Bride of the Tiger by Heather Graham (best large ereader .txt) 📗

been so in awe of her smile, of her laugh, of her silver eyes, that he had felt like any anxious lover, determined not to mar everything beautiful between them. And ego had been there, too. Total scorn for anything less than her totally conscious and eager anticipation of the night.

He sighed again and left the balcony. He showered and dressed and went downstairs at five. The newspaper had come. Thank God; he could read and escape his own thoughts.

And wait…for the night to come. He would meet her at the salon again. Dinner and then a show.

Dinner and the show and then…

Slowly! Take it slowly, fool! You’re supposed to be the hard one; you’ve been given a warning that Jimmy never had.

He set the paper down suddenly, feeling slightly ill.

What if she was innocent? The thought brought a harsh, bitter laugh from him, because if she was, she would never forgive him once she discovered why he had been following her.

To hang her, if he could. To use her, if he couldn’t. No, she would never forgive him.

But he couldn’t stop. God, he couldn’t stop. He had to know if Jimmy was alive and needed help….

Or if he was dead, beyond all help.

* * *

“I think he sounds marvelous,” Mary said bluntly. “I don’t know what you’re worried about. You practically attack the man, and he leaves—he takes you to dinner and doesn’t expect a thing. Most unusual, in this day and age.”

“I didn’t ‘practically attack’!” Tara protested, changing from a sequined ball dress to her linen sheath. “And he barged in when I didn’t intend to let him.”

“Yes,” Cassandra interjected, “but trust me! Half the oafs out there think that dinner at a French restaurant is a ticket straight into the bedroom—and they actually get hostile when you say no!”

“And you still think that he’s after something?” Mary queried.

“Of course he’s after something! Her body!” Ashley said cheerfully. “What on earth is so unusual about that?”

“Well, nothing, really,” Mary replied. “Except that according to what Tara said, he could have had that already.”

“Now, wait a minute—” Tara protested again.

“Well, you said that you were feeling perfectly comfortable. And you’d have to be an idiot not to appreciate the man’s…his, uh—”

“Body,” Ashley said bluntly. “God knows, the man definitely has one!”

“No, no, no, it’s not just size and muscles,” Cassandra said dreamily, flouncing about on the plain corduroy-covered sofa in the lounge area of their dressing room. “It’s—it’s—”

“Sex appeal?” Mary queried. “Some men have it and some men don’t. And—” she glanced at Tara curiously “—he’s a have.”

“And he’s definitely infatuated with you,” Cassandra said. “So just what is your problem?”

Tara shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Mary told her. “Tine Elliott was a striking man. You knew it the minute he walked into a room. Are you afraid that you’re becoming involved with another Tine?”

Tara shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. He knows everything about me—”

“Your sordid past,” Ashley said cheerfully.

“Ashley!”

“Well?” she asked innocently. “That’s just my point. What are you worried about? If he thought you were an easy mark because of all that stuff about you and Tine and the mystery man—”

“Jimmy,” Tara said stubbornly.

“Whoever.” Ashley waved a hand in the air. “You’re missing the point. Obviously he’s a very well-behaved gentleman.”

“He’s more than that,” Mary suggested seriously.

“What do you mean?”

Mary smiled and tossed her rich mass of hair over her shoulder. “Children, children, while you gibber and speculate, I take things into hand. I checked up on the man.”

There was a stunned silence in the room. Mary, enjoying her moment, walked regally toward the sofa. Ashley was quick to sit up and give her room. Cassandra and Tara glanced at each other and hurried over to her.

Tara planted her hands on her hips and stared down at Mary squarely. “Well?”

“His name is Rafael Tyler—”

“Mary!” Ashley snapped. “We all know that!”

“Aha! But do you know what that means?”

“No, what?” Tara demanded.

“Well…” Leisurely, Mary stretched out, setting her long legs on the coffee table, studying her blood-red nail polish.

“Mary, get to it!” Tara persisted.

Mary drew her legs up and smiled excitedly. “He can’t be after your money, Tara. He’s incredibly wealthy. He inherited one of the largest fleets of privately owned ships in the world. He also owns at least a dozen fine jewelry stores—somebody in his family learned early that the Caribbean ports could legally supply wonderful gems that could be sold in the States. Oh, and of course, the stores are all over the Caribbean, and South America, too. They’re called Tyler and Tyler. Not terribly original, perhaps, but I doubt that he named them. His father was a sailor out of Glasgow who found the American Dream.”

Tara lifted her eyebrows. “Sounds all right so far,” she murmured. Mary still looked excited.

Tara grimaced. “Go on. You’re going to choke on your information if you don’t get it all out soon.”

Mary laughed. “Okay. The man has never been married. He’s considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. He sails, races, plays polo and keeps his finger on the pulse of his varied interests. He could court heiresses—or princesses!—and be considered quite suitable.”

“So why would he be interested in Tara?” Ashley queried, confused.

“Thanks a lot!” Tara told her.

“Well, you’re not a princess. Or an heiress.”

“He doesn’t need money!” Cassandra exclaimed. “Just love! I think it’s marvelous. Just like a fairy tale. He sees her once. Their eyes lock across a crowded room—”

“It was an empty museum,” Tara said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, quiet! You’re destroying my fantasy!” Mary said, annoyed. She cleared her throat dramatically. “Their eyes meet—and it’s love at first sight. Passionate, desperate love. He trails her, he finds her, he sweeps her away to a life of luxury—”

“She already lives in a penthouse overlooking the park,” Ashley interjected, laughing. “And she isn’t exactly cleaning out chimneys at the moment, either.”

“It’s still just like a fairy tale,” Cassandra persisted.

Tara shook her head, looking at Mary. “That’s all? You didn’t discover anything…strange about him?”

“Strange? No. He’s