Wildcat Blues Read online

  But these fields appeared to have been left empty—to regrow the patchy grass maybe—or could be she was running on some vegetable fields left fallow for the season. So it wasn’t until she was out of sight of the house that she caught the hint of an animal scent.

  She sniffed. “Horse.”

  About to head in the opposite direction, she was halted by another scent entwined with that of the horse’s: Tanner Larkspur.

  Her face flushed, her thighs clenched, and she made a bad, bad decision.

  She turned in the direction of his scent. She wouldn’t go too close, wouldn’t scare his horse. She just wanted to…to… “You just want to eat him up with your eyes, Zara ‘Terrible Decision’ De Lêon, that’s what you want!” she muttered to herself. “Admit it. He’s like a live porn movie as far as your misbehaving hormones are concerned.”

  Then there he was, out in the distance. The land wasn’t flat here, was kind of gently rolling, and he stood near a tree on a rise beyond the dip in front of her. He was doing something with a fence post. Fixing it maybe?

  The man was also not wearing a shirt or a tee.

  Zara threw up her hands. That was just ridiculous. The sun wasn’t even really up yet! How dare he flaunt himself to an innocent woman minding her own damn business.

  His head lifted, though there was no way he should’ve sensed her. He was human, didn’t have her nose. But he tipped his cowboy hat back on his head…and smiled. She could feel the sexy punch of it even from so far out.

  Her breasts seemed to swell in the confines of her bra, her skin suddenly hyper-hot.

  And that was before he patted his horse, then started to walk toward her.

  She should’ve turned around and continued her run in the opposite direction, but Zara didn’t run from anyone. Especially not a six-feet-plus tall man who smiled at her like she was his favorite flavor of ice-cream. “Such a bad idea, Zara,” she muttered under her breath. “Farm boy. Farm boy.”

  The litany was a reminder of all the reasons she couldn’t and shouldn’t do this. Which was why she didn’t understand why she was running toward him, her wildcat pouncing at her skin in excitement, and her heart thumping against her ribcage.

  She had enough control to stop halfway to his horse. Leaning up against the fence with both arms, she caught her breath. It hadn’t been a long run for a cat, and she wasn’t huffed because of the exercise.

  It was him.

  He reached her not long afterward. Stepping far too close, until she could’ve spread her hand on his bare chest without fully extending her arm, he smiled that lethal smile again and said, “Good morning, Zara.” The way he drawled out her name, it made it into something indecent.

  “Tanner,” she said through a mouth that had turned into a desert. “You’re up early.”

  “Farm hours,” he said, leaning up against the fence with one arm. “What’s your excuse, kitty cat?”

  She narrowed her eyes. Had anyone else called her that, she’d have kicked him where it hurt. But… Oh, hell. “Early riser, farm boy.”

  He grinned at her sharp retort. “I am that,” he said, easy as pie and as delicious. “Did you sleep okay? Strange place and all.”

  “Yes. Until your suicidal rooster decided to sing me a demented aria.”

  His laughter was warm caramel sliding over her skin, getting into places it had no business going. “You got a little time? I can show you around the farm a bit.”

  Say no, Zara, recommended the sensible part of her brain.

  The hormones cackled, and her lips parted. “What about your fencing?”

  “It’ll keep.” His eyes lingered on her face, on her lips…as if he’d eat her up. “We’re in a small seasonal lull at the farm. That’s why Tally times her visits around now. So no one’s in a rush.”

  “Oh. I don’t know much about farms.”

  “You will,” he said, his lips curving again. “After your tour with a farm boy.”

  “Right.” She flushed again, when she wasn’t a woman who went around mooning over men. Thank you to her parents for the dark tone of her skin. It hid all kinds of sins, including lusting after one out-of-bounds cowboy. “Shall I meet you back at the house?”

  “Race you? Star there is fast, but you run like you own the wind.” He held her gaze full-on. Not a battle for dominance, but a connection that made her cat purr and arch its back. “You’re beautiful to watch in motion.”

  Toes curling inside her running shoes, she pushed off the fence before she gave in to the primal wildness inside her and pounced on him. She liked being petted and praised by Tanner Larkspur. Especially when he looked at her that way, with those dark eyes so focused on her that it was as if nothing and no one else existed.

  “I’ll wait for you to get back to your horse to keep it fair,” she said, her voice holding a slight huskiness.

  “I’ll see you soon, kitty cat.” He turned to jog back to his horse.

  “Oh, mercy,” she whispered, because watching Tanner move… She fanned herself while his back was turned and he couldn’t see her combusting.

  Then he was pulling himself up onto Star, and the race was on.

  She stretched out at full feline speed, giving no quarter as they raced home. He kept his horse at enough of a distance from her that the animal wouldn’t spook, but she could feel the vibration of Star’s hoofbeats, and knew she was smoking Tanner.

  So she wasn’t the least surprised to reach the front door and look back to find him still halfway across a field. She waited. For what, she didn’t know…not until he grinned and lifted his hat to sweep it down in a salute.

  Her own lips twitched.

  Yeah, so he didn’t mind that she’d beaten him, was a man confident enough of his own strength that hers didn’t frighten him. As a younger woman, she’d had the misfortune to date someone who was scared by her—then—burgeoning confidence, and who’d delighted in making her feel less.

  Never again would Zara permit any man to make her feel that way.

  “And none of that has anything to do with Tanner,” she told herself sternly. “He’s just being a nice host and you’re being a friendly guest. That’s all.”

  She even half-believed her stern pep talk through her quick shower and change—into a pretty yellow sundress, her curls out. She completed the outfit with white canvas sandals that were totally impractical for a farm, but that made her feel good. Then she stepped out the front door again, to find Tanner waiting for her beside what must’ve been an old farm vehicle. It was dented and scratched, the color a faded camo green, and it looked as tough as a grizzled old leopard.

  Tanner’d changed too, was dressed in well-worn jeans that hugged his thighs, and a black tee that was loose enough not to hug his biceps. But Zara had x-ray vision now that she’d seen him half-naked once. She could imagine those biceps, count the ripples on his stomach.

  Her mouth watered.

  Opening the door of the vehicle, he said, “You look like sunshine,” and her cat preened.

  Vain, vain, vain. But his words still made her happy. “You clean up nice, too,” she said in return, even though she liked him dirty just fine.

  A languid smile that creased his cheeks and lit up his eyes was her reward.

  Reaching the vehicle moments later, she saw the distance from the ground to the seat.

  “Want some help?” murmured a deep male voice at her back, Tanner’s heat burning through her dress.

  She wanted to angle her head in a silent invitation for him to kiss the slope of her neck as he stroked his hands— Focus, Zara!

  What had he asked? If she wanted a lift.

  Zara was a wildcat. She lived in an aerie in a tree. She climbed on a daily basis. But she turned and said, “Yes,” and Tanner put his big, warm hands on her waist, lifting her up until her mouth was at the same level as his. Her hands landed instinctively on the muscled power of his shoulders.

  Their breaths mingled in the space between.

  Her heartbe
at turned into a drum.

  Tanner’s smile faded into something darker, more intimate.

  And her claws sliced out of her skin, pricking him through the soft cotton of his tee, her wildcat in no more mood to wait for a taste of sexy, gorgeous, all-wrong-for-her Tanner Larkspur.

  Part 3

  Tanner’s eyes flicked to the farmhouse. “Hold that thought, kitty cat.” It came out hoarse, Tanner making no attempt to hide his response to her. “I have a feeling we’ve got an audience.”

  Zara didn’t much care, but then, she was a cat. She could be a showoff at times. “The twins?”

  “Nope. I think it’s Ma.” A wicked grin. “Probably praying to all the gods in the universe that you rope me good and well, and she can finally stop worrying about her bachelor son.”

  Zara snorted. “I don’t think you have any trouble getting dates, Tanner Larkspur.” He was a tall drink of sexy deliciousness. Just the kind of man who’d ride her hard and probably leave her wanting.

  A twinkle in his eye, he put her into the passenger seat, then shut the door.

  As he ran around to get into the driver’s seat, she frowned to herself. This was Tally’s brother, and Tally was Zara’s friend. “We’re not about to do something stupid, are we?” she said when Tanner got in.

  He shot her a dark-eyed glance, a sudden seriousness to him that made her skin prickle. “You worried about Tally?”

  “I just don’t want to overstep.” It sounded so stuffy put that way, so she tried again. “There are rules when it’s the brother of a friend.”

  Another slow smile. “Shall I tell you how many times she’s told me I need to meet her friend Zara, that she’s sure we’d get along like a house on fire?”

  Blinking, Zara twisted on the seat. “She did not.”

  He reached out to tug on one of her curls, watched it bounce. As if he was the cat and not her. That she was allowing him all these skin privileges…yeah, she was in trouble.

  “She showed me photos too,” Tanner said. “Oh, she’d send them through saying it was of her and Clay, or the kids, but oh, what a coincidence, there’s Zara in the background, or posing with Noor on an ice cream date, or oh, look, there she is being a badass architect on a building site with Clay.” He winked. “I like your cute pink hardhat and black work boots with silver stripes. You look like you could kick ass.”

  Zara’s mouth had fallen open halfway through that recitation. Snapping it shut, she fought the blush on her cheekbones. “I spray-painted my hardhat pink when I was on my first building site and assh*le men kept trying to talk down to me. I thought, if I’m going to deal with this sh*t anyway, I might as well do it in gear that’s me.”

  Tanner chuckled as he pulled away from the house. “You still have problems?”

  “No, not these days.” She’d built her reputation, earned her stripes—and was no longer young or unsure. “And I never really had it with DarkRiver. They’re used to strong women—those work boots were a gift from the pack after a major project where I pulled an architectural solution out of thin air when we ran into an environmental issue no one had foreseen. Leopards had them custom made.”

  Her lips curved. “The rush of finding the solution was enough, but I wasn’t about to turn down freaking amazing steel-toed boots designed to be protective and stylish.”

  Tanner shot her a considering glance. “You really love your work.”

  “Yes, I really do.” And she couldn’t do what she did out here; her specialty was in urban builds that catered to changeling needs while being welcoming to humans and—of late—Psy as well.

  Frowning at the errant thought, she looked out at the wide open landscape around them, at the cows doing cow things, at the horses who hung out by the fence, watching the world go by, at the farm vehicles moving out in the distance. “Family members driving those?”

  He shook his head. “No, Sam and Dad are on the other side of the farm, and Samara’s got a meeting with a supplier. We have a few permanent crew. They live in the white-painted red-shingled house you would’ve passed on your way in.” He raised his hand in hello to a man in a tractor closer to the road, but didn’t stop.

  They drove on in a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable…but was filled with the kind of tension that only exists between a man and a woman who want to tear off each other’s clothes.

  Zara blushed at the thought while trying not to stare at Tanner’s thighs oh-so-close to her, the heavy muscle pushing up against the faded denim of his jeans. When her eyeballs decided to disobey her commands, she jerked them up to his arms.

  No help there.

  The short sleeves of his black T-shirt revealed sun-kissed forearms ropy with muscle, his hands solid and blunt fingered. She could imagine how those hands would feel on her skin, imagine the slight abrasiveness of them, wondered if he’d be gentle or rough. She could go with either, depending on her mood.

  She almost squirmed in her seat in anticipation.

  Rein it in, Zara.

  It was a harsh order from the sensible side of her, a reminder that Tanner wasn’t for her. Tally might’ve tried to play matchmaker, but she’d have been thinking a long term relationship.

  Girl was crazy stupid adorably in love with Clay and wanted the same for Zara; the rose colored lenses of romance had apparently blinded her to the fact such a thing just couldn’t work with a city girl whose roots were buried in asphalt, and a farm boy who thrived in the open air and in the feel of soil between his fingers.

  Then Tanner turned a corner and she gasped. Ahead of them lay a little slice of forest that made her wildcat’s claws prick her fingertips, the feline heart of her wanting out, wanting to run in the green. “Oh, I like that.” It came out a near purr.

  “Part of the original forests that once covered the land,” he said. “Long gone by the time my parents bought the place, except for this little piece. They love it and, over the years, we’ve planted more trees in a bid to expand it.” He parked under the shade of a large tree with shiny green leaves as large as her palm. “You eaten?”

  Her stomach rumbled right on cue. Super sexy there, Zara.

  Chuckling, he said, “I’ll take that as a no. Which is good, because I packed us a picnic.” Then he reached across the seat and, when she made no move to tell him to back off, he kissed her.

  Just kissed her. Just like that.

  Moaning, she gripped at the soft cotton of his tee and sank into the kiss, into him. His lips were firm, his breath hot, the masculine burn of his body a welcome conflagration against her skin. And his scent. Oh man, she loved his scent, could burrow her face into his neck and just breathe it in for hours.

  When she nipped at his lower lip, he said, “Cat,” in a deep voice that held so much affection that she melted.

  One big hand landed on her thigh atop her dress. Her body sizzled. Then he pushed up the fabric to settle his palm directly against her skin and it was an electric shock right to the juncture between her thighs. Breathing hard, she broke the kiss. “Wow.”

  His eyes glittered, color on his cheeks. “Yeah.” Another kiss, this one deeper, wetter, more intense. All tongue and demand. Her nip*les grew hard, her cat’s fur rubbing against the inside of her skin.

  He was so big and she wanted him over her, his weight crushing her into the ground. She also wanted to jump on him and ride him into the ground herself. And that was just the start.

  This time when they broke the kiss, Tanner said, “I thought a kiss would be a good idea, would break the tension.” His chest heaved, his breath unsteady. “I did not think that through. You’re tiny but boom, you hit a man hard.”

  Overwhelmed by a wave of unexpected affection at this man who was so blunt in his appreciation of her, she stroked his jaw. “No. It was the right call. I was about to combust.”

  He rubbed his cheek against her hand. “Yeah, but we didn’t exactly break the tension. I’m not sure I can walk.”

  She found herself laughing at the self-deprecating comme
nt. Nipping once more at his lower lip, she petted his wide chest before saying, “I’m starving.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  And her cat lunged at him, utterly delighted. Because a man who could play? Oh yeah, he was her catnip. “For food.” She poked that gorgeous chest. “I’m saving you for desert.”

  That slow, slow, smile. “Yes, ma’am,” he said before moving to get out of the truck.

  She waited for him to open her door just so she could enjoy him taking her by the waist and lifting her out. She ran her hands over him as he did so, stole a taste of the strong column of his throat. Skin privileges with him felt so effortless, so easy. As if they’d been meant to be doing this all along.

  A frown wrinkled her brow again as he went to grab the picnic basket from the back seat. This, she realized all at once, could never be a playful vacation fling—no matter what. Even putting aside the fact he was her friend’s cherished big brother, there was already too much between them. Too much heat, too much affection, too much liking.

  “We’re going to get in trouble,” she said solemnly when he returned with the basket in one hand. “I’m a city girl, country boy. If you don’t want me to break your heart, we’d better just eat breakfast and go home.” Her cat hissed inside her, not liking that particular idea. At all.

  Taking her free hand, he leaned in to press the sweetest kiss to her cheek. “No, I think I’ll just keep on kissing you, city girl.”

  Well, she’d tried.

  Of course the speed with which she’d abandoned the effort told her that Tanner wasn’t the only one risking a broken heart. Zara De Lêon was on the cusp of making a very serious mistake with Tanner Larkspur. “We’re playing with fire.”

  “Well now, kitty cat,” Tanner drawled, “I always did like a good blaze.” Stopping in a pretty green clearing surrounded by trees and blooming wildflowers, he set down the basket, then grabbed the picnic blanket she hadn’t realized he had folded under his arm.

  He snapped it over the ground in a checkboard pattern of green and blue, then bent at the waist like a fancy waiter. “Your table, my lady.”