by Jada Turner
"Mostly lovely," replied Eve. "Everyone I've spoken to seems terribly interested in helping this particular cause. Well, mostly everyone."
"Oh, my," said Lara. "Who would be here who isn't interested in helping tigers? Don't tell me it's some corporate boardroom type whose company wants to develop tiger habitat. What would someone like that be doing here?"
"If only it were something like that," Eve sniffed like a tiger picking up a bad scent in the forest Tilting her head subtly in one direction, she said, "Look over there."
"Oh, right," said Clara. "I forgot about her."
Curious and concerned, Lara looked where Eve and Clara were looking. Across the room stood a broad-shouldered man in a long black opera coat with his back turned to them--and facing him was a young, or youngish, light-haired brunette in a leopard-print jumpsuit. Not a tiger's stripes--a leopard's spots. This woman at a tiger-themed party had actually come dressed as the wrong kind of cat. Not only was she inappropriately costumed, she was one of those women--the slender, softly curved, toned, tight-bodied women who were always draped over the men that Lara fancied the most.
Lara disliked this woman instantly. She felt like hissing and spitting at the sight of her. "Who the hell is she?"
"That," frowned Clara, "is Gemma James, a supermodel. Or at least she's still trying to be one."
Lara forced herself not to growl audibly, Oh God, not a supermodel! It was another reason to hate her. This woman was from head to toes what Lara was only from the breasts up. Instead Lara posed the natural question, "What do you mean, 'still trying to be one'?"
"As a publicist I know how to check people out," answered Clara. "She's pushing 40 and the work is starting to dry up, not unlike the rest of her." Clara knew how "catty" she was sounding, but if one were going to be catty anywhere, this was the best place for it. "Her new career is looking for a rich husband to keep her the way she's gotten used to living. The word is, the TV producer she thought she was marrying called off the engagement because he had a roomful of Emmys and didn't need another trophy."
Lara was disgusted. "So she's trolling for a new meal ticket--here, now, dressed up as the wrong cat? Is she drunk?"
Clara shook her head. "She's liable to be on just about anything."
Lara said to Eve, "Well, why don't you just ask her to leave?"
Eve sighed, "Clara advises against it. If she makes an intoxicated scene, it'll put the event and what we're trying to accomplish in a bad light. Usually any publicity is good, but not for an evening like this. So I'm tolerating the little opportunist." She added a hint of a scowl to that last part.
Fuming, Lara looked back at "the little opportunist" and wondered aloud, "So who's that she's hitting on?" When a server brought a tray of champagne and Gemma and her prospective male companion each took a glass, the broad-shouldered man turned around and Lara got a look at what was standing there in the opera coat. In spite of her party manners, Lara let out a very audible gasp.
The man was nothing less than amazing. The black coat, trousers, and boots were all that he was wearing. The coat hung open and exposed a chest and stomach so hard and cut and packed that they were a veritable fortress of flesh. His skin was tanned in a way that one did not get on a beach or at a spa; this man was born that way. Waves of black hair topped a face with shocking, bright-green eyes--and a distinctly feline nose, snout, and whiskers, and orange, black, and white stripes. But the cut and contours of that face spoke of the human features beneath, features handsome enough to burn themselves into the heart of anyone who looked upon them. The sight of him made Lara clutch at her chest as if to stop her heart leaping from her body.
"Who is that?" Lara repeated. "And who did that makeup job on him? That's incredible!"
"I don't know," answered Eve. "His name is Manik. Evidently he's from England by way of India. All anyone here really knows about him is that his money is old, very old. He, on the other hand...makes me wish I were not the age that I am."
"He looks like he should have better taste than to be with this Gemma character, that's all I can say," Lara said.
"Tell it, Girl," Clara agreed.
Lara watched the needy, witless, fading supermodel hanging about the English god with the tiger's face, and with her mouth discreetly shut, she rolled her tongue across her teeth. Why is it always women like her? Always, every time. And what can I do about it? Nothing here. Nothing tonight. And what would I get if I tried to do anything about it? It's not like I can rescue this Manik from this idiot. It's not like he would even want me to rescue him. Unlike what he's made himself up as, he doesn't need anyone to save him. He doesn't need anything from me; I'm the one who needs... She didn't let herself finish the thought. If nothing else, Lara was a professional. She did not let things distract her when she was at work. Not even mysterious and impossibly beautiful men. Unlike this Gemma character, Lara had something to do that was actually of use in this world. She would do what she came to the party to do and let Manik take care of himself.
But oh, how Lara could take care of him. How she could indeed. However, her professional interests coincided just enough with her desire to meet Manik. She said to Clara and Eve, "Well, if he's a guest and he has money, I might as well meet him. He's what I'm here for." Head held high, she stepped away from her friend and her host, brushing aside the layers of meaning in the last thing she said, and headed directly for the model and the man with the tiger's face.
Lara was frankly surprised at herself. People who do not look like Manik--for for that matter, like Gemma--have a tendency to be intimidated in the presence of people who do. Lara was surprised at her lack of intimidation. Perhaps she was walking up to him to introduce herself strictly for business, but somehow she did not think so. Perhaps it was more that she knew this soon-to-be-faded beauty hovering next to him was not good enough for him. She knew nothing about Manik but his name, but somehow she could sense he deserved better than this back-issue cover girl.
Coming just within arm's length of the tiger-faced Adonis, Lara said, cordially, "Good evening, Mr...Manik, correct? My name is Lara Everly. I'm..."
A very masculine, very refined, English-accented voice rolled from his whiskered lips. "...the fundraising coordinator for this event," he finished for her. "Yes, I know. I remember your name from the literature."
Lara tingled all over at the sound of that voice. She barely noticed that Gemma wasn't smiling, and she didn't care. Lara held out her hand. Manik took her hand, bowed down, and gallantly kissed it, tickling her with his whiskers. Lara tingled more and Gemma's eyes narrowed resentfully. Lara still did not care. Manik stood back up, released her hand, and fixed the emerald jewels of his eyes on the pear in the tiger sash. Lara made herself talk instead of staring: "And Manik...is that your last name?"
"Please, I prefer just Manik." Minding his manners, he gestured to the leopard-clad woman beside him. "And this is..."
Now it was Lara's turn to finish for him. "Yes, your date, Ms. James." Deigning to acknowledge the model's presence, she simply said, "Nice to meet you."
"And you, Ms. Everly," the model said simply back.
Manik said, "Gemma isn't actually my date. I came by myself this evening. She's been kind enough to keep me company."
Hooking her arm around Manik's in an almost proprietary fashion, Gemma said, "Manik has been telling me all about India, where the tigers live."
Eyeing Gemma the way a butcher looks at a piece of meat on a hook and selects where to cut, Lara said, "Oh, India, yes. Tigers are indigenous to India, where there's a lot of controversy over land set aside for them. Some people want that land for other uses and if they take it away, the tigers will have no habitat left. Did you see that in the literature?"
Gemma stiffened at Lara's questioning, and Lara knew at once that the model hadn't read a word about the reason for the party. "Um...no, I didn't. But Manik was explaining to me..."
Lara cut her off. "Yes, tigers' natural habitat is India and Asia. But not Africa.
Leopards, cheetahs, and lions live in Africa. Did you realize that's a leopard print you're wearing?"
Gemma's mouth hung open, but no answer escaped it. She looked up helplessly at Manik, who smiled down solicitously at her, then smiled with fascination at Lara. "Uh...um...I think Manik was just about to tell me something about that..."
Manik offered, "Yes, I was going to bring that up just before you came over, Lara." At his using her first name, Lara felt as if a spark had suddenly been lit in the small of her back. She loved the way her name sounded in his voice. "It seems either everyone was too polite or didn't have the heart to point out Gemma's honest mistake. Big cats are not all the same, are they?"
"No, they're certainly not," replied Lara, satisfied that not only had she sliced into Gemma in exactly the right way, but that Manik had even helped her do it.
Anxious to regain her footing with her zoological faux pas made so plain, Gemma put on her best camera-ready smile and said, "I guess I ought to watch more Animal Planet, then!"
"And maybe even some National Geographic," added Lara, and smiled with closed lips. Then, directly to Manik: "I hope we have a chance to talk more later in the evening."
"So do I, Lara," said Manik, with another gallant bow of the head.
Lara turned and went back to Clara and Eve, her beaming smile showing them but not Manik and Gemma how proud she was that she had held her own with one of the women who always took home the choicest men.
The evening segued into a buffet dinner and dessert, after which the Eve and the guests all withdrew into the cavernous living room where chairs and sofas were arranged about a large screen connected to an iMac on a table. Lara took her place beside the table to begin the presentation that would be the party's main event. A member of Eve's staff dimmed the lights. As Lara began, she sought out the the face of Manik in its feline guise and found him sitting on, of all things, a love seat, with Gemma coiled up beside him with her arm once again around his. Hoping that no one would see her nostrils flaring, Lara started the slideshow on the computer.
Images of the tiger in his dwindling habitat, and his man-made plight, rolled one by one across the screen, both the pictures that Lara had viewed earlier on her iPad and others. These and her lecture, carefully studied and prepared over the last couple of weeks, mesmerized the party. Lara did her best to address the entire party and not just single out any one person, but she couldn't help letting her eyes drift to that one figure with the dark coat and the feline makeup. In spite of herself, she kept looking to him and watching his eyes. Even from across the room she could see a gleam in them, a glint of special understanding and perhaps...something more. Something she could not identify or describe, but something very real. The sparkle in his eyes seemed to be accompanied by a sadness, an unnamed and unnameable sorrow. Who is he, really? Lara wondered in the back of her mind. For some reason I think he cares more about the tigers, loves them more, than anyone else here. But who is he?
After the presentation and the applause, the lights came back up and the pledge books, wallets, purses, and checkbooks came open. The guests were generous. Eve gratefully took checks and slipped them into a box on the table beside the iMac. Lara graciously jotted down the names and contact information of those making pledges. Clara flitted about here and there, conferring with Eve's staff on after-party cleanup. At one point Lara saw Manik with Gemma on his arm coming up to Eve and handing her a check. Eve looked at the check and her eyes bulged as if she, for all her wealth, had never seen so much money in her life. She looked up at the dark Englishman with the tiger face as if she could kiss, strip, and ravish him on the spot, and Lara couldn't blame her. As Eve put the check in the box, Manik and Gemma stepped over to Lara.
Once again, Lara had those twin emeralds gleaming down at her. "I want to thank you for this evening," he said. "It meant a great deal to me to be able to help. I want you to know I'll be personally in touch with the groups who arranged this party, and I shall do everything that I can for them. So truly, thank you."
As Manik spoke, Lara heard in his voice the same thing she had seen from afar on his face during the presentation--the same sadness, but even more profound. She was sure that for some reason she detected a feeling of loss, even grief, in his voice. His concern for the tigers was not the concern of an enlightened, compassionate man who cared about the natural world. No, this was something more; it was grief. Manik truly grieved for the tigers. At the bottom of her heart, Lara wanted to know what it was that caused him such sorrow. But all that she found appropriate to say was, "I'll be in touch with them too, Manik. I hope we get to meet again, maybe even work together on another project like this."
"I'd like that very much," he said sincerely. "Good evening, Lara."
As they stepped away from the table, Gemma in her leopard print said dismissively over her shoulder, "Yes, good evening, Lara." Lara smiled civilly at her, watching them head for the outer hall. She noticed that Gemma had not contributed so much as a cent; she had allowed Manik to donate by himself and had not even bothered to sign the pledge book and was now acting as the "date" that Manik had expressly said she was not. Well, I guess Little Miss Leopard has caught what she was hunting for, hasn't she? When they were safely out of sight, Lara let her smile fall just for a moment into a scowl.
A few minutes later Lara asked Clara to take over the pledge book while she excused herself to "the sandbox," using a suitably cat-like reference for the evening. One of the bathrooms happened to be situated just around the corner from the outer hall and the door to Eve's penthouse. As she came to that corner, she heard familiar voices, one male and British, one female and desperate, and ducked back out of sight to listen. There happened to be a mirror on the wall, where she could pretend to be checking herself if anyone came by to see her doing what she should not be doing: listening to what was going on right around the corner. Hearing the voices, she only wished she could see the body language. Gestures at times say more than words.
"Now, Manik," Gemma practically purred. "We've had such a fine time, a lovely evening. Why let it end now? We didn't arrive together, but we could at least leave together."
"I don't think so, Gemma," Lara heard Manik say. "It has been a fine evening, as you say. But it has been a long one and I'd like to be alone a while, to gather my thoughts before I retire."
When Lara heard him say "retire," as in "go to bed," she could not stop herself peering ever so carefully round the corner--just in time to see Gemma put herself in his personal space and drape her arms seductively over his shoulders. Shutting her mouth tight to mute the sound of her gasping, she whipped her head back round the corner even as Gemma said with a more plaintive sounding purr, "But Manik...I haven't even seen you out of your makeup. You could at least let me help you take it off."
Lara shut her eyes at what she imagined must be happening at this point: Gemma letting her hands slink down from his shoulders and unbutton his coat, and her fingers tracing the impeccable contours and ridges of those pecs and abs. All that she heard was Manik saying, "I can take it off by myself just fine, I promise."
Oh, I'll just bet you can, Lara thought. She had no way of knowing that the leopard woman actually was opening his coat, but her frustrated heart told her it must be so.
Gemma's voice came back, "At least let me go with you back to your door. We can say good night there."
"Escorting a lady back to her door is what the gentleman is supposed to do, Gemma."
"That works well enough for me, Manik."
Assuming the one being escorted actually is a lady, Lara silently added.
"See me home, then," Gemma pressed. "We'll have a last drink together at least."
"I've had enough to drink tonight, Gemma. And so, I think, have you."
"Manik! That was naughty!”
"If it was, I'm sorry. We should call it a night before it gets naughtier, then."
"Will you at least call me?" Lara heard a definite pout in Gemma's voice, like that of a little
girl being sent to bed without dinner--or what Gemma so clearly wanted.
"I'd rather not make any promises," Manik answered. "To be honest, I'm not interested in starting anything just now. I'd prefer to be by myself."
Lara's eyes widened at this point. She just had to risk a peek at Gemma's reaction to that. Leaning carefully back around the corner, she saw Gemma taking a step back from the tall, dark, tiger-faced Englishman--and gratifyingly, she saw the front of his opera coat closed. She withdrew around the corner once more, relieved, as Gemma said, "Then can I call you?"
Gently but firmly, Manik answered, "It would be best, I think, if we just said good night."
With this came a moment of dead silence. Not a sound came from the outer hall, and Lara could only imagine the disappointment playing on the supermodel's face. It was the only time since the evening began that she felt the slightest pang of sympathy for Gemma. Finally, she heard Gemma say with the shreds of dignity that she had gathered up in that silent moment, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Manik. The rest of tonight could have been much nicer than the party. Much, much nicer."
"Could I see you out and hail you a cab?" he offered, gallant as ever.
"No, no," Gemma replied. "I can manage. Just walk me to the elevator and I'll be fine. I'm sorry, Manik."
"Don't be sorry," he said. "Just be well."
No more words came from around the corner. Lara heard the door open and close. She imagined the two of them walking in silence down the hallway outside to the elevator to the lobby. Manik, she knew, was not going to change his mind. Gemma the leopard woman would live to hunt another wealthy mate at some other party. At least Lara would never see her again. Nor, she thought sadly, would she see Manik.
CHAPTER 3
The party ended and Lara said her good-nights. On the street outside, snug in her wrap, she stepped to the curb and cast her eyes about, seeking a cab for home. Across the street lay an exclusive five-star hotel with a restaurant and bar on the ground floor. She would not have paid the place any more mind than she would any other enclave of the well-to-do, had she not spied a particular figure with a drink at a table near the front window--a tall, brooding figure in a black opera coat. She permitted herself the gasp that she had stifled while eavesdropping in the penthouse. It couldn't be...
