Circus Wolf (6 page)

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 harm 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?