“Hurry it up, will you, Daisy?” Neeco called out, while Charlene giggled. “We’ve got another load coming in.”
Something inside her snapped. She was tired of being everyone’s whipping boy. She was tired of being swatted by baby elephants and treated with contempt by humans.
“Move it yourself!” She threw down the pitch fork and stomped away. She’d had enough. She was going to find Alex and demand that plane ticket. Nothing she could face on her own was as bad as this.
A great roar reverberated through the lot. With it, her skin began to burn from the heat, and her parched throat demanded water. She saw a hose running from the water truck toward the menagerie, and she hurried toward it, feeling vaguely panicked because she had never been so overheated.
Once again, she heard a roar, and she looked up to see Sinjun’s cage baking in the sun. Waves of heat bounced off the asphalt and made the tiger’s orange-and-black stripes shimmer.
Not all the animals were inside the menagerie tent. Some of them had been left in a small fenced-in area between the menagerie and the big top. Chester, a mangy-looking camel, was tethered not far away along with Lollipop, a cream-colored llama with bedroom eyes. A large piece of mildewed white nylon provided a bit of shade for them, but nothing shielded Sinjun from the low angle of the sun that beat through the iron bars. Like her, Sinjun seemed to have been singled out for abuse.
He stared at her with a sad sort of resignation, not even bothering to pick up his ears. Behind him, the llama made a strange clucking sound, while the camel studiously ignored her. The heat from the asphalt soaked through the soles of her sneakers and burned her feet. Perspiration trickled between her breasts. Sinjun’s eyes seared her soul.
Hot. I’m so hot.
She hated this place where animals were kept in cages to be stared at. The llama’s strange clucking rattled through her ears. Her head ached, and the smell of mildew from the nylon sun shade made her stomach queasy. She took an involuntary step backward, wanting to distance herself from the sun and these sad animals and the awful heat. One of her sneakers squished in a puddle of water. She looked down and saw a leak in the coupling of the hose that fed the animals’ watering trough.
Without even thinking about what she was doing, she ran along the length of the hose until she found the brass nozzle spilling water into the trough. Picking it up, she turned it to shut off the flow of water. It dripped cold in her hands.
She squinted from the glare bouncing off the dirty white sun shade, then felt Sinjun’s eyes burning through her already melting skin.
Hot. I’m so hot.
She looked down at the dripping nozzle so cold in her hands. With a savage twist, she lifted the hose and sent the cool water flying directly into the tiger’s cage.
Yes!
Immediately she felt relief seeping into her body.
“Hey!” Digger came running toward her, moving as fast as his arthritic knees would carry him. “You stop that, missy! You stop that right now, you hear?”
The tiger flashed his teeth at him. She whirled around and sent the spray of cold water directly at the old man, soaking the front of his grubby work shirt. “Stay away!”
He reared backward. “What’re you doin’? You’re gonna kill that cat! Cats don’t like to get wet.”
She turned the water back on the tiger and felt the cool relief moving deeper into her bones, just as if she were spraying her own body. “This one does.”
“Stop it, I said! You cain’t do that.”
“Sinjun likes it. Look at him, Digger.”
Sure enough, instead of retreating from the water, the tiger was reveling in it, turning his body into the cold spray. As she continued to douse him, she wanted to tell Digger that this wouldn’t have been necessary if he’d done a better job caring for the animals, but she knew he was overworked, and she held her tongue.
“Give me that!”
Neeco had come up behind her, and he reached out to swipe the hose from her hand. She’d had more than enough of Neeco Martin, and she refused to let it go.
Water flew. She gasped as she took the full force of the spray in her face, but she didn’t relax her grip on the hose.
He wrenched her wrist. “Stop it, Daisy! Hand it over.”
Sinjun’s maddened roar vibrated through the heavy afternoon air, drowning out the bustle of everyday noises. The cage shook as he threw his huge body at the bars, almost as if he were trying to get at Neeco to protect her. Startled, the trainer dropped her wrist and turned toward the chilling noises.
Sinjun flattened his ears against his head and hissed at him. Daisy jerked the hose free.
“Damn crazy tiger,” Neeco muttered. “Someone should have put him down years ago.”
Daisy sent the spray of water back into the cage. Speaking more from bluster than conviction, she said, “He doesn’t like it when you mess with me.”
“Look at that, Neeco,” Digger said. “That sonovabitch likes the water.”
“What’s going on here?”
All of them turned as Alex approached. Daisy wiped her eyes with one dirty shirt sleeve while she kept the spray of water directed toward the tiger.
“Daisy decided to give Sinjun a shower,” Neeco said.
“Daisy decided?” Alex gazed at her with those inscrutable Russian eyes.
“Sinjun was hot,” she explained wearily. “He wanted me to cool him off.”
“Did he tell you that?”
She was too drained to respond. Besides, how could she explain that Sinjun had told her? She didn’t understand herself this mystical communication she seemed to have with the tiger.
She directed the stream of water to the muck that had collected in the bottom of the cage. “These cages are filthy. They need to be cleaned more frequently.”
Digger took immediate umbrage. “I cain’t do everything. If you think the cages is so bad, maybe you should clean ’em yourself.”
“All right. I will.”
What was she saying? Only minutes ago, she had decided she was leaving, and now she was volunteering for more work. How could she take on another job when she hadn’t been able to finish any of those she’d already been given?
Alex frowned. “You’re doing enough. You can barely keep your eyes open as it is, and I’m not having you take on more.”
She was getting a little tired of her husband dictating her every move. “I said I’d do it, and I will. Now unless you and Neeco want to get as wet as Digger, you’d better leave me alone.”
Surprise flickered in Alex’s eyes. Neeco pushed forward. “She’s not getting all her work done for me. How’s she going to handle the menagerie, too?”
“She’s not,” Alex said firmly.
‘’I am.”
“Daisy—”
“You have no say over what I do in my spare time.”
“You don’t have any spare time,” he reminded her.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to work faster.”
He looked down at her for a long moment. Something passed between them that she didn’t entirely understand. A spark of recognition? A glimmer of respect? “Do you really want to do this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
She met his gaze without flinching. “I don’t have a clue.”
An emotion that almost seemed like tenderness flickered over his face and then disappeared in a brusque nod. “All right, I’ll try you out for the next few days. You can work here for a couple of hours first thing in the morning, and then go work for Neeco.”
Digger began to sputter. “But I need more help than that! I cain’t do everything.”
“Neither can Daisy,” Alex said quietly.
Surprised, she stared at him.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Anything else?”
She belatedly remembered that she was afraid of animals, but now wasn’t the time to remind him of it, and she shook her head.
“Then the menagerie’s all yours.”
As he walked away, it occurred to her that every time she cast him as the principal villain in her life, he surprised her. She also realized she was no longer afraid of him. Not really. His code was a harsh one, and, in her eyes, unfair, but he always acted within its framework, and she couldn’t imagine him ever compromising what he believed in.
For the next few hours, she hosed down the cages and cleaned away the accumulated filth while she tried to stay as far from the animals as possible. When she was finally done, she was even dirtier than when she’d started since she’d added mud to the rest of the grime that covered her.
She coerced one of the workers into moving Sinjun’s cage to the shade, then put out fresh hay for Chester and Lollipop. The camel tried to kick her, but the llama remained placid, and as Daisy gazed into Lollipop’s bedroom eyes, she decided she’d finally found an animal she liked. “You’re a sweet lady, Lollipop. Maybe the two of us are going to get along.”
The llama drew back her lips and shot a glob of smelly spit directly at her.
So much for gratitude.
10
Alex decided he had never seen anything more pitiful in his life than his poor little ditz of a wife. He turned away from the pot of chili he was making to watch her stumble into the trailer, her clothes filthier than those of the most ill-kempt workers. Pieces of hay and the residue from several kinds of animal feed clung to what was left of her ponytail. Her arms were streaked with mud. She also stank.
Since he’d been the target of an annoyed llama more than once himself, he recognized the smell. “Got too close to Lollipop, did you?”
She muttered something indecipherable and dragged herself toward the donnicker.
He smiled as he stirred the chili. “I didn’t quite catch that. What did you say?”
Her response came to him in the polite, well-bred accent of a young woman accustomed to the finer things in life. “Go to blazes.” She shut the door with a thud.
He chuckled. “I take it that was your first encounter with a llama?”
She didn’t reply.
He threw in another tablespoon of chili powder, added some hot sauce for good measure, and took a taste. Too bland.
There was still no sound from the donnicker, not even running water. With a frown, he set down the hot sauce. “Daisy?” When she didn’t answer, he made his way to the door and knocked. “Daisy? Are you all right?”
Nothing.
He turned the knob and looked inside to see her standing frozen in front of the mirror with tears creeping soundlessly down her cheeks as she stared at her reflection.
Something soft and unfamiliar turned over inside him. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
She didn’t move, and the tears continued to trail down her cheeks. “I was never really pretty, not like my mother, but now I’m ugly.”
Instead of irritating him, her badly battered vanity seemed somehow touching. “I think you’re beautiful, angel face, even dirty. You’ll feel better after you’re cleaned up.”
She remained motionless, gazing at her reflection while the tears dripped off her chin.
He crouched down beside her, lifted her legs one by one, and pulled off her sneakers and socks.
“Please go away.” She spoke with the same quiet dignity he’d observed several times in the past ten days as she’d struggled to complete one difficult task after another. “You’re just doing this because I’m crying again, but it’s only because I’m tired. I’m sorry. You mustn’t mind.”
“I didn’t even notice you were crying,” he lied, unsnapping her jeans and, after a moment’s hesitation, pulling them down over her hips. The sweet sweep of those slim legs instantly aroused him, and he had to tear his gaze away from the enticing triangle made by her mint green panties.
How much longer was he going to be able to keep his hands off her? For the past week and a half, she’d been so tired she could barely stand up, but all he could think about was burying himself in her soft, pliant body. It had gotten to the point where he couldn’t even look at her without getting hard, and that irritated the hell out of him. He liked to be in control of every aspect of his life, and he clearly wasn’t in control of this one.
Even a woman who’d been raised in the circus would have had a hard time keeping up with all the work he’d thrown at Daisy. He kept telling himself it would only be a matter of days—hours even—before she’d throw in the towel and leave. That meant he couldn’t touch her, not the way he wanted to. Sex between them at this point would only complicate the situation, and no matter what his body wanted, he had to leave her alone.
But she still hadn’t given up, and he didn’t know how much longer he could stay away from her. When he fell into bed at night, he was so aware of her curled up on the couch only a few yards away that he had trouble falling asleep. And just the sight of her during the day was making it impossible for him to concentrate on his work.
Why hadn’t she left? She was soft. Weak. She cried at the drop of a hat. But even as he tore apart her character, he remembered that she’d found the guts to take on Neeco Martin and champion those poor, sad creatures in the menagerie. Daisy Devreaux Markov wasn’t quite the weakling he’d thought.
The fact that she hadn’t proved to be as predictable as he’d figured irritated him nearly as much as the painful effect she was having on his body, and he spoke brusquely. “Put your arms up.”
The events of the day had worn her out, and she automatically obeyed. He peeled her T-shirt over her head, leaving her in the frail mint green bra and panty set that stuck to her skin. She was so worn out her head dropped, but he couldn’t trust himself to finish the job, which further annoyed him. Turning away, he adjusted the water in the shower and directed her inside, underwear and all.
“I’ll feed you as soon as you’re done. I got sick of eating from cans, so I’m making chili tonight.”
“I know how to cook,” she mumbled.
“You’ve got enough to do for now.”
She turned into the shower and let the spray splash over her, underwear and all.
When she finally came out of the bathroom, she had combed her wet hair back from her scrubbed face and wrapped herself in his blue terry robe. She didn’t look much older than a teenager as she slid behind the kitchen table.
He set a hot bowl of chili in front of her, then returned to the stove to get his own.
“May I be excused from spec tonight?” she asked.
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
He put his own bowl on the table, sat down across from her, and hardened his heart against her quiet dignity. “Then you’re not excused.”
She seemed resigned to his refusal, and that bothered him more than if she’d argued with him. “I’ve never been spit at before.”
“Llamas’ll do that. Don’t take it personally.”
“Frankie hates me, too. He threw a box of animal crackers at me today.”
“It had to be an accident. Frankie’s as gentle as they come. He likes everybody.”
She propped her elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand while she listlessly stirred the chili. “Doing nothing more than walking around an arena in a skimpy outfit is female exploitation in its lowest form.”
“It’s also great for the box office.”
He immediately regretted baiting her, especially since he knew she was too tired to fence with him. The truth was, her costume probably bothered him more than it bothered her. She wasn’t as tall as the other showgirls or as busty, but her fresh-faced beauty and sweet smile made her stand out, and he’d had to discourage more than a few randy males in the audience from trying to get to her after the show. To his surprise, she seemed oblivious to the reaction she created.
She crumbled a soda cracker in the chili. “For all your talk about how well the circus takes care of its animals, the menagerie is a disgrace.”
“I agree. I’ve been
complaining about it for years, but Owen loved that menagerie and refused to get rid of it.”
“What about Sheba?”
“She feels pretty much the way I do. I keep hoping she’ll close it, but there’s not much of a market for aging circus animals. And they’re better off with us than if she sold them to some backwoods tourist trap.”
She lifted a spoonful of chili toward her mouth but then set it back in the bowl as if the effort to eat were enormous.
He couldn’t stand it any longer. He didn’t care if everyone in the circus criticized him for giving his wife preferential treatment because he couldn’t tolerate those purple shadows under her eyes for one more day. “Go to bed, Daisy. I’ve changed my mind. You can skip spec tonight.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
Her pleasure made him feel even guiltier. “I said you could, didn’t I?”
“Yes! Yes, you did. Oh, thank you, Alex. I won’t forget this.”
Daisy slept through the first show, but to Alex’s surprise, she appeared just as spec began for the second. Her two-hour nap had done wonders for her, and she looked more rested than she had in days. As he circled the arena on Misha, he could see her just ahead of him waving and throwing kisses at the children, oblivious to the effect she and her flame red costume were having on the children’s fathers. Alex had to resist the urge to take out a few John Deere caps with his bullwhip.
When the show ended, he went to the trailer so he could make a quick change from his costume into work clothes. Usually Daisy would already have changed by now, but this time she wasn’t around.
Feeling uneasy, he dressed hurriedly, then made his way back over to the big top. A flash of red sequins near the marquee in the front caught his attention, and he saw his wife surrounded by three good-looking townies. They were all behaving courteously toward her, and she certainly wasn’t in any danger, but he still wanted to smash his fist right through their smug, young faces.
One of them said something and she laughed, the sound a bubble of music floating on the night air. He cursed under his breath.
“What are you so pissed off about?”
As Brady came up behind him, Alex forced himself to relax. “What makes you think I’m pissed off?”
Kiss an Angel Page 15
