Tempting Faith

by Susan Mallery

  “What’s going on? Beth, why are they leaving so soon? I wanted to show them— Oh God, Faith. You’re back.”

  “I’m sure there’s an explanation, Ken,” she said coldly, still not turning around. “Make it a good one.”

  “Gee, Faith. I’m sorry. This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Her grip on the rifle tightened. She tapped her booted toe against the asphalt. A couple of deep breaths didn’t help, either. “What the hell were you thinking?” she said as she spun to face the young man. Her voice rose in volume. “Reporters? Reporters?”

  Rob and Beth slunk away, leaving Ken alone. The young man stood over six feet tall. With broad shoulders, long brown hair and a scraggely beard that hadn’t completely filled in, he looked more like a teenager than a college senior. At her words, his bravado faded. He slumped visibly and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “It wasn’t like that,” he mumbled.

  “It wasn’t like that?” she said loudly, then forced herself to lower her voice. “We have a few rules here. They are for your safety and for that of the cats. Rule number one is no reporters without my say-so. Ken, you know where those kittens came from. The last thing we need is word getting around about their whereabouts.”

  “I’m sorry.” Brown eyes pleaded for understanding.

  She gripped the unloaded rifle in both hands and tossed it at him. He caught it. “’Sorry’ doesn’t cut it,” she said, pacing in front of him on the asphalt. “I should bust your butt back to the dorm and never let you on this mountain again.”

  “It was an accident.” He shuffled his feet.

  “How do you figure? The reporter said the wire service had the story and…” Realization dawned, and she was grateful she wasn’t holding the rifle anymore. “It’s that girl! You let her take pictures.”

  For weeks Ken had talked about nothing but Nancy. Nancy the beautiful. Nancy the brave. Nancy the journalism major. He’d asked Faith if she could come and take pictures of the cats for an assignment for one of her classes. Maybe do a story to drum up publicity. Faith had refused.

  “Just a few,” Ken admitted. He looked up at her. Regret pulled his mouth straight. “She took them to the local paper, and they got picked up by the wire service. That’s what brought the reporter out. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Am I fired?” He sounded like a ten-year-old.

  She jammed her hands in her pockets. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “You’ve worked here two years, and you’ve done a good job. But in the last few months you’ve come in late, you’ve skipped work without calling, now this.” She pinned him with her best glare. “You’re thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy. All the trouble you’re having is because of that girl. Get that under control and you can work here. If not, you’re out. Consider this a final warning. One more screwup and you’re fired.”

  “Faith, I’m sorry.”

  “Put the rifle away, then get out of here. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the week.”

  “I understand.”

  “Did you at least remember to feed the cats?”

  “Yeah. An hour ago.”

  “Fine.” Faith waved her hand in the direction of the supply building. “Get going.”

  The young man walked off, his body slumped forward, his steps slow and shuffling. He was the picture of misery. Part of her regretted the harshness of their conversation. Still, the lecture had been necessary, and he deserved it.

  “Don’t you think you were a little hard on him?” Cort straightened from where he’d been leaning against the truck. Using his crutches to support his bad leg, he stepped toward her.

  “No.” She flushed, realizing she must have sounded like a fishwife. “I have rules—”

  “They’re just kids.”

  “They work for me. I expect them to do their job.”

  He stared down at her, his brown eyes gleaming with amusement. Obviously she’d really impressed him, she thought, her temper starting to get the best of her.

  “What I don’t understand,” Cort said, “is what that reporter wanted. All the way up here from L.A. to get pictures of a few kittens.” He shook his head. “Slow news day.”

  If he didn’t know about the cats, he sure didn’t know about the kittens. Part of her wanted to slap him upside the head until his ears rang. The other part of her wanted him to find out the truth for himself.

  “I like the way you handled the reporter, though,” he said, looking around the compound. “He won’t be back. Still, you have some major security problems. I’ll have a look around and see what I can do.”

  “Good, because we’re going to be on the six o’clock news tonight.”

  He took a step toward the building. “So? What’s the worst that will happen? There’ll be a cat show here this weekend? At least you’ve got the parking for it.” He jerked his head at the space behind her truck.

  His condescending attitude was the final straw. Her hold on her temper snapped. “You think you’re so hot, Mr. Spy? I’m just some crazy cat lady, right? A friend of Jeff’s, so you’re going to humor me? Fine.” She pointed to the main building. “Go right through there. Pet any kitty you like.”

  Cort stared at her. She was so ticked off, he could practically see steam coming out of her ears. She sure was hung up on this cat thing. He’d better give her a chance to cool off.

  Awkwardly moving forward, he went through the open door of the building. Once in the dark hallway, he could smell something musty. He inhaled sharply. An animal scent. Not unpleasant. Not Kitty Litter either. He heard odd snuffling noises and a low cough. He walked out the other side of the building onto smooth dirt. The sounds increased. There were a few grunts followed by a muffled roar. A muffled roar? He started to get the feeling things weren’t as they seemed. His crutches sank slightly into the ground. He adjusted his weight and turned to his left.

  And came face-to-face with a tiger!

  Chapter 3

  The black-and-gold-striped cat stared at him. Cort took a step back. He forgot about the crutches, tried to spin away, and promptly tripped and sat down hard on the ground. The tiger sniffed the air and grunted.

  A pair of boots appeared next to him. He looked up past her jeans-clad legs, past her trim waist and worn blue work shirt, to the smile curving the corners of Faith’s mouth. It was, he thought with disgust, a very self-satisfied smile.

  “Cats?” he said, shifting so the pain in his leg didn’t get worse.

  She nodded. “Big cats.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” He held out his hand.

  She braced herself and hauled him to his feet. He balanced on one leg while she collected his crutches. When he’d tucked the supports under his arms, he looked around the compound.

  Seven large habitats, bigger than he’d seen at any zoo, stretched out from the right of the main building. To the left, a narrow road led into the forest. Past the road, more enclosures formed a curved line. In the center of the open area were a group of telephone poles, a huge wading pool and a stack of bowling balls. The dirt had been freshly raked. All the enclosures were clean. Most had grass and trees, a few had swimming pools. In the far corner, a small cat—smaller than a tiger, he thought, but bigger than a collie—stuck its head under a man-made waterfall and drank.

  “You want to explain this?” he said.

  Faith tucked her hands into her back pockets. “I told you. I keep cats.”

  “Uh-huh. You left out one detail.”

  “No. You assumed.” Her eyes sparkled. She rocked forward onto the balls on her feet, then back on her heels.

  “I could have been lunch.” He used one crutch to point at the tiger’s cage.

  “Hardly.” She pulled her left hand free of her pocket and glanced at her watch. “It’s after four. You could have been a snack.”

  “Nobody gets the better of you, do they?”

  She shook her head. “Not without trying hard.” She looked at his leg. “How does it feel? You want to rel
ax first and have the tour tomorrow?”

  He glanced around again. He’d never been this close to a tiger before. Most of the animals had come to the front of their enclosures to watch him. Gold eyes stared. He stared back. So this is what it feels like to look into the face of a predator. The tiger he’d seen first made a coughing noise.

  “He’s saying hello,” Faith told him.

  “More likely he’s figuring out how many mouthfuls I’d make.” His leg hurt, but not badly. Rest could wait. “Give me the nickel tour,” he said. “Enough for me to get a feel for the place. I’ll see the rest of it tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Faith pointed to the enclosure in front of them. It was forty feet by sixty. The tiger had stretched out on the grass in front of his pool and rested his massive head on his paws. The afternoon sun caught the colors in his coat, turning the gold a deep orange and making the black stripes seem brown.

  “This is Tigger.” She shrugged. “I had nothing to do with the name. It came along with him. He’s a Bengal tiger. Partially tamed.”

  “Partially?” Cort raised his eyebrows. “So he’ll eat you but feel guilty?”

  She laughed. The sound of her amusement, so carefree and open, made him want to hear it again. It had been too long since he’d been around people who laughed. For him, everything was life and death. It was the price he paid for fighting the good fight. Funny, he’d never thought about that particular sacrifice before.

  “Most of our cats are partially tamed, which means you can go into their cages, but someone needs to be watching. A few are wild, and they have to be locked in their dens when we come in to clean.” She pointed at the compound. “In the back, there. That rock structure.”

  “What? No carpeting?”

  “Hardly. We try to keep the habitats as natural as possible. The water in the swimming pools and ponds is filtered. There’s a sprinkler system. Inside the den, the walls are about eight inches thick, to keep the temperature even. We’ve also got low-light video cameras in there so we can monitor the animals if they seem sick or are giving birth.”

  He gave a low whistle. “This is some setup.” He looked around at the other habitats. “Are they all like this?”

  “Yes. The enclosures are different sizes, for different types of cats. Cats that swim out in the wild, like Tigger here, get pools. We don’t have habitats for all of them.” Her smile faded. “They cost over a hundred thousand dollars each. We’re building them one at a time, using both trust money and private donations. In the back are a few cats that live in cages. We’re working on getting them their own enclosures.” She moved close to the bars. “You can pet Tigger if you’d like. He’s really gentle.”

  Cort shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  She called the cat’s name. Tigger glanced up at her and yawned, showing rows of very large, very sharp teeth, then slowly rose to his feet. Muscles bunched and released with each step. His feet were the size of dinner plates. He padded over to the front of the cage and leaned heavily against it.

  “Tigger used to work in the movies, didn’t you, honey?”

  Faith scratched the cat’s forehead and rubbed his ears. The cat made a noise that wasn’t a purr, more like a grunting groan, but definitely sounded contented. Cort inched closer, but stayed safely out of paw’s reach.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “He’s a little stubborn and wouldn’t take direction.”

  “Ah, 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 the
se 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.”