Cavanaugh’s Woman Read Online Free PDF Page A

two feet, one head, a torso in between. Same parts.”
    “But they look better.”
    If he didn’t know better, he would have said that Clay was smitten with the paper person at the other end of the room.
    “That’s lighting, nothing more. And without it, they fall apart. Actors tend to be illusions. You want to know why the good ones are so good at what they do, why they can take on other roles so easily?” Warming to his subject, Shaw leaned forward. “Because they have no substance of their own, nothing to rework. They’re shape-shifters, Clay, as interesting as the parts they play—nothing more.” He paused. A strange look flashed across Clay’s face, half amusement, half unease. “What’s the matter with you? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
    And then he felt a hand on his shoulder and knew the reason for Clay’s odd expression before he ever heard her say a thing. “Not a ghost. A shape-shifter, I think you called me.”
    Shaw slowly turned his chair around. Moira McCormick was standing behind his desk. The entourage that had been hovering around her had melted into the background, watching the exchange like an audience in search of entertainment.
    By the looks on their faces, he’d delivered, big-time.
    “I was talking in general terms,” Shaw said.
    “I think it was an apt description,” she replied cheerfully. “Shape-shifter.” Moira rolled the word on her tongue, as if testing how it felt. “I like it.” She lowered her voice as she nodded toward the others behind her. “And I like the fact that you didn’t join in back there.”
    “I’m not a joiner.”
    “I sensed that.” She made herself comfortable on the edge of his desk. “A rebel, right?”
    “No, just an average Joe, out to earn a living.”
    “That’s not what your uncle said.” Brian Cavanaugh had nothing but glowing words for the man he’d coupled her with. There were a number of good things to be said about Steven Reese, as well, but to an extent, the latter had negated it with his clear case of adoration.
    “The chief says a lot of things.” Shaw rose, taking care not to brush against her as he did. For once, he was going home early. He couldn’t get anything done here, not with these hyenas hovering about, ready to burst out laughing. “Good night.”
    “Good night.” As she watched him leave, she couldn’t help thinking that the man she’d selected had a very nice posterior. She was going to enjoy watching him walk away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    Shaw said nothing. It was a prophecy he really wished he could avert.
    As he left the room, he heard Moira saying something to his brother. Clay began to laugh in response.
    It was going to be a long week.

Chapter Three
    I f he had any intention of dwelling on the scene he’d just left, or on the woman who was going to be disrupting his life for the next week, Shaw found he had no time. His cell phone was ringing before he reached his car in the lot.
    Digging it out of his pocket, he flipped open the lid. “Cavanaugh.”
    “Shaw, I need you to come home.”
    Twilight began to whisper along the fringes of the tree-lined parking lot. Shaw stopped walking, stopped thinking about how much Moira McCormick was going to impede his current investigation. His father was on the other end of the call and there was definitely something wrong. His father rarely, if ever, called during working hours.
    Shaw couldn’t begin to fathom his tone. He could usually read his father like a well-loved book. Concern nudged at the edges of his mind. “Dad, is there something wrong?”
    There was a pause, but no explanation followed. “Just come home. Now.”
    Shaw didn’t waste time asking any more questions. He knew his father wasn’t given to drama. Whatever was going on, it was important.
    “I’ll be right there,” he promised. Shutting his cell, Shaw was in his car and on the open road in less time than it took to think through the process.
    He wouldn’t