Tempting Faith. Susan Mallery

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      “When you’re done, I’ll have breakfast ready.” She ducked ahead of him in the hall and tossed a pair of jeans and a shirt into the bathroom. “The towels are clean. I put a plastic bag out, so you can shower without getting the bandage wet.”

      Before he could thank her, she was heading down the hall. Her braid swayed with each step, as did her curvy hips. He stared after her until she turned the corner.

      By the time he’d made himself presentable, he could smell food cooking. He followed the delicious odors past two more offices, through a door marked Private and into a small living room.

      “Faith?” he called.

      “In here.”

      He maneuvered the crutches around the maple coffee table and rocking chair into a cheery yellow kitchen. A Formica table stood in front of a bay window that looked out into the forest. The stove appeared to be older than he was and the refrigerator older still by ten years. But everything gleamed in the morning light. He sniffed, smelling mint along with the cooking.

      Faith looked up from the stove. “I hope scrambled is all right.” She motioned to the table. “Have a seat.”

      She’d set a place for him and lined up all his medications in a row. A glass of orange juice sat next to a cup of coffee. He looked at the setting, then at her. “Very nice. Thanks.”

      He pulled out a chair, sat down and sipped the coffee. She served his breakfast, then poured herself a cup and took the seat opposite him. A stack of papers rested in front of her. As she studied them, she nibbled on the corner of her mouth. Was it worry or simply a habit? Who was this woman who took in stray lions and spies? He buttered the toast she’d made, then sorted through the jars of jelly.

      “What are you looking for?” she asked.

      “Mint. I can smell it. Can’t you?”

      She looked down. “Yes.” He could have sworn her shoulders were shaking.

      “What’s so funny?”

      She looked up, her face expressionless. The innocence didn’t fool him. “Nothing,” she said.

      “Sure.” He cautiously took a bite of the eggs. “This is great. I was half-afraid you’d feed me cat food.”

      “Eggs are cheaper.”

      He heard a rumble, like a low-flying plane. The sound continued for several minutes as he ate, then it stopped. He chewed a mouthful of food and swallowed. “What do the cats eat?”

      “Anything I can get my hands on. Chicken mostly. The bones keep their teeth clean and exercised. Sometimes hunters leave me extra venison.”

      “Must get expensive.”

      She nodded. “The biggest cats eat up to fifteen pounds a day.”

      The rumble started again, broke, became an almost coughing sound, like someone sawing wood, then resumed. “What the hell is that?”

      “What?”

      “That rumble. Can’t you hear it?”

      She chuckled. “I’m so used to it, I only notice when it’s not there.” She glanced at his plate. “Are you done?”

      “I guess.”

      “It’s never a good idea to have food around when you meet Sparky,” she said.

      “Sparky?” He remembered his vision of the mean black alley cat. That was when he’d assumed Faith’s cats had been the ten-pound, domestic kind. “Sparky isn’t what I think, is he?”

      “Probably not.” She pursed her lips together and whistled softly, first a high, then a low tone. “Sparky,” she called. “Come.”

      From a room beyond the kitchen, the rumble stopped for a moment. Cort heard the scratchy coughing noise again, then the sound of a thick chain being dragged across the linoleum floor. What he thought was a shadow cast by the overhead lights quickly became a very large, very black, leopard.

      “Holy—”

      The animal approached slowly. Yellow eyes, more almondshaped than round, flickered around the room, then settled on him. As the cat walked over to Faith, the smell of mint grew. Cort realized it came from the animal. “Sparky,” she said, patting its head. “This is Cort.”

      The black leopard continued to hold his gaze. The rumbling went on. The cat’s massive head rested on Faith’s thighs. Powerful muscles rippled as the animal sat down. A faint pattern of spots was barely visible in the dark coat. Its long tail moved back and forth in a slow but menacing rhythm.

      “Is this your idea of a pet?” Cort asked, wondering what Jeff had been thinking of when he’d sent him here.

      “No. Edwina is the one who took him in. He was less than four weeks old when his mother died. He was hand-raised after that. Edwina couldn’t bear to put him in a cage, so here he is.” She rubbed the animal’s forehead, then scratched behind its ears.

      Like a huge house cat, the leopard arched toward the stroking and butted his head against her leg, asking for more. This gentle butt, however, nearly knocked her out of her chair.

      “Easy,” she admonished, giving the animal a slight slap on its shoulder.

      Sparky was properly cowed and broke his gaze with Cort to glance up at Faith and yawn.

      A perfect domestic scene, if he ignored the glistening teeth designed to rip and tear flesh and bite through bone.

      “Why does he smell of mint?” he asked.

      “Leopards conceal their own scent. In the wild he’d use certain herbs or animal dung.”

      “I can see why you’d want to discourage the latter.”

      “You bet. There’s a mint patch for him out back.”

      “Where does he sleep?”

      “In the office.” Faith continued to stroke the leopard. “Or with me. Give me your hand.”

      He offered his left.

      Faith grinned as she took it. “You’re right-handed, aren’t you?”

      “I don’t take chances.”

      “Sparky won’t hurt you without provocation. He’s just a friendly little kitty, aren’t you, boy?” She found a particularly sensitive spot behind its jaw, rubbed vigorously, and the purring deepened.

      Faith laced their fingers together. “Sparky,” she said. “This is Cort. He’s going to be staying here awhile.” Her soft voice, slightly higher pitched than her normal speaking tone, soothed both him and the cat.

      The leopard remained indifferent to the stranger’s hand being drawn closer and closer to his head. Faith continued to stroke the cat. She moved her free hand lower onto the animal’s shoulder and placed СКАЧАТЬ