The Accidental Werewolf, page 1
THE ACCIDENTAL WEREWOLF
DAKOTA CASSIDY
To all those who believed, this book is for you. First, my wonderfully warm, funny agent, Deidre Knight, who gets my wackiness and isn’t even afraid that she does. The word fear just isn’t in her color wheel.
To my editor, Cindy Hwang—who really knows how to tip a chick’s world on its axis.
To my good friends—friends who pushed me over the edge of the cliff when I was clinging (thanks for that—I think I broke a nail!): Sheri Fogarty, Kate Douglas, Angela Knight, Ann Jacobs, Diane Whiteside, Michelle Hoppe, Isabella Jordon, Jaynie Ritchie, Shelly Laurenston, Nancy Toney, Kira Stone, Renee George, Margaret Riley, Treva Hart, Cassie Walder, Sahara Kelly, Elisa Adams, Maura, Erin, Ter, Vicky Burk-land, and Barb D.
The Babes—you chicks and a couple of guys rock the house! Jessica Faust, who taught me more about writing than she’ll ever know. My sons, Travis and Cameron—dudes, you’re plotters, and you don’t even know it. The awesome people who gave me my start four years ago—Linda and Mike at LSB. My mother, Eleanor, who’s my right-hand-man. And last, but never least—Rob. My knight on a shining dirtbike and the master of a killa title. Finding you was like finding an endless fountain of Starbucks low-fat white chocolate mocha, and I love you like a buttload!
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 1
Well, it was official.
Lavender was soooooo not in her color wheel anymore. Not looking like this, anyway.
It clashed with her hair and made her skin look sallow.
Marty Andrews was now an autumn. Thus, fall colors would best suit her new pallor. Greens, gold, and a couple of shades of yellow were presently her complexion’s new friends.
But the color lavender?
Not so much.
That was the color she’d once been so suited to. A spring color. Or was it winter?
Spring, winter, spring, winter?
Sweet mother, she couldn’t even remember her seasons of color. Where were her color-wheel-of-life skills? Each season had colors it represented. Any woman worth her salt knew that. Didn’t they?
She shook her head and fought for a moment of clarity. Lavender was a spring color. It was the color all the newly promoted, first-level Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics reps wore and the color of the suit she’d worn with pride until a week ago.
Jesus, everything was such a blur since that night. She was lucky to remember her own name, let alone her season of color. It had all become a mixed-up myriad of sound, light, and surreal happenings.
It had steadily worsened since he’d shown up earlier.
Her eyes darted to the man sitting across from her in her living room. His hard, probing stare made her sink farther into her chair, tucking her legs beneath her.
He was dark, devilish.
Nuts.
“Are you all right, Marty?” His smooth, husky baritone deserved to be showcased on a late-night radio show.
The cloud of confusion she’d been drifting on parted for a moment, and she cocked her head at him. “I don’t think I am and, you know, this really isn’t a good time for me. I just made the first tier of Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics, and I’m busy. See?” She held up her new suit to show him, recently torn, as a result of the scuffle of that dreadful evening. She’d only had it for a bloody week, and now it was senselessly ruined. She twisted the fabric with hands that shook. “How could this have happened now?”
Of all times.
“Marty, there are things we need to discuss,” he pressed with tight words, shifting position and crossing his legs. “Do you think you could try and focus? It’s crucial that you do.”
Focus. Hmmm. Well, she could try…Just not right now. Right now someone needed to hear the pickle she’d been left in, and tag, he was it. “You know what’s funny?”
“Ah, no. What’s funny?” He was humoring her. That much was clear from his tone.
“Do you know how long I’ve been working on becoming a lavender? Do you have any clue?”
He shook his dark head, clearly bewildered, while he kept his voice calm and soothing. Though if her wits were sharper, she’d suspect he was coming very close to losing that cool facade, cuz he did have that pinched look around his mouth. “I still don’t even know what a, er, lavender is. But I get the feeling I’m going to find out, whether I want to or not.”
He was screwing with her chi, and he deserved to know the degree of his chi-screwing. Marty ignored his comment and finally gathered enough steam to spew a weak rant for what she’d lost. “A frickin’ year. That’s how long. I busted my ass working two jobs, and it might seem meaningless to some, but I did it and not without plenty of doors slammed in my face. Some people make jokes about selling Bobbie-Sue because it’s door-to-door sales. I ignored those snide remarks about my dreams of cosmetic greatness. And I was this close.” She held her thumb and index fingers together for emphasis. “And now you show up, telling me something like this? It just ruins everything.”
“It definitely changes things,” he answered dimly, a look of discomfort flitting across his hard features before they returned to their granite scowl.
Changed things? Hell yes, it changed things. Like irrevocably. “I was well on my way to sky blue.”
His black eyes flashed more confusion. “Sky blue?”
What didn’t this interloper get here? Did she have to explain everything? Spell it out? “Yes! Sky—blue. If I reach the final level at Bobbie-Sue, I get a sky blue convertible. Do you have any idea how important that is to me?” Marty averted her eyes to anywhere he wasn’t. She wanted that frickin’ sky blue car with a burn in her gut. Damn it, she would have looked so fetching in a sky blue convertible. Well, when she’d been a light blue-eyed, sunshine yellow blonde anyway.
Now sky blue just wouldn’t enhance her color aura.
Not after this week.
Ah, the agony of defeat.
“Look, Marty. I’m sorry about the, ah, lavender thing and convertibles and whatever it is you keep harping on so single-mindedly, but you have to listen,” he urged through lips clearly compressed due to lack of patience.
Oh, no, she did not either. “This is the color wheel I’m referring to that you just don’t seem to care about…” Marty offered distractedly, pointing to the chart on the stack of papers in her lap. Frowning, she looked down at the thick ream of documents from the Bobbie-Sue corporate office. The ever-omnipotent palette wheel of colors sat on top of the pile, mocking her.
Clearing her thickening throat, she explained, “Each color represents a rung on the ladder to Bobbie-Sue riches and glory.” She wanted this man to know where her life had been headed before he showed up with his wild tales. What he was telling her was something she just couldn’t digest.
“It’s a very nice color wheel.” His voice grew gentle, as if he were trying to appease her.
“Yes, yes it is, and I’ve only been at this level for a week.” Had it only been a week ago that she’d achieved the first step to color greatness?
Cheerist, it felt more like a year.
Her glare met the hunk’s on her couch, and she fought another cringe.
She’d been whizzing right along, selling lip gloss by the bazillions, and then, bam!
This.
Her smile grew wistful, thinking of her yearlong climb to success. “I was really good at this cosmetics thing, you know,” Marty relayed with a mumble. “I’m good with people.”
“Marty, I’m sure you’re good at what you do, but we don’t have time for this stroll down memory lane. You really have to try and pay attention to what I’m telling you.” His reprimand was stern.
She waved a dismissive hand in his direction. Lost in her reverie, she continued to babble as though this man cared about how she’d arrived at where she was now. “Not everyone can do what I did in such a short amount of time. Sadly, some just don’t have the kind of dedication I do. Speaking of lack of dedication…Oh, no! I forgot Nina and Wanda. How could I forget them? They’re my newest recruits.”
“Who?”
A sigh escaped her lips, and it screamed exasperation. “Nina Blackman and Wanda Schwartz. They’re having problems. Especially Nina…” she trailed off, letting her worry carry her away again.
“Nina and Wanda? Are they the two women who were with you that night? Are they your friends?”
“Yes, that’s them, but I don’t know if they’d call themselves my friends. They think I’m pushy. We met because they answered my Bobbie-Sue ad. They’re more like business associates, I guess. I’m their independent sales consultant supervisor.” Rolling her tense shoulders, Marty shrugged off a moment of remorse. If you examined her relationship with Nina and Wanda under a microscope, they really were nothing more than business acquaintances. She could’ve used a friend this past week, making her regret not having cultivated female friendships in favor of her ambition. Nevertheless, she would have some explaining to do to them.
“How can I explain this mess to them? Especially Wanda. She’s very fragile right now. Very.” Oooooh, God, what would she do about Wanda? If she were any
The color chart in her lap caught her eye again. She spun the arrow on it with a defeated hand. It landed on lavender. Ugh. This—this was a case of cosmetic cruelty by color wheel faux pas in the first degree.
God. The injustice of it all.
However, there was a bright side. She could buy that cute emerald green dress she’d seen in the display window at Filene’s.
Green was in her color wheel now.
“Marty! You have to snap out of it. I don’t know what the hell you’re babbling about, but we—have—to—talk!” the man on her couch finally yelled.
She didn’t want to talk to him or anyone else about that night.
So much had changed since then.
Upon reflection, it had all happened so fast, she was still trying to put the pieces of it back together to make sense of it.
Nina and Wanda had accompanied her to the weekly color seminar Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics held. It was designed to keep you pumped up and raring to sell, sell, sell.
They were walking her teacup poodle, Muffin, by her apartment building after the meeting at Bobbie-Sue’s corporate headquarters. And well, as was par for the course, Nina was bitching and lagging reluctantly behind them. Marty had been doing her best to stoke Nina and Wanda with motivational nudges and sales stats. She’d tried to encourage them and was failing miserably. Both were rather sullen about the report they’d had to hand in. The one that primarily had zeroes in the box for unit sales.
On this particular night, Marty was growing more agitated than usual by the two of them, and Muffin was being difficult about making potties. Her fluffy, white poodle hated the cold, so she, too, dawdled behind Marty. The shuffle of Wanda’s and Nina’s despondent feet had left the taste of bad karma in the air, and it clung to her tongue like peanut butter.
“Nina! Wanda! Hurry up, would you?” she’d chastised. “Wasn’t it bad enough we were almost late for the ‘Coordinate your Life with Color’ seminar? We almost missed it. That would have just been dreadful. Especially if we’d missed hearing Bobbie-Sue speak. She is, after all, the queen of color coordination.”
“Oh, yeah. God forbid we should miss the color coordination of one’s life, Marty,” Nina snorted, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, her stance defensive, her slender silhouette outlined by the black night. “I don’t know how I managed to get to thirty-two without knowing my color aura. Who knew I wasn’t living my life to its fullest color potential by coordinating the color of my lipstick with my toilet paper? I don’t think I can go on now that I know gold is in my color aura and everything I happen to have is silver. The indignity of it and all, you know?” Nina threw a dramatic hand over her forehead.
Marty’s blonde head twitched as did her right eye while she wrapped Muffin’s leash tighter around her wrist to keep from slugging Nina. Nina was such a naysayer, but she was holding on to her waning patience like the last set of sheets from a white sale at Macy’s. Yet, a touch of her frustration with Nina slipped out anyway. “Why must you be so flippin’ negative, Nina?”
Nina, tall and slender, dark and doe-eyed, shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes at Marty. “Gee, I can’t quite put my finger on it, Marty. Maybe it’s because I’ve sold one shitty lip gloss all goddamned month?”
If Nina could sell her sarcasm-slash-pessimism by the bottle, she’d be rolling in greenbacks.
Marty shook her head and shot for encouraging again. “No, Nina. You sold two. Two. Biiiig difference.”
Nina swirled her index finger in the air. “Yeah, whoopee. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to face that bunch of cosmetic Hare Krishnas and declare you sold only two lip glosses? That’s not even a unit. Ten is a unit. But wait, you’d know that, wouldn’t you? Because you sell hundreds of units.”
“It’s soooo embarrassing, Marty,” Wanda agreed enthusiastically. With a bob of her dark brown head, she stooped to give Muffin a scratch on her ears. Wanda, a recently divorced podiatrist’s wife, who’d never worked outside the home, was living off her alimony and fighting to make her way in the world alone. Her way hadn’t been much enhanced by her sales quota.
Marty stopped them both by a dark alleyway, planting her hands on her lavender-clad hips, clinging to Muffin’s leash. “Look, girls. It takes time is all. You don’t think I got to where I am overnight, do you? I worked my ass off.”
Wanda giggled and cupped Muffin’s face. “Ohh, look. Marty swore, Muff. She’s getting pissed. Everyone knows Bobbie-Sue reps don’t use foul language. I think Nina’s pushed her too far now.”
Nina crossed her slim arms over her small breasts and harrumphed. “Well, your ass is a lavender now, Marty. It’s easy for you to preach from where you’re standing on the color wheel-of-life game board. Wanda and I don’t even have a color yet. We’re color queen wannabes. A lighter shade of pale. It sucks.”
“Did you fill out your goal sheet, Nina?” Marty asked her testily. “If you can see it, you can be it. Maybe deciding on the level you’d like to achieve at Bobbie-Sue just might give you some much-needed perspective.”
Nina’s snort filled the chilled night air and blew out of her mouth in a puff of smoke. “I’ve got perspective all right. I want my old job back. I miss hearing a good case of matrimonial homicide. I was a good stenographer, you know. But I can tell you my perspective sure as hell doesn’t include accosting little old ladies with my handy-dandy mascara wand and teaching them about strengthening their auras through mascara fucking application.”
Marty’s temper flared, and she gasped. “I did not accost a little old lady. I merely suggested and you,” she pointed a lavender polished finger at Nina, “are a potty mouth today.”
“Damn right I’m a potty mouth. I paid five-hundred bucks for that bullshit color wheel starter kit, and I’m no closer to color orgasm than I was with my last boyfriend. And you did too accost that poor woman. Jesus, Marty! We were in the I-Hop, for fuck’s sake. Who wants to find out what their season is over pancakes? Not to mention the lesbian you thought might be able to find a man if she’d just wear a little eye shadow.”
Marty’s lips puckered. “I was only trying to help.”
“Help?” Nina shouted with a sharp bark, shoving her hands into her jacket. “She’s a lesbian, Marty! Girls! She likes girls, and no amount of frosted eye shadow is going to make her want dick.”
“Take it easy, Nina.” Wanda rose and stepped between them, her tone edged with worry. “Marty’s just trying to help us achieve color success.”
Marty’s smile was pinched when she looked at them both. “That’s exactly right. I want you both to be successful. Again, I ask, did you fill out the goal sheet, Nina?”
“Yeah, right after I wiped my ass with it.” She cackled a laugh, scaring Muffin into a whimper.
