Tempting Faith. Susan Mallery
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a temperamental artist.”
“Something like that.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to pet him?”
“Positive.”
From where he was standing, he had a view of the cat, and of Faith’s rear, as she bent to pet the animal. Her jeans pulled tight around her curves. It had been months since he’d spent time with a woman, he thought, then looked around. If he tried anything, she would probably have him treed by a mountain lion.
“Bengal tigers are coming back from extinction. Tigger is doing a lot of breeding with females from zoos around the country, and even with a few in Europe.”
Cort stared at the three-hundred-pound male cat. The animal sat leaning against the bars with his eyes half-closed in ecstasy. Faith continued to scratch his ears.
“What a life,” Cort said.
“He seems to like it.” She straightened. “Over here we have a couple of mountain lions. We’re trying to breed them, as well.” “Tigers, mountain lions. What do you need me for?” he asked. “If an intruder shows up, just open one of the cages. You’ll solve the problem and cut down on the feeding bill.”
“I don’t want any of the animals hurt.”
“Nice to know I’m expendable.”
“It is your job.”
He looked at the tiger. “Maybe we could work out a swap.” They walked around the right side of the compound. Faith pointed out the various cats. She called each animal by name and explained how they came to be at the way station.
“He was dumped here,” she said, pointing at a bobcat. “Someone probably found him as a kitten and raised him, thinking he’d be a fun pet. Then he got big enough to be a problem.”
The pointy-eared cat jumped to the front of his enclosure and hunched down like he wanted to play. His short tail quivered.
“Not today, Samson,” Faith told the cat. He continued to stare at her hopefully. “As I mentioned, all the cats over here are pretty tame. Samson is declawed. Still, don’t go in any cage by yourself.”
“I hadn’t planned on going in their cages at all,” he said, staring at the bobcat. The playful animal made a purring noise, then turned away and slunk to the back of the enclosure.
“On the other side, we have the wilder cats.” She turned and pointed across the compound. “We try to have as little contact with them as possible. Sometimes we get an injured animal that we treat, then release back into the wild.”
She started across the open area, keeping her stride slow enough that he could keep up. He felt the cats watching him and knew they knew he was injured.
“Lunch,” he muttered under his breath. They passed the wading pool and stack of bowling balls. “What is all this for?”
“Recreation. When the weather’s good, we let the friendly cats out to play.”
“They bowl?”
She laughed. Again the sound caught him off guard. Sweet and happy. Innocent of the evil in the world. “The balls are donated by the bowling alley in town. They play with them.”
“Play?”
She looked up at him. “They bat them around, jump on them, throw them in the air.”
“Bowling balls?”
“The big cats can weigh several hundred pounds.”
He shook his head. Who would have thought? He inhaled deeply. The musty smell didn’t seem so intense. In another day or so, he wouldn’t even be able to notice it. But he could smell Faith’s perfume. The sultry French essence teased at him as he still tried to remember the name. He studied the woman walking beside him. Work boots, straight hair, big cats and French perfume. An intriguing combination.
When they reached the other side of the compound, he saw waist-high poles had been set in the ground, about two feet in front of the enclosures. A chain ran from pole to pole.
“This fence is to remind us not to get too close,” she said, pointing at the barrier. “These cats will lash out and scratch you.” A powerful spotted cat with huge shoulders and a wide face paced menacingly at the front of the cage. The animal didn’t look directly at them, but Cort sensed it knew exactly where they were standing.
“These jaguars,” she said, pointing at the two cages on the far end, “are only here for another few weeks. They’re a breeding pair.”
He stared at the separate cages. “Wouldn’t it work better if they were in the same enclosure. I don’t know that much about cats, but—”
“I know.” She reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. “We tried that. They nearly killed each other. You need to know about these cages.” She pointed to the corners. There was a gated opening in the front and the back of the steelenforced cage. “The hinges by the gates are wide. We’d planned to house two Siberian tigers here. They get to be seven hundred pounds. They aren’t here yet, and when the mating couple took an instant dislike to each other, we had to separate them. Unfortunately, the jaguars can stick their paws out at the front and back hinges. Just don’t try walking between the cages.” She smiled up at him. “They’d probably just scratch you up a bit, but if one stood at the front of its cage and the other stood at the back of the other one, you’d be trapped between them.”
He eyed the pacing animal. Rage radiated with each step. “I’m not planning to walk between any cages, but thanks for the warning.”
He heard footsteps behind them and turned to see one of Faith’s employees approaching. The young woman stared from him to her boss and back.
“Faith, the food’s all unloaded. We’re leaving.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to lock the gate behind you.”
“I won’t.” The young woman looked Cort up and down, glanced at Faith questioningly, then blushed suddenly. She spun on her heel and jogged to the main building.
“Damn,” Faith muttered.
He glanced at her and saw matching spots of color staining her cheeks.
“I should have introduced you,” she said. “I forgot to tell them about the extra security. They don’t know who you are.” She sighed. “I’ll explain tomorrow.”
The same woman who patted live tigers and didn’t bat an eye when a stranger practically strangled her in her own truck got embarrassed because one of her employees thought she’d brought a man to spend the night? There had to be a piece missing. He suddenly realized what it was.
“You married?” he asked.
She looked shocked. “No, why?”
He shrugged, as well as he could, supported by the crutches. “You seemed upset. I thought maybe you were afraid your husband or significant other would get the wrong idea.”
“No husband,” she said shortly. “I live here alone. We’d better get your leg bandaged.”
“Good idea.” The mention of his wound made it ache more.
He followed her toward the main building. They passed the narrow road. “What’s down there?” he asked.
“The Big House.” She reached the glass door and held it open. “I don’t live there anymore. There’s an apartment in this building, at the end of the hall. It’s easier to stay here. I use the Big House for fund-raising parties and that sort of thing.” She closed the glass door behind them.
He turned and looked at it. “No lock?”
“Just on the side facing the parking lot. The scent of the cats keep four-legged intruders away. I need to