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

“I…”

Why was she answering him? She owed him no explanations. He was a stranger who had rudely interrupted their lunch.

He was up then, coming around the table, bending his dark head to whisper against her ear, “Try standing again. I’ll steady you. We’ll go somewhere else and get some food into you.”

She moved her lips to form the word No. Sound didn’t come, only the gasp of her breath. Because he was touching her. Hand gently on her shoulders, he was offering his support. She could sense him, feel him, and it was causing that horrible rush and confusion of emotions all over again.

He was strong, secure. He was sexually fascinating in a way that defied all reason and description.

She wanted to fall into his arms; she wanted to disappear, to run, to find some safe place where she might never see him again and therefore never feel the lure of his tiger power….

Too late. She was standing, and his arm was about her waist, long fingers played masterfully over her ribs.

Possessively.

As if the tiger had made the first swipe at its prey.

And the prey…the prey was stunned into submission. The tiger could play a while longer before pouncing for the kill.

She leaned against him too easily. Heedless of the wisdom and intelligence of her mental warnings, she felt as if she had been created just to be held by him.

What in heaven’s name was wrong with her! She was worldly; she was wise. He was a tiger-man, full of vigor and shocking vitality, exuding energy. Tall, remote, carelessly charming—when he so chose.

Blatantly masculine. So unrelentingly sexual that any fool would fall for him at the slightest invitation.

Tara stiffened and straightened. She wasn’t a fool. She had learned a great deal about life, the hard way. She didn’t need any lessons from a man like Rafe Tyler.

And, damn it, the man was after her!

CHAPTER 3

Moments later she was standing, albeit a little weakly, far away from him. Ashley was beside her as Rafe went to the cloakroom with their stubs.

She was amazed to discover that they had been sitting at the table for nearly three hours—it was time for an early dinner, and it might even be logical for them to move to another restaurant with the coming of the evening.

Tara shook her head uneasily. “I don’t think we should be doing this. Oh! We didn’t even pay the bill!”

“Rafe had it put on his tab,” Ashley said blithely.

“Ashley! How could you let him?”

“Tara, it was lunch. Not a night at the Bonsoir Hotel!”

“Still…” Tara paused, not at all sure why she was arguing so strenuously. “Ashley! We don’t know anything about him. He could be a murderer or a rapist. A criminal—”

“How many criminals do you know who keep open tabs at the Oak Room?” Ashley demanded dryly. “And who look and dress like that?”

“Jack the Ripper was supposedly quite distinguished!” Tara snapped back.

“Oh, come on!” Ashley exclaimed, laughing. “You don’t really believe he’s a criminal.”

“No,” Tara murmured uneasily, and dropped the subject because Rafe Tyler was coming toward them.

He was back, their coats in his hands. Tara found herself watching the way his fingers moved over her silver fox, and unbidden thoughts came to her mind. Thoughts of his fingers, his hands, moving with that same careless ease over naked flesh. She flushed, mumbling a thank-you as he helped her into her coat.

Ashley was smiling sweetly. “You’re not a cutthroat or a wild rake, are you, Mr. Tyler?”

He hiked a brow, casting his gaze toward Tara. “Nor any other type of dangerous knave.” He chuckled softly. “I’ve yet to cut a throat, I assure you.”

“Pity!” Ashley laughed. “Tara could use a bit of seduction in her life right now. Work on that one, will you, Mr. Tyler?”

“Ashley!” Tara gasped. She was accustomed to the fact that Ashley said whatever came into her head, but she couldn’t believe that her friend was going this far—with no discretion at all!

“Well, it’s true!” Ashley blandly tossed her short red curls. “She’s just come back to the city from years away.”

“Years?” Rafe Tyler lightly mocked Ashley’s Deep South accent.

“Just two, Mr. Tyler,” Tara said flatly, staring at Ashley with a look that promised murder if she didn’t cease and desist. She stared back at Rafe. “I believe I’m a bit of a loner. I like life that way.”

“Ah, a woman with a mysterious past!” Now he was teasing her.

“Not at all,” Tara lied as casually as she could. “I’m really quite dull.” She had always meant to be dull, at any rate. It was true; as a child she had dreamed of escaping the poverty that had eventually claimed the lives of her parents and that of her baby brother before he’d learned to walk. But her dream had included a house in the country, a husband who loved her, and a whole passel of children. Dreams had taken her from poverty—they had also slashed her heart.

“I know a great Chinese place on Columbus, very casual and busy and lots of people—if you find safety in numbers, Miss Hill,” Rafe said, barely concealing a crooked grin.

“Chinese sounds lovely,” Ashley purred.

His eyes were on Tara. She saw the laughter in them and was suddenly, perversely annoyed. He was doing this to subdue any wariness on her part, she thought. Sure, lots of people, a totally innocent proposition! It doesn’t matter, she wanted to scream. I know you’re after something!

But what was it?

He could have any woman, she realized uneasily. He was just that type of man. Striking and assured, fluid and graceful, every movement hinting at a dynamic excitement that women found irresistible. Nor was she immune, and she had thought herself so savvy and smart….

“Shall we?” he queried. Light sparked, yellow and gold, from the depths of his eyes.

A challenge? A dare? She returned his gaze, a silent answer in steadfast silver.

I know what you are! Lean and hard, as cunning as that tiger, and every bit as charismatic. But