Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel Read Online Free PDF Page A

it,” I answer dryly. “And there is the little problem of being a murderer and, in recent months, howling at the moon and scratching for fleas.”
    This is not a normal conversation, and I have to give Cindy credit for keeping her cool. I, in contrast, am in freak-out mode and have been since the outbreaks started six months ago. Cindy shrugs.
    â€œYou killed someone who deserved to be killed and a few fur-and-fang outbreaks aren’t like a full-blown transformation. That only happened once and I don’t believe it will happen again.”
    â€œThank you, Dr. Phil.” I sip my chocolate. I wish I could be as sure as Cindy, but Cindy isn’t the one who smells like a wet dog after a shower. I glance at my watch.
    â€œI’ve got to get going.”
    â€œI really think this is a bad decision, Lou,” Cindy grumbles. “This guy is going to snoop around in your life. What if he finds out more than you want him to know?”
    One last sip of chocolate and I climb off my stool. “The adoption file is sealed; I’ve learned that much on my own. The Billingtons wouldn’t tell me anything when they told me I was adopted; I doubt they will tell me anything now. Besides, it would be foolish for me to go back to Haven and try again with them. How do I explain this?” I make a sweep with my hand of my gorgeous self. “I’m never going back to Haven, Cindy. Ever. This is the best way to find my birth parents.”
    My beauty bag is on the table. I’ve given up carrying a purse. I go over, retrieve a scarf, and tie it around my head.
    â€œWhat if you do find your biological parents?” Cindy swivels around on her bar stool to ask. “What if they are just as normal as the next person? That isn’t going to tell you why you sprout fur and fangs a week before your period lately and want to hump everyone. It might not solve anything, Lou. It might just cause trouble.”
    Cindy might be right, but it’s the possibility that she’s wrong that keeps me on course. I move toward the door. “I need to find them. If they have answers for me, then I might be able to reverse what’s been happening for the past six months.”
    â€œWhat if it reverses everything?” Cindy asks. “Look around you, Lou. Look in the mirror. Can you ever really go back to being Sherry Billington now? Sometimes it is really better to let sleeping dogs lie.”
    I’m tempted to cave—agree with Cindy and spend the rest of the day pigging out and watching cop shows with her. What if I did manage to reverse whatever happened to me seven years ago? It wouldn’t reverse the fact I murdered someone. It might reverse the good looks it gave me. One thing is for certain. Men like Stefan O’Conner and Terry Shay would have never given me a second glance as Sherry Billington. I haven’t come clean with Cindy about my motivations for finding my birth parents. Not all of them.
    Deep down, I want to know why. Why they gave me up. Why I couldn’t have been raised by two people who loved me. I was a normal baby … wasn’t I? Would I have stayed normal if I’d been raised somewhere other than Haven, Texas? If I hadn’t met Tom Dawson? There are too many unanswered questions. There are too many things at stake to simply ignore what’s been happening for the past six months. Why is it happening now? I have to do all I can to find out, even if it means a risk of exposure.
    â€œLet yourself out,” I tell Cindy.
    *   *   *
    Twenty minutes later my cab pulls up in front of a building that should have a condemned sign on the front door. I check the address again. I’m in the right place and I get the first suspicious inkling that I might be making a mistake. As usual, when I’m being stubborn about something, I ignore it. I pay the cabbie an extra fifty to wait for me.
    The inside of the building is even less