Wildcat Blues, Nalini Singh [the beginning after the end read novel .TXT] 📗

Closing the back passenger door of the people mover Clay had hired to drive them around on this visit, she was glad the kids—Noor and Jon—had raced out as soon as the vehicle stopped, and were already surrounded by hugging arms. Clay and Tally too, were full of laughter and delight as they greeted the small nation that was the Larkspur clan.

Leaving no one to hear Zara’s first word on her “idyllic” farm escape.

“It’ll wash off.”

She jumped, hand to her heart. “You snuck up on me!” It came out an accusation because she was annoyed with herself. She was a wildcat changeling, with a strong sense of smell. Which had been so overwhelmed by the cow dung that she hadn’t caught a hint of the man who’d walked around the corner of a row of trees that marked the entrance to the Nest.

He was big.

And gorgeous.

His skin was lighter than hers, more on the burnt honey end of brown, his eyes dark as night. She couldn’t see his hair under his cowboy hat, but his hands were big and strong, veins prominent on his forearms—visible because he’d folded back the sleeves of his checked blue shirt.

His jeans were faded and worn over muscular thighs that made her want to fan herself, his belt buckle equally nicked and old. He was carrying thick rope over his shoulder with the ease of a man at home with his physicality, and a faint sheen of sweat covered his skin. Right now, his lips were slightly uptilted as he took in her shiny boots, her skinny black jeans, and pretty floral top.

She’d dressed for the environment, had only packed a single pair of heels. Not her fault she wasn’t expecting cows to go around pooping in the drive. “Where’s the hose?” She lifted her foot out of the mess with a grimace.

“Round back.”

The most astonishing thing happened before she could reply.

A huge smile spread over his face, lighting it up from within as he dropped the rope to the ground and crouched down. A small dervish ran into his arms at the same moment, crying, “Uncle Tanner!” at the top of her voice.

Grabbing Noor up in his arms, Tally’s adoptive big brother rose to his full height and squeezed the girl tight. “Miss Noor, you’re looking pretty.” His voice was slow and warm, as decadent as caramel heated up on the stove, then poured over ice-cream.

“Look!” Noor showed him her blue overalls, then pointed. “I have daisies on my shoes!”

“I’m not saying they’re not nice and all, but darling, how are you planning to milk cows in white daisy shoes?”

Noor giggled, then mimed what seemed to be milking motions. Not that Zara knew anything about milking cows. Milk came from the green grocer. The end.

“I have dirty shoes too,” Noor said brightly, “so I can help you farm like last time.”

“I’ve missed my helper.” Tanner leaned in to kiss her cheek, before his eyes landed on Zara again. “Come on then, kitty cat. Let’s get your fur clean.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. But since she wanted the cow poop off her shoe, she followed. But of course he had to stop and hug everyone else. Teenaged Jon was already deep in conversation with a man Zara guessed was Tally’s other brother, but Zara was warmly welcomed by Ma and Pa Larkspur, both their daughters, those daughters’ husbands, and dear lord how many of them were there?!

“Zara got cow poo on her shoe!” Noor volunteered loudly from her spot in Tanner’s muscled arms.

Wanting the ground to open up and swallow her whole, Zara tried a breezy smile. “A true farm experience from the first minute.”

Everyone laughed—except for Tanner. He gave her a slow smile instead and things went boomity boom inside her.

Famous last words.

Uh-huh, no way. Zara De Lêon was not meant for a country life or a country man. She was an architectural designer, a wildcat who lived for lattes and designer sales. She did not do bake sales or grow large vegetables or whatever else it was that people did to amuse themselves in the country.

Her cat rubbed against her skin, its fur luxuriant. It nudged at her to go closer to him, get a good sniff. The predator who was her other half wanted a bite of Tanner Larkspur, wanted to hunt him in a way that had nothing to do with food, so much so that she felt her eyes begin to shift into her animal form.

He saw the change, but didn’t back off, didn’t flinch.

Rather, he put Noor down so she could run off to play with the Larkspur grandchildren, then closed the distance between him and Zara. Everyone else was distracted catching up, while Pa Larkspur passed out cold drinks, and Ma Larkspur just beamed and kept on hugging Tally, and it felt as if the two of them were all alone in that moment.

His hat shaded her face as he got close, the warmth of his big body a caress, and his scent a rich intoxication made up of fresh sweat, the sharpness of freshly cut grass, and more. “Name’s Tanner,” he said, that faint smile still on the full curve of his lips and his eyes focused on her to the exclusion of all else.

“Zara,” she managed to get out through a throat gone bone dry.

His smile deepened and it wasn’t the smile he’d given Noor or Tally or anyone else. This was more intimate, intensely male, far more raw. “Zara.” A murmur in that voice of liquid sin, slightly rough edged…just like the fingertip he just barely grazed over her cheek, as if brushing away a speck of dust. “Sure is nice to meet you at last.”

Her toes curled, her cheek hot, and her cat hungry. Starving.

She was in trouble. Big, tall, Tanner Larkspur-sized trouble.

Part 2

Zara jerked awake.

What was that?

She swiveled her head around, the sun that snuck in through the pretty yellow curtains