Second Nature (10 page)

Surprise flashed through the dark eyes.

Damn.
Griffin immediately regretted her offer.
I moved too fast. This is not the kind of trusting woman who would casually give out her cell phone number to a stranger, so she didn't expect me to do it either.
If she were in Jorie's place, she would have reacted the same way.

Within a second, a polite smile replaced the surprised expression. Jorie accepted the card that Griffin held out for her. "Thank you," Jorie said and pocketed the card.

She won't call,
Griffin thought. Now that all her questions were answered, Jorie saw no reason for further contact.

"I hope you'll enjoy your vacation." The bells over the door rattled again, and Jorie was gone.

Damn,
Griffin thought again.
Well, you were the one who was starting to get dissatisfied with boring missions. This writer is definitely a challenge, so enjoy the hunt while it lasts.
 

CHAPTER 6

 "
T
AS, WE NEED to come up with a better plan," Griffin said as soon as her commander had answered the phone.

"You didn't get anything out of her?" Cedric Jennings asked. He didn't sound irritated yet. While he didn't have the patience of a cat, he wasn't a tyrannical boss who expected miracles either.

Griffin popped a piece of roasted chicken into her mouth and savored the juicy meat for a moment before swallowing. "Not really. She was asking a lot of clever questions, but she wasn't exactly eager to answer any of mine. She doesn't trust me, and I'm not sure if it's because she doesn't trust anyone or because she suspects I'm not what I pretend to be." Either way, it was clear that Jorie had no intention of letting Griffin be a part of her life or her writing. She hadn't even invited her into her home. "She needs some more encouragement to trust me."

"Then e-mail her again and invite her to... whatever," Jennings said.

Wolf tactics.
Griffin grimaced.
Playing it straightforward won't work with Jorie Price.
"No," she said. "She's like a shy kitten. If I move in her direction, it'll scare her away. The next step has to be hers, not mine."

"And you think she'll contact you?" Doubt echoed through Jennings's voice.

Griffin knew Jorie wouldn't. The human was as independent and as proud as a cat. "No. Not unless she has a very good reason. We have to give her a little incentive to contact me."

"Something that has to do with her writing," Jennings said. He was good at working in a team, bouncing ideas off each other.

Yes.
Jorie was focused on her writing and not interested in making friends. She would contact Griffin only if she felt she needed her for her story. "The beta reader," Griffin said. "When she sends the next part of the story back to Ms. Price, have her comment on cat-specific things. Have her ask questions that Ms. Price likely doesn't know the answers to. Then have her suggest she ask me for clarification."

"And when she does?" Jennings asked. "She'll expect you to answer her questions, preferably by e-mail, and then be on your way, out of her life."

A slow smile made its way over Griffin's face. "Then I'll have to make sure I won't be able to just be on my way." She bit down on another piece of chicken.

"You have a plan?" Jennings asked.

"I have a plan."

*  *  *

Jorie frowned down at her laptop.

The document on the screen was riddled with pink corrections and canary yellow comments.
Jesus, when has Ally gotten so picky?
It seemed she suddenly had a comment, a question, or an objection to every single sentence. Even the first-meeting scene into which Jorie had put so much feeling hadn't escaped unscathed.

"You can't mention Sid's eye color in this scene," she read one of Ally's comments out loud. "We are in Quinn's point of view, and aren't cats supposed to be color-blind?"

Frustration gripped her. She normally didn't have a problem accepting constructive criticism, but this time, Ally wasn't qualified to comment on the feline details. Ally was a dog person. She knew as much about cats as Jorie knew about cooking. Absolutely nothing.

Still, she told herself, that didn't mean Ally couldn't be right. Jorie was fairly sure cats could see some colors but hadn't found any consistent information about which colors they could see and which they couldn't.
So would Quinn be able to admire the blue eyes or not?

She looked down at Emmy, who lay snuggled against her thigh. The cat squinted at her but, as usual, provided no answers.

"Ask Griffin," Ally had suggested. "I'm sure she knows."

Jorie didn't doubt it for a second. As far as she could tell, Griffin Westmore had been very competent. The zoologist had gone out of her way to be helpful and even offered to answer more questions should Jorie have them.
And now I do. So, should I contact her?

Early off, she had decided that pride had no place in writing. She would do what was best for her story. Instead of feeling content with that decision, a niggling feeling remained. Could she trust Griffin with something that was as important to her as her writing?

Is she really trustworthy?

Nothing suggested otherwise. Despite her intimidating bulk, Griffin was gentle, easygoing, and intelligent. She had a great sense of humor, which Jorie always appreciated. But despite a pleasant and helpful first meeting, her instincts told her to be cautious. There was more to Griffin than met the eye. Something about her just seemed... Jorie shook her head. For once, she couldn't find the right word to describe what her instincts were telling her. She was usually great at reading people. That she wasn't able to do it with Griffin was disturbing.

And maybe that's all this is. Maybe you're just pissed because you can't quite figure her out.

She trailed a single finger along the soft fur under Emmy's chin until the cat began to purr, soothing both of them.
Come on,
she told herself.
Swallow your pride. You don't even have to see her. Just e-mail her and get it over with.

Emmy stopped purring when she took her fingers away and placed them on the keyboard to write an e-mail.

*  *  *

Mmm.
Griffin purred and wiggled her toes, enjoying the swirl of the warm water against her skin and the scent of ripe peaches that drifted up from the bubbles. It was rare to find a bathtub big enough to submerge her whole body, but the bed-and-breakfast provided that luxury. Only her left hand, holding on to the manuscript, was sticking out of the water.

Allison DeLuca had forwarded the first scenes of Jorie's newest novel to her. A quick call to the bed-and-breakfast's manager, who was the only other tiger-shifter in town, and she had the incomplete manuscript, printed in large font, in her hands.

The book was not all that important for her investigation. Cedric Jennings had made it clear that finding the traitor had absolute priority. Griffin agreed. Still, her curiosity got stronger with every second the manuscript rested on her bedside table, and since she had packed no other reading material, she had taken the manuscript into the tub with her.

This is very different from that cliché-riddled vampire novel,
she realized before she had even finished the first page. Jorie's writing had matured, but that wasn't all. Griffin sensed that she had put her heart and soul into this book. Her emotions were tangible on every page, in every word. The story meant something to Jorie on a personal level. Just because things didn't go smoothly, she wouldn't give up on it.

There was a lot of emotion in the book — and a lot of knowledge. The unerring accuracy with which Jorie portrayed life as a shape-shifter made a trickle of unease run down Griffin's spine. Despite the hot water surrounding her, she shivered.
The first scene of the book could be right out of my diary... if I kept one.
Jorie had described the transformation from human to animal form as if she had personally witnessed it, right down to the itching skin and the aching joints. After reading just a few pages, Griffin was convinced that only a Wrasa or a mind reader could have written these scenes — or someone who had been provided with detailed inside information.

A loud chime from the laptop she had placed on the closed toilet lid announced an incoming e-mail. She lifted her other hand out of the water and wiped it dry on the fluffy towel she had placed next to the tub. Slowly, careful not to splash the manuscript, Griffin reached out one of her long arms and clicked to open the new message.

It was from Jorie.

I would have loved to see her face when I just ignored her question about cats' color vision and suggested another meeting to talk about it.
She had told Jorie that she wanted to pick her brain about must-see places in the area and that it would be less complicated to meet again than to go back and forth in e-mails.

She skimmed the short answer. "Yeah!" With a satisfied sigh, Griffin slid back down in the tub.

Jorie had agreed to meet her for coffee at the diner again.

With a sigh of regret, Griffin lifted herself out of the warm water. She enjoyed the sensuous feeling of foamy bubbles sliding down her skin for a few moments, then reached for a towel. "Let's set this plan in motion."

CHAPTER 7

 
T
HE WAITRESS SET the cup of tea in front of Griffin and fled.

"She's warming up to me," Griffin said. She gave Jorie a small wink, just enough to let Jorie know she was joking but not so pronounced to make her think she was flirting. While even the straightest Wrasa woman was at ease with female flirtation, some human females weren't, and Griffin didn't want to take the chance that Jorie was one of them.

A short smile flashed across Jorie's serious features. She wasn't exactly quick to warm up to Griffin either, but at least she was polite and grateful for Griffin's offer to help with her research. As far as Griffin could tell, she had greeted her a tad more warmly than at their first meeting. The most basic sign of trust was still missing, though: Jorie still hadn't told Griffin her real name.

"So, how long have you lived here?" Griffin asked, determined not to let Jorie direct the conversation this time. Even without the council's dossier, Jorie's lack of the Yooper dialect made it possible that she hadn't grown up in the area. "Long enough to know all the must-see tourist spots?" she added when a tiny frown carved itself into Jorie's brow.

"I know them all — all two of them," Jorie said. She gave Griffin a smile, but no personal information. "With the work you do, what made you pick another national forest for your vacation spot?" Jorie's dark eyes were gently probing.

Hmm, look at that. Here's a human who's a master at the cat-and-mouse game.
Instead of her getting information about Jorie Price and her book, Jorie was asking all the questions. She had taken control so smoothly that most people wouldn't even have noticed. Griffin wasn't most people, though. She had noticed, and her cat side was thoroughly enjoying the challenge. Jorie was a worthy opponent, not the easy prey she had imagined. "Two birds with one stone," she answered. "I have family up here." It was true, but Griffin had no intention of seeing them if she could avoid it.

"But you didn't grow up around here?" Jorie asked.

"No. I spent one summer with my father when I was a teenager, but I didn't get to do any sightseeing." Again, it was the truth. She had been sent to the UP to learn how to control the shifting, not to enjoy a vacation.

"So why not ask your father about the sightseeing spots in the area?" Jorie took a sip of her coffee and studied Griffin over the rim of the cup.

She's every bit as curious and as cautious as a cat, and now she's back to asking questions about me.
Griffin had to admire how smoothly Jorie directed their conversation. "I'm not close to anyone in my family. If I ask them for advice on the local must-see spots, they'll want to come along." She gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'll visit with them for a little while, of course, but having them traipse along for the whole vacation... no thanks. My family and I get along best at a distance." Again, she didn't have to lie, but it was a calculated answer. Jorie was living alone in a remote area, just exchanging a few e-mails with her mother, so she probably wasn't close to her own family either.

Jorie gave a nod of understanding but didn't comment.

"What about you?" Griffin asked. "Do your folks live in the area too?"

A quick shake of her head was the only answer. "So," Jorie said, opening the notebook at which Griffin still needed to get a good look, "what can you tell me about cats' color vision? Are they really color-blind?"

Back to business. She's still not very interested in friendly chitchat.
A sip of her tea made Griffin frown. It hadn't gotten any better since her last visit. She preferred her tea freshly brewed from leaves, not from a bag. "Color-blind?" she repeated. "Oh, no, cats do see colors. Cats are dichromatic. They have two types of color-sensitive cones, not three like humans do. I guess you could say they see things similar to people with certain kinds of color blindness. And they have more rods and fewer cones, so they see colors less intense, more washed out."

Jorie's pen eagerly scratched over the pages of her notebook. "So a tiger would be able to see the color blue?"

Griffin took in the light blue color of Jorie's blouse. "Yes. Cats have no problem with blue and yellow, but red and orange would appear in shades of gray to them."

More notes were scribbled into the ever-present notebook. Finally, Jorie looked up and grinned. It was a smile that crinkled the edges of her eyes, not just a polite gesture. "So I guess trying to woo my tiger with red roses would be a waste of time, huh?"

Laughter rumbled up Griffin's chest. This time, she didn't need to act. "Well..." She had never received roses of any color and had never wanted them. Bringing flowers to a date was a strictly human tradition. To the Wrasa, flowers belonged to meadows and clearings, not into vases and flower shops. If you wanted to impress your date, you brought food.