Taking the camera from her outstretched hand, Ryne looked as if he were about to say something, but then thought better of it. Instead, he turned and headed towards the door.
“Umm… Didn’t you forget something?” Despite the tense mood that had filled the room, Mel couldn’t keep a tinge of amusement from her voice.
“What?” He had his hand on the door knob, his back to her.
“Clothes?” A snicker escaped her lips, despite her best efforts to keep it back.
His whole body went rigid and he turned, shooting her a filthy look before grabbing his clothing from in front of the fire. “I’ll get dressed outside.” With that, he left carrying his clothes in his arms.
Well! Mel wasn’t sure what to think about that. At least there were no neighbours nearby to wonder why a naked man was getting dressed in front of her cabin. She giggled again. It sure beat the traditional gnomes and pink flamingos as far as lawn ornaments went.
Walking over to the computer, she sat down in front of it, her mood sobering again. Staring at the screen, she chewed on her lip. Why hadn’t Ryne wanted her to see his pictures? It couldn’t be because they were bad shots, he didn’t strike her as having a perfectionist streak in him, and besides, the few she’d seen had been perfectly fine.
Furrowing her brow, she tried to recall the images on the screen. The one he’d seen—the one she’d left open on the computer—had been of a lake. Before that, there was a house, an older couple, a woman by a lake, a group of people, a butterfly on a flower… That was all she could recall. It seemed pretty innocuous. There was no reason for him to get all bent out of shape like that. Sure, he was heavily into maintaining his privacy, but she hadn’t purposely gone snooping and the pictures didn’t really show anything… Or did they? Had she missed something significant? Or were there important photos that she hadn’t viewed yet?
Too bad he’d erased the file. Just for curiosity’s sake, she’d love to have another look. It would certainly make Aldrich happy if she could come up with something specific about the man. She winced, thinking of his disparaging comments when she’d reported Ryne’s ‘I didn’t exist before photography’ answer. He’d been even less impressed than she was, insisting she needed to be more pushy when delving into Ryne’s background. Even worse, Aldrich threatened to have Mr. Greyson cancel her contract and demand the money back. That had sent a wave of fear down her spine. His cold accusing voice echoed in her head.
“Excuse me if I’m mistaken, Ms. Greene, but isn’t an investigative reporter supposed to actually investigate? Not just sit around and wait for the subject to hand over the information. From where I sit, all you’ve done is tiptoe around the man. Hardly earning your keep now, are you? Especially considering how many zeros were on that cheque. Don’t be surprised, if things continue as they are, to find Mr. Greyson initiating legal proceedings with the aim of obtaining a full refund of all monies paid, up to and including this date. Unfortunately, you’ll be out of pocket any expenses you’ve incurred up to now, but that’s what happens when you don’t deliver what you promise.”
With that the man had hung up, leaving Mel madly calculating how she’d cover the rent on the cabin, the cost of the plane tickets, the car rental…
Mel’s stomach quivered nervously. She didn’t have any money beyond what Greyson had given her. She’d been living hand to mouth before getting this job and used her small savings to pay her apartment rent a month in advance. But what was she supposed to do? If Ryne didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to share, well then… A thought popped into her head as she stared at the computer screen. An internal battle raged, even as her hand manoeuvred the mouse across the screen. Ryne didn’t want her to see those pictures, obviously worried they’d reveal some personal information, but… She bit her lip as she double clicked on the recycle bin icon and stared at the deleted, but not yet erased file.
*****
Ryne, unabashedly naked, headed across the open space that served as the front lawn for Melody’s cabin. His clothes were still damp and the idea of putting on wet denim was repugnant. Glancing around, he walked over to a bush and shoved the clothes underneath, pulling some leaves up to cover them. Satisfied no one would notice the clothing until he returned to collect it another day, he headed into the woods, and once concealed behind the trees, closed his eyes and brought his wolf forward.
Even with his eyes shut, he could sense the air shimmering around him, knew that if he opened his eyes, the images he saw would be momentarily distorted as if looking through a cascade of glitter in a snow globe. It was only a momentary phenomenon and then the world righted itself. Giving himself a shake to adjust his fur, he stretched his front quarters and then his hind before picking up the camera in his mouth and heading for home.
Luckily the boys would still be out at the bar and not see him return home naked. Oh, the teasing he’d get over that one, if caught. For the most part it was a source of pride that pure-blooded Lycans could change and magick back whatever they’d been wearing when they shifted. Only the teenagers, during their first few changes forgot that crucial step. Of course, those who were the products of ‘mixed matings’ weren’t as lucky. Human genes, no matter how many generations back, interfered with the transfer of magical abilities, one of the first to be lost being the ability to shift forms while clothed.
Other tricks, such as sensing auras and mind-reading between mates varied considerably depending on the purity of the blood line. A few of the aristocracy had supposedly even been able to appear and disappear, though Ryne had yet to encounter anyone who had actually seen the phenomenon occur.
Ryne knew his mother was pure-blooded, but hadn’t seen his father since he was two and had little knowledge of that side of his heritage, though the man must have been of relatively good stock, given Ryne’s own abilities. The pack was somewhere in the southern states, but his mother had never spoken of what happened there between herself and his sire. Ryne had never inquired. He and his mother didn’t have a close relationship; his bastard of a step-father had seen to that, dragging them all over the country from pack to pack, neglecting them, and flying into fits of rage…
Memories from the past brought a snarl to his lips. Thankfully his mother, in a moment of clarity, had finally left Kane and himself with her home pack before heading off with her unstable mate. Ryne never knew what she saw in the man, but she’d given up her children rather than leave him. The only good thing Ryne could say about his step-father was that he’d sired Kane, his half-brother.
Kane… Damn, Ryne hoped there wasn’t a picture of his brother on the camera. How could he have been so careless as to not erase the memory chip before lending it? Of course, he’d never thought Melody would download all the pictures on to her computer, but he should have anticipated the event. At least, Melody said she hadn’t really looked at the pictures and he’d sensed no deception in her aura. The damage had been contained, but who knew what slip-up could happen next? He really needed to send the woman packing before she stumbled on to something she shouldn’t.
Chapter 22
Greyson stared at the wolf picture making a show of being lost in thought. He knew Aldrich was waiting for an answer, but he wasn’t inclined to hurry. The damned man could wait. It didn’t matter that time was money. Money was the least of his worries, he had too much of the filthy stuff as it was. Aldrich would get paid for his time and if he had other clients waiting back at his stuffy downtown office, that was too bad. He shouldn’t have scheduled them in for the same day. The lawyer knew, when he had been hired, that all other clients would have to take a back seat. Greyson Inc. didn’t pay out the exorbitant fees that Aldrich demanded just to be told they didn’t fit into the lawyer’s schedule.
He listened to the faint sound of creaking leather. Good. Aldrich was shifting in his seat. The man was getting impatient, but didn’t dare say so. Suppressing a chuckle, Greyson kept his back turned. Aldrich was becoming too full of himself. It was time to put the lawyer b
ack in his place and show him who was really in charge. Another minute or two and maybe he’d put the man out of his misery.
In the meantime, Greyson amused himself studying his picture. The animal held its head regally, challenging the onlooker. Its amber eyes conveyed an intelligence that no normal wolf could possibly possess. Ah… but then it was no normal wolf. He knew that and now, he suspected Mr. Taylor did as well. This no longer appeared to be a case of an unwitting photographer snapping an idle picture that turned out to be one in a million. Taylor’s evasive answers, his reticence to be interviewed, all pointed to one thing. He knew.
Suddenly swivelling his chair around, he caught the lawyer off guard, surprising a sour look on the man’s face. A perverse thrill filled him.
“Ha! I caught you, Leon. Sneering at me behind my back!”
He had to give Aldrich credit; the man’s features were now as bland as oatmeal. “Of course not, sir. A slight case of allergies. I was merely attempting to discreetly sniffle.
“Good try Aldrich, but I know you think I’m an arrogant bastard and you’re right, I am. So sneer if you want and I’ll keep you waiting as long as I want.”
Aldrich had the good sense to not argue back, merely inclining his head.
Greyson chuckled, pleased that he had yet again proven he had the upper hand. “So, Taylor’s giving cock-and-bull stories to avoid answering questions, is he?”
“Those are the words Ms. Greene employed.” Aldrich seemed to shudder slightly at the inelegant phrasing.
“And Ms. Greene?”
“She still seems to be ‘trying’ in her own inimitable way, to conduct an interview with the man. Her success rate, however, is deplorable. A more seasoned reporter—”
Greyson cut the other man off. “A more seasoned reporter would be asking too many questions both of us and Taylor. No. Ms. Greene’s perfect for the job, in more ways than one.”
“If you’d inform me of her ‘unique qualifications,’ as I believe you called them, then I might feel more comfortable with her completing the job.”
Narrowing his eyes, Greyson slowly rose to his feet; the sound of his chair scraping against the floor was ominous. He leaned over the desk towards Aldrich, the solid oak creaking slightly as he rested his weight on his fingertips. It was a look and a stance that had turned many captains of industry into quivering idiots. Greyson knew the effect and used it indiscriminately. Intimidation was one of his favourite tools. “Your ‘comfort’ is of no concern to me, Leon. I will tell you what I wish to tell you, nothing more.”
To give the man his due, Aldrich didn’t flinch. His fingers tightened slightly on the arms of the chair and he blinked twice in rapid succession, but that was all.
Damn, but the man was good, Greyson acknowledged begrudgingly. Of course, if he hadn’t been good, the lawyer would never have made it this close to his inner circle.
Curving his lips into the barest semblance of a smile, Aldrich answered, his voice as calm and steady as ever. “But of course, sir. Foolish of me to forget that fact.”
Greyson slowly sank back into his chair and turned to face the picture again. “Foolish indeed, Leon. Foolish indeed.”
*****
Wednesday dawned with Mel’s feelings in a distinct muddle. She lay in bed, tired and sexually frustrated after a night of dreaming about a certain nude photographer prancing about her yard taking pictures of pink flamingos that were being chased by gnomes riding on black wolves. In between each photo shoot, he’d pull her close and kiss her senseless, only to walk away because she wasn’t a she-wolf.
When she wasn’t having weird dreams, Mel had been awake wondering what to do about the pictures on her computer. Having waffled back and forth last night, in the end she hadn’t looked at them, but still wasn’t sure that she eventually wouldn’t give into temptation. She supposed it all depended on how reticent Ryne proved to be during their interview. Mel knew she had to have something to report and the photos might be her only source of information, if Ryne continued to avoid talking to her.
Maybe she should be more forceful and demand he sit down and answer a few simple questions. Yet, even as she considered the idea, her gut told her Ryne didn’t respond to demands. He’d do whatever he wanted and if she pushed too much, he’d push back even harder. He’d only agreed to a very restricted interview because… well… she wasn’t exactly sure why. Possibly he’d been feeling benevolent towards her at the time? If that was the case, the status of today’s interview would be up in the air.
Ryne had been in a bit of a snit when he left last night. Would it carry over to today? Would he renege on their dinner altogether or just the subsequent question and answer session? Mel wasn’t sure and had no way of contacting him to find out. She supposed she’d just show up at the Broken Antler and see what happened.
Crawling out of bed, she turned on the coffee maker, and took a shower, washing herself with more vigour than necessary as her thoughts went back to Ryne. Damn, but the man confused her. One minute he was sarcastic, and the next he was all sex appeal and kisses, then sort of broody… It made her angry and frustrated since she never knew what to expect. She was also angry at herself for responding to him as she did. It wasn’t like she was some sex starved nymphomaniac… well, okay. She had been a bit sex-starved, but really, where was her self control? And besides that, she had a job to do which she wasn’t doing very well, as Aldrich had so kindly pointed out. But it was only because Ryne was being so difficult. Grabbing a towel, she exited the shower and dried off.
Running her hands through her hair, Mel wished she was the calm logical sort. Surely then she’d be able to figure this out. Inhaling deeply, she tried to push Ryne, Aldrich and the interview from her mind. There was nothing she could do about it right now so she should spend her time more profitably.
Focusing on her reflection in the mirror, she studied herself. There were shadows under her eyes and she used a bit of concealer to hide the effects of her sleepless night before dabbing on a touch of blush. Well, at least she wasn’t so pale now. Her hair, still damp from the shower, was a tangled mess. Grabbing a comb and hair drier, trying to tame it into some semblance of order, with little success.
As she’d told Ryne, it really was too long. Finally, she gave up trying to create a style and twisted it into a messy bun on top of her head, secured in place with a clip. A few stray strands fell about her face in soft curls so she tucked them behind her ears, knowing they would probably work free before she even left the cabin, but not really caring that much. Who was she trying to impress anyway?
Dressing in jeans and her favourite red top, Mel grabbed her laptop and purse, filled her travel mug with coffee, and headed out the door.
*****
The bell tinkled softly, as she pushed open the door of the Stump River Gazette. Beth looked up and smiled with considerably more enthusiasm than she usually did; she got to her feet, and hurried across the room.
“Mel, I’m so glad you’re here! Can you do me a favour? Josh broke a tooth last night and had to go into Timmins to get it taken care of and it’s Wednesday. The weekly paper has to be delivered and I was hoping you could man the office while I do the rounds?” She paused for breath and looked at Mel with hopeful expectation.
Only momentarily taken aback by the rush of information, Mel agreed. “Sure, I’d be happy to help out. You’ve been letting me hook up to your internet every day for free; this is the least I can do.”
“Oh thank you! I was thinking I’d have to lock up the office. It’s not like we get a ton of business, but I still hate not to be open, just in case.” Beth beamed and looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Just tell me what I have to do.” Mel placed her things on a table at the back that the Kennedy’s had set up as her temporary ‘office.’ Rubbing her hands together, she walked back to the front counter, pleased to be able to pay them back in some small way for the hospitality they’d shown her.
&
nbsp; “Well, it’s pretty simple. A few people might come in to buy a copy of the paper—it’s a dollar—and possibly a few advertisers might stop in. If they feel there was a problem with the layout of their ads, or if they want to buy more space, just get their name, make a note of what the issue is and say I’ll get back to them. Umm… ” She looked around for a minute obviously thinking if there were any other jobs. “Answer the phone and take any messages and, of course, if a ‘really big’ story happens, grab a camera from my desk drawer and go take a picture of it.” Beth laughed. “Not that we ever have any real news, but you never know!”
With that she gathered up a bundle of papers and left.
Shoving her hands in her pocket, Mel looked about the office. So… she was in charge. For a moment she surveyed her domain, rocking back and forth on her heels and wondering what to do. Since there really was nothing to keep her busy, she headed to her own table to set up her laptop. From what she’d observed over the past week, life was pretty calm at the paper. She could easily do a bit of work while simultaneously watching the front counter.
In no time at all, she had her word processing program up and running, the outline of her article on Ryne before her. Hovering her fingers over the keys, she wondered what to type. She knew so little about the man. Wracking her brain, she decided she could include a bit about how he was renovating that big old house. Mentally she formed a picture of the place and began to record some ideas.
*****
By mid-morning, Mel had answered the phone four times and sold about a dozen papers as well as writing down a concern about a misspelled name in one of the articles. She’d also exhausted her meagre knowledge of Ryne’s home renovations and had even listed the names of some of the books she’d found on his library shelf. That information was probably of no value, she told herself, but you never know.
The Keeping Page 23