Kiss an Angel (13 page)

of his breath on her ear. "We're married. It's all right."

"We're circumstanced."

He drew back far enough for her to see the amber flecks glimmering in his eyes. "I think it's time we make our circumstance official, don't you?"

Her pulse jumped, and she couldn't have moved away from him if she'd wanted. As she gazed upward, she felt as if their surroundings had faded away until nothing was left but the two of them.

His mouth looked strangely tender for something with such hard edges. His lips parted and brushed over hers. At the same time, he pulled her close, where she felt him big and heavy against her. As his mouth settled, she experienced a moment of wonder. His lips were warm and gentle, such a contrast to the rest of him.

She parted her own because she could no more have closed herself against him than she could have

flown to the moon. He drew at her bottom lip and touched the tip of her tongue with his own. The sensation sent her spiraling, and she wrapped her arms around his hips, feeling the silky material beneath her palms. She dug the heels of her hands into his buttocks.

He groaned against her mouth. "God, I want you." And then his tongue plunged inside her.

Their kiss turned into a wild animal mating. He lifted her against him and carried her backward, where he pushed her against the counter. She raised her hands to clutch at his back for balance. He stepped between her legs, and the jewels on his sash dug into the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

Her tongue caressed his. His soft groan echoed in the warm cave of her mouth.

She felt his hands fumbling at the back of her neck. He moved just far enough away to peel her costume to her waist.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, looking down at her. He lifted her breasts in his palms and brushed his thumbs over the crests, sending pleasure ricocheting through her. He began kissing her again while he teased the nipples.

She clutched his arms and felt their strength through the billowy sleeves.

He abandoned her breasts and clasped the back of her thighs at the place where they met her bare bottom. It was all too much for her. The bite of the jewels into her thighs .. . the soft caress of his

hands .. .

"Five minutes till spec!" A fist slammed against the door of the trailer. "Five minutes, Alex!"

She jumped like a guilty adolescent and slid away from the counter. Turning her back on him, she fumbled with her costume. She felt hot and queasy and terribly upset. How could she be so eager to give herself to a man who hardly ever said a kind word to her, a man who didn't believe in honoring vows?

She rushed toward the bathroom only to have him stop her before she got there with the soft, husky sound of his voice.

"Don't bother making up the couch tonight, angel face. You're sleeping with me."

7

While Sheba checked the cash drawer, then went through a stack of papers in the office, Daisy sold tickets to latecomers for the second show. She performed the motions mechanically, smiling automatically at the customers but so rattled by the passionate kiss she had shared with Alex that she barely heard what anyone was saying. Her body grew warm at the memory, but at the same time she felt ashamed. She should never have given herself to him with so much abandon when he regarded their marriage with so little respect.

The music for spec came to an end, and Sheba left the red wagon without speaking. Daisy closed the ticket window and was straightening the cash drawer when Heather appeared. She wore her gold-spangled costume, and her makeup looked harsh on such a young face. Five red rings dangled from her small, thin wrist like giant bracelets, and Daisy wondered if she went anywhere without them.

"Have you seen Sheba?"

"She left a few minutes ago."

Heather glanced around as if to make certain they were alone. "You got a cigarette?"

"I had my last one this morning. It's a disgusting habit, not to mention expensive, and I'm making myself quit. You'll regret it if you get hooked, Heather."

"I'm not hooked. It's just something to do." Heather began idly walking around the office, touching the desk, the top of the file cabinet, flicking through a calendar on the wall.

"Does your father know you smoke?"

"I suppose you're going to tell him."

"I didn't say that."

"Well, go ahead," she replied belligerently. "He's probably going to send me back to my Aunt Terry's anyway."

"Is that where you were staying?"

"Yeah. She's already got four kids, and the only reason she's willing to take me is because Dad pays her and she needs the money. Plus, she gets a free baby-sitter. My mom didn't used to be able to stand her." Her expression grew bitter.

"He can't wait to get rid of me."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"You don't know, do you? He only likes my brothers. Sheba says it's not my fault because he doesn't know how to relate to a woman he can't have sex with, but she's just trying to make me feel better. I keep thinking if I could juggle better, he might let me stay."

Now Daisy understood why Heather always carried the rings around. She was trying to earn her father's affection with her juggling. Daisy knew all about trying to please a disapproving father, and her heart went out to this young girl with her fairy-sprite face and gutter mouth. "Have you tried to talk to him?

Maybe he doesn't understand how strongly you feel about not going back to your aunt's."

She pulled on her tough-girl face. "Like he's going to care. And look who's giving advice. Everybody's talking about you. How Alex only married you because you're pregnant."

"That's not true." The cellular phone buzzed before Daisy could say more, and she went over to the

desk to answer it. "Quest Brothers Circus."

"Alex Markov, please," a male voice on the other end replied.

"I'm sorry, but he's not here at the moment."

"Will you tell him Jacob Solomon called? He has my number. Oh, and Dr.

Theobald is trying to get in touch with him."

"I'll let him know." As Daisy hung up the phone and wrote down the message for Alex, she wondered who these people were. There was so much about him she didn't understand and he seemed unwilling

to reveal.

She realized Heather had left some time during the phone call. With a sigh, she locked up the cash drawer, turned off the lights, and left the trailer.

The workmen had already taken down the menagerie tent, and once again she found herself thinking about the tiger. She wandered over toward the place where the tent had been, feeling almost as if she

had no control over her destination.

The cage sat on a small flatbed about three feet above the ground. A rim of light cast by the floodlights threw harsh shadows over the animal inside.

Daisy's heart pounded as she approached, and her steps slowed. Sinjun rose and turned toward her.

She froze as she received the impact of those golden eyes. His gaze was hypnotic, both direct and unblinking. A chill slithered along her spine, and she felt herself dissolving in those golden tiger eyes.

Destiny.

The word trailed through her mind, almost as if she hadn't put it there herself, almost as if it had come from the tiger.

Destiny.

She wasn't aware that she had walked closer until she smelled the tiger's musky scent, a smell that should have been unpleasant but somehow wasn't. She came to a stop less than four feet from the iron bars and stood without moving. The seconds ticked away, growing into minutes. She lost all sense of time.

Destiny.
The word rattled through her head.

The tiger was a huge male animal, with enormous paws and a bib of white beneath its throat. She began to tremble as he twisted his ears so that the oval-shaped white markings on their backs showed, and somehow she knew it wasn't a gesture of friendship. His whiskers fanned. He bared his teeth. Perspiration trickled between her breasts as an awful hissing roar erupted from his throat, a demon's sound that belonged in a horror movie.

She couldn't lower her eyes, even though she somehow knew that was what he wanted. His unblinking stare bore a challenge; she was to look away first. She wanted to look away—she had no desire to defy

a tiger—but she was paralyzed.

The bars seemed to evaporate between them so that she no longer had any protection from him. His sharp claws could rip open her throat with one swipe of his paw. Even so, she couldn't move. She stared at him and felt as if a window into her soul had opened.

Time ticked by. Minutes. Hours. Years.

With eyes that no longer seemed to belong to her, she saw all her weaknesses and inadequacies, the fears that kept her prisoner. She saw herself floating through her life of privilege, swept along by wills stronger than her own, afraid to confront, trying to please everyone except herself. The tiger's eyes revealed everything she wanted to keep concealed.

And then he blinked.

The tiger.

Not her.

With a sense of astonishment, she watched the white markings on his ears disappear. He stretched his great body back down on the floor of the cage, where he regarded her with deadly gravity and delivered his own verdict.

You're soft and cowardly.

She saw truth in the tiger's eyes, and her moment of victory for having won their staring contest vanished, leaving her legs weak and rubbery. She lowered herself into the weeds, where she hugged her knees and sat silently watching, not quite so frightened, merely drained.

She heard the closing music from the final act and was dimly aware of the voices of the workmen as they moved around the lot, along with the noises of the concessions being packed away. She'd had so little sleep the night before that she grew drowsy. Her lids sagged but didn't close. She propped her cheek on her knee and continued to watch the tiger through half-shut eyes as he watched her in return.

They were alone in the world, two lost souls. She felt every thud of his heartbeat. His breath seemed to fill her lungs, and gradually her fear evaporated. Instead, she experienced a deep sense of peace. Her soul melded with his— they became one—and at that moment she would have been happy to be his food and sustenance because no barrier existed between them.

And then—more rapidly than she could have imagined— her peace shattered, and she was hit by such an explosion of pain, she groaned aloud. In the farthest reaches of her mind, she understood the pain was coming from the tiger and not herself, but that made it no less acute.

Sweet Jesus.
She clutched her stomach and doubled over. What was happening to her? Sweet Jesus, make it stop! It was too much to bear.

She slumped forward. Her cheek pressed into the dirt. She knew she was going to die.

As abruptly as the pain had come, it disappeared. She gasped for air.

Trembling, she pushed herself to

her knees.

The tiger eyes burned with quiet rage.

Now you know how a captive feels.

* * *

Alex was furious. He stalked through the lot with Sheba Quest at his side and a whip coiled in his fist. It was Saturday night, payday for the workers, and some of them were already drunk, so he carried his bullwhip as a deterrent. At the moment, however, it wasn't the workers who were giving him difficulty.

"Nobody steals from me!" Sheba declared, "and Daisy's not going to get away with this just because

she's your wife." The low, clipped tones of the circus owner's voice underscored her anger. Her red hair blazed behind her, and her eyes shot sparks.

Alex's deathbed promise to Owen had placed him in a constant struggle of wills with his widow. Sheba Quest was his employer, and she was determined to push him as far as she could, while he was equally determined to honor Owen's wishes. So far, it had been a series of compromises satisfying neither one of them, and open warfare had been inevitable.

"You don't have any proof that Daisy took the money."

Even as he spoke, he was angry with himself for trying to defend her. There was no other suspect. He wouldn't have put it past her to take his money—she seemed to regard that as her due—but he hadn't expected her to steal from the circus. It just showed that he was still capable of letting his sex drive interfere with his good judgment.

"Get real," she snapped. "I checked the cash drawer after she came back on duty. Face it, Alex. Your bride is a thief."

"I'm not making any accusations until I've had a chance to talk to her," he said stubbornly.

"The money's missing, isn't it? And Daisy was in charge. If she didn't steal it, why has she disappeared?"

"I'm going to find her and ask."

"I want her arrested, Alex. She stole from me, and as soon as you find her, I'm calling the police."

He stopped in midstride. "We don't ever call the police. You know that as well as anyone. If she's guilty, I'll take care of her just like I'd take care of anybody else around here who breaks the law."

"The last person you took care of was that driver who was selling dope to the workers. There wasn't a whole lot left of him when you were done. Is that what you're going to do to Daisy?"

"Lay off."

"You're a real shit, you know that? You're not going to protect your dopey little bimbo from this. I want every cent back, and then I want her punished. If you don't do it to my satisfaction, I'll make sure the

law does."

"I said I'd take care of it."

"See that you do."

Sheba was the toughest woman he knew, and now he looked her straight in the eye. "Daisy doesn't have anything to do with what happened between the two of us. I don't want you trying to get to me through her."

He saw a flash of the vulnerability she so rarely displayed, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I hate to deflate that ego of yours, but you seem to have an exaggerated idea of your importance to me."

She walked away, and as he watched her go, he knew she was lying.

The two of them shared a long, complicated history that went back to the summer he had just turned sixteen, when he was spending his school vacation traveling with Quest Brothers and listening to Owen's views on manhood. The Flying Cardozas had also been with the show that summer, and Alex was immediately besotted with the twenty-one-year-old queen of the center ring.