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  Jorie sat down across from her.

  The waitress came over again, carefully keeping on Jorie's side of the table. "Can I get you anything?" she asked Jorie.

  She's treating her like a stranger, Griffin thought. Either Jorie is not very well liked in town, or she just recently moved here and doesn't socialize. She would have Leigh or one of their other techies find out for how long Jorie had lived in Osgrove.

  "Just coffee, please," Jorie said.

  Coffee, the secret weakness of humankind. While the scent was nice, her nose wanted to wrinkle as she imagined the bitter taste. Coffee and nothing else. Now she congratulated herself on having a big lunch just before she had left for her meeting with the writer. This way, she could concentrate on Jorie instead of being focused on eating or on the smell of frying bacon.

  When the waitress left, Jorie took a bound, well-worn notebook from her backpack.

  Leigh was right. Whatever notes she has on her story, they are not on her computer. She has them in her notebook. Griffin stared at the little book. Somehow she had to get her paws on it, but she knew it wasn't going to be easy. Jorie probably kept the notebook close at all times, just in case she had a sudden idea while she was away from her computer.

  After thumbing through it for a few seconds, Jorie stopped at a page with a neatly numbered list of questions. "Then let's get started so that I won't waste more time of your vacation than necessary."

  "Oh, don't worry," Griffin said with a reassuring smile. "I don't mind if this takes a while. I have a lot of built-up vacation time, so an hour more or less doesn't matter. I haven't taken any time off in almost three years." That was a lie. She took time off as often as the Forest Service allowed it. Sometimes she just needed to get away from it all — her life among humans, the Saru, and the expectations of her family. But with faint dark circles under her eyes, Jorie looked as if she was overdue for a vacation and might sympathize with a fellow workaholic. This meeting had just one purpose: getting a foot into the door by earning Jorie's trust. Every word Griffin said was tailored to bring her closer to that goal claw-length by claw-length.

  Instead of asking about Griffin's work or politely inquiring about her vacation plans, Jorie just nodded and clicked on her pen. "Allison mentioned you work on a project about mountain lions. Do you have any firsthand experience with tigers?"

  "Bobcats," Griffin corrected and mentally added, As you very well know. I bet you did your research before agreeing to meet me. "I'm part of a team that is trying to establish the home-range size and movements of bobcats in the Ouachita National Forest in Arkansas. We radio collared them." She had a feeling Jorie was testing her, trying to verify the information she had found about her on the Internet. Mmm, nice. She's gonna keep this interesting.

  "Sounds adventurous," Jorie said. Neither her facial expression nor her voice revealed any emotion beyond polite interest.

  She must be a great poker player.

  "It can be. But it also involves a lot of data analysis. I don't spend as much time out on the trails as I'd like. A lot of my work is management, putting together proposals and giving presentations." That much was true, but it was also meant to send a clear message: I'm a harmless, trustworthy researcher, not an unreliable adventurer. "I guess our jobs have something in common: a lot of paperwork." Griffin tried to establish a connection with Jorie and introduce a little humor into their much too businesslike meeting.

  Apparently, Jorie wasn't interested in interpersonal connections. "So you never worked with tigers?" she repeated her question.

  And here I thought the Saru were businesslike. Jorie Price puts us to shame. This woman has a seriously one-track mind. Does she ever think about anything but her writing? Griffin wondered. "You're lucky," she said although lucky wasn't the right word to describe a human under investigation by the Saru. "I have a lot of firsthand experience with tigers." As firsthand as you could get, actually. "So you're writing a book about tigers?" she asked as if she didn't already know. She could play clueless with the best of them. Cats were masters of deception, so it was a good thing that she had been sent on this mission instead of letting Jennings try his paw at the deception game.

  The relaxed features and the controlled body language didn't change. Jorie's scent did, though. The visual image that always came with inhaling Jorie's scent now showed Griffin a stiff breeze ruffling the leaves high up in the imaginary trees. She's squirming internally, but she hides it well. Griffin's admiration grew.

  "I usually don't discuss my works in progress," Jorie said. Then, as if she realized how brusque that sounded, she added, "I don't want to jinx it." Jorie's charming little smile didn't reveal the uneasiness she felt at talking about her writing with a stranger, but her scent gave it away.

  Oh, so she can be charming too if she wants to. Griffin got the feeling that she was sitting across from another master manipulator. "Writers are a superstitious bunch, huh?" she asked. Do you believe in the creatures you write about? Do you suspect you're sitting here with a shape-shifter? Did your informant warn you about us, and that's why you're so cautious? She studied Jorie's hand that held the pen, but it stayed relaxed and didn't give anything away.

  "Some of them," Jorie said. "Muses are fickle creatures, so we have to be careful not to offend them." The answer sounded matter-of-fact, but Griffin saw the twinkling in the dark eyes. Jorie looked down at her notebook. "A female tiger weighs about two hundred fifty pounds, right?"

  Griffin did a quick calculation of her mother's weight. "That sounds about right for a Bengal tiger, but it also depends on the subspecies. Some Siberian tiger ladies weigh even more."

  Again, Jorie's facial expression didn't change. Just a short bunching of her neck muscles gave away her tension.

  "Something wrong with that?" Griffin asked. She had already guessed the problem: whoever Jorie's informant was, he hadn't gotten around to explaining how a normal-looking woman could change into an animal twice her weight. "Is that a problem for the plot?"

  Jorie shook her head, not giving away any information about her book. Her eyes were already on the next question on her list. "What about catnip? Some say it does affect big cats; some say it doesn't." Nothing in Jorie's expression gave away whether she had read the title of Griffin's dissertation.

  I would bet a gourmet dinner against a can of cat food that she has, though. Jorie was smart and careful. There was no way she had agreed to meet Griffin before she had found out everything she could about her. "I actually did my dissertation on that," Griffin said.

  "Really?" Jorie lifted her eyebrows, but her pupils didn't enlarge, so Griffin knew she was faking surprise. She had known the topic of Griffin's dissertation, but admitting it would mean having to admit that she had googled Griffin. "And what did you find out?"

  "Most lions are sensitive to catnip, but tigers usually aren't," Griffin said. It wouldn't hurt to give Jorie this information even though Wrasa had the same reaction to catnip. "So I hope you're not planning on having someone in your novel attack a tiger with a can of catnip. It won't work."

  Jorie neither confirmed nor denied any plans she might have for her novel.

  She's not giving up any information. Very rarely had Griffin investigated someone who was so good at not giving anything away. It was a welcome challenge and completely frustrating at the same time.

  Jorie's pen moved smoothly over the paper, then paused. "What about ligers? Would catnip have any effect on them?"

  Years of undercover work had taught Griffin to control her emotions and her body language when she was around humans. But now she had to fight against the impulse to lift her lip in a surprised snarl and gurgled into her tea. The fine hairs on her neck stood on end. "Ligers?" she repeated. She wasn't a liger, of course. She was a hybrid with Kasari and Puwar ancestors. Her animal form came very close to looking like a liger, though, and she wondered if Jorie's casual question was pure coincidence.

  "Yes," Jorie said. "I wonder if they would get 'drunk' on catni
p like their lion fathers or if they wouldn't react at all like their tiger mothers."

  "Well..." Griffin paused. She didn't like to admit it, but this human had managed to throw her for a loop. "I didn't have any ligers in my study, but I'd say it's about a fifty-fifty chance." It was. Kylin, her fraternal twin, went as crazy as their Kasari half sister when she smelled catnip while Griffin wasn't affected at all.

  Jorie asked more questions about cats' senses and about feline metabolism. Every question told Griffin more about Jorie's assumptions about shape-shifters. A lot of them were accurate. Much too accurate.

  Every time Jorie asked about cat facts that could be applied to shape-shifters, Griffin gave answers that were as far from the truth as possible. She noticed that Jorie didn't write down any of those answers, discarding them as something she wouldn't use in her story... as if she already knew a lot about the Wrasa and the answers Griffin gave didn't fit in with that knowledge.

  She's intelligent, and a lot of her assumptions go in the right direction, but if she needs to ask, it means she's not sure. If she thought that conclusion through to the end, it would mean that there was no inside source. Where else would her knowledge come from? Can getting so many things right be mere coincidence? Griffin wondered.

  She knew she wouldn't get an answer today.

  Jorie was already paying for her coffee and Griffin's tea and putting her notebook back into her backpack. "It was nice to meet you," Jorie said, again extending her hand. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me and for answering my questions. I'm sure I can use some of these things in my book."

  "You're welcome," Griffin said. She feverishly searched for something to say that would keep her in Jorie's life and allow her to gather more information. Jorie clearly didn't plan on ever seeing her again. "If you have more questions, please don't hesitate to ask me. I'll be around for the next three weeks. You can e-mail me anytime — or you could just call me." She rifled through her wallet and offered Jorie a card with her cell phone number.

  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

  "TAS, 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, enjo
ying 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.