Romance: In Love With A Beast (Paranormal BBW Panther Shifter Romance) (Shapeshifter Mystery Alpha Werebear Romance Short Stories) (41 page)

In the documents that had pictures and illustrations in them, Lara saw page after page with images of tigers: in tall grass, in forests, in water and by the sides of streams. She saw them in zoos and in performing acts. As she kept paging through, so many of the things that she saw disturbed her, dismayed and appalled her, made her almost want to cry. There were images of places with tiger skins stretched out, stripped and ripped from the beautiful animals after they were slain. There were pictures of places where tigers' body parts were sold as trophies, as delicacies, and for quack "medicines". She saw pictures of hunters standing proudly with their guns beside the bodies of tigers they had shot.
What the hell do you have to be so proud of?
she thought. As a fundraiser, Lara worked mostly with things about which she had no personal feelings. Most of the time she was only helping people collect money, and the work was only work. But this was different. What men were doing to the tigers, whose numbers had fallen precipitously into mere thousands in isolated pockets of the wild, was nothing less than the destruction of something beautiful. The destruction of beauty, the rendering of beauty into extinction, made Lara want to cry. Or get very, very angry. This time it was not just a job, just a thing to pay the bills. This time it meant something. She bit into a truffle and felt like a tiger biting into a deer.

By the time she finished lunch--which the chocolate did not spoil--and she had to shower and dress for the party, Lara had fixed her mind on the work awaiting her. She could not show the people at the party how she really felt. She had to keep it all on a professional level. She would keep it professional--and she would get results. The theme of the party, which was being held at a penthouse just off the park near the river, was in fact tigers. Everyone invited was required to wear something to evoke the image of the big striped cats. Lara imagined the tableau that would meet her eyes when she walked in, as the party filled up; all the tiger outfits that people would be wearing. Some, she guessed, would even be in costumes. Back at the mirror, she let the corner of her mouth turn up in a wry smile at the thought of being in a penthouse full of stripes, whiskers, ears, and tails. For her part, Lara chose to don the shoes from earlier and her slinkiest black strapless formal, or at least the slinkiest such dress made for a pear. This she accented with a sash across the waist, for which she had searched high and low in the city and which she had finally found on line--a silk sash with a tiger skin print. She was satisfied that it was appropriate for the evening and for the part she would be playing in it; tasteful and not ostentatious. Ruffling her hair one last time and putting on her black tiger-print wrap--another painstaking find--she was ready to go to work.

CHAPTER 2

The party was held in a penthouse taking up the uppermost two floors of a building of condos in the toniest, ritziest part of town, on a street that looked as if one should have a six-figure income just to walk there. The penthouse itself looked as much like a museum or an art gallery as a place where someone lived. It was all huge picture windows, vast and spacious rooms, wide stairways, brass railings, an indoor water fountain with koi fish swimming in the pool, and sumptuous furniture, all done up for the evening with potted palms, exotic ferns, and wild flowers to suggest a rain forest. This was the home of the very monied widow Mrs. Eve Dwight-Harrington, a member of that idle rich benefactor class whose names one saw in the lists of donors to arts and cultural programs on Public Television. Arriving at the party, Lara found her friend Clara Olstead, a friendly looking African-American woman, standing near the door, mingling with various tiger-garbed guests. Lara was an old friend that Lara had met after college; as a freelance publicist and party planner she traveled in many of the same circles as Lara herself.

Clara noticed Lara and excused herself from the people with whom she was chatting. With a broad smile, she went over to Lara and gave her a hug. Lara grinned at Clara's tiger-striped tiara, arm bands, and bracelets accenting her eggshell-colored dress. "Looking good, Girl," she said.

"You too, Girl," Clara said back. "Come say hi to Eve." Clara took Lara by the arm and together they made their way among people in tiger suits, tiger masks, tiger hats, tiger coats and jackets, and the like, to where a middle-aged lady in a tiger print dress stood looking like a Hollywood star from the 1940s. "Eve," called Clara, "Lara's here."

The older woman turned her attention to the two younger women and smiled warmly. "Lara, Dear, good evening."

Lara clasped hands with Eve, returning the smile. "Hello, Eve. So nice to see you again. I've been so looking forward to this. It's good to take on a project that means as much as this. How is everything going so far?"

"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.