and she nearly choked. Still, she managed to get it down.
He quietly watched while she coughed and wiped her eyes.
“Are you all right?” he finally asked, the husky drawl in his voice making her think of the overwhelming heat of Texas summers.
She continued to cough, trying not to snort or hack too much, until she could catch her breath. All she could do was wave her hand at him to wait. Finally, she had herself back under control. Gathering what was left of her shredded dignity around her, she stood and met his gaze. “I swallowed wrong. You can be a bit overwhelming.”
He grinned, making her regret her admission. “Coming from a woman who looks like you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Her own lips curled up in the beginning of a smile. “Touché. Now tell me, why are you here?”
“Because you invited me,” he replied.
“Only to keep you from peppering us with questions at lunch,” she countered. She should have been annoyed, but wasn’t. And he knew it, she could tell. The glint in his gray eyes told her he was accustomed to using his charm to get his own way.
“My apologies.” That Southern drawl had a way of reaching inside her and curling around her entire being. “Speaking of lunch, what exactly did you do to make me move?”
Briefly, she considered batting her own eyelashes. Instead, she went for a steady gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You do realize I’m a photojournalist, right? I told you that earlier, didn’t I?”
She nodded.
“Well, when a journalist has questions and everyone stonewalls him, that only intrigues him even more.”
He had a point. Disconcerted, she swallowed. “All right. You said you had questions. What exactly do you need to know?”
“First, start by telling me how you made me move outside of the restaurant. It felt sort of like being pushed by an invisible hand.”
For some reason, she found this amusing. From the intent way he watched her, he’d see if she tried to hide a smile, so she didn’t bother. “Around town, they call me a witch. Maybe now you can understand why.”
“I’ve heard that. Are you? A witch, I mean?”
To his credit, he didn’t sound at all disconcerted.
“Not really,” she finally admitted. “But you know how people talk. I have a few...abilities. Occasionally. Not many, and they’re unreliable, so I can’t really count on them.”
As a shape-shifter, he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew magic existed—otherwise every shape-shifter would be in trouble. But he’d never met a real life witch before.
“I can tell from your aura that you’re a shape-shifter,” she began.
“Ditto.” He narrowed his eyes. “Look, I’ll cut to the chase. I’m here because I’m doing a report on lake monsters. You know, like the Loch Ness monster, but in North America. There have been several reported around the United States and Canada. The one in Forestwood Lake came up several times, so I took a chance and traveled here to find out what I could learn.”
Monsters. Libby despised that word. And for good reason. Resisting the urge to defend her charge, Jade tilted her head, wishing she had one more bit of bread left. She felt confident no one in town would have told him anything. They were all united in protecting Libby. “And what did you find out?”
“Nothing, nada, zip. Like I mentioned at lunch, no one will talk to me. The only response I got was to ask the Burnetts. Which would be you, right?”
“That would be me,” she agreed, flashing her sweetest smile and feeling a swift stab of pleasure in his quick intake of breath. Might as well fight fire with fire. She knew how to use charm, too. “Honestly, though. If I did know anything—and I’m not saying I do—what makes you think I would confide in a total stranger?”
He shook his head, appearing unimpressed. “Honey, answering a question with another question isn’t going to make me forget I asked. If you won’t tell me about your lake monster, can you please point me to one of your relatives who will?”
Ignoring the thrill at his no doubt unintentional endearment—with a Southern accent like that, he probably called everyone honey or sugar or something—she shifted uneasily in her seat. While there wasn’t some kind of rule forbidding talk about Libby, her family also had a kind of tacit understanding the topic was off-limits to strangers.
Which this man, no matter how handsome, was.
“I’m a photojournalist,” he reminded her. “The fact that everyone keeps putting me off just makes me want to dig deeper.”
Nodding, she considered. Since they were both shifters, though she had no idea what he became when he changed, he’d know there were rules governing not revealing anything like this to humans. In other words, he couldn’t do it. As a shape-shifting wolf, she was Pack. The Pack was the largest group of shape-shifters and their wolves outnumbered all the other animals combined.
Pack Protectors policed this policy and the repercussions were severe. Maybe he reported for some internal magazine or newspaper, meant only to be viewed by their own kind. Though she’d never heard of such a thing, it could exist.
Still, she needed to know. “You say you’re a photojournalist. Who do you work for?”
A flash of surprise registered in his handsome face. “You’ve never heard of me?”
Tilting her head, she studied him. “Apparently not. What was your name again?”
“Rance Sleighter.”
“Nope, I haven’t heard of you. Should I have?”
He grinned. “I guess I deserved that. I used to work for National Geographic magazine. These days, I freelance.”
“For the general public?” she persisted.
“If you mean humans, yes. I also have done photo spreads for shifter magazines as well as a few vampire ones. Basically, whoever is willing to pay me.”
“And this story? The reason you’re here? Who is it for?”
A shadow crossed his face, so quickly she might have imagined it. “A friend,” he said. “Someone very close to me.”
Then maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad. Yet shifter or not, she wasn’t sure she wanted to share Libby with outsiders.
“Let me speak with my family,” she said, merely to stall him. She’d have to call a family meeting to figure out how to best deal with this. “Can you come back another day?”
He eyed her. “Tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can round everyone up that early.”
At this, he took a step closer. Close enough for her to smell the light masculine scent of whatever soap he
