Walk on the Wild Side

by Christine Warren

  A pair of strong hands gripped her arms to steady her and a familiar voice rumbled above her head.

  "Whoa, careful there," Max drawled. "Where's Ronnie?"

  "She, uh, she had to get home," Kitty said, trying to bush past him. She knew she owed him an apology, too, but she'd been hoping a call to her grandfather would buck her up before she had to do it.

  "Kitty?" His voice deepened, filling with concern. "Honey, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

  She shook her head again, again tried to pull away. His fingers didn't budge. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

  "You don't look fine," Max said, shifting his grip so that his arm curved around her and pressed her inexorably to his side. "Come with me."

  "I can't. I have things to do." She tried to pull away, but it was like walking into a gale-force wind—full of effort and bereft of progress. "I have to make a phone call."

  "We're going to talk first." He guided her into the elevator and used his access card to select a button. "Then you can use the phone in my office."

  "There's a perfectly good phone in my room," she muttered.

  "Actually, there are six of them, but my office is closer."

  The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and that arm shifted, applying the pressure necessary to herd her out of the car and into a plushly carpeted hall that looked nothing like the one leading to her room. This one was gray and masculine and pitted with open doors leading to offices and conference rooms. He guided her to the far end and through an archway, past a calm middle-aged woman in a prim suit, then through another door and into his office.

  Kitty recognized the room instantly, even if this was the first time she'd seen it. The color scheme, the furnishings, the electronics, everything bore the stamp of Max's personality—strong, efficient, and quite aware of its own worth. Two walls were completely lined with windows, the farthest of them looking onto the city, the nearest overlooking the floor of the casino. In front of the closer set, a huge cherry desk stretched across a vivid Oriental carpet with two elegant leather chairs stationed before it. Max forced her gently into one, then perched on the edge of the desk in front of her and fixed her with a penetrating stare.

  "Now," he rumbled, "tell me what's going on."

  "Nothing."

  "What's bothering you, Kitty?"

  "Nothing is bothering me," she ground out.

  "Kitty."

  Her name was a warning. She gritted her teeth.

  "Everything is fine," she insisted. "I just want to make a phone call."

  "Tell me what happened. I know you went out with Ronnie this morning. Did she do something to upset you? I thought you two would get along or I would have sent someone else to check on you."

  "I'm not upset," Kitty insisted. Sheesh. And she'd thought she was stubborn. "I just think it might be better if—"

  "Kitty Jane," he cautioned, "you need to stop lying to me and start talking. What happened while you were out with Ronnie?"

  Kitty glared at him. "You said I could use the phone in your office."

  "I lied." He stood and reached behind him to grab a key ring he'd left near the edge of his blotter. Then he pressed a button and spoke into the air. "Cynthia, can you ask the garage to pull my car out? I'm taking Ms. Sugarman out to Martin's in a few minutes. Tenby knows, so you can forward my calls and any priority issues to him for the rest of the day."

  Kitty heard a brisk female voice reply, "Yes, sir," and focused an even more intense glare on him.

  "Excuse me, but did I miss part of this conversation?" she asked, pushing herself to her feet and taking two steps back. She didn't need to have him looming over her while she wrestled against his intimidating presence. "Like the part where you asked if I was ready to go see my father? Because I don't recall saying I was."

  "I made an executive decision. I'm an executive." He slid his hand beneath her elbow and turned her gently but firmly toward the door.

  "But I'm not your employee." Kitty dug her heels into the carpet and scowled up at him. "Why is it that every time you don't like what I have to say to you, you think you can just resort to physical intimidation to get your way?"

  He glanced down at her, looking bemused. "Is that what I do?"

  "Yes, in case you hadn't noticed. You're doing it now, and you did it just a few minutes ago when I wanted to go up to my room. And last night after dinner, when you—"

  The memory of what he'd done last night to convince her to stay in Vegas flooded through her, and Kitty broke off abruptly. Heat rushed into her cheeks and she cursed herself for bringing that up. The last thing this man needed was for her to acknowledge what happened to all her independence and determination when he kissed her.

  Unfortunately, the spark that flared in his eyes as he halted at his office door told her that he'd figured it out all on his own. The hand on her elbow teased and stroked a slow path up to the side of her neck, left bare by her high ponytail.

  "Ah, yes. Last night," he murmured, the sound rumbling out of his chest in a purr Tony the Tiger couldn't have rivaled. "As I recall, last night we came to a mutual understanding about what might come out of this visit."

  "I think 'mutual' might be overstating things just a smidge."

  "Do you?" His eyes sparked. "Well then, let's see if I can't refresh your memory."

  The mental command telling her feet to move didn't even have time to make it to her spinal cord, let alone to her legs, before his mouth was on her.

  His lips covered her, warm, insistent, and already much too familiar for Kitty's peace of mind. He tasted just as she remembered, like bitter coffee, sweet temptation, and rich, warm sin. She could get drunk on the taste of him, she thought; and when she felt her knees tremble, she knew she already had.

  Her skin tightened and trembled when his arm slid behind her, curving about her waist like a living shackle from which she couldn't quite bring herself to escape. His hand gripped her about the ribs, gently but firmly, his thumb stroking through the soft material of her T-shirt just inches below her breast. The sudden awareness of it drew her nipples into tight points and sent shards of aching frustration deep into her belly.

  It didn't matter how her conscious mind struggled against his touch; her body had already surrendered. She could no more have stopped her lips from parting before the surge of his tongue than she could have stopped the rain from falling. Her hands gripped his shoulders completely against her will, and it certainly wasn't her rational mind urging her hips to arch against him, to form a soft, welcoming cradle for the heavy thrust of his erection.

  Dear God, what was he doing to her?

  When the kiss ended, Kitty flushed at the knowledge that it had been Max who drew back, not her. Lord help her, but she didn't have that kind of strength.

  "I don't know, kitten," he rumbled, the sound making her thighs clench together. "That felt pretty mutual to me."

  It took much too long for Kitty to drag her jumbled thoughts into some semblance of order and even longer for her to regain control of her mouth enough to speak. "You know that isn't what I meant."

  "True." He leaned forward, lips brushing the corner of her mouth. "But isn't this so much pleasanter than arguing? Especially since you already know I'm going to get my way."

  The arrogance in that statement did manage to banish a few of the cobwebs strung by his kiss, at least enough to allow her to muster a weak glare. "You jackass," she muttered. "How on earth do you manage to fit that ego through the lobby doors?"

  He grinned and flicked a finger across her cheekbone. "We measured ahead of time, of course. I've got a quarter inch to spare."

  The quirk of his lips invited her to laugh with him, but she wasn't ready to hand him quite that large a victory.

  "Fine," she sighed. "I'll go now, but we're putting a time limit on this visit. "We need to leave early enough for me to make my call from the car on the way back."

  "Deal." Max reached out and took her hand, pulling her gently toward the door. "I'll ev
en let you use my cell. You can tell your grandfather I said hello."

  Kitty just blinked. How could he possibly have gotten to know her so well in such a short period of time?

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  MAX TOLD HER THAT HER FATHER'S HOUSE SAT ABOUT twenty-five miles outside of Las Vegas, nestled in an open desert canyon that bordered the Desert National Wildlife Refuge. In his sleek, well-tuned Mercedes, the drive took approximately a hundred and forty-seven years.

  Kitty sat in the passenger seat with her hands folded in her lap and her gaze fixed on the scenery passing by, wriggling her toes inside her new tennis shoes. For the first fifteen minutes or so of the trip, Max sat silently behind her, his attention focused on maneuvering through the city traffic, but once they settled into the flow of the highway, he glanced over at her.

  "You and Ronnie must have been out for a while this morning," he said. "You got a little sunburned."

  "Did I?" she asked, and reached up to touch the bridge of her nose. It felt slightly warm, but she didn't want to curse when she pressed on it. She shrugged. "I've had worse. I burn like nobody's business. Sometimes, I think I only have to think too hard about the beach before I'm reaching for the aloe."

  "With your skin, I'm not surprised. Does it hurt much?"

  She looked at him. "No, why?"

  His attention remained on the road. "I just thought that might be the reason your knuckles are whiter than your new tennis shoes."

  Kitty shifted her attention back to the scenery. "How do you know it's not your driving?"

  "Because they've looked like that since I said we were coming out here, and that was while we were still in my office."

  "Maybe I'm remembering last night."

  "I know I am," he purred. "And this morning."

  She ignored him. Her nerves had already tied themselves in enough knots over meeting her father. She didn't need Max throwing their uncontrollable attraction to each other into the mix. A girl could only take so much, after all.

  "You're the one who spent last night telling me horror stories about the warm welcome I'm likely to get at my father's house," she said, ignoring his comment. "I think it's perfectly natural for me to be a little nervous."

  "The only person at your father's house who needs to welcome you is your father. And trust me when I tell you, he's going to be very pleased to see you."

  "Right. It's just his kids who are going to want to rip out my intestines."

  He arched an eyebrow. "I think that's unnecessarily graphic. Besides, while your father and I are there, no one is going to do anything to you. You'll be under our protection, and no one in the pride would try to challenge that."

  Kitty snorted. "It's good to be the king, I guess."

  His grin flashed. "It beats the alternatives."

  "Do you think any of the family or… the pride… Will they be there today?"

  "I can't say for sure," he hedged, "but there's always a possibility. Martin has been excited about your visit, so he's been talking you up. I'm sure they're curious about you."

  Max paused for a minute, then resumed with a note of caution in his voice. "I should warn you, just so you're not surprised, that you will see a couple of guards outside Martin's house. I swear they have nothing to do with you, but I don't want you to feel like you're walking into some kind of army base."

  Kitty turned to look at him, genuinely surprised. "Guards? Why would he need guards?"

  "He probably doesn't, but I like to be cautious." Max sighed. "There have been a few rumors circulating lately that not everyone is happy about a recent decision your father made."

  "What kind of decision?"

  For the first time since she'd met him, Max looked uncomfortable. "Leading a pride isn't actually like being a king. It's not a hereditary title."

  "I know. Ronnie told me about it this morning. She said it's actually a position given to the strongest male in the pride."

  "She's right, although 'given' isn't quite the word I'd use. Back in the bad old days, members of the pride used to fight for it. Literally. Whoever thought they had the right stuff would issue a challenge, and if he defeated the current Felix, he could assume the loser's place." He must have seen the look on her face, because he rushed to reassure her. "That doesn't happen much anymore. I promise. These days, more often than not, there's a second-in-command of the pride—we call him the baas—who's ready to step into the old leader's shoes when the Felix decides to retire, or in case something happens to him. That way, the transition goes more smoothly and everyone stays out of trouble."

  Kitty's mouth quirked. "Let me guess. In this case, that would be you."

  "Yeah. Usually, a Leo emerges as the right choice for the position in a way that everyone recognizes. He's just the right guy for the job, so everyone assumes he'll be the next Felix when the time comes. Occasionally, though, if another Leo is making noises about wanting to take over, the Felix will formalize the baas's position by officially naming him heir. It's supposed to make challengers think twice."

  "Does that really work?"

  Max shrugged. "Sometimes, but in this case, not everyone seems to be happy with Martin's decision."

  "Which would be you."

  He nodded. "Since I'm younger than your father, it's possible a challenger might decide to circumvent the succession by challenging him, thinking he'll be easier to defeat. And technically, anyone who defeats the sitting Felix automatically assumes his authority."

  "So that's why you have guards at my father's house," she concluded. It did make a weird, primitive sort of sense, she supposed. But it also made her think how alien the culture of the Leos seemed to her.

  "It's just a precaution," Max assured her, "and I'm probably being overprotective, but I'd rather do that than risk the alternative."

  "Okay. Thanks for the warning." She mustered up a smile and felt her stomach flutter again as Max began to steer the car toward an exit. "Is there anything else I should know about before we get there?"

  She had expected him to give her an automatic "No," maybe laugh and tease her for being paranoid. The fact that he remained silent and frowning at the view outside the windshield turned the flutter into a full-blown knot-tying contest.

  "No," he finally answered, still frowning. "I think it would be better if you just went in and let things happen naturally. There's no sense in getting yourself worked up before we even arrive."

  "Oh, goodie," Kitty muttered, sinking lower into her seat. "I can hardly wait."

  SHE HAD THE SAME REACTION TO MARTIN LOWE'S HOUSE that she'd had to his hotel, a bit of awe mixed with growing unease, and Max had no trouble reading her thoughts on her face. He found the trait refreshing after a lifetime of dealing with those who thought of transparent emotions as a weakness. He worried, though, that it could give others in the pride an upper hand. He'd have to watch over her carefully. Somehow, it didn't seem like a hardship.

  Thankfully, the wide drive in front of the house was empty when he pulled the Mercedes to a stop. They must have arrived earlier than the others expected them. He had a feeling they wouldn't be leaving without a face-off, but Max was glad it wouldn't happen until after Martin and Kitty had the chance to meet for the first time. They both deserved this moment without the inevitable warfare that would follow.

  He helped Kitty out of the car and led her toward the house in silence, nodding to the two guards without stopping. He had to bite back the urge to reassure the woman beside him, but she was so wound up already, he sensed that having him tell her everything would be fine would either make her distrust him or send her running in the opposite direction. Neither would do her any favors with her father or with the pride.

  Using his key, he let them into the front hall and paused to listen. He could hear the hum of medical equipment and the low drone of voices on the television in Martin's room but no live voices. That was good. Max imagined the housekeeper was likely in the kitchen at the rear of the house and he knew at lea
st two more security guards would be patrolling the grounds, but the lack of cars in the drive hadn't lied. He and Kitty were the first ones here.

  He saw Kitty take a deep breath and straighten her shoulders like a warrior preparing for battle, and he felt a surge of pride. The last few weeks had turned her entire world upside down, but she just seemed to take every challenge as it came. Even when he knew her first instinct was to run, she never gave in to the urge. She faced her demons head-on and refused to back down.

  Martin was going to love her.

  Before he led her back to the Felix's suite, Max touched her arm to get her attention. When she looked up at him, he asked her, "Did Martin tell you anything about his health?"

  "Like I said, I haven't spoken directly to him," she said, her brows drawing together, "but his lawyers mentioned that was because he'd been ill and sometimes had trouble carrying on long conversations. They said he still had some respiratory issues. Why?"

  Silently, Max cursed. Damn Burkett and his almighty sense of discretion. Someone should have told her how serious things were. At least warned her. Max didn't want her walking into that room blind, but at this point what could he say? It was a little late to prepare her to visit someone in her father's state.

  "He's still ill," Max finally said. "I think he should be the one who tells you about his disease, but you should at least know that he's on oxygen and his doctors have him on electronic monitors. I don't want that to shock you."

  Max watched her, searching her face while she processed the information. He saw glimpses of surprise, confusion, anger, unease, and even a trace of worry before she took another of those deep breaths and gave him a wry smile.

  "I guess it's a good thing I didn't insist he come to me then," she said. "I thought about issuing that ultimatum, you know. I figured he owed me."

  "He does," Max said, taking her hand and squeezing gently. "But coming to you wouldn't have been possible." He watched her for another second, then tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and smiled down at her. She'd summoned up a carefully pleasant mask to hide her unease, making her look calm and strong and quietly regal. It was perfect. "Come on, then. I'll introduce you."