Her Bear In Mind (11 page)

“What are we going to do about Molly?” Joe asked her.

“I really don’t know.” Sierra responded as she slipped on the shoes.

“I don’t suppose we could duct tape her mouth and throw her in a closet?”

“Tempting, but no.”

Joe held the door for her as they stepped out into the hallway.

CHAPTER 9

“You should have warned me.” Sierra told Joe.

They were back at the Governor’s Mansion now, safely tucked away in Joe’s bedroom, far from prying eyes and nosey roommates.

“About what?” Joe asked.

“About the telepathy. About having the resting pulse rate of a humming bird. About destroying my furniture by shifting in my sleep. Have you ever done that? How do you hide this with all these people around you all the time? I can’t even keep it secret from Molly.”

Joe chuckled and sat down on the big oak four-poster bed.

“I invest in sturdy furniture. Also, you’ll have more control when you’re older. Last time I shifted in my sleep was in a French brothel in 1949. That was awkward…”

“You’re going to have to tell me that story.”

“Beautiful, I’m going to my grave with that story.” Joe replied. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

Sierra sighed. She sat down on the bed next to him and took his hand.

“Strangers,” she said simply.

“What are you talking about?” Joe asked.

Angry, Sierra pulled her hand away and stood up.

“You know exactly what about! I’m talking about whoever was out there in the woods that scared you!”

“What makes you think I was scared?” Joe demanded defensively.

“You aren’t as good as shielding your thoughts as you think you are.” Sierra responded.

Never mind that all she caught was a single word. He didn’t need to know that.

Sierra took some satisfaction in watching his eyebrows raise as he puzzled over how much she knew.

Joe sighed.

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“I’m an investigative journalist. Of course, you can’t hide anything from me. Nor should you, if you’d like to sleep with me sometime ever again.”

“Well, I’m a politician and a shifter. I should be capable of lying to anyone. Even gorgeous and annoyingly tenacious journalists.” Joe muttered.

Sierra sat back down.

“So, who are they?”

“I don’t know.” Joe said.

Sierra’s eyes narrowed.

“Really!” Joe insisted. “I don’t know who they are. I didn’t recognize their scent. They shouldn’t have been in my territory. There were at least five of them, and I didn’t like the odds on a confrontation. You can’t even run and not fall down.”

Sierra was confused.

“Five of them, you said.”

“At least.” Joe said.

“Five…what?”

“Shifters.”

“So…there’s…other bears? Besides the ones that live in Sleuth?”

Joe shook his head.

“Well, there are other bears, yes. But they weren’t bears.”

“There’s other kinds?” Sierra asked.

Joe nodded.

“I’ve met bobcats, cougars, hawks, foxes…I met a lion once when I was in Germany. And yes, there are such thing as werewolves. We don’t tend to socialize much. Most of us don’t trust other shifters. I try to keep an open mind, myself…but there’s an order to things. We have rules. They should have come straight to me and asked permission to be in my territory. The fact that they didn’t…they’re either young and don’t know the rules….or…”

“Or they’re breaking the rules deliberately,” Sierra finished.

“Precisely.”

Sierra stared out the window at the manicured courtyard below. There were Canadian geese nesting in the pond. The scene was peaceful. Serene, even. It didn’t jibe with the worried feeling curling in her gut. Something told her these strange new shifters were not simply unaware of the rules.

“I don’t suppose they might just be were-bunnies or something?” Sierra asked without much hope.

Joe shook his head.

“No. Afraid not. They were some kind of predators for certain.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“We keep an eye out. That’s all we can do right now. I’ve doubled the patrols around Sleuth, and sent search parties into the woods. They clearly don’t want to be found just yet.”

“And when you do find them?”

Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’ll ask them why they’re here. If I don’t like their answer…we’ll figure it out then.”

He squeezed her hand.

“It’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I believe that.” Sierra told him. “I believe you can protect me. Just promise me you won’t try to protect me from ever
knowing
about the danger in the first place, okay?”

“I promise.” Joe said solemnly.

“Now what can I do to make it up to you?” He trailed his fingers over the buttons on her blouse.

“You can get a dog.”

*

They named her Cinnamon.

She was a brown poodle mixed with who knows what. She was fifty pounds and more fluff than actual dog. Sierra had a theory that if they shaved her she might just disappear altogether. She had soulful big brown eyes that begged them to take her home.

Sierra was amused and faintly alarmed to discover that when you’re the Governor, adopting a dog requires three consultants, several charitable donations, and a press conference. Simply walking into a pet store and buying a puppy was out of the question. It had to be an adult dog. One from a shelter, who would have otherwise died had Joe not rescued her. The shelter couldn’t be one that puts animals to sleep with abandon. It had to be one that would love to be a “no kill” shelter if not for a tragic lack of funding. Then, of course, came the sizeable donation from Joe to rectify the lack of funding.

A groomer had to be brought in to make sure Cinnamon looked pristinely clean and fluffed before exiting the shelter. She had a new patent leather collar and a silver, heart shaped ID tag. Sierra and Joe were also spiffed up for the occasion; Joe in his trademarked rolled up shirtsleeves and slacks, Sierra in a burgundy form fitting dress, pearls, and heels to match her dress, looking every inch the respectable partner.

It was, after all, an election year.

A small mob of press were waiting outside, including Kelly, the new girl at the Post who basically held her old fluff piece job. It was strange for Sierra being on this side of the microphones. She had, of course, promised Kelly an exclusive photo shoot later.

Ever since her story on the “escaped bear” last year, Sierra’s career had really taken off. Now she did stories on elections, important trials, and political scandals. They no longer sent her out to cover the exciting world of celebrity pet adoptions.

Sierra stood a little behind Joe, holding on to Cinnamon’s leash, as he gave his statement. Cinnamon was quite excited about all the attention. She was happily wagging her tail and drooling on Sierra’s shoes.

“Cinnamon, like all the animals here, just wanted a good home, with a loving family. I wish I could take every one of these cats and dogs home, but I can’t. That’s why I need your help. If you’re thinking of getting a new pet, consider adopting one of the many cats and dogs from shelters just like this one. If you can’t adopt right now, your donations ensure that these animals receive food and shelter.”

Joe opened the floor up for questions.

“So will you be a single parent? Or will you and Ms. Christie be raising Cinnamon together?” one reporter asked.

Joe turned to Sierra and smiled.

“I’ll be taking care of Cinnamon myself,” Joe said.  “Though I’m sure she’ll enjoy visiting with Ms. Christie as much as I do.”

Cinnamon barked, as if in approval, eliciting laughter from the press.

A few more questions and many adorable photographs later, Joe, Sierra, and Cinnamon were in the town car on their way home.

“Perhaps I misspoke.” Joe mused.

“What do you mean?” Sierra asked as she scratched Cinnamon behind the ears.

“Maybe we should be raising her together.”

Sierra laughed.

“I don’t know. Me? A parent? I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment,” she joked.

“I’m serious.”

Sierra considered it.

“Wouldn’t we have to live together first?” she asked. “Won’t that upset the conservative voting demographic? Us shacking up? Living in sin with our bastard child?”

“So let’s get married,” Joe replied without missing a beat.

Sierra choked on her water.

“Was that a proposal?” she asked him, bewildered.

Joe fell into shocked silence, thinking on the words that had just come out of his mouth.

“No,” he said, finally. “No, of course not.”

Sierra felt her heart sink. The feeling surprised her. She had never considered herself to be the marrying kind. She valued her independence too much to be tied down by a traditional family life. Yet, when she thought about Joe, the possibility of marriage and babies, or even fur babies, didn’t seem so bad. Maybe she really was the marrying kind. She just hadn’t found the right guy yet.

“I wouldn’t just propose to you in an offhand manner in the back of a town car. If I were to ask you to marry me, it would be special. There’d be music and moonlight and champagne and roses. I’d get down on one knee with the biggest diamond I could find and beg you to be mine. That would be how I would propose. Not like this.”

Sierra smiled.

“Well…” she said slowly, “I’ll look forward to that.”

CHAPTER 10

Joe dropped her off at her apartment. Sierra floated up the stairs to her floor, her thoughts full of champagne bubbles and engagement rings. She found herself humming as she opened up her front door.

She was greeted by the sight of Zeke lying naked on her coffee table.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, and quickly averted her eyes.

“Sierra!” Zeke yelled in surprise.

He jumped off the coffee table and scrambled to cover himself up. He picked up a small potted cactus and held it in front of his crotch.

Molly poked her head into the room.

“You’re home early,” she said cheerfully.

“Molly, what the hell?” Sierra said.

She noticed the easel set up in front of the coffee table, along with Molly’s paints.

“Oh,” Sierra said, feeling embarrassed. “You’re modeling for her. Okay.”

“Yup.” Molly confirmed. “Also, we’re having sex.”

Zeke blushed furiously. Molly tossed him his pants.

“Sweetie, maybe you should go home now.” Molly said to him.

“Right.” Zeke awkwardly pulled his pants on. “Ma’am, I’m sorry I was naked on your coffee table.”

“It’s no problem.” Sierra assured him.

Zeke kissed Molly on the cheek.

“I’ll call you later?” he asked.

“Sure, sweetie.” Molly said.

Zeke headed for the door, then stopped and turned back to Sierra.

“You’re not gonna tell Joe about this, right?”

“I don’t think so. No.” Sierra said.

Zeke smiled with relief and scrambled out the door.

“He’s a little young for you, isn’t he?” Sierra said to Molly.

Molly stretched out of the couch.

“He is.” She agreed with a smile. “He’s young, and energetic, and
very
eager to please.”

She sighed in a self-satisfied way and sipped her wine. Sierra rolled her eyes.

“Well, I think he’s also in love with you. Be gentle with him, ok?”

“Noted.”

Sierra returned the potted cactus to the corner and kicked off her shoes.

“I saw you on the news. Along with the cute, fluffy puppy.” Molly said.

Yeah, Joe thought I should be there for the adoption.” Sierra said.

She walked into the kitchen to pour herself some wine.

“I thought you said he already
got
a dog. Not
was getting
a dog.” Molly said.

Sierra froze with her back to Molly, wine bottle in hand. She had rather hoped Molly would overlook that slight continuity issue.

“He had got a dog already. It just took a few days to organize the press conference. He didn’t want to announce it until then.”

“Oh.” Molly said.

There was something in her tone Sierra didn’t like.

“What?” she asked her.

“Nothing.” Molly didn’t sound the least bit convincing.  “Just seems like an odd choice. Hiding a dog for a week. It can’t take that long to call some reporters.”

“Well…you know…politics….” Sierra said. She grasped frantically for a change of subject. She settled on looking over the half-finished painting propped up on the easel.

“So…” she said finally, “Why’d you paint him blue?”

*

“Have you seen him yet?” Kelly asked.

Sierra was pouring cream into her “No Coffee No Workie” mug in the break room at The Post. She’d had yet another night of nightmare-plagued sleep and really needed the caffeine boost.. At least this time she hadn’t woken up with claws.

Kelly was helping herself to a yogurt cup from the refrigerator.

“Seen who?” Sierra asked.

“The new owner.” Kelly said.

The office had been buzzing for days about the new majority shareholder, Dorrian Taylor. He was some rich guy from New York, who apparently just got it in his head last week that he’d like to own a newspaper.

“He’s here?” Sierra asked.

Kelly nodded.

“I guess he wanted to see what all his money bought him,” Sierra . “So you haven’t seen him yet?”

“No. Why? Does he have a really bad comb-over or something?”

Kelly gave her a knowing look.

“Just wait till you see him.” She said, grinning.

Sierra returned to her desk, coffee in hand. Joe had gotten her yet another new desk. This one was a black maple with silver hardware. She kept a picture of her and Joe at his cabin in Sleuth in one corner. The silver frame perfectly matched the desk. The surface was a mess of post it notes and crumpled paper.

She was working on a story on the mayor’s mistress; a much younger staffer and BDSM practitioner. Sierra
almost
had the girl convinced she should sign the photo release. She picked up the phone to call her. Maybe she could take her out to lunch again. Some place expensive, with a lot of wine.

“Well you’re as breathtaking in person as you are in your photograph.” A man’s voice said from behind her.

Sierra wheeled her chair around. The man held out his hand to her.

“Dorrian Taylor,” he introduced himself. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sierra.”

Sierra immediately understood why he had made such an impression on Kelly. He was young to be so successful, maybe early thirties, and knock down gorgeous. He had the most piercing blue eyes Sierra had ever seen. They were the color of the sky at midday in the springtime. He kept his golden blond hair neatly trimmed and styled. The orderly

hairstyle went well with his custom tailored suit. The fit of it nicely accentuated his thin, muscular frame.

Sierra found herself momentarily speechless. Finally, she managed to choke out, “You’ve seen my picture?”

“Sierra, darling, the entire office has seen your picture.” He indicated the nearby framed photograph on the wall.

It was the picture of her being attacked  by Eric. The one that brought her first front page byline.

“Right.” Sierra was  embarrassed.

“Not to mention you’re sleeping with the Washington State Governor and that makes the press ever so fond of snapping your picture. I’m certain everyone is quite familiar with your visage at this point. And yet, I maintain that all those photographs fail to do you justice.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“I’d like to take you to lunch. Does one o’clock work for you?”

“Ummm…” Sierra seemed to have temporarily forgotten how to make words. “Is this a work related lunch?”

“Whatever else would it be?” he asked.

He
said
it was work related, but the way he smiled at her said anything but. She didn’t really like the way his eyes seemed to drill into her, either. Still, you didn’t exactly turn down a work lunch with the owner of the paper.

“One is fine.”

“Perfect.” He flashed her another million-dollar smile and walked away.

Sierra turned back to her computer, still feeling like his eyes were on her.

Kelly shot her a knowing look from across the room. Couldn’t he go hit on Kelly instead? Kelly, who, unlike Sierra, was not in a loving, committed relationship with a man who could, quite literally, rip Dorrian’s head off should he feel sufficiently compelled to do so?

Sierra stared at the picture on her desk and wondered what Joe would think about this “working lunch”.

After some consideration, she decided it would be fine. She could handle herself. Having a gorgeous stranger shower her with compliments was not the end of the world. If things really got really out of hand, she could always nail his ass for sexual harassment.

Or, she thought with a smile, she could always rip his head off herself.

She turned to her phone, intending to call the Mayor’s office, then paused. She looked over her shoulder. Dorrian was stepping into the editor’s office, not likely to sneak up on her again. It couldn’t hurt to do a little digging on her lunch date.

She opened up her web browser and queried “Dorrian Taylor”.

Dorrian was old money.
Very
old money. His great great grandfather was a railroad tycoon. Tristen Taylor had died young at age thirty-eight from TB, leaving his considerable fortune to his estranged son, Cyrus. Each subsequent generation of Taylor men had gown the family fortune to its now considerable sum.

Dorrian Taylor was worth billions. He’d made a name for himself in corporate takeovers, ruthlessly buying out companies and then restructuring them as he saw fit. Sierra was rapidly getting the impression that this was a man who liked to own things. And to be in charge, at least for a while.  He  would actually  manage most of the companies he purchased  for a few years. Then he would put someone else in charge and move on to his next acquisition.

Birth records showed that he had a 12-year-old son who lived with his mother in Greece. He wasn’t married, or, as best as she could tell, dating anyone. That basically made him the most eligible bachelor in the United States. He’d even been approached about doing one of those trashy harem reality shows last year, but had turned them down.

Sierra hurriedly closed her browser as Dorrian stepped back out of the office. He flashed her another smile as he glided by her desk.

Sierra cursed herself for staring at his perfectly sculpted ass as he walked away. She was going to have to be careful about this man.