Wild

by Foster, Lori

  “With the costume,” Luna continued, ignoring Tamara’s frantic gestures to halt her, “she comes across as part of the props, a little loony, a little whimsical. I bet that’s why you overlooked her for so long.”

  “Who says I overlooked her?”

  Luna laughed at that. “This is the first time I’ve seen you playing kissy-face with her over the counter.”

  His shoulders tensed. Tamara had no idea what Luna was up to, but she wished she’d knock it off.

  “Your point?”

  “Most of her innate generosity of spirit is mistaken for part of a con, a way to reel in customers and give them what they’re paying for. Without the costume, the whole world will see her for what she really is.”

  Tamara wanted to slink off in embarrassment. Or else grab some packing tape and use it to seal Luna’s mouth.

  Quickly, she rounded the counter to stand between Luna and Zane. She tried to laugh, but wasn’t pleased with the sickly sound. “Luna is a big kidder.”

  Proving the point, Luna held her hands together and said in a theatrical voice, “Luna is all-knowing, all-seeing.” Then she winked at Zane. “And Luna tells it like it is.”

  “Luna is becoming a pain in the butt!” Tamara glared at her.

  Luna laughed and slipped around the counter to the appointment book. “I wonder, Zane, if you want her to lose the costume because it embarrasses you.” Her gaze shifted to Tamara. “Did you happen to meet any of his family lately? Maybe in your Gypsy getup?”

  Tamara frowned, but before she could say anything, Zane straightened. His eyes were narrow slits, his dark brows drawn down. “Embarrass me? I don’t think so. It was her Gypsy outfit that first drew me in.”

  Tamara leaped onto that explanation. “True! The first time he came knocking at my door”—she didn’t explain that she’d offered herself to him—“he hadn’t seen me without the Gypsy costume.”

  “Is that right? Then I wonder what his motives really are.”

  Tamara wondered that, too, but she wasn’t about to ask Zane now. “Leave it alone, Luna.”

  Luna grinned. “Don’t worry, honey. I won’t scare him off. I have the feeling Zane Winston is made of stem stuff. He’s not a man to turn tail and run.”

  Zane, Tamara thought, looked like a man ready to ignite. Tamara took his arm and dragged him out of Luna’s hearing. They stopped beside her round table with the hand-crocheted lace tablecloth and the ornamental crystal ball set on a lighted stand. People were often disappointed when they realized she used the crystal ball only for decoration, not to summon spirits.

  “She’s a little ... eccentric,” Tamara explained.

  And though she’d spoken barely above a whisper, Luna said, “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, honey.”

  Tamara growled at her, but Luna didn’t look up from where she was checking over names in the appointment book. She did, however, have a small smile on her mouth. Tamara sighed.

  “At least you’re not working alone today,” Zane said, bringing her attention back to him. “I’m glad.”

  That reminded her of why she’d asked Luna to come in. “I got a call from my Realtor.”

  As if he, too, realized the ramifications of that, Zane paused. “An offer?”

  “Yes.”

  He surprised her by cursing. “Are you going to accept?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m going to his office this afternoon to find out the details. If....” She swallowed, hating to say the words. She loved the old building, and she loved the area. She’d so hoped her unsettled days were over. “If it’s a good offer, I have to take it.”

  Zane paced away from her. He walked over to the door and stared out the window. Evidently not caring that Luna was listening, he said, “Will you do me a favor and wait before making any decisions?”

  She wanted to say yes. She wanted to wait forever, or not sell at all. But she was a realist. “It won’t make any difference. I need to sell.”

  At this point, Tamara figured it didn’t matter if Zane knew everything. She wanted him to understand that she wouldn’t leave him without good reason. “Every day my situation gets a little tighter. A good offer right now would be a blessing.”

  Still without facing her, Zane said, “I could make you a loan.”

  A heartbeat of silence went by before Tamara caught her breath. She shook her head, incredulous that he’d said such a thing. “No.”

  “You have options, damn it.”

  Her temples pounded, her heart ached. “Taking money from you,” she said, forcing the words past her tight throat, “isn’t one of them.”

  He put his hands on his hips and dropped his head forward, as if contemplating things. When he looked at her, determination was plain in his eyes. “If the offer is good, it won’t go away just because you take a few days to consider it.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Then promise me you’ll talk to me before you sign anything.”

  Luna started laughing, and when they both glared at her, she held out her hands. “Sorry!”

  Tamara fretted. She didn’t like giving him so much control, because that made him partially responsible. But at the same time, she wanted every second with him that she could get. “I’ll tell you what the Realtor has to say.”

  “You won’t agree to anything today?”

  “No.”

  His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled at her. “Tonight, what time will you close?”

  With the appointment book open in front of her, Luna said helpfully, “Four o’clock.”

  “I’ll be here at four-fifteen.”

  Tamara felt breathless again, now for an entirely different reason. “Okay.”

  Zane walked up to her and kissed her. She was aware of Luna watching, and also aware that Zane didn’t care. He touched her chin. “Tonight.”

  “Yes.”

  Zane nodded at Luna, who winked, and turned to leave. He’d taken two steps toward the door when it opened and a man stepped inside.

  Arkin Devane was early. And even more surprising, another man walked in, right on Arkin’s heels.

  Zane turned to look at Tamara with lifted brows, curious over this early morning rush.

  Arkin smiled his wide, sincere smile and said, “Tamara! I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t wait a minute more.”

  Zane’s curiosity turned to a frown. Tamara could feel Luna grinning behind her.

  The second man, tall with inky black hair, bulky with muscle, and dressed expensively, looked around the shop with interest. “I gather I’m in the right place.”

  Arkin moved straight to Tamara and clasped her hands. Tamara struggled not to look at Zane; she didn’t want to see his reaction, not when she could already feel the heat of his watchfulness. He was alert, but for what, she didn’t know.

  “Arkin, you can wait in the first room. I’ll be right with you.”

  Luna, being a proper assistant, stepped forward and introduced herself to the second man. “Did you want an appointment this morning?” she asked him.

  The man looked her over, and before Tamara could reach Zane to send him on his way, he said, “Yes, but not with you.”

  He turned to Tamara. She automatically took a step back, unable to stop herself. The man was just so ... intense. And the way he looked at her—with barely veiled surprise, now tinged with hunger. Did he have preconceived notions about her, based on her occupation?

  She forgot her speculations when he gave a slow, very male smile and said, “I want you.”

  Zane had never had a sixth sense, except where women were concerned. And then it was razor-sharp. He’d watched Tamara retreat from the man, and everything male inside him went on red-hot alert. He took an aggressive step forward.

  Luna touched the man’s arm. “I’m sorry, but Ms. Tremayne is booked for the day. You’ll need to make an appointment.”

  Without looking away from Tamara, the man intoned, “I’m Boris Sandor,” as if that held some significance.
/>
  Tamara glanced at Luna, then at Zane, before turning her attention back to Boris. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sandor. My assistant, Luna Clark, can help you set an appointment if you’d like.”

  He shrugged off Luna’s hand. “How much do you charge?”

  Annoyed, Luna propped her hands on her hips and lost her ethereal tone. She named a price, which, going by Tamara’s expression, was a bit high.

  Boris said, “I’ll pay twice that.”

  Arkin stuck his head around the curtain. “Tamara?”

  “I’ll be right there.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Look, Mr. Sandor, it doesn’t matter what you pay, I’m booked, and I can’t leave scheduled clients waiting. If you’d like to see Luna, she’s free. Otherwise, you need an appointment like everyone else.”

  Zane wanted to explode. Damn, it was starting already! He didn’t have to see Luna’s expression to know she was smirking at his discomfort. He’d had no idea Tamara was so popular, and he sure as hell hadn’t envisioned her clientele as male. He’d assumed she dealt mostly with young, fanciful women wanting to know about their boy-friends, or older women hoping to receive a message from a deceased husband or great-great-aunt.

  He realized that he really had no idea what Tamara did. She’d told him again and again that she wasn’t psychic, though he still had his doubts about that, as well as doubting her ability to cast spells. She’d certainly done something to him.

  Her front window advertised palm reading, futures told. Run-of-the-mill carnival acts, as far as he knew.

  Yet two men, both of them appearing to be reasonable, intelligent sorts, were here first thing in the morning, demanding her attention.

  He considered throwing the bulky Sandor out. After all, the man obviously made her uncomfortable with his constant leering, and he was verbally rude to boot. Only the knowledge that she would resent his interference kept him standing there quietly.

  When he leaned against the wall beside the door, settling in for the duration of this little confrontation, Tamara sent him an apologetic, dismissive shrug. He ignored it.

  He might have enough wit left to let her handle her business herself, but no way in hell was he walking out when he could feel her uneasiness.

  She glared at him for not budging, then turned all her annoyance on Sandor. “Luna will give you a card. Feel free to set an appointment for another time.”

  “Your aunt sent me.” He made that announcement as if the queen herself had told him to come calling.

  “I’m sure my aunt told you to set an appointment.” “Of course not. She wanted us to get... acquainted. As friends, not in a professional manner.”

  The way he said “professional manner” was very insulting. Zane watched Tamara’s mouth thin. “Why?”

  “We’re from the same homeland.”

  Zane snorted. “And that would be?”

  Sandor turned to him with a show of displeasure. “Excuse me, but the lady and I are having a private conversation.”

  “In the middle of the shop?” Luna asked, and this time Zane wanted to kiss her for her well-placed zinger. “Besides,” she added, waving toward Zane, “he’s her man. So of course he’s going to listen in.”

  I’m her man. Zane liked the sound of that, as outdated as it might be.

  Boris said, “But your aunt assured me you were unattached!”

  “Her aunt was wrong,” Zane replied lazily, and he noticed that Tamara wasn’t looking at him now, her gaze intently focused on Boris. He didn’t like that.

  Arkin Devane stuck his head around the curtain again. This time he sounded uncertain when he said, “Tamara?”

  Her concentration scattered. “Yes, I’m sorry, Arkin.” She started toward the dark curtain. “Excuse me, Mr. Sandor, but as you can see, I’m rather busy. If you’d like to come back another time—”

  “Tonight?”

  She paused, glanced at Zane, and her face colored. “Ah, no. I already have plans for the evening.”

  “Then how about lunch?”

  Appearing harassed, Tamara said, “I’m sorry, but that won’t work either. Luna, will you see if you can fit him in for Monday?”

  Zane wanted to laugh at the look on the pompous ass’s face. He definitely did not like being dismissed, or put off for so long.

  Tamara didn’t wait around to see if he accepted or not. She ducked behind the curtain, and Zane heard a door close. At least the fellow she was with now seemed unassuming.

  He caught Luna’s eye, and she winked at him. “Arkin has an especially long appointment today. Hmmm. Wonder why?”

  Her suggestive tone raked along his nerves, and he knew damn good and well she did it on purpose.

  “Well, Mr. Sandor? Shall I fit you in on Monday?”

  Face red, Boris nodded. “Around noon.”

  “Sorry.” Luna propped both elbows on the counter, leaning forward with the appointment book in front of her. “That’s her lunch break.” Her breasts fell softly forward, displaying quite a bit of cleavage. Boris gave them an appropriately appreciative look.

  Zane struggled with a grin. At first, he hadn’t liked Luna much, but now she felt like an ally—when her barbs weren’t aimed at him.

  “Fine,” Boris snapped, recalling himself. “When does she have available?”

  “Let’s see.” Luna took her time looking at the book. Boris took his time ogling Luna’s breasts. Pencil in hand, she glanced up finally and asked, “How about two?”

  “I’ll be here.” Without another word, Boris stormed out.

  “Oh my, oh my,” Luna said. “Someone has a burr under his bottom.”

  Zane laughed. “You handled him well.”

  Shrugging, she stuck the pencil behind her ear and grinned. “Part of the job description—handle the crazies.”

  “Are there many of them?”

  “Not usually.”

  “He said her aunt sent him.” “Her family does that a lot. They’re always trying to fix her up.” Luna sauntered around from behind the counter. “And just think, thanks to you, the next time Boris sees her, she’ll look like herself. Makes you wonder how he’ll react to that, huh?”

  Zane almost swallowed his tongue. Damn it, she was right! He briefly considered discouraging her from the change, then shook his head. “No,” he said aloud. “She’s not happy wearing all that camouflage. She only does it because her family makes her feel like she needs it.”

  Luna’s mouth fell open, then she pressed a hand to her heart. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Why?” Zane asked, put out by her exaggerated pose. “What’d you do now?”

  “You’re authentic, aren’t you? You really do have her best interests at heart.”

  “You believed your own nonsense about her embarrassing me?”

  “Yep.”

  He laughed at her honesty. “For about half a minute, you would have been right. Of course, when my brothers met her, she wasn’t just a Gypsy but a soaking wet Gypsy with ruined makeup and a crooked wig.”

  “And they couldn’t understand what the mighty Zane Winston was doing with her?”

  Luna was the type of woman you wanted to hug one minute, and turn over your knee the next. With any luck, some guy would do the honors real soon.

  “You underestimate my brothers,” Zane told her, refusing to react to her sarcasm. “They would never be that rude to a woman, or that crass.” And they had known exactly what he was doing, they just hadn’t been certain why.

  She still looked a little shell-shocked. “You know, Zane Winston, you may be exactly what Tamara needs right now. At least until she sells.”

  “If she sells,” Zane insisted, because he was still determined to find a way to fix things for her. And thinking of that, he glanced at his watch and knew Joe would be waiting. “I have to run. Will you be here with her all day?”

  “Yes, but Monday she’s working alone again, and I have to tell you, you’re not the only one worried.”

  “So we’l
l both try to keep an eye on her, and in the meantime, I’m working on figuring it out.”

  “I wish you luck.” She sent him a level look and whispered, “As long as you don’t hurt her. Because if you hurt her, you’ll be the one who ends up sorry.”

  He realized Luna cared about Tamara, so he didn’t take offense at the warning. Instead, he returned Luna’s earlier wink and headed for the door. Hurt Tamara? Hell, all he wanted to do was keep her safe.

  And make love to her for at least a year.

  Twelve

  Tamara held one of Arkin Devane’s slim hands between her own. There were no dimmed lights, no special effects. Music drifted into the room; Luna had turned on the CD player. She assumed Boris Sandor was gone. Which likely meant Zane had left, too, since he’d only been hanging around as a guard dog. She should have been amused by his protectiveness today, but instead, she’d been oddly reassured by it.

  She tried to concentrate, to say all the words she knew Arkin expected to hear, but the feeling of unease lingered.

  She didn’t like Boris Sandor. When he’d looked at her, she felt his concentration like oil, sliding over her skin, clogging her pores. It had filled her with uneasiness. His interest had first been calculated, but had quickly turned red-hot, even intimate. She’d felt his anticipation overtake the dread. Why? What had he been dreading, and why had his emotional state changed? She didn’t want to deal with Boris, but he’d said her aunt had sent him.

  The level of her awareness had startled her. Zane was the only other man she’d felt like that. Zane was the only man she wanted to feel like that.

  “Are you all right?”

  She met Arkin’s concerned gaze and frowned at herself. He paid good money for his time with her, and here she was, daydreaming. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  The worry in his pale blue eyes remained. “If it’s about me taking up so much of your time....”

  “No, no, that’s fine.” She smiled, and squeezed his hand. “I gather we have a lot to talk about.”

  “But you had to turn that other man away.”

  Her smile slipped the tiniest bit. “That’s okay. I’m sure Luna took care of him. Now, let me see here.”