Beauty and the Beastmaster (The Masterson Series Book 1)

by Carol Devine

  He made it sound as though they were anything but. If she caught him off guard, he didn't show it. Amanda wished she could strangle him. Part of her problem was that she had underestimated him. He was turning out to be a clever adversary, fully able to call her bluff. But she had years of verbal sparring behind her, both in the courtroom and out. She wasn't about to let this guy get the best of her.

  "Your family must be proud of you as well. Tell me, do they call you Beast for short?"

  "No, but you can."

  His knowing smile irritated her further. Amanda extended her hand to prove she wasn't intimidated. "How do you do, Mr. Masterson?" she asked, taking refuge in excruciating politeness.

  Instead of shaking her hand, he bent over and kissed the back of it. The feel of his lips on her skin evoked memories from tonight she'd rather forget. If she hadn't been so distracted, she could have anticipated his mocking gesture and punched him in the nose.

  "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Tarkenton," he said, rising from a sweeping bow. "Or should I say Mrs.?"

  Amanda hid the urge to rub out the warmth lingering on her skin and addressed the implied question. "I prefer Ms. So much more mysterious, don't you agree?"

  "Very." Those green eyes missed nothing. He was cataloguing her now. "Amanda. The name suits you. Old fashioned. And every inch the lady."

  She almost murmured a thank you to his compliment. Almost.

  She had to concede that he could turn on the charm when he wanted. Probably setting her up for a good hard fall. She abruptly took a different tack.

  "About your tiger," she began.

  "Tasha?"

  "Your treatment of that animal is appalling. She deserves better than to be paraded around like a highly trained dog. She should be in a zoo somewhere or ..." Amanda faltered, unsure where exotic animals could go besides a zoo. "Or back in the wild," she continued. "Where tigers belong."

  He chuckled. "Tasha's not the first tiger to perform in front of an audience. Ever been to the circus, Miss Tarkenton?"

  "At least the circus is legitimate entertainment."

  "And pro wrestling is not. Is that the point you're trying so hard to make?" he asked, his tone steely.

  Julie caught her hand. "Amanda, let's get out of here."

  “Not until I get an explanation," she answered, holding her ground in the face of his glare. “Although that may be impossible. How anyone can rationalize using such a magnificent animal in such a demeaning way is beyond me.”

  "Tasha wants to perform. If I didn't let her, she'd die."

  Amanda snorted and rolled her eyes. She should have known the man would offer some melodramatic excuse. For a moment, she'd made the mistake of thinking he might have a chink in that thick, sarcastic armor he wore so well. She should have known better. After all, he was a professional wrestler, engaged in providing sensationalistic drivel to the masses.

  "The fact remains," she said tightly, ignoring Julie's insistent tug on her arm, "that your use of the tiger constitutes cruelty to animals. I'll report this to the proper authorities."

  "Be my guest," he said, infuriating her more.

  She heard Julie groan as she stalked forward. "I find your attitude disgusting! Not only do you behave like a gorilla, but you're a male chauvinist pig as well!"

  He swept a theatric hand over his heart. "You wound me, gentle lady."

  Amanda inwardly seethed. Before she left him tonight, she meant to see that smirk wiped from his face. He'd think twice before he abused another living being, be it man, woman or tiger. She glided closer to him, invading the personal space between them.

  "What's with this Tarzan act of yours?"

  He looked taken aback, just as she hoped he would. "What do you mean?"

  She tilted her head to the side, considering him. "You have heard of Tarzan, haven't you?"

  "Hasn't everyone?"

  Despite the offhand question, he looked thoroughly puzzled. She raised her hand and skimmed a careless line down the middle of his broad chest as she spoke, just to let him know he didn't scare her in the least.

  "Tarzan, the Apeman?" she asked.

  "What about him?"

  "You and he seem to have a lot in common. You both wear animal skins." Her palm flattened over his ripped stomach. Amanda lifted her head and smiled serenely, in spite of the tremors shaking her insides. She'd baited her share of bears, but this one was the biggest by far. Still, she was surrounded by a number of people, including Julie and several security personnel. Besides, Abraham Masterson deserved the worst insult she could think of.

  As her fingers dwelled upon his warm skin, she watched his expression become more wary by the second.

  "You're both strong."

  "Yes?"

  “And very big.” She heard gasps from the peanut gallery surrounding them and saw Hardy's scrambled retreat from the corner of her eye. But she was not concerned with them. She wanted to get a reaction out of the Beastmaster.

  "Stop it," he grated.

  "You're blushing," she said and widened her grin to show her delight .

  "Yes, I am."

  His honesty deflated her. She stared at the great expanse of his chest and stepped back, not knowing quite what to say. But after all he'd said and done, she wasn't about to apologize. Nor could she bring herself to admit defeat.

  "Amanda, I think we better go," Julie said, pulling her arm.

  To save face, Amanda allowed Julie to drag her away. Round one to the opponent, she conceded to herself. He was not only strong. He was also intelligent. She'd underestimated Masterson because of how he looked and what he did. That wouldn't happen again.

  She spied her jacket heaped on the dirty floor and scooped it up. Glancing at the knot of men gathered around the Beastmaster, she held up the torn jacket. "I'll send you the bill," she said.

  "Do that, Ms. Tarkenton. In person. I can't wait to see you again."

  Chapter Four

  "Knock, Knock. I don't suppose anyone in here is hungry for lunch?"

  Amanda looked up to see Julie standing at the threshold of her office, juggling several cartons of what smelled like Chinese food. Amanda checked her watch. Where had the morning gone? It was nearly two o'clock.

  She saved the document she'd been writing and beckoned Julie in. "Bless you, Jules. How did you know I skipped lunch?"

  "What else is new?" Julie stepped over a file box set next to the door and negotiated her way around a pile of thick, leather-bound law books. "I figured after our fiasco at the arena two weeks ago, a peace offering was in order. So I brought a little afternoon snack, courtesy of the Shanghai Cafe."

  "It smells heavenly. Thanks." Amanda cleared a space on her desk for the food.

  Julie eyed the law books. “Have you ever heard of computer searches? Hard copies have become rather passe in the 21st century.”

  “I narrowed the search to find the precedents I needed. But when it comes to inputting the information into my brain, I like the feel of a book in my hands. Call me old-fashioned. Besides, some of these books were my dad’s. I’m hoping some of his brilliance will rub off on me.”

  “You just like to do things the hard way. Take a break once in awhile.” Julie opened a carton and handed a pair of chopsticks to Amanda.

  "We have some new interns in the office. When they see me reading an actual law book, it throws them for a loop. I swear, if Martians wiped out the use of computers on Earth, I'm not sure they’d know how to open a book, much less find a precedent.” Amanda tucked a napkin under her chin and popped a plump shrimp into her mouth.

  "You do like to throw people for a loop." Julie wagged a chopstick at her. “Especially know-it-all interns and law clerks.”

  "You should talk, Miss soon-to-be Junior Partner."

  "At least I take time out to eat. Never let it be said that I refuse to enjoy the fruits of my labors. Now if only I could get you to enjoy yours. I haven't seen you at our fancy aerobics club lately."

  "It's hard to go
anywhere when I have the paparazzi camped out on my doorstep. I don't suppose you've seen the latest social media postings on every celebrity entertainment website in the world?"

  "I’m sorry I took you to the arena that night. I was hoping the Beastmaster thing would have blown over by now."

  "My father is spinning in his grave." Amanda put down her food and opened a file on her laptop to show yet another viral video of her backside draped over the Beastmaster's shoulder, this one taken from a particularly embarrassing angle. “I’m everywhere.”

  Julie took a peek at the video and shuddered. "Our amateur photographer must have made a bundle off that one. Amanda, if I'd had any idea the night would end in such a total disaster, I would never have dragged you there in the first place."

  "It's not your fault." Amanda nodded toward the unflattering video. "It's his. Masterson is the one who started it all."

  "Has your boss said anything to you about it?"

  "Boggs let me have know of his displeasure with both barrels. Something along the lines of 'Didn't I realize it was an election year?' You know how much he hates publicity, especially anything which might reflect badly on the D.A.s office." She sipped her coke.

  "Or the mayor."

  "Right. And he pulled me off the Walters murder case. Said it was too media sensitive for me to handle, given my rediscovered fame."

  "You put in hundreds of hours on that case."

  "Tell me about it," Amanda said, slamming her cup down for emphasis."I even considered turning in my resignation. But what would that prove? I've worked too long and too hard to establish my professional reputation to have it ruined by a Neanderthal in spandex."

  The phone at Amanda' s elbow buzzed, startling her. She knocked over the drink cup, spilling the contents all over her desk.

  "Ms. Tarkenton?" Her secretary's voice cackled over the intercom.

  Swearing, Amanda snatched up her laptop and legal pad but it was too late. A dark circle of icy coke ate into the yellow legal pad and dripped through the spaces in her keyboard.

  Julie sprang into action, using a fistful of napkins to sop the mess up but it spread, puddling over the glass topped desk. With an exasperated sigh, Amana dropped the ruined legal pad into her trash can, propped her keyboard on top of the can and punched the intercom button on her phone .

  "What is it, Valerie?"

  "A gentleman by the name of Abraham Masterson is here to see you. Says it's personal."

  Julie looked up from her rescue of the food, her eyes wide. "Speak of the devil. What's he doing here?"

  "I thought he'd show up eventually," Amanda muttered under her breath and clumped a wad of napkins on the spill. "I just didn't think it would be this soon."

  "Amanda, you didn't. Not the lawsuit. It will only keep you in the media spotlight."

  "If it gets my face in front of the cameras rather than my backside, it will be well worth it. I filed the papers yesterday. I would have told you, but I made the decision rather suddenly. Quick, help me clean this up." She punched the intercom button on her phone. "Val, tell him to wait."

  Julie hurried to sop up ice cubes and coke. "I understand the part about changing the conversation media-wise. But a real lawsuit? You said it wasn't worth your time."

  "I changed my mind." Amanda dumped her empty cup in the trash and a fistful of dripping napkins.

  "For goodness sake, why?"

  "Something my father once said kept running through my mind. Bullies are bullies because too many people let them be. I can't let Masterson get away with what he did, what he's still doing."

  "I thought he promised to stop performing the stunt."

  "Obviously, he lied. In fact, his little stunt is generating more attention than ever. Women are rushing the ring at the end of his fights, wearing t-shirts that say 'Pick Me' on them. It's sickening. Plus, there’s the tiger. I’ve been doing research on protecting wild animals from exploitation. Masterson didn't strike me as being particularly concerned about the tiger’s welfare. No animal should be cooped up in a cage all the time, traveling all over the country to perform in those ridiculous shows."

  "You have evidence of abuse?"

  "Since I'm a government employee, I can't legally launch an investigation through this office, not without probable cause. I have to do it as a private citizen. Hence the lawsuit.”

  "Do you have to do everything by the book? I'll hire a private investigator to check on the animal’s welfare, if that's what you want."

  "Julie, this is my fight, not yours. I appreciate the offer but I don't want you dragged into this any more than you already are." Amanda mopped up what remained of the spill and cast a critical eye around her office. As usual, it was a mess. She didn't care about the haphazardly crammed bookcases, the profusion of stringy plants or the old-fashioned file cabinets. But she did want an empty chair for Masterson to sit in. That should take care of the advantage he had in sheer physical presence. Cutting his ego down to size would not be as easy. Pushing the button on her intercom, she said, "Give me ten minutes, Valerie, then send him in."

  "Amanda, please listen to me. I guess I can understand why you feel compelled to bring a lawsuit, but that doesn't mean you have to meet with the man face to face."

  "Sure it does. I want to hear what he has to say for himself." Amanda put her laptop on the floor and hid it behind her desk. She crammed more garbage into her trash can and hid it behind the ficus tree by the window. "Would you mind taking what remains of our lunch out to the lounge? I'll meet you there when I'm finished."

  "Who cares about lunch? I'm more worried about you. Don't you remember what happened the last time you and Masterson were together?"

  "How could I forget?" Amanda asked, wiping her hands. She transferred the files from the chair to the top of the law books and straightened the numerous piles of paper and evidence files sitting on the credenza behind her desk.

  "And you're still going to talk to him?"

  "Of course I'm going to talk to him. I certainly don't want him to think I'm afraid to see him. Besides, talking never hurt anybody. And there won’t be any cameras around." Amanda dumped a stack of files into an empty drawer she kept for moments such as these.

  "But--"

  "Hand me those, will you?" Amanda pointed to the pile stacked on the office chair set before her desk. She fit the books on top of the files. Her coffee mug and a week's quotient of five empty soda pop cans filled the rest of the space.

  "Amanda, listen to me. You've filed a lawsuit against this guy. You shouldn't be saying hello to him, much less welcoming him into your office."

  "He's a citizen and I'm but a lowly public servant. I haven't any choice." She heaved the drawer closed with a grunt and knelt to shove her briefcase under her desk.

  "Of course you have a choice. Tell him you won't discuss the case."

  "I don't even know if that's why he's here. Maybe he stopped by to inquire after my health."

  "I won't dignify that with an answer. Tell him you have to leave for a hearing or something.”

  "Knowing Masterson, he'll tag along. The reporters hanging around outside will have a field day." Amanda smoothed her skirt and plopped into her chair to search the top drawer of her desk. Now if only she could find her pocket mirror.

  "Tell him you're late for a deposition at the city jail. He can’t follow you if you’re going there."

  "Me, an officer of the court, lie?" she asked as she rummaged through junk. Pencils, pens, paper clips, binder clips, scratch paper, white out ... "Quit worrying, Julie. Call me crazy but I want to hear what he has to say. Five minutes, I promise. What can he do to me in five minutes?"

  "I'm more worried about what you're going to do to him. You never know when to quit. Masterson doesn't seem like the type who'll take no for an answer. At least get a police officer to accompany him in, just in case.”

  "Maybe he stopped by to beg my forgiveness. That's one sight I'd pay good money to see."

  "Don't get your hopes u
p," said a deep male voice.

  Navy pinstripe filled the doorway. Amanda straightened in her chair and slammed the drawer shut as the civilized version of Abraham Masterson sauntered into her office, followed by her apologetic secretary.

  "I'm sorry, Ms. Tarkenton, but he refused to wait."

  "Couldn't wait," he corrected. "The suspense was killing me. Will she see me or won't she? Only her secretary knows for sure."

  His classic navy suit dropped from his shoulders in sharp angles, creating a height and breadth lesser men would envy. A foulard tie lay against oxford blue, echoing the contrast of slick midnight hair and emerald eyes. Rather impressive, if she did say so herself. Constraint and charisma in one sleek package. Amanda broke off her stare after the count of five heartbeats. Five too speedy heartbeats.

  "Julie," she said. "Will you excuse us?"

  Julie huffed but gathered up what remained of the food and followed the secretary out without further comment. She did, however, manage to give Masterson the stink-eye and slammed the door.

  "Charming."

  "Julie's a good friend. You may think it strange, but she's of the opinion I shouldn't give you the time of day."

  "Maybe she's right."

  "How nice to see you again, Mr. Masterson," Amanda said dryly. She rose from her chair, aware that even when she stood at full height, he dwarfed her. The bank of windows along one office wall did little to help her impression that the room had shrunk.

  "Ms. Tarkenton."

  She stiffened at the curt way he said her name. He hadn't apologized for barging in or even offered so much as a handshake. But then, neither had she.

  "Please sit down," she said neutrally, determined to remain dignified. Given what had happened between them before, she thought that a priority. She indicated the now empty chair in front of her desk. "Would you care for a cup of coffee or a glass of water?"

  "No, thanks."

  Amanda remained standing after he settled into the chair, planning to use every advantage she could. This time she would stay in complete control of the situation. Her temper and poise would remain unruffled. She considered him, debating whether or not to make the first move.