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

appealing in rags. Her beauty was in her height and grace. She was, he knew from experience in sizing people up, about five foot eight and one hundred and twenty well-arranged pounds. Her legs were long, lightly muscled, very sleek. Her hips and breasts were pleasantly rounded; her waist was very small. Her throat was slender, and her cheekbones were exquisitely high. Her eyes, silver like the fur she had worn, were large, expressive, and framed with rich dark lashes that contrasted arrestingly with the golden beauty of her hair, which she wore in fashionable layers at a length just below her shoulders.

Rafe absently picked up his menu. His assessment of her was totally objective. She was a very beautiful woman, but, more importantly, she was—he hoped—the means to an end. She was his last chance to pick up the trail where it had disappeared into South American bureaucracy. She should be beautiful—she was Tara Hill. Until two years ago, there hadn’t been an American male alive who didn’t recognize her.

“Drink!” Sam said suddenly.

“What?” Rafe queried, frowning.

“Am I supposed to order a drink?” Sam asked.

“Do you want a drink?” Rafe asked. He glanced up to see their young waiter standing patiently.

“Hell, I’d like a whole bottle of Jack Black!”

“Then you should have a drink!” Rafe laughed. He gazed at the waiter, amusement deep in his tawny-gold eyes. “Two Jack Blacks on the rocks, please.”

“Thank you, sir,” the waiter said. “And may I suggest the veal? It’s excellent today.” He walked away.

“Haven’t they got hamburgers?” Sam asked.

“We’ll get you a hamburger,” Rafe promised.

Sam fell silent, sitting very straight in his chair. Rafe chuckled again.

“For heaven’s sake, Sam! Loosen up! You’ll have everyone staring at us. And talk. Act natural.”

“What should I talk about?” Sam ran his finger beneath his collar again.

“Anything,” Rafe replied. The waiter returned with their drinks. Rafe ordered two hamburgers and was assured that he could get them. Their menus were taken away, and Rafe tried to hear the conversation between Tara Hill and the pretty redhead. For several seconds he could barely make out their words. He concentrated harder, then started slightly, aware that they were talking about him.

“I don’t know, Ashley,” Tara Hill was saying ruefully. “It was just the oddest sensation. He stared right at the tiger—oh, it’s really a wonderful, wonderful piece!—but I still had the feeling that he was looking at me.” She shivered slightly, delicately, then laughed. “Too much country living, I suppose. He reminded me so much of that damned tiger.”

“Primitive, eh?” Ashley queried.

“I guess. But then, of course, I finally got up the nerve to walk by him, and he wasn’t after me at all.”

Ashley laughed delightedly, picking up her wineglass. “I love it. Maybe he was after you. Men might well be, you know. Are you forgetting that you’ve been called one of the ten most beautiful women in the world?”

Tara looked annoyed. “Years ago—and any woman can look great with an entourage of dressers and makeup experts. Ashley, he wasn’t staring at me for my looks.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t staring at you at all?”

“I did, didn’t I? I—I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m glad about one thing.”

“What?”

“You noticed him. You never notice men. You talk to them, you’re polite, but you gaze right past them.”

“I don’t—”

“There’s hope! And I’m ever so glad that it’s come now! This trip will be marvelous. I’m convinced we’ll have a wonderful trip! Twelve hours of work, and the rest of our time free! And maybe you’ll actually be willing to dance with someone.” Ashley sobered. “I just—”

“What?”

“Oh, Tara! What happened affected you so drastically that you’ve hidden away from the world for two years! I just wish we weren’t going to Caracas. It’s our main port of call. Are you sure you want to go back?”

Tara smiled a little unhappily. “No. But after what happened, George Galliard might be the only one who’d give me work.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Oh, come on, Ashley! Admit it—I was involved in a horrible scandal. Guilty or innocent doesn’t mean a damn thing once your name hits the media! And maybe it will be the best thing in the world for me. Once we’re aboard the—”

“Rafe!” Sam suddenly cleared his throat loudly. “I say, Rafe, I think I’d like another one of those Jack Blacks on the rocks!”

Rafe stared at Sam, ready to throttle his old friend. “Damn it, Sam!” he exploded, quietly but vehemently. “I just missed something important.”

“You told me to talk!”

“But softly, Sam, softly!”

“Damn kids these days. Can’t make them happy, one way or the other!”

Rafe ignored him. He was a thirty-seven-year-old “kid” but maybe to Sam’s seventy-eight that was young.

“Sam,” Rafe sighed, “if you want another drink, just motion to the waiter.”

Sam started to rise.

“Subtly, Sam, subtly!” Rafe moaned, tugging Sam by the jacket to bring him back to his seat. He caught sight of their waiter and signaled; the waiter nodded and brought two more drinks.

It was then that Tara noticed the men at the next table. The very uncomfortable, older man—and him. The tiger-man. The man from the museum with the cat-gold eyes and midnight hair. And the lithe, tightly muscled build. Unconsciously, she picked up her wineglass—and drained it.

Rafe caught her eyes on him; he saw her stunned—and slightly panicked—expression. Damn! Groaning inwardly, he gave her a smile, raising his glass slightly.

“Well, the best part of this deal,” Ashley was saying blithely between mouthfuls of fruit salad, “is that we get to keep everything we model! Can you imagine? Some of those designs are priceless!” Ashley paused, staring at Tara. “What on earth is it? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s him,” Tara said.

“Who him?” Ashley frowned.

“Don’t look now. It’s him, the man I was telling you about. Who reminded me so much of the tiger.”

Ashley turned immediately.

“Ashley! I said don’t look now!”

“Well, how will I know what you’re talking about if I don’t look?” Ashley stared straight at him. Tara had to do the same thing. He appeared