Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel (20 page)

“Hello.”

“Lou, do you have any idea where Cindy is?”

Stefan sounds like he hasn't had his Starbucks yet. I glance at my watch. It's seven in the morning. “Do you know how early it is?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I have a shoot about to get under way and my makeup artist called in sick. One of my models can't make it, either. I hoped Cindy could fill in for me.”

I have serious morning brain fog. Could be because a nightmare woke me up at four, and it took me an hour or two to go back to sleep. “Sorry, Cindy's out of town. What kind of shoot?”

“Low budget. Catalogue stuff.”

I gave up catalogue modeling five years ago. The pay isn't that good and supermodels have certain standards. “Anyone new coming down the line who looks promising?”

“A couple of girls. They could use some guidance.”

He's tricky. “Like someone who's been in the business for a while?”

He laughs. “You interested?”

I have no desire to sit around thinking about the dream or missing Cindy today. I need to work, and I don't care if it's work beneath my usual standards. “I'll fill in. Maybe you can get Tina for makeup. She's decent.”

“You're an angel. Tell you what, I can pick you up. You're on the way.”

Since I told Terry I'd be cautious, I realize going to the shoot with Stefan would be safer than chancing a cab ride. “When will you be here?”

“Twenty minutes.”

Ugh. I'm sure my eyes are puffy again. I'll brew myself a quick cup of tea and use the tea bags to soothe the puffiness. “See you then.”

*   *   *

The catalogue shoot has been good for me. It's taken my mind off my problems and allowed me to be worshiped and adored like every supermodel needs. I've been helpful to the other girls, offering suggestions about makeup tips and natural poses. I've modeled everything from underwear to bathrobes today, and by the time we finish, I'm pleasantly exhausted. Stefan suggests we get a bite to eat together.

Since I have no one to go home to, I gratefully accept. We end up at a little Italian restaurant off the beaten path. Stefan is obviously a regular. The staff treats him like royalty. We're seated at a romantic table for two in the back. Stefan orders wine. I'm wondering if this is a good idea.

Candlelight, wine, a good-looking man who clearly adores me? Sounds like a recipe for trouble. I'm still exploring my feelings for Terry. Just because he confirmed we should only avoid sex with each other doesn't mean I should run out and have it with the next available guy who comes along. Recalling that Stefan's been on the waiting list for a long time is still no excuse. My reasons for resisting haven't changed.

“How are things in Stefan's world?” I ask.

He glances up from his menu. “A little lonely at the moment. Having a dry spell, I guess.”

I taste the wine. It's a sweet red and warm on my tongue. “You might have to start at the bottom and work your way up again,” I suggest dryly. “Or you could actually have a serious relationship with a woman. That would be something new and different.”

Stefan smiles at me and sips his wine. “I'm waiting for the right girl.” His smile fades. His dark eyes stare into mine. “I've been waiting for a while now.”

I need another drink. Maybe something stronger. The way he's looking at me, I have no doubt that I'm the girl he's waiting for. His timing to finally take off the gloves couldn't be worse. “You've always been a sucker for a pretty face,” I say quietly.

He lifts his glass and swirls his wine. “I have to do something while I'm waiting.”

Glancing at him from beneath my lashes, I say, “Most guys just take up golf.”

My comment makes him laugh out loud. “I love your sense of humor, Lou. Most beautiful women don't have one, you know. It's like a trade-off. Beauty for personality, but you, you've got them both.”

And a mustache at times lately. I need to change the subject. I have been harboring feelings for Stefan for years, but now is not the time to finally explore them. I've always imagined when we come clean with each other, we'll come clean about everything. I can't do that. I haven't been able to do that for six and a half years. Maybe I'll never be able to. At least not without the answers I need about myself.

The waiter appears with bread sticks and Stefan and I order spaghetti and meatballs. We both reach for a bread stick. Our fingers brush and I can't ignore the surge of electricity. It's always been between us. Definitely time for a subject change. I snatch my hand back, but of course not without a bread stick clutched between my fingers.

“Catherine Shaw showed a lot of promise today. She has great skin.”

He salutes me with his glass in acknowledgment of the subject change. “Great skin. Small breasts. I told her today a little cleavage would take her a long way. She said she'd contact a plastic surgeon next week.”

Stefan carries a lot of weight in the industry. Too much, maybe, I'm thinking. “Do you feel right about asking women to go under the knife to further their careers? I wouldn't. So she has small breasts. Why should that really be a factor in modeling? A lot of women have small breasts. I'm sure they would appreciate seeing outfits on someone built more realistically.”

His gaze moves up and down me. “You're not built like the average woman, Lou. Women would kill to look like you. Going under the knife is a small price to pay for perfection.”

Since I wasn't always built like this, and even though the transformation was not one of my choosing, I figure I should shut up about this particular issue. Remembering what it was like to be Sherry Billington reminds me that it's hard to measure up to the women featured in magazines and movies. It's unfair really for young women to think they have to look like those women to get what they want in life, or be worthy of getting it. I need more wine.

“This is good,” I say, raising my glass for another sip … or two … or three.

Stefan smiles indulgently at me. I'm sure he doesn't mind if I get plastered. The better to take advantage of me. Stefan has a nice build, but he's not buff like Terry. I would squish him like a bug. But what about a kiss? Would one kiss hurt anything? Would a kiss reveal my true feelings for Stefan? Are they real, or have I made them more than what they are?

*   *   *

By the time Stefan drops me off at my building, walks me in and rides the elevator to floor ten with me, I've sobered up enough to reconsider a kiss. Our evening together was fun, playful, and just what I needed. A kiss might ruin the whole night. What if Stefan isn't a good kisser? Sometimes it's better to wonder than to know for a fact. Not that he doesn't have references, and plenty of them. Okay, for sure I shouldn't kiss him.

I turn to him at the door. “It's been fun. Thank you for taking me to dinner and for involving me in the catalogue shoot. I'm exhausted. I should be able to sleep tonight.”

He leans toward me, resting his arm on the doorframe. “I've got something to help you sleep. Don't you think it's time, Lou?”

His scent invades my nostrils and clogs rational thinking. I shake my head to regain my senses. “Time for what?”

He runs a finger down my nose. “You know what. We've been having foreplay for six and a half years. Aren't you ready to get down to business?”

Stefan pressed against me, staring down with those dark, hypnotic eyes, is hard to resist. But can I really sleep with one guy, then turn around two nights later and sleep with another? Wouldn't that make me too much like a man? I don't want to be just another of Stefan's conquests. I don't want him to be one of mine.

What we have is special. Or that's what I've been telling myself all these years anyway. Every girl dreams of a knight in shining armor. Stefan has been mine, but deep down, I'm afraid he will let me down. I'm afraid he'll prove that he's just another man.

“No,” I say softly. “I'm not ready. Our friendship and our working relationship mean too much to me to mess it up with a quick roll in the hay.”

The sensuous smile on Stefan's mouth fades. Very seriously, he asks, “Who said it would be quick?”

I laugh, thankful for a break in the tension between us. “Okay, ‘quick' wasn't the right word. I've heard about your sexual prowess in bed. One girl or another is always talking about it.”

He flinches. “Ouch. You know, it will only take the right woman to make me give up all my bad habits.”

I'm not falling for his lines. I hear he's good at those, too. “Happy hunting.”

Against my better judgment, I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. He turns his head and our lips touch. We stay that way for a moment, neither pulling away. We stare at each other until his lashes lower, his mouth moves against mine, and the cell in my beauty bag rings.

I jump and step away. Divine intervention? I dig in my bag, pull out my cell, and see by the caller ID that it's Cindy. “I have to take this,” I say. “Ah, thanks for a wonderful evening.”

He sighs. “One of these days we're going to have to talk about us, Lou.” He turns and walks away. I watch him, my cell ringing over and over. He reaches the elevator and pushes the button. It opens and he steps inside. He's gone. The moment is gone. I unlock the door while answering the phone.

“Hi, Cindy.”

“Hey, what took you so long to answer?”

“What took you so long to call me?” I ask in turn.

“I spent the day with my mom. I just now had a chance.”

I immediately feel guilty that I think I am the center of Cindy's universe when she's dealing with a reunion with her mother after a three-year separation. “Sorry, Cindy. How'd it go?”

She sighs. “A little forced at first, but by the end of the day we were laughing and talking about old times. It was great, Lou. Of course she had to go home to Dad and I'll have to wait to see her again until she makes up an excuse to get out the house.”

Cindy's mom should stand up to her dad, but I guess one step at a time. “That's wonderful, Cindy. I'm so happy for you.”

Silence for a moment. “Lou, it's weird being here.”

Cradling the phone between my ear and neck, I lock up and move to the couch. “Haven is nothing like New York. I figured it would seem even smaller to you, now that you've lived in the city.”

“Not Haven, Lou, your old house. They didn't take anything. There's still food in the pantry. Milk that's two years old in the refrigerator. Their clothes are still in the closet.”

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “Their car isn't in the garage, is it?”

“No, it's gone. I checked after I saw all the stuff still in the house.”

This news greatly disturbs me. Again, this is out of character for Clive and Norma. I hope they're not in the house … dead. “You've checked everything out, right?”

“Yeah, Lou, no dead bodies if that's what you mean. I did find something in your old room.”

I'm on the edge of my seat. Literally. “What?”

“An envelope with your name on it.”

My heart misses a beat. “Did you open it?”

“Of course not,” Cindy says with an indignant snort. “I'll bring it when I meet you in Vermont.”

Vermont isn't for two more weeks. I can't wait that long. Cindy is the one person I've never kept secrets from. “Open it, Cindy,” I instruct. “Read it to me.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure.” I take a calming breath while listening to Cindy fumble with the envelope. A moment later, she clears her throat.

“‘Dear Sherry. If you're reading this, you've come home. Leave immediately. You're in danger. They're looking for you. We accepted the money they offered to adopt you, to take care of you, always understanding that someday they would come for you. They said you are special. They said not to get too close to you. We tried, but over the years, we came to care for you, Sherry. We came to love you. You're not like the others. We know you have a good heart. You're not a monster. Change your name if you haven't. Stay away from Haven. Stay safe. We must go. We fear for our lives. We know too much. Follow the signs we left you.”

Silence. I'm in shock. Tears stream down my cheeks, the words “we love you” echoing in my head. A declaration of love is late in coming, but even so, for one brief moment, I feel a moment of pure joy. Then I focus on the rest of the note.

“Lou, are you okay?” Cindy's voice echoes. She sounds like she's in a tunnel.

“A bit much to take in,” I respond. And it is. I wish I had the note in front of me to read again. “It doesn't make a lot of sense,” I say.

“No, it doesn't,” Cindy agrees. “But they made one thing clear, Lou. You're in some type of danger.”

That's nothing new. Not lately. Who am I in danger from? Who are the Billingtons afraid of? What freakin' signs?

“There's more.”

I snap out of my shock. “More in the note?”

“No, someone has come in here and rifled through things, Lou. Mostly in Clive and Norma's room. Papers and stuff.”

A chill races through me. “You need to get out of there,” I realize. “Now.”

“We're going,” Cindy assures me. “I'll grab a few of your things, and we're gone.”

It dawns on me that Cindy said “we.” “Who's with you?”

Silence.

“Oh, my gosh,” I say. “You took your girlfriend with you.”

“She's here in the house wanting to leave. I'm in the bathroom so I could talk to you in private.”

I can't deal with the note right now, or with the fact someone has been in the house looking around for information. I can deal with Cindy's personal life. “What'd your mom think of that?”

“She likes her,” Cindy says in a quiet voice. “I needed moral support to make this trip. And I made this trip for you just as much as me, remember?”