doc’s juicy roast-sized slab of meat put its wonderful smoky scent into the air. Dead vegetables or red meat? It was all I could do to keep from wrestling his plate away from him.

  While he slathered his potato with butter and sour cream, I salted and peppered my greens. He reached for a chunk of bread nubby with seeds and herbs, and smelled of honey and heaven. I ignored the cellophane wrapped saltines in the ugly basket between Bella and me.