“But—”
“Listen,” he said as though she were about three years old. “That is a lion in there. An L-I-O-N. It is not some big old pussycat. It is a carnivorous wild animal, and it’s hurt. It doesn’t know why it’s hurt or who hurt it, and it will not differentiate between the good guys and the bad. You, lady, are not its rescuer, you are breakfast. Are we clear on that?”
“But—”
“Are we clear?”
She nodded.
“Now go to bed and let me get a couple of hours’ sleep. And if she roars again, stick your head under the pillow and ignore her.”
But Tala found herself straining to hear another of those chuffing sounds.
After about five minutes of quiet, she began to drift off. The last face to swim into her consciousness was not Adam’s, but Pete Jacobi’s, his fierce amber eyes glowing out of a craggy face that seemed to morph into the face of a male lion with a heavy mane in place of his unruly hair. The face opened its mouth, but instead of that momentary smile she’d seen when he looked at the elephants, she saw only very long and very sharp teeth. The better to eat you with, my dear, she thought as sleep finally claimed her.
CHAPTER TWO
PETE JACOBI WAS HALFWAY through his morning shower before he remembered the woman asleep on the sofa. He must be in a bad way if he’d forgotten even for an instant the sight of those great legs sticking out from under his baggy old shirt. Very sexy. Much sexier than if she’d been naked.
Well, maybe not. Might be interesting to compare. He grinned at his reflection and arched an eyebrow at himself. Yeah.
Once she stopped looking like a drowned possum she’d turned into a good-looking woman. But too thin. Still, she either had gumption—or no brains at all.
He dressed as quietly at he could and opened the bedroom door. He half expected her to be up and gone. He hoped she wasn’t. It would be nice if she stayed long enough for a cup of coffee and for him to check out his perceptions about her from last night. He wanted to see whether those big dark eyes were as stunning as he remembered.
From his door he saw one very shapely leg and bare foot sticking out from under a pile of quilts on the couch, and a cloud of long, heavy black hair spread over the other end of the quilt and falling almost to the floor. Somewhere between the two, the owner of hair and leg slept on.
Her right hand lay draped over the arm of the couch. The hand was thin and almost too fine-boned. Her nails were short and unvarnished, but well kept. He realized with a pang that he hadn’t noticed whether she wore a wedding ring or not, and suddenly hoped that she didn’t.
Pete shook his head, surprised at himself for his interest in her. He tiptoed past the couch and opened the door to the back room silently, then slipped through.
The lioness lay on her right side with her bandaged shoulder up. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her mouth gaped. Her tongue lolled from the corner of her mouth.
For a panicky moment he was afraid she wasn’t breathing, then he saw the slow rise and fall of her rib cage.
“Morning, son,” said a voice behind him. “Gave her another shot for pain. She has been sleeping the sleep of the innocent and pure of heart for some time. Where’s your lady friend?”
“Doing the same, although she might not be so pure and innocent if she’s driving country roads alone at two in the morning.”
Mace Jacobi grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “What’s that old song about preferring the sadder but wiser girl? Especially one as good-looking as that.”
“Too scrawny. I didn’t know there was a New-some daughter.”
“There isn’t. Irene Newsome lost her only child more than a year ago. He was something fairly high up in the Fish and Wildlife. Supposedly shot by a poacher. Had a wife and a couple of kids. That’s probably his widow you’ve got on your couch.” Mace slapped a couple of white-wrapped packages on the steel table, looked at them over his bifocals and began to unwrap them. “I haven’t had time to feed the girls yet.”
“No problem. I’ll do it.” Pete hooked a bale of alfalfa and carried it toward the elephant enclosure. The girls waited impatiently, trunks swinging, their beady black eyes expectant. “What are you doing, Dad?” he asked on his way by.
“I started thawing a couple of deer-neck roasts last night. Thought I’d carve ’em up for Tala’s baby over there. She’s going to be mighty hungry when she wakes up.”
“If she wakes up.”
Mace peered at him over his glasses. “Oh, she’ll wake up, all right. You did a good job. Every bit as good as I was at your age.”
Pete broke the wires on the alfalfa and tossed fat green flakes through the bars for his girls. “Good morning, girls,” he said with affection. They looked down their trunks at him. Once again he was aware of how differently they responded to Mace. They were much warmer toward his father. Pete seemed to have lost his “trunkside manner.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” came a soft voice from behind him. Amazingly, his girls raised their heads in unison and lifted their trunks toward the voice. They never greeted him like that.
He’d long since realized that elephants were a whole lot more perceptive than human beings. The girls were aware of his fondness for them, but no matter how well he fed, scrubbed, pampered and babied them, they still treated him with a kind of offhand exasperation. Maybe they sensed his unhappiness—his guilt over past mistakes. Maybe one day they’d decide he’d made the grade and grant him their complete trust and affection.
“You were exhausted, m’dear,” said Mace without looking up from the meat cleaver in his hands. “As soon as I get this done, we’ll go over to my trailer and I’ll make us all a good hot breakfast. The coffee’s already on.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. I’ve already—”
“Nonsense,” Mace rumbled. “My pancakes are legendary.” He peered over his glasses at her. “You could use some honey and maple syrup.”
Tala went to the lioness’s cage and hunkered down. “How is she?” she whispered.
“As well as can be expected,” Pete answered. “Dad doped her up again for the pain.”
She put her left hand against the wire mesh and caressed the lioness gently. “Sweet Baby,” she said. The lioness rumbled softly.
She wore no wedding ring. Pete was surprised at the relief he felt. Then as he leaned forward he saw that she wore a gold chain around her neck. Two gold bands, one larger and wider than the other, hung on the chain. Her wedding ring? Her dead husband’s? He sighed.
Not that he was looking for a relationship. Not after Val. His heart lurched at the memory of Val, and his never-ending guilt.
Her fingers toyed gently with the pelt on the lioness’s head. Pete took a deep breath at the thought of those fingers curling in the heavy mat of hair on his chest. He set his jaw, furious with himself that he’d allowed even that momentary distraction.
After a moment, Tala stood up easily and gracefully, something not many women could do from that kind of position.
Pete realized he was staring. No, glaring was more like it. She was too thin, all right, but definitely stood out in the right places. She’d plaited her dark hair into a single braid that hung down her back almost to her waist. The overhead light cut shadows under her strong cheekbones. Showed the circles under her eyes as well, unfortunately.
She smiled at him tentatively. “I folded the bed-clothes and the shirt and put them on the foot of your bed,” she said.
He