Tempt Not the Cat

by J. C. Wilder

  Until then, he’d make himself at home and, after a good night’s sleep, he’d set out to find Erihn and make her see the light.

  Smoothing his thinning hair back into place, he reached for the door lock.

  Chapter Four

  When did Jennifer get a cat?

  Disoriented, Erihn opened her eyes. Something large and warm lay along her back, and it was purring.

  Definitely a cat.

  Erihn stirred and the purring paused. The animal wiggled against her as if it were annoyed at being disturbed before it stilled and the purring resumed. It certainly was nice waking up to something other than an alarm clock and an empty bed. She rubbed her eyes, wincing at how gritty they felt. Between the storms, her little episode on the stairs, and Fayne’s softly spoken words, she’d tossed and turned most of the night. Only when dawn lit the eastern sky did she manage to drift off to sleep.

  Erihn glanced at the blinking numbers on the face of the digital clock, and was relieved to see the electricity was still on. At least she wouldn’t have to take a cold shower. A sound suspiciously like a snore came from the purring bundle, then a twitch. Cautiously, Erihn turned her head to get a look at her nocturnal guest. Over her shoulder, all she could see was one reddish-brown paw stuck straight up in the air.

  One huge reddish-brown paw.

  No housecat could ever be that size. Adrenaline hit her system and her heartbeat accelerated. Could a wild animal have gotten into the house? She inched away from the sleeping creature until she clung to the edge of the bed. Slipping her feet over the edge, she slid until her knees made contact with the floor. Only then did she turn so she could see her nighttime visitor.

  A massive cougar lay on its back in the middle of the snowy white linens, its face covered by a delicate lace pillow while its tail hung off the foot of the bed. The thick coat looked luxurious and soft as silk in the late morning light. Another snore sounded and the cat twitched, thick ridges of muscle rippled beneath the lush fur. Its front paw quivered as if it were stalking prey in its sleep.

  It was possibly one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen in her life. Of course, she would’ve preferred to see the cat in its natural habitat, not her bed. She glanced at the door leading into the hallway then back at the sleeping animal, trying to determine if she could make it out of the room before it woke up.

  Not likely—

  Then it rolled over.

  Erihn held her breath when its head popped out from under the pillow. Liquid gold eyes stared at her, pinning her with their intensity. She was afraid to move, to breathe, paralyzed with fear and an equal measure of awe.

  The cat stretched out a paw, gently placing it atop her hand where she clutched the bedclothes. She tensed, waiting for razor-sharp claws to dig into her vulnerable skin.

  The paw flexed and the rough pads caressed her hand. Her breath caught when its head dropped, the damp nose brushed her wrist. The whiskers tickling her. The cat removed its paw and its tongue came out and slurped the back of her hand. It was warm and rough just like a housecat, only much larger. The cat nudged her hand as if asking to be petted.

  Tentatively, Erihn turned over her hand and touched the thick fur of its muzzle. It felt like silk beneath her fingers. Gently, she ruffled the fur below the chin. Its head immediately came up and those golden eyes closed in ecstasy as it strained closer for more of the same.

  Erihn chuckled. “Aren’t you just a big baby?” She scratched under the chin then worked around to scratch the back of the neck and the base of the ears. As she reached the warm fur under its left ear, claws extended and snagged the linens as the cat growled in complete submission.

  She stopped. “Hey now, Jennifer will kill me if we destroy the sheets.”

  Intelligent eyes opened and, as if it understood her words, the cat retracted its claws. It leaned forward to lick her cheek, startling a laugh from her.

  She threaded her fingers through the rich fur around its neck. “Well, I like you, too.” She stroked under the cougar’s chin again, and her fingers struck something hard. She frowned as she located a narrow band of amethysts around the cat’s neck. The stones glowed warmly, reminding her of Fayne’s dark eyes.

  “So, you’re domesticated, my friend. I suspected as much.” She laughed as the cat ducked its head and rolled onto its back, exposing its belly. “And spoiled, too.”

  She rubbed its belly, luxuriating in the feel of warm fur beneath her hand. The cat purred loudly, waving all four paws in the air. “What a good,” she paused to check its gender, “boy you are.”

  Slitted golden eyes gleamed as if the cat were amused.

  “So, who do you belong to?” She drew a lazy figure eight on one side of the cat’s rib cage. “One of the neighbors? Maybe you’re a rogue circus performer? Or do you belong to Fayne? He strikes me as a cat person.”

  At the sound of Fayne’s name, the cat raised its head and looked directly at her.

  “Aha, mystery solved. You must belong to Fayne.” Erihn frowned. “It fits, I suppose. I certainly can’t see him with a dog for a pet.”

  The cat made a sound as if in agreement and Erihn giggled with delight. “Well, now that I’ve determined you’re a domesticated kitty…” The cat gave her a baleful look before closing its eyes once again. “I need to take a shower.”

  Giving the cat a quick rub behind the ear, she rose and walked into the bathroom. Large windows that overlooked the valley surrounded a spacious garden tub. Jennifer owned most of the acreage within walking distance of the house, and consequently she didn’t feel the need for curtains in her bathroom. As Erihn mounted the steps to the tub, a breeze blew past her legs. Startled, the cat ran up the steps to the tub. Delicately, it walked along the ledge, careful foot placement ensuring the bottles of bath oil, crystals and seashells were undisturbed.

  “Are you going to take a bath with me?” The cat gave a rude snort and Erihn smiled. “I guess not.”

  She reached for the water controls and turned them on, adjusting them until she got the correct temperature, before turning on the shower. The moment she moved away from the knobs, a big paw reached over and popped the drain plunger, plugging the tub and turning off the shower. Water flooded into the bathtub instead.

  Erihn frowned at the cat only to see that he wasn’t paying attention to her. Sniffing at the bottles of oil, he moved down the row until he selected one. Unsheathing a claw, he snagged the cork from the bottle and tossed it aside. With the flick of a paw, he then knocked the bottle into the water.

  “Hey, now!” Erihn dived for the bottle, rescuing it before the contents flooded the tub. “This is enough oil for a dozen baths, smarty-pants,” she admonished. She located the cork and replaced the bottle on the edge of the tub. “So, I guess I’m taking a bath, now?”

  The cat settled himself into the sunny corner ledge, and, if Erihn didn’t know better, she could swear he smirked at her. She shook her head. No doubt about it, she was overwrought and imagining things.

  She headed for the vanity where a collection of hairpins and barrettes resided in a glass bowl. Selecting one, she grabbed her mass of heavy hair and clipped it onto the top of her head with a bright pink alligator clip. Stacked on her head, her hair felt absurdly heavy. Maybe she should think of trimming it a bit.

  Her hands stilled. She was in her mid-thirties and her hairstyle hadn’t changed since the attack. Long and unstructured, she dutifully had the ends clipped once a year and that was it. Was it odd to keep her long, heavy hair? Hadn’t Mel told her that, as women got older, they should go shorter?

  Erihn stared at her face in the mirror and felt she was looking at a stranger. How long had it been since she’d really taken stock of her face, her body? She used the mirror no longer than it took to moisturize her face and that was it. It had been years since she’d really looked at herself.

  Dark eyes, shadowed by a restless night, stared back at her. She unbuttoned her simple cotton sleep shirt, exposing more of her pale skin
. She frowned. Maybe she should lie in the sun while she was here. She usually avoided tanning since she had a tendency to burn. Consequently, she was as white as a fish belly year round. She dropped the shirt to stare at her naked body for the first time in years.

  At one time she’d known she was beautiful, everyone had told her. Her parents had split up and her mother and she moved to New York. Left on her own most days, she started making the rounds of modeling agencies and within a few months she was working as a runway model. It was at one of those shows that Serena Del Toro, an up-and-coming designer, saw her at work. Captured by Erihn’s coltish legs and fine bones, Serena made her the very first Del Toro model. From that day on Erihn had worked exclusively for the Del Toro house until she’d been kidnapped while on location in Central Park.

  Her entire life had been shattered in that instant.

  Erihn’s hand drifted to the scar that began just below her sternum. Now faded to a silvery sheen, the narrow line cut a path across her skin to curve beneath her left breast. She moved her hand down her stomach where another scar ran from just right of her belly button. With trembling fingers, she followed the path of the scar curving across her abdomen and ending at her hip.

  He’d left her for dead.

  She’d never understood why he’d chosen her as his last victim. The police had never determined a solid victim profile from any of the women he’d abducted. It would appear that age, coloring, size or ethnicity hadn’t mattered, very unusual for a sociopath. Since Chapman had decided death was preferable to being taken alive, they’d never gotten the answers they’d sought. With the police battering at the cellar door, he’d blown his brains out less than three feet away from her after attempting to kill her.

  Tears burned her eyes and she closed them, shutting out the image of her imperfection. Fayne thought he wanted her, but if he saw she was damaged goods, he’d run as far and as fast as he could, just as any other man would. She opened her eyes, avoiding her reflection. She was the only woman who’d survived Chapman’s nightmare to tell about it. Why her?

  She turned to find the cat watching her. Stretched out on the ledge of the tub, its golden eyes flicked over her body and Erihn felt a moment of self-consciousness. His eyes seemed so intelligent, almost human. She had to force herself not to cover her nudity in front of the cat. She grinned. Like he’d cringe from her scars.

  She walked up the steps and into the bathtub, lowering herself into the water. Warmth surrounded her and the scent of rose geranium teased her nose as she settled beneath the cloud of bubbles. Reaching out with her toes, she turned off the water. The cat rose and walked around the ledge to settle behind her, its warm belly supporting the back of her head.

  She giggled when the cat nuzzled her throat. “That tickles.” The cat brushed its whiskers against her shoulder and she scooped warm water into her palm and flicked it at him. The cat moved its head away to avoid getting wet then returned, this time slipping a rough tongue across the nape of her neck.

  Erihn splashed more water at the cat. He backed away and fixed her with an offended stare. “I’m so sorry, your highness,” she teased. She removed the water droplets from his whiskers. Its tongue flicked over her palm, startling her. She smiled and the cat resumed its former position.

  Settling her head against his warm belly, the silence was broken only by the cat’s breathing. With a satisfied hum, Erihn closed her eyes. There was something sensual and very soothing about taking a bath. Unfortunately, with her self-imposed hectic schedule and miniscule bathtub, taking a leisurely bath was a novelty.

  She picked up a washcloth and a large bar of rose-scented soap from a dish. After dampening the cloth, she added the soap and worked it into a lather, enjoying its rich floral scent. Drawing the soapy cloth over her throat, she was acutely aware of the sensuality of the movement. The sound of the saturated cotton moving over her skin, the soft bubbles, the fragrance of the bath oil, and the lulling purr of the cat behind her soothed her in a way she’d never experienced.

  Running the cloth down her throat to her chest, she hesitated then slipped it beneath the water. Lightly she brushed the cloth over the tip of her breast, aware as never before of her body and its reactions.

  She cupped her breast, feeling its weight buoyed by the water. Brushing her thumb over the burgeoning tip, her breath hissed through her teeth when a spark of pleasure ignited. She gave her nipple an experimental tug and the cat stirred, brushing its muzzle against her shoulder as if to encourage her explorations.

  Allowing her washcloth-covered hand to drift lower, soft curls gave way and she cupped her mound. A thrill of naughtiness flowed through her limbs. Spreading her thighs, she breached the tender folds and brushed a finger over her delicate inner lips, parting them. A quiver of delight rushed through her body when her fingertip grazed the clitoris. Never had she indulged in such sensuous play, she’d been too reserved, her upbringing too stringent and her kidnapping too traumatic to even think of such a thing. Wouldn’t her readers be shocked to know that she’d never even experienced an orgasm?

  Erihn drew her knees closer to her body and parted her thighs farther. Waves of sensation rippled through her nervous system and she settled into a slow, rhythmic caress. Her hips rocked with each stroke, her breathing deepened as she imagined Fayne’s hands on her body, caressing her to fulfillment.

  Fayne?

  Stunned, she halted the sensual movement and her eyes flew open. What was she thinking?

  Erihn raised one trembling hand to her face. Her skin felt warm, alien beneath her touch. How could she have behaved in such a shameless fashion? It was one thing to write about sexual play in her books, it was another to act out a wanton fantasy in real life. What had come over her?

  Erihn scrambled out of the bathtub, her hands trembled when she reached for the stack of colored towels. Catching sight of her face in the mirror, she was shocked at how rosy and vibrant her skin appeared. With her bright eyes and flushed cheeks, she had the look of an aroused woman.

  The cat startled her by nudging her hand to gain her attention. It stood beside her, watching her with its deep golden eyes.

  “I’m so confused,” she whispered.

  The quiet, androgynous Erihn she’d known for the past seventeen years was no more. In her place was a stranger slowly being consumed by an unwanted maelstrom of physical desire. She swallowed. It was unnerving to face this reckless woman in the mirror.

  The cat nuzzled her palm. Its warm body leaned against her leg as if to assure her she wasn’t alone. Sinking to her heels, she wound her arms around the animal, taking comfort from the warmth and strength of him.

  Several moments passed and the cat remained passive against her. Then the purring stopped and its muscles tensed. Erihn raised her head, her gaze following the cat’s to the doorway leading into the bedroom. Was it Fayne? Was he coming up the steps? She released the cat and, before she could rise, he sprang away. Clearing the doorway, it streaked through the bedroom. She heard the cat’s large paws thudding down the steps.

  Scrambling to her feet, she pulled the clip from her hair, allowing the heavy weight to tumble down her back. Tiptoeing into the bedroom, she scanned the room and saw nothing amiss. Her open suitcase lay on the chaise, and she began searching for something comfortable to wear for the three-hour drive back to Denver.

  Depression made her limbs leaden as she pulled out a gray cashmere skirt. Her fingertips caressing the heavy, sensual texture of the garment and she had the odd thought that her body felt more alive and aware than ever before. Stepping into the skirt, she luxuriated in the sinful feel of the soft knit against her bare backside. Reaching for her cotton underwear, she hesitated. No one would know if she didn’t put any on, would they? It wasn’t as if the skirt was see-through or anything. And, maybe, she’d forego her bra also…

  Finding a black angora sweater, she pulled it on, luxuriating in the soft weave against her bare breasts. Lace-trimmed anklets and supple suede ankle boots comple
ted her ensemble.

  Never in her life had she felt more naughty, more brazen.

  The house was silent when she exited the bedroom, the faint scent of wood smoke lingered in the air. She walked down the steps to peer into the living room. The mound of pillows remained on the floor before the smoldering embers in the fireplace. She looked away, not wanting to remember their time together in front of that fire.

  A peculiar thudding sound coming from the front of the house, reached her ears. Heading for the front door, she threw it open and a yelp of dismay escaped her at the sight before her eyes.

  Halfway up the drive lay a massive pile pine tree, its roots clawing for the air. Her shoulders slumped. There was no way she’d get a car out of the drive anytime soon.

  Fayne knew the moment Erihn opened the front door. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he felt her gaze sweep his skin. He stood among the tree branches on the far side of the drive, an ax in his hand as he methodically lopped off the branches before tossing them into an expanding pile. Shirtless in the cool morning air, he was coated in sweat and pine pitch. Not exactly a scene ripe for seduction.

  Her boots crunched in the gravel as she advanced toward him. He slammed the ax into the tree then turned. His breath left his lungs in a rush.

  Her knit skirt clung like a second skin to her long limbs, delineating strong thighs and curvy hips. Her breasts swayed with each movement beneath her black sweater, her nipples clearly outlined. Her long dark hair was loose and it hung heavily over her shoulders like a thick brown pelt. He wondered if she knew exactly how much her clothing revealed to his gaze. He ground his teeth when a rush of lust hit his groin. This was not the time to get an erection. His sweatpants might be baggy, but they weren’t capable of hiding morning wood.

  She stopped a few scant feet from him. “This was such a beautiful tree.”