“I use the wool wash cycle.”
“That’s not the same. Why do you think they call it hand wash—wait a minute. What’s that on your neck? Oh my God. Is that what I think it is?” She tweaked Hope’s collar.
“No. No, it’s not. I fell. Had a bad balance attack and fell.” Hope felt her face burn.
“Fell on your boss.” Candace was not going to be fooled. “Fell on your boss like a sandwich, from the look of it. Jesus, John, and whatshisface. I let you outta my sight for three days, and you come back looking like a shark attack. Spill, woman.”
“There’s nothing to—”
“Spill. Right now. Or I swear to God, I’m gonna march right into Jolie Garoul’s office and ask for the health and safety regulations for staff tetanus injections.”
Hope’s mouth opened and closed several times; still no sound came out. Candace pushed harder. “Then I’m gonna take you straight down to the ER and make sure you get one in your butt. Tell me. Tell me now.”
“Well, she rescued Tadpole…twice. And she was so nice. And I liked her…so…we…we slept together.”
Candace absorbed the paltry, meager sentences with a stern glare.
“That’s it? She saved your flaky dog, and you just gave it up? Thank God your house didn’t burn down and the fire department roll up, there’d be a gangbang on the sidewalk. So where are you at now? Are you dating?”
“Well, no. No, we’re not dating. It’s sort of…well…” Hope squirmed. How to explain she was having a little bit of a drama over her new bed-breaking lover being a werewolf? It was hardly a Dear Abby situation.
“So you went to her family’s holiday place for the weekend. Had sex, and now that you’re back in the real world it’s all cooled down.” Candace’s voice was hard. Again Hope wriggled in her seat, embarrassed at her implication.
“Look, it was me who wanted to cool it down. I mean… It was good for me to, you know, do it. After my operation, I mean.” Her face blazed again and she wanted to fan herself with a napkin but resisted.
“What I mean is, I wanted to see if I could feel like that again—”
“And she offered to help you find out. That was good of her.”
Sarcasm dripped off Candace’s tongue. She was obviously not going to give one inch to Jolie Garoul’s supposed sexual philandering.
“You make it sound as if she took advantage, and it wasn’t like that. It was me who went after her.” Hope didn’t want to be painted as the victim here. There was no victim, was there?
“Um-hmm. You chased her? You chased Jolie Garoul around the bed and then jumped her? Ha! Hon, I’ve seen that hungry way she’s been looking at you for weeks now. You may think you did the running, but believe me, girl, she was backing up all the way. No wonder you collided with a bang.”
“That’s a bit dramatic. It wasn’t like—”
“Wasn’t it? You didn’t even want to go up there. You wanted a quiet holiday at home. You’re still vulnerable, Hope. And when something happened to your little dog you probably went to pieces. And behold, who was there for you to lean on…in bed?”
“No. But…” Hope sighed, suddenly tired of the conversation and all of the thoughts it provoked.
She remembered the situation she had walked into at Little Dip.
The Garouls thought she and Jolie were already lovers. Why had Jolie been so reluctant to squelch that rumor? Had it all been an exercise in seduction?
Now she was confused. Jolie was hardly a smooth operator, yet she had an animal magnetism that made Hope jittery and unfocused. An added complication was that she had indeed jumped Jolie. Hope had initiated their whole sexual encounter. She had been vain and insecure, and wanted to see if she still had allure. What she found instead was an awkwardly ferocious lover who made her bed spin.
To make matters worse, she couldn’t confide the whole truth to Candace and get a more balanced point of view from her friend. She couldn’t say, Well, it’s different for us because Jolie’s a werewolf, but apparently they’re very loyal and loving.
She needed Godfrey’s input like never before. But Andre had not shown up to work yet, so they must both be still holidaying?
“Where’s Andre? Wasn’t he supposed to be back today?”
Candace shrugged. “I can’t raise him. He should have been in this morning. Half the world’s looking for him, too.”
“He’s not answering his home phone, and his cell is off.” Jolie stomped around her office in a froth. “I even tried Godfrey’s shop, but they said he’d taken another week because of his mother.” She was fuming at Andre’s continued absence without leave. “I mean, I need his input on this report and his approval on these figures.” She pointed angrily at her monitor. “Meanwhile, all his calls are being rerouted to me, no matter how many times I tell Candace not to, because I have nothing to say to any of these people.” Her voice rose as she paced back and forth in front of her desk.
Hope watched impassively, waiting for the storm to pass and Jolie to calm down. The phone rang as if on cue, and Jolie snatched it up, listened for a second before slamming it down into its cradle. She stomped over to her office door and bellowed across the entire floor to where Candace sat, “Why? Why are you doing this? I can’t help anybody in Phoenix. Just tell ’em he’s not in, okay?”
Then she slammed her door in a massive huff. Behind her back Hope could see Candace giving Jolie the look, much to the appreciation of the rest of the staff. Candace’s looks had a sort of voodoo vibe to them. Hope grimaced, waiting for Jolie to stab herself accidentally with her letter opener or trip on a carpet tile. Thankfully Candace’s mojo must have been working on only one cylinder, as Jolie failed to spontaneously combust. But only just.
“What do you think he’s up to? Do you think he wants to punish me? Maybe he’s conspiring with her,” Jolie jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Candace, “to drive me mad.”
Hope shook her head slowly. “I have no idea where he is or what he’s up to. I can’t get him at home, and Godfrey’s sister has heard nothing either. I’m getting worried, Jolie. It’s not like them to go AWOL.”
Jolie exploded again. “It’s not AWOL, it’s fresh snow and let’s bunk off and ski for another few days and to hell with my stupid sister who drove all the way through a blizzard to be in the office for Monday morning. Let her talk to all those nutjobs in Phoenix!”
“Now, that is just not true. It’s about your brother and Godfrey being missing. It’s not at all like them, despite your paranoid delusions to the contrary,” Hope said sternly. She had to keep Jolie in check. She was not having a good day. Apart from all the pressure of Andre’s nonappearance, she had mysteriously managed to get coffee, cartridge ink, and grease from the photocopier all over her blouse and suit jacket.
Hope’s suspicions were alerted when she realized Nadeem and Deepak were involved in all three incidents. She hoped Candace had not spread any idle rumors about Jolie’s supposed “love rat” behavior toward her.
God knew she had enough on her plate without inappropriate revenge attacks on her behalf. Things were tense enough, but she was managing to hold it all together.
The mini-crisis Andre had unintentionally provided with his absence was actually an ideal diversion from the tension that existed between her and Jolie. As it was, Jolie was channeling all her excess emotion into the Andre scenario rather than the situation between them.
That was good, because it gave Hope thinking space, and that was something she desperately needed. Jolie’s desperate deflecting showed she needed a little space to vent in, too.
“Guys.” Hope stopped by Nadeem and Deepak’s neighboring cubicles for a quiet word on her way home. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but Jolie could blow at any moment. Especially with Andre being a no-show. If I were you, I’d be a little less clumsy around her expensive suits. Okay? Otherwise the dry cleaning is coming out of the doughnut fund, get my drift?”
“Well, the cartridge ink was a genuine
accident. But the oil stain was absolute genius,” Nadeem grudgingly admitted. “It’s just we don’t like the way she treats you—”
“You don’t know the way she treats me. And believe me, if I had a beef with her, there’d be a lot more than coffee and ink stains on her jacket. She’s my boss. You cross her, you cross me. Sorry, boys, but it’s part of the PA code.”
“Okay, Hope. No more boo-boos,” Deepak swore solemnly.
Nadeem nodded in agreement.
“Good. Thanks for caring, but I’m cool.” She smiled warmly at them and headed off, another problem dealt with. And she was cool.
She’d surprised herself with how well she’d held the day together while Jolie frayed and frothed and fell apart.
Jolie didn’t need thinking space to know this week she was damned. Everything had gone wrong since Hope had pulled away from her. Andre, her main emotional support structure, had eloped to the slopes on a fun spree. Typical of him, just when she needed him most.
Her parents were incommunicado, probably because of the snowfall in Little Dip. And she was mysteriously cursed at work. Everything was going tits up. Every day there was some minor catastrophe and she emerged from it the worse for wear.
Also, the staff had started glowering at her again, just as she’d gotten used to them not glowering. It was disconcerting. It had gone on for four days now, and she was becoming demented.
It was three a.m. on Friday morning, and she hadn’t slept a wink.
Out on her balcony, the cold city air swirling over the tree tops made her senses twitch. Maybe a quick run in one of the city parks would cool her heels.
Nighttime was her worst time. Then she lay in a puddle of deep carnal thoughts about Hope, remembering every curve and arc and dip and dent of her pale, luscious body. The warm fluidity of her skin, soft and sweet, like vanilla cream. Her tongue tingled, and the coppery taste of blood marbled across it as her incisors thickened and curved and sliced a new home in her gums. Her change had begun to creep up on her as her desire mounted, and that was not good. It was a distraction, a torment that she was barely able to control at work. In fact, the recent turmoil in the office had acted as a buffer between them. Jolie sensed Hope was grateful for the reprieve. That made her hesitate to initiate the postponed “talk” she had wanted to have the night she had revealed to Hope what she really was.
She threw on her sweats and running shoes and ran like fury to the small park in Sellwood that Hope used for Tadpole’s playtime. It was a park forever ingrained in Jolie’s mind as a happy place. She had few enough of them in this city.
She leapt the railings at a quiet, overgrown spot, and quickly stashed her clothes safely away. After sniffing the air and ensuring all was still, she crouched and went through her transmutation almost effortlessly, energized to be in a place she associated with Hope.
Keeping to the shadows, she tore across the lawns, hugging close to the trees and shrubs, glorying in the freedom of the night and physical exertion. Power streamed off her flanks, muscles bunched and stretched as she loped and spun and pounced and circled under the city skyline.
She realized she was close to the gates that Hope used. She glanced over at the park entrance that led to Hope’s avenue. She knew the back way, across the neighborhood yards and gardens. She knew all the shadowy edges of trees and garden sheds, and shrubbery, where a great beast could stealthily slide. It shamed her that she knew them, but her wolven side was gleeful. It drew her through the gates, and the thin layer of night, on toward the honey locust tree.
The little house was so calm and peaceful, all tucked up for the night. The earlier snowfall had blanketed the lawn and flowerbeds, but the paths had been cleared. Hope would be curled up under soft blankets in a big cozy bed. A bed that oozed of her scent and cocooned her soft, slumbering body. Jolie had never seen Hope’s bedroom. She wondered what color it was. What it smelled like. How the light filtered through the windows, night and day.
From inside she heard a yapping bark. Tadpole was awake and knew she was there. She stiffened.
Another friendly bark, this time at the back door. He was insistent to get out and greet her. Then she heard Hope murmur, the key rattle, and the door opened a crack allowing a trickle of light to spill out across the yard.
“What is it, Taddy? Pee-pee time?” Hope mumbled sleepily.
Jolie leapt.
Hope stumbled back into her tiny kitchen. The small of her back jarring against the countertop halted her retreat. She froze. The creature had literally dropped before her from out of the night sky. She recognized it from the river.
“Jolie?” she gasped.
It stood upright, filling her entire kitchen doorway. Tadpole jumped up a few times in welcome, but on being ignored he wandered off unconcerned into the garden. The creature advanced no farther over her threshold. Instead it stood motionless, waiting.
“Jolie?” Tension slid from Hope’s shoulders, and she took a tentative step forward. Amber eyes cautiously watched her every movement. She could sense no danger, no malevolence. This was Jolie.
Her Jolie.
“Why are you here?” she asked in a whisper. “Like this?” She took another slow step forward.
The creature neither moved nor blinked, just regarded her steadily with eyes that held a soft, intelligent glow. Hope reached out a trembling hand and brushed her fingers across thick sable, as sleek and dark as wet ebony. Raw, primal power hummed under her fingertips, raising the fine hairs on her arm. It was beautiful. Up close it was absolutely beautiful.
She examined everything. Her gaze ran over huge clawed feet and hands, powerful limbs and a tight torso, the chest flattened with musculature yet still curiously female, all coated in a thick black pelt.
Carefully, she reached up toward the stubby muzzle, lined with cruel teeth. It inclined its head slightly to let her touch its face, thin black lips curling back to further display razor-sharp incisors.
Hope stretched for the feature that most fascinated her. Tenderly, she ruffled a small, furry ear. Her fingertips ran along the rim to the pointed tip with its sparse crown of stray hairs. She smiled in wonder.
The broad chest, level with her head, rumbled with a gentle purring growl. The great beast dipped its head for more strokes and petting touches.
Hope ran her forefinger along the damp muzzle and down the crescent of a long fang, delicately resting the tip of her finger on its sharp point. She poised there, holding her breath, stunned at what she was doing. It was so surreal.
A thick pink tongue poked out and stroked the heart of her palm, making her gasp at the hot, moist touch. She pulled back quickly, and it raised its head. Once again she was bathed in the sweetest golden light shining from its eyes.
“Jolie?” she whispered in awe.
With one long, unreadable look it turned and was gone, leaving her alone in her kitchen. The door was now open to only the cold night air and emptiness.
Hope fretfully paced the floor for hours afterward. Was it safe in the city for such a thing to run free? Would it get home in one piece?
What if a car hit it or a policeman shot at it? Shot at her—not it. Shot at Jolie? Her Jolie?
Twice she dialed Jolie’s number to make sure she was home safely, only to cut off before it rang, feeling silly, and adrift, and totally unsure of herself and the entire situation.
Eventually she went to bed, glad that she had Friday off. If this was a consequence of having a werewolf as a lover, then she didn’t like it. It brought too many anxieties with it. No wonder Amy wanted to keep Leone in Little Dip and not out running the city streets.
She so wished Godfrey would come back from skiing and talk to her about all this. She was confused and upset. How did he look out for Andre? Did he have to worry like this night after night?
She promised herself, first thing tomorrow morning she’d surreptitiously call the office and make sure Jolie had turned up for work, and in one piece.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I can’t believe you slid out of that valley and left me stuck in it,” Andre railed. He had arrived into the office by midmorning in one stinking mood, and hadn’t let up on how hard done by he had been by his sister, his partner, nature, and the weather. Everything had apparently conspired against him and his skiing holiday. They were both shut away in Jolie’s office, supposedly catching up on the working week. Jolie’s head was reeling with his constant whine.
“Yeah, like it’s been a real jamboree here. Candace is one step away from gutting me with a hole punch, and everybody is shifty and sullen around me, just like the good ole days,” Jolie grumbled back.
“How are things with Hope?”
“I gave her today off. She had to work late Monday through Thursday and she’s exhausted. It was chaos here. You’d organized all these meetings with half the Americas, and then never showed up. I was beginning to wonder if you’d been buried in an avalanche.”
“Yeah. I can see you cried so hard your nose swelled up. I meant how are things, doofus.”
“What things?”
“Love things, wolf things?” Andre sighed in exasperation. “The last I heard she was having a freak-out because of you. That’s why Godfrey and I came hurtling back to Little Dip. Don’t you know anything that goes on?”
Jolie stared at him blankly. “Well, I didn’t know that. Hope told you she was freaked?” She was hurt. “She told me she wanted space to think, and wasn’t ready to talk yet. When did she talk to you?”
“She told Godfrey.” Andre looked at her and relented. “Look, Jolie, you gotta be gentle on the humans when you tell them Homo sapiens is not the one and only. They don’t like not being the most important thing on the evolutionary ladder, never mind top of the food chain.”
Jolie frowned. “When did Hope talk to Godfrey?”
Andre sighed. “Godfrey got through to her on his cell phone but was cut off before they could finish. Hope sounded very frightened about the wolf thing. That’s why we came back to Little Dip. To help, but you’d already left and we got snowed in. So tell me. What happened?”
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