by Carol Devine
"All right," she said. "You've got two hours."
Chapter Seven
Two hours. In two hours, anything was possible, including the persuasion of one Amanda Tarkenton to his cause.
Sure, Bram thought. When pigs fly.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her sashay back to the Cadillac. Her cooperation had been bought with his most precious commodity, privacy. It wasn't a commodity he sold lightly, particularly to a woman. Even if it took all night, he'd make damn sure he got his money's worth. She wasn't leaving his ranch until she agreed to drop the lawsuit.
Doggedly, Bram followed her back to the car. The sway of her pink skirted hips irked him further. She certainly didn't look like a tough broad, much as she played the part. Her curves were too feminine, the wisps escaping from her prim little bun too delicate. Her legs never quit. Sunlight lived in her hair.
Grudging admiration gave way to a sharper longing and it annoyed him. Every time he laid eyes on her, he got distracted. The hair, the blue eyes, the damn long legs. Distractions led to mistakes. And he couldn't afford any more mistakes around Amanda Tarkenton. He wanted her out of his life by midnight tonight.
His plan was simple. Make her feel guilty. Appeal to any and all sentimental notions she had. Introduce her to Zeus, Ebony, Tasha, all of them. Tell their stories, show the obstinate Ms. Tarkenton their plight. Even someone as hard-nosed as she must understand the need for the sanctuary he'd created.
He swung around the rear of the car and checked on Tasha through the window. She lay sprawled across the back seat, asleep, which was typical. She'd had enough excitement for one day. So had he. He opened the front passenger door and climbed inside. Stirring, the tiger lifted her head. Bram gave her a thumbs up sign.
He plastered a bland expression on his face when the other car door opened. Only Mandy didn't get in. Several seconds passed before he got impatient enough to investigate what was holding her up. She stood outside the car, elbow hooked on the top of the open door, bending at the waist to peer accusingly at him.
Her ruffled blouse fell from her throat, revealing a hint of lace and cleavage.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
"Going nowhere fast," he retorted, put out by the question.
Her constant skepticism pricked what little patience he had left. He should have insisted on driving. They'd be on their way by now. And driving would give him something concrete to do, something to keep his mind off her and her damned cleavage.
Careless about keeping his eyes trained on her face, he asked, "Is there a problem?"
"I'm regretting this enough already without you pulling a stunt like this. Why can't you go in your own car?"
"So you can lose me in traffic? Not a chance, lady. Get in. We're driving there together. You, me and Tasha. "
"I gave you my word that I'd see your ranch. You lead in your car and I'll follow in mine. That's the agreement. "
"You agreed to give me two hours. I get to say how you'll spend them. At this rate, we'll run out of time before we get out of the parking lot."
"Your problem, not mine."
Bram cursed under his breath. Granted, they hadn't discussed the transportation arrangements. But dammit, did she have to argue over every little detail? He'd planned on going with her from the beginning. Tasha didn't care what vehicle she traveled in as long as she could sleep and he'd hoped to use the commute to get to know Amanda better. See what made her tick.
He needed ammunition for later, in case she pressed on with the lawsuit.
"What's the big deal?" he pointed out. "My car, your car ... we are going to the same place."
"How can you expect me to drive when there's a tiger sitting in the back seat?"
"Tasha won't bother you."
"I'm supposed to take your word for it?"
“What do you want? A written guarantee? If you're so worried about Tasha, I'll drive the damn car."
"That wasn't part of the deal either."
He considered wringing her scrawny neck. He considered teaching Tasha to kill in one easy lesson. He considered doing another Tarkenton toss over his shoulder. "Why are you always so unreasonable?" he asked, feeling unreasonable himself. Nothing was worth this much trouble.
"Give me a reason not to be."
"You want a reason? Okay, I'll give you a reason. I planned to use the commute time to tell you about the ranch."
"Oh," she said. "I guess that does make a certain amount of sense."
Sense? Bram almost shouted. Nothing about this woman made sense. He didn't bother to hide his astonishment when she slid into the car. "Women," he muttered.
"I heard that." Amanda pointed at the sleek purse resting on the console between them. Her phone hung out from the side pocket. "What's this?"
"Looks like a phone to me," he replied with supreme innocence. "A nice one, too." He picked it up and checked the screen. "In perfect working order."
"Your tiger must have been less hungry than you thought."
"She's a carnivore, remember?"
Amanda rolled her eyes heavenward. "Men."
"Put here to be the bane of your existence." Bram propped a casual arm across the back of her seat. "Mandy, meet Tasha."
The tigress rose upon hearing her name. Amanda draped herself all over the steering wheel. Apparently the lady was too frightened to notice the skirt hiked halfway up her thighs. Bram restrained the urge to reach across and pull the hem down. Distraction or not, the lacy ivory slip had to be ignored.
"She's breathing on me!"
"She's checking out your scent. Let her. She'll lay back down in a second."
Tasha took her own sweet time. Finally Bram shoved her back. A low growl swelled the black striped throat.
"Sounds like she's a tad upset. Maybe this isn't such a bright idea."
"That's tiger talk. She's saying hello. "
"And I'm saying goodbye." Amanda groped for the door handle.
"Oh, no, you don't." Bram grabbed her arm. She tried to shake him off and keep an eye on Tasha at the same time. Bram felt the tension in the narrow arm, saw the prickle of goose bumps slide up the long lovely neck. With his free hand, he signaled the tigress to quiet. "She won't hurt you," he said. "I won't let her."
Amanda shifted her gaze and focused on him. In the filtered light, her eyes were as violet as he remembered. She searched his face, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He'd fantasized about her lips more than once these past few weeks.
Bram dropped her arm and faked an easy chuckle. "Don't look so worried. Deep down, you've got to know I wouldn't risk your neck for all the tea in China. The plain truth is I can't afford another lawsuit."
Her eyes darted toward Tasha. "Can't you make her lie down?"
"She's just cranky from sitting here so long. She'll settle down in a minute. Start the car so we can get this over with."
"She keeps watching me."
"Don't look directly into her eyes," he advised. "Tigers take that as an act of aggression."
"Does she bite?"
"Tasha likes beef better than humans, believe me."
"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it." She finally started the car. "She's beautiful, like you said. How old is she?"
"Thirteen. "
"Is that old for a tiger?"
"She's got a few gray hairs. Arthritis in her hips. She can't jump as high as she used to. Overall, her health is good."
"May I pet her?"
He nodded, surprised she would ask, much less dare. At the parking lot exit, she brought the car to a halt and slid the gearshift into park before taking a deep breath. Tasha's low growl had subsided but she still watched Amanda intently.
Bram frowned at the tiger's continued vigilance, hoping it would diminish once she and Mandy made friends. Just to be on the safe side, he offered his hand. "Let me show you how," he said. "Sometimes she can be skittish around strangers."
Guiding her fingers to the tiger's broad head, Bram let
Amanda stroke the heavy ruff around Tasha's neck. "She feels coarser than I expected. "
"A tiger's coat is much thicker than a domestic cat's," Bram explained, watching her fine-boned hand slide over the striped fur. "Tigers evolved in Northern Asia. They need a heavy coat to withstand the cold winters." Her fingers were slim and milky white, marred only by ragged fingernails, bitten down to the quick. How incongruous, he thought.
"Tell me how you got her."
"Not until you answer a question."
She raised an inquiring eyebrow, clearly wondering why he'd resisted her invitation to talk about Tasha. It was, after all, the reason they were together in the car. All Bram knew was that his curiosity had been aroused by those chewed up nails.
"About your hands ..." he began.
"What about them?" She left off petting Tasha and abruptly put the car into gear.
Usually, dissembling wasn't his style. But he read her discomfort and guessed the cause. Her nail-biting habit embarrassed her. "Why don't you wear any rings?" he asked, altering the subject at the last moment.
She thawed enough to glance at him before a smile tugged her mouth. "I'm not married, which you already knew. Nor am I engaged or seeing someone. Is that what you wanted to know?"
Bram hid his scowl. In the course of putting her at ease, he'd exposed himself. Stupid move. "Just curious," he said casually which was his standard line when personal questions came back to haunt him.
"I'm curious, too. Are you single?"
"Very much so.” Another standard line. Most women left it alone. Not Amanda Tarkenton.
"I remember reading in the detective's report that you were married once. Judging from your sour expression, the experience must have been unpleasant in the extreme. How long has it been since the divorce?"
Not long enough, he wanted to say. Only he didn't. Too revealing. "I don't remember," Bram lied. "Years ago."
"Three? Four?"
"Something like that. "
"I get the feeling you don't want to talk about this."
"What's there to say? Half of all marriages end up in divorce. That's not news. Mine lasted less than a year."
Tasha must have picked up on his discomfort because she made a chuffing sound. Amanda' s expression switched from curiosity to alarm. "What's that noise she's making? "
"Mama tigers talk to their cubs that way. She's just letting me know she's here." He stroked the striped flank, grateful for the diversion.
"Has she ever had cubs?"
"No. Tasha's actually a hybrid between two tiger subspecies Siberian and Bengal. Pure Siberians are especially scarce and, in captivity, are put in special breeding programs to build up their numbers. It would be irresponsible of me to breed a hybrid Siberian. She never should have been bred herself."
"Then why was she?"
"I don't know much about the circumstances of her birth. My guess is that someone in a zoo or circus got careless. Rather than euthanize the resulting cub, Tasha was sold to a wealthy individual, probably on the black market. I first met her when she was about six months old. She'd been raised like a house cat up to that point. The only concession her owner made to her heritage was to have her declawed. Even then, she proved too much for him."
"How so?"
"Owning an exotic cat is an ego trip for many people. What they don't realize is that these are wild animals. They can't be tamed, not in the conventional sense. Tigers are the largest cat species in the world. At six months, she weighed more than a hundred pounds, and was rambunctious as any kitten. Her owner couldn't handle her. That wasn't a problem for Sam."
"Sam?"
"My boss at the time. Sam trained exotic animals for stunt work in movies. He bought Tasha, sight unseen, no questions asked. She was his ticket to the big time. He gambled that Tasha was a full-blooded Siberian. They are extremely rare, even in zoos."
"So rare, they're on the list of endangered species."
"You've been doing your homework," he observed, willing to admit she was no dummy. He gave Tasha one last pat before turning to study Amanda. Brains and beauty. He almost wished he'd met her under different circumstances.
"That motion you made with your hand. Is that how you got her to disappear when Tom headed for the car?"
Tasha nudged his shoulder, interrupting his nod. He rubbed between her ears, thinking the strange surroundings must be making her feel insecure. Usually riding in a car put her right to sleep. "She's partially deaf from an old injury. I trained her to read hand signals.” Bram demonstrated, signaling the tiger to sit. She butted his shoulder instead. He pushed her back until she lowered her hindquarters but there was something about her active interest in Amanda he didn't like. "Which she obeys most of the time," he said.
Tasha began to pace. She prowled the rear of the Cadillac in the only way she could, climbing from floor to seat and back again. The car rocked. Bram hoped the shocks were in good working order.
"What's she doing? Does she have to go to the bathroom or something?"
"I took care of that before she got in. No, she's acting weird for some other reason."
"Could she be carsick?"
"Tigers have a keen sense of equilibrium. Tasha's never carsick, even under the worst of circumstances."
Her pacing became frenetic. Amanda slowed the car and wiggled forward to the edge of the seat, clearly flustered. Earlier, he would have enjoyed her discomfiture but in this situation, he couldn't blame her. Tasha wasn't making him feel entirely comfortable either.
"Do you wear perfume?" he asked suddenly.
"Why do you ask?"
"Just answer the question."
"If I remembered to put some on this morning, which is debatable. Even if I did, it's worn off by now."
"Tasha doesn't like new smells."
"Is that why she's moving around so much?"
He nodded, concentrating on the feel of the car. A four hundred pound ping pong ball bouncing to and fro in the back seat could not have caused as much rocking as Tasha did. Although he didn't want to offend, it was too much to expect anyone to handle a car under these conditions. Bram put his hand on the dashboard and faced Amanda.
"Pull over. "
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure. "
It took her a minute, but she nodded. As she braked and pulled off the interstate, he turned his full attention to Tasha. Under his direct ministrations, she settled down immediately.
Now if only she'd stay that way, he'd be batting a thousand.
“Can you figure out what's wrong with her?"
"Maybe," he said, sorting through possibilities. Some kind of illness? She'd be lethargic, not active. Hungry? He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of cat treats. She ate them but not as though she were ravenous.
"Is there anything I can do?"Amanda laid a hand on his shoulder.
Her touch broke through his preoccupation. He glanced at her, intending to make it clear her help wasn't needed. Instead he got caught by the frank concern in her eyes. Bram had to work to restrain the urge to cup her cheek in reassurance.
"Perhaps she's injured herself somehow," Amanda said.
Tasha growled, low in her throat, the sound a warning. He turned and ran his hands over the tiger's long body. No swelling, no heat. "Nothing," he murmured.
"Perhaps it has something to do with me."
"Tasha's around people all the time. Hell, she thinks she is a person." Bram tapped his fingers against the leather upholstery, deep in thought. "Why don't I drive?" he suggested. "Tasha's not used to seeing me in the passenger seat. Maybe she's freaked over something as simple as that."
"It's worth a try."
Given the right circumstances, the woman could actually be agreeable. Bram flashed a friendly grin when they passed each other in front of the car. When Mandy loosened up, she wasn't half bad. Now that he was on a roll, he might chance a tug on her skirt. Who knew? Two lovers in ten years meant she lived like a nun. He slid behind the steering wh
eel, at last feeling in control of the situation.
"You've got one hour and thirty six minutes left."
"Thanks for the update," he said dryly as they moved back into the flow of traffic.
"I just don't want you to get the idea that I can afford to spend any more time than that. I've got an important seminar to go to this weekend."
"What sort of seminar?"
"It has to do with my work. I'm sure you wouldn't find it interesting."
She made it sound like the two of them couldn't possibly have anything in common. "Gosh durn it, Mandy," he said in his best country twang."It's not the nose-picker's society, is it?"
She bristled up like a mare in foal, which suited him just fine. How he thought a snob like her could loosen up was beyond him. He pressed the accelerator, weaving smoothly through traffic. The sooner he got her to the ranch, the better.
"If I offended you, I apologize."
The formality in her tone didn't appease him any. He ignored her and spared a glance for Tasha, who had finally settled down. Amanda didn't say anything else until they were well past Denver city limits and on the Boulder Turnpike .
"I thought you we're going to tell me about Tasha and your other animals at the ranch," she said at last.
Bram noticed the tiger's head poke up at the sound of her name. "What do you want to know?" he asked, his gaze on the rearview mirror .
"Everything."
Tasha's ears swiveled. Bram cleared his throat, thinking that for a partly deaf animal, she sure tuned in quick when Amanda opened her mouth. "I don't know where to start," he evaded, testing his observation.
"How about starting with how you came to own Tasha and going from there?"
The tiger laid her ears back. Not a good sign. Bram casually draped his right arm on the back of the seat, just in case. "On one condition. I do all the talking. All you have to do is listen."
Amanda mimed an assent, her expression amused. Was it his imagination or did Tasha relax slightly?
"First thing you have to understand, no man can own an animal like this. Through a combination of circumstances, some lucky, some tragic, I've had the honor of providing a home for more than a dozen big cats. Tasha was the first."
