Joining the Jaguar: BBW Paranormal Jaguar Shifter Romance by Zoe Chant Page B

shoulders easily twice the width of hers. His hair fell in blonde locks down his back. He looked like a Viking right out of legend. "The boss wants to see you," Viking Guy said.
    "Then your boss, whoever he is, can make an appointment as soon as this practice is open for business, just like anyone else," Sarah replied.
    In fact, she could make a pretty good guess who this boss was. Now that she was closer, she could recognize the sign on the man's shoulder as the sigil of the pack of shifters that formed the town's unofficial government. The "boss" had to be their alpha then. Jake Brown. The Jaguar. The man who'd united a ragtag bunch of shifters into a force to be reckoned with and thrown out the drug dealers and gangs who'd used to control the town.
    Brown was a legend. Even if half of what people said about him was exaggerated and the rest made up, the Jaguar was still a powerful and dangerous man. But Sarah had spent the last two years of her life working in a crowded, chaotic emergency room. She'd faced down addicts, drunks, and obstinate relatives; she wasn't exactly easily intimidated these days.
    Sarah squared her shoulders and reached down inside herself for the air of authority her job had taught her to project. Her voice came out like the crack of a whip.
    "You're going to leave my practice and you're not going to bother me again. If your boss wants to talk to me, he's welcome to make an appointment."
    For a moment she was almost certain it would work. The Viking took an uncertain step back. But then he shook his head, breaking the spell.
    "Sorry, miss. But I got my orders," he said. He took her gently by the arm.
    Her first instinct was to slap him across the face for touching her. Then she thought about at least slapping his hand off her arm. And then she thought about the likely consequences of five-foot-nothing her getting physical with a man who probably outweighed her by about a hundred pounds, and decided to save herself the humiliation.
    "Fine," she said, exasperated. "Tomorrow, then. I don't even have any clothes to change into right now."
    But the Viking was already hustling her along with his hand on her arm. "Can't keep the boss waiting," he said, a hint of apology in his tone.
     
    Pack headquarters was a sprawling warren of a building, an old mansion that had sprouted a number of additions in every direction, as if several generations had added a couple extra rooms whenever things had gotten crowded.
    The Viking—who'd introduced himself as Vincent Ericsson—put a guiding hand on her arm again. She shook him off with a glare. He might have dragged her here wearing soaked-through cleaning clothes, her hair in a hopeless rat's nest, but at least she could walk in with her head held high.
    Sarah's nervousness grew with every step she took towards Brown's office. She still had no idea what he wanted from her. Protection money, probably. 'Nice office you got there, shame if anything happened to it', that kind of thing. Or maybe he'd want her to report on her patients. Doctors heard everyone's secrets, after all. Well, she wouldn't, either way. And if he thought she was so easy to intimidate, he could go screw himself.
    She'd worked up a pretty good head of steam by the time they came to his office, so much so that she almost forgot to be scared. In her mind she had a clear picture of Brown already. A figure like Don Corleone, an old white guy with a mustache, sitting smugly behind an enormous leather-covered desk and smirking down at her.
    And then Vincent opened the office door for her, and her train of screeched to a halt.
    Oh no, he's gorgeous! she thought.
    Brown was the most attractive man she'd ever seen in her life. His tight black t-shirt showed off broad shoulders and tanned, muscular arms. When he rose to greet her, he moved with the effortless grace of a hunting cat. His hair was thick, silky black, and slightly tousled; she instantly wanted to run her hand through it.
    "Dr. Anderson, hello,"