by Lynde Lakes
Since Hugh came on the scene, her emotions whirled out of control like a runaway tilt-a-whirl. She paced her caravan office, lit only by dim, shadow-inducing lamplight. A clap of thunder broke nearby. She shivered and went to the window as a bolt of lightning arced and illuminated the circus grounds and the still, dark Ferris wheel, giving the usually glowing arcade an eerie quality.
An icy chill slid down her spine. She rubbed her arms and then with a fingertip, she followed a water droplet as it slithered down the outside of the windowpane like a translucent snake. Frowning, she paced again, unable to shake her edginess. She’d always dreamed of performing. And since she’d hit adulthood, her long-term goal had always been to make a successful career with the circus and enjoy a semblance of harmony in her life. She looked upward. Lord, is that so much to ask?
She’d worked hard to be her best self. Long ago with Grandy’s support and encouragement, she’d established her goals and high standards of professional conduct. Each day she challenged herself with self-assurance to fulfill her potential. But since meeting Hugh last night, the ground under her feet trembled as though shivering on a bed of liquefaction.
She plunked down at her desk and thumbed through the circus receipts. She was luckier than some at the circus. She pulled in two generous incomes. Besides entertainer, she was the on-site accountant and book-keeper. A stream of hazy light fell across her desk. She went to the window and stared out. The mist had lifted and the sun poked through the ceiling of gray clouds. Halleluiah! The circus needed the burst of sunshine to draw the crowds. And she needed the brightness to improve her mood.
With the foul weather they were experiencing, it was ironic that the next tune on her CD was “Summertime”.
She sang a few bars then sank back into her churning thoughts. Other than her secret affliction, she was pretty satisfied with her achievements and enjoyed being admired for her show-woman-ship and tiger-handling talents. Everything seemed connected; if she didn’t have the affliction, she might not have had the same bond with the tigers. But was she meeting her own expectations?
Rolo getting mauled during her act had given her a stomach-churning sense of failure, and her necessary secrecy brought on a dangerous moodiness which could contribute to an increased edginess among the tigers. To heighten her challenge, she was forced to take on an inexperienced and very disturbing trainer.
There had to be a way to protect this Hugh fellow, until she could test his abilities. It didn’t help that he was like a sliver embedded deeply under tender skin. Gnawing shadowy images of him under the dim lighting of his caravan flipped through her mind. His thick, dark, highly arched eyebrows and his intense gaze in the haziness were perplexing, a little terrifying, and yet the composite of him seemed to add up to something enthralling and intriguing. She tried to push thoughts of him aside and concentrate on her agenda for the day. But blast it, the agenda included training him.
Due to her sharp tiger hearing, the sound of light footsteps on the steps alerted her. She tucked a strand of long auburn hair behind her ear with tense fingers.
Although forewarned, she flinched at the tap on her door. “Come in,” she said, sensing it was him and mentally gearing up to handle her reaction to the disturbing hunk-of-manhood.
Hugh removed his dripping, water soaked baseball cap, and, ducking, entered the caravan office, filling the space with his imposing presence. His stance was alert, almost coiled like some wary creature from the wilds. He stomped his wet moccasins on the entry rug and shook the silken strands of shoulder-length midnight-black hair in such a way the florescent lights picked up glints of blue in his dark tresses.
She sensed a quickening of her heartbeat and feared her eyes were giving away how glad she was to see this virtual stranger. What was there about him that his mere presence sent her into a tailspin like this?
As though in answer to her question, ridiculous irony struck again, the CD was now softly playing, “Love Walked In.”
No way! her brain screamed while she battled the insane urge to rush to him and run her fingers through the waves. Was his mane as wet, slippery, and silky as it looked? Even in the dreary light, she thought she saw some kind of aura around the man. Her compelling feeling was too strong to dismiss.
She met his gaze unflinchingly for a long moment. His eyes were gray. But gray didn’t get to the essence of those eyes. Not by a long shot. They were striking, unusual eyes. Gentle eyes that seemed never to blink and held hers with unnerving tenderness as if he could see her flaws and accepted them.
She inhaled deeply and gestured to a chair. Even after he sat down, she felt his effortless dominance. She frowned and regarded him covertly. She was getting mixed signals. There was something feral about this new roustabout. Even his damp odor in the close quarters had an earthy quality. His scent wasn’t puzzling. The circus was full of swirling scents, furry and non-furry creatures and being so close to the hills, even woodsy. The scent wasn’t unpleasant. His wary glance flicked to hers and held, captivating her with his magnetism. In spite of his soft gray eyes, she sensed something untamed in this man beyond sex appeal. It wasn’t just his animal presence. Everything about him disturbed her. He was like a fascinating puzzle with missing pieces.
“Mr. Coleman told me to give you this, Miss Tigra.” He handed her a copy of a filled out application.
She flicked it harder than necessary. “Okay, Mr. Hugh Hall. Let’s see what impressed Mr. Coleman enough to hire you.” She glanced over the paper work. “Seems you have some skills.”
“I’m a thorough, hard worker, but I'll leave it up to you to decide if my skills match my claims. If it’ll help, I won’t let you down. I need this job badly.”
His last words, in spite of her shield against it, touched her heart. Damn him. The man was soft-spoken and unassuming, yet he wore his tall, lean imposing height like some damned king of the jungle. She tried not to be overwhelmed by his firm, leanly-muscled body. It wasn’t just his bod that fascinated her. He had about the most arresting, slightly wolfish features she’d ever seen. It was as if the Lord had combined him and something wild and feral to mold the perfect alpha man.
“So, what can you do for me that will make you stand out from the other applicants?”
Did he just blush? Her own cheeks felt warm.
“Er…Whatever the job calls for, Miss Tigra. I’m a quick study.”
She forced her off balance mind to focus on pertinent questions, but it was the most difficult interview she’d ever conducted…yet simple in reality. The boss wanted him, so she had to go along with it.
As they discussed the job, she noted his accent was “California Class.” His intelligent eyes and quick-witted answers to her questions revealed a man who read a lot, and his diction and quick grasp of the operation and what was expected of him boasted of an excellent education and maybe some voice training.
Perhaps he was experienced at rigging tents and setting up the rides, but that wouldn’t have been her first guess. He wore new Indian moccasins. Hmm… “It’s safer to wear thick-soled boots while working on the circus grounds,” she said.
His mesmerizing eyes glinted. “I have boots, and when the job calls for it, I’ll wear them.”
“Good.” She studied him, looking for something else to complain about. His denim jeans and shirt were new, creased, expensive, fit to perfection, and emphasized his long, muscled legs. The denim clung to every curve and bulge of him, showing off the clean design of the cut like a model for high-end classic labor wear. And he had the great abs, pecs, flat stomach, and firm butt to pull off the whole effect. He was definitely too sexy for her peace of mind. What was a man with so much going for him doing apply for a roustabout job? Or did this too-good-to be-true hunk-of-manhood have another reason for joining the circus?
“Do you like tigers, Hugh? You seemed a little wary last night.”
His nostrils flared. There was a reasonable excuse if he caught a whiff of tiger—she trained them. He scooted his
chair forward, moving a little too close for comfort. The feralness about him was dangerous to her sanity.
“I love animals,” he said, “and I’m against people who cage wild animals and try to mold them into domestic pets. But after hearing about the attack on your previous assistant, I decided not to crowd your furry buddies.”
She figured there was an insult in his words aimed at her, but his comment about being against the caging of undomesticated creatures made her like Hugh in spite of her effort not to warm to him. “Animals sense fear.”
“I’m not a particularly fearful man. Just cautious.” Hugh leaned forward. “But what about your last assistant? Your boss said he had a little accident and probably wouldn’t be back.”
They sat looking at each other for several heartbeats, his gray eyes probing.
She took in a deep, fortifying breath. “Rolo was mauled by a tiger and is only hanging on by a thread in an L.A. hospital. It looks like he might not make it.”
She pressed her lips tight to control the tremor in them. The coldness in her tone didn’t express her sisterly feelings of guilt. She’d sent flowers and called daily to check on him, but her affection for the downed Italian Stallion had never been more than brotherly. Still it hurt that their last conversation had been so hostile. If only she could erase their bitter words.
“Was the attacker one of those pets I met last night?”
She stiffened and felt a stab to her heart. “No. The authorities put that dear, unfortunate tiger down. In my opinion, it was cruel and unnecessary, but apparently the circus insurance and public safety required it.”
She held Hugh’s gaze. Would this big strapping roustabout quit now that he knew the danger. “Still want the job?”
“Why not? Did you think I’d run at the first sign of trouble? It sounds like you can use some assistance and I was born to help.” He winked. “Especially damsels in distress.”
Tigra shook her head. “You’ve got a brazen mouth and a flirty eye, Hugh, but you’ve also got guts. I’ll give you that.” She ran her sweaty palms down the sides of her jeans. He had to have an angle. What was he after besides a job? Was he some kind of disguised reporter digging for sensationalism, or an undercover man from the insurance company hoping to uncover something to negate payment? Whatever it was, he’d better watch his step. “I have an idea for a new act. Ready to get to work?”
He laughed. “I’m chomping at the bit. Lead the way.”
Stepping over puddles, she led him across the arcade and inside the Big Top to an empty cage. She gestured to it. “This cage has two false invisible exits, just large enough for a tiger to crawl through. My idea is for you to pretend to turn me into a tiger. I will enter the cage as Tigra, Queen of Tigers and you will place a black weighted curtain over the cage and say abracadabra. Using the false doors I will change places with a tiger. Then you uncover the cage, let him out, and put the roaring beast through its paces without allowing it to eat you. Think you can do that?”
“Sure. If you work with me and the tiger until the animal is used to me.”
“Not much time for training before tonight’s show. That’s why I decided to do this act. I can control the results better than having you do Rolo’s regular warm-up act with five tigers. The tiger, Stripes, is one of the big cats you met last night. He’s well trained. And you won’t have to perform with him for over five minutes and then you’ll herd him back into the cage and say your magic words to make me re-appear.”
“I’ve never studied magic. Perhaps—”
“That’s okay. I’ll handle the illusion part. Your function is simple and the added intrigue should give the crowds a thrill. After we take our bows, you go back behind the partition with the other handlers and I’ll do the rest of the act with the other tigers alone.”
“What if gentle little Stripes decides to eat me?”
She laughed. “We’ll try to remember to feed him an extra side of beef before the act. All you’ll have to worry about is staying away from his sharp claws.”
Hugh arched a wicked brow. “Is that all?” His deep tone vibrated through her. “Good thing I’m a trusting guy.”
She liked his wry sense of humor and wondered if he was really so courageous or just unaware of how dangerous tigers could be. She laughed to herself—especially female tigers.
****
The band finished playing, “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” with a flourish. Hugh wondered if their choice of music was an omen. This is insane. I’m going into a cage with a live tiger. What if it senses I’m a wolf?
The Big Top crowd hummed with mounting tension. The announcer made a big deal out of the news that Tigra was performing a new act with an inexperienced assistant and stressed, in an ominous tone, that anything could happen.
Hugh’s apprehension grew stronger… talk about a werewolf out of the wilds. I’m completely out of my element. Then, Tigra looked up at him with those incredible cat-green eyes and smiled. “Ready?”
He took a deep breath, nodded, and, suddenly feeling daring, defiant, and prepared to match her confidence, he followed her into the center of the performance cage. Then he looked down at himself. Shirtless, wearing skin-tight black leather tights, strutting the way she’d taught him made him feel damned foolish. He pushed his discomfort from his mind and concentrated on her. She was force, fire…and fabulous. She stretched her legs their full length and strutted about a moment in those two little strips of fur, revealing her gorgeous slender body. When she slipped her soft, firm hand into his, electricity sparked between them. Testosterone flooded his system. Together they bent and bowed low. The strip of fur across her breasts somehow magically contained those beautiful tan mounds and the kind of cleavage he’d love to get lost in.
What would she do if he grabbed her and kissed her; sic her tigers on him then fire his butt? Damn. He had serious business to conduct and it was no time to learn he could be a letch around a sexy woman.
He knew the program. With another bow and an exaggerated flourish, he assisted the beautiful Queen of Tigers into the cage. He imagined pulling her down on the cage floor and...
Damn. Damn. With determination, he closed and tested the door to assure everyone the lock was firmly engaged. He quickly covered the cage with the heavy velvet drape and then waved his whip over the top and said the magic word, “abracadabra,” in a booming voice.
In spite of his superior hearing, he heard nothing beneath the drape, no doors clanging, no metal sliding or fur rustling. It didn’t matter; his instructions were to count to ten and then move quickly without hesitation. After the count, he whisked the drape away. And to his surprise, Tigra was gone and a snarling tiger paced inside the cage.
God, protect me, he said silently. Then he took a deep breath, opened the cage door, and let the tiger into the ring. Growling, the beast rushed toward him, its orange body in muscular swaying motion.
Stripes was a Panthera Tigris and the only breed of the big cats with stripes. Though the tigers’ pelt of black on orange made it the most recognizable animal in the world, no two were the same. This tiger was a Panthera Tigris, but it was not Stripes! This cat’s stripes were as distinctive as fingerprints and the animal seemed more powerful, magnetic, and ruthless. Hugh looked closer. And it was a female! Apparently the handlers had decided to use a different tiger. Damn. Changes to the plan were bad, very bad. With a tiger charging toward him, it was too late to complain. Just follow the program. Whatever happens, I’ll bet this moment will be chiseled in my mind forever. If I live through it.
He cracked his whip. The tiger was supposed to get up on the pedestal, paw the air a couple of times and do a few tricks. Then he was supposed to herd it back into the cage. Instead of following the routine, the tigress crept toward him, low to the ground like a predator.
The crowd gasped collectively, apparently sensing he was in trouble. How many spectators knew about the attack on Tigra’s former assistant and thirsted for more spilled blood? Not wanting to har
m the tiger or vice versa, he had to try hypnosis and create a telepathic bond.
Hugh got down on all fours and met the animal’s gaze. The rich iris patterns of this animal’s eyes seemed frighteningly familiar. He knew such markings, like human fingerprints were unique and identifiable with close scrutiny. The tigress looked directly at him, then opened her mouth wide and growled. The hell with pupil analysis. This wasn’t going at all well. Don’t the handlers recognize I’m in a jam? I could shift into a wolf and fight this cat muzzle to muzzle or go for its throat… but…no…no that wasn’t even an option. He intensified his gaze, locking minds with the beast, hoping…praying for a bond…
****
Tigra in her feral cat form was stunned at the impact, and intensity of Hugh’s gaze; she had wanted to test his mettle and found herself being tested equally. She paused, took a deep breath, and through her tiger eyes she stared at him. The glow from the dazzling Big Top lights emphasized his strong features. She yearned to forget the building crisis, and her need to test him, and instead run her fingers through his devastating black hair, alive with blue glints, kiss him senseless, then drag him into the hills and show him what rough tiger-passion was all about. How could she think like that now? It was his reactions! He wasn’t acting like she expected and the unforeseen was turning her on. His direct, honest reaction to a tiger attack was amazing and frightening. She had wanted to throw a little scare into him. Instead, he’d drawn her into some kind of spell. Who was this man…what was this man?
