Alex stared at the door through which Heather had just disappeared, then looked back at his wife. “That was the lousiest performance I’ve ever seen. Did you really say, ‘I’m going to fight you for him’?”
“She believed me, and that’s all that counted. After what you said, she needed to have someone treat her like an adult.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her, but what was I supposed to do? She’s not an adult; she’s a kid.”
“She gave you her heart, Alex, and you told her it didn’t mean anything.”
“It wasn’t only her heart she was offering. Just before you came in, she let me know that her body was part of the package.”
“She’s feeling desperate. If you’d taken her up on it, she’d have been scared to death.”
He shuddered. “Sixteen-year-olds aren’t on my list of favorite perversions.”
“What is?” She immediately bit her lip. When was she going to start thinking before she spoke?
He gave her a maddening smile that made goose bumps break out on her skin. “It’ll be more fun for you to find that out for yourself.”
“Why don’t you just tell me?”
“Why don’t you just wait and see.”
She studied him. “Does it have anything to do with—no, of course not.”
“Are you worrying about those whips again?”
“Not really,” she lied.
“Good. Because you don’t have anything to be concerned about.” He paused. “If I do it exactly right, it hardly hurts at all.”
Her eyes widened. “Will you stop it!”
“What?”
His innocent expression didn’t fool her one bit “Stop planting all these seeds of suspicion in my mind.”
“I haven’t done a thing. You’ve put the suspicions there all by yourself.”
“Only because you keep playing games with me. You’ve baited me about this from the beginning, and I don’t like it. Just answer one simple question. Yes or no? Have you ever whipped a woman?”
“Yes or no?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
“No qualifiers?”
“None.”
“All right, then. Yes, I have definitely whipped a woman.”
She swallowed and said weakly, “I take that back about the qualifiers.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but you lost your chance.” With a grin, he sat down behind his desk. “I have work to do, so maybe you’d better tell me what you wanted to see me about.”
Several seconds passed before she could gather her wits enough to remember what had brought her here in the first place. “It’s Glenna.”
“What about her?”
“She’s a large animal and that cage is too small for her. We need a new one.”
“Just like that? You want us to buy a new gorilla cage?”
“It’s inhumane keeping her so closely confined. She’s really sad, Alex. She has these wonderful soft fingers and she pushes them out through the bars as if she’s starved for contact with another living being. And that’s not the only problem. All the cages are so old that I’m not even sure they’re safe. The lock on the leopard cage is being held together with wire.”
He picked up a pencil and absentmindedly tapped the eraser on the battered desktop. “I agree with you. I hate that damned menagerie—it’s barbaric—but cages are expensive, and Sheba’s still thinking about selling off the animals. You’ll just have to do your best.” He spotted something out the window, and his chair creaked as he leaned back to get a better view. “Well, will you look at that. It seems you have a visitor.”
She looked outside and saw a baby elephant standing untethered in front of the red wagon. “It’s Tater.”
As she watched, he lifted his trunk and bellowed, looking for all the world like a tragic hero calling out for his lost love. “What’s he doing over here?”
“Trying to find you, I imagine.” He smiled. “Elephants form strong family ties, and Tater seems to have bonded with you.”
“He’s a little large to be a pet.”
“I’m glad you feel that way because he’s not sleeping in our bed, Daisy, no matter how much you beg me.”
She laughed. At the same time she refrained from telling him that she wasn’t certain she’d be sleeping there, either. Too much still needed to be settled between them.
As Sheba approached Alex, she was having the grandmother of bad days. Just that morning Brady had told her that Daisy wasn’t pregnant. The idea of that woman bearing Markov babies was so abhorrent she should have been relieved, but instead, something ugly had pooled in the pit of her stomach. If Alex hadn’t married Daisy because she was pregnant, then he must have done it out of choice. He must have done it because he loved her.
Acid burned inside her. How could he love that no-talent little rich girl when he hadn’t loved her? Couldn’t he see how unworthy Daisy was? Had he lost all his pride?
Now she intended to put into action a plan that had been taking shape in her mind for days. It made business sense—she never did anything that wasn’t for the good of the show, regardless of her personal feelings—but this idea also might finally pull the blinders away from Alex’s eyes regarding his new bride.
She came up behind him as he worked on the stake driver. His damp T-shirt clung to the strong muscles in his back. She remembered how that taut skin had once felt beneath her hands, but instead of arousing her, the memory filled her with self-hatred. Sheba Quest, the queen of the center ring, had begged for this man’s love and been rejected. Her stomach curled with loathing.
“I need to talk to you about your act.”
He picked up a greasy rag and wiped his hands with it. He’d always been a first-rate mechanic, and he’d somehow managed to keep the ancient stake driver running, but right now she couldn’t summon any gratitude for the money he was saving her.
“Go ahead.”
She shaded her eyes, taking her time, making him wait. Finally she spoke. “I think you need a change. You’ve only made a few variations in your act since the last time you went out with us, and there’s too much of the season left for you to get stale.”
“What do you have in mind?”
She pulled the sunglasses from the top of her head and folded in the stems. “I want you to put Daisy in it.”
“Forget it.”
“Afraid she won’t be able to do it?”
“You know she won’t.”
“Well, then, you’ll have to make her. Or does she wear the pants in the family?”
“What are you trying to do, Sheba?”
“Daisy’s a Markov now. It’s time she started acting like one.”
“That’s my business, not yours.”
“Not while I own this circus. Daisy has a way with the crowd, and I intend to take advantage of it.” She gave him a long, hard stare. “I want her in the show, Alex, and I’ll give you two weeks to get her ready. If she needs persuading, remind her that I can still file a criminal complaint against her any time I want.”
“I’m getting real sick of your threats.”
“Then think about the good of the show instead.”
Alex finished repairing the stake driver, then stalked to the trailer to scrub the grease off his hands. As he took a nail brush and a bar of Lava from a chipped saucer under the kitchen sink, he forced himself to acknowledge the truth of what Sheba had said. Daisy did have a way with the crowd, and although he hadn’t admitted it to Sheba, he’d already thought about putting her in his act. He’d hesitated, however, because of the difficulties of training her.
The assistants he’d worked with in the past had all been seasoned circus performers, and the whips hadn’t bothered them, but Daisy was full of fears. If she flinched at the wrong time . . .
He pushed away the thought. He could train her not to flinch. His Uncle Sergey had trained him. Even when the show was over and the perverted son of a bitch was beating the shit out of him for some imagined offense, Alex had held himself completely still.
He’d mentally traveled the torturous path of his childhood too many times, and he had no interest in stirring up the muck again, so he pushed the old images away. There was another advantage to using Daisy as his assistant, one that was more important to him at the moment than simply sprucing up his act. This would give him a valid reason to ease her workload, a reason she couldn’t argue with.
He still couldn’t believe that she’d refused to let him make things easier for her. This morning when he’d started to insist, he’d seen something in her expression that had made him back off. Her work had become important to her, he realized, a survival test.
But regardless of what she thought, he didn’t intend to let her drive herself into exhaustion. And whether she knew it or not, performing in the ring with him would be a lot easier than hauling elephant manure and cleaning out animal cages.
As he rinsed his hands and reached for a paper towel, he remembered how fragile she’d felt under his hands last night. Their lovemaking had been so good it scared him. He wasn’t quite certain what he’d expected, but he’d never imagined that Daisy would have so many facets to her: sultry and tempting, innocent and unsure, both aggressive and giving. He’d wanted to conquer her and protect her at the same time, and that confused the hell out of him.
On the opposite side of the lot, Daisy stepped out of the red wagon. Alex wouldn’t be happy when he saw that she’d been making long-distance calls on his cellular phone, but she was more than satisfied with what she’d learned from the keeper at the San Diego Zoo. He’d suggested some changes she was going to try: adjustments in the animals’ diets, additional vitamins, alterations in their feeding schedules.
She walked toward the trailer, where she’d seen her husband heading a few minutes earlier. When she’d finished her work in the menagerie and gone to help Digger out, the old man had growled at her that he didn’t need her help, so she’d decided to grab the extra few hours and make a trip to the library. She’d spotted it earlier as they’d driven through town, and she wanted to do some more research on the animals. First, however, she had to get Alex to part with the keys to his truck, which, until now, he’d refused to do.
As she entered the trailer, she saw him standing at the sink drying his hands. A silly sort of giddiness passed through her. He looked too big for such small confines, and she decided those dark, brooding good looks were better suited to roaming a nineteenth-century English moor than managing a twentieth-century traveling circus. He turned and she caught her breath against the impact of his amber eyes.
“I’d like to borrow the keys to the truck,” she said when she found her voice. “I need to do some shopping.”
“Are you out of cigarettes already?”
“You must not have noticed. I’ve stopped smoking.”
“I’m proud of you.” He tossed the damp paper towel in the trash, and she saw how his T-shirt clung to his sweat-dampened chest. A grease mark cut across the sleeve. “If you wait an hour or so, I’ll drive you.”
“I’d rather go alone. This morning I noticed a laundromat next to the town library. I thought I could do the laundry and catch up on some reading at the same time. Is that a problem?”
“Not exactly. I just think it might be better if I drive you.”
“Are you afraid I’ll run off with your truck?”
“No. I just—it’s not really my truck. It belongs to the circus, and you’re probably not used to driving anything like it.”
“I’m an excellent driver. I’m not going to wreck it.”
“You don’t know that for a fact.”
She held out her hand, determined to have her way in this. “Please give me the keys.”
“I wouldn’t mind a trip to the library myself.”
She gave him her steeliest gaze. “The keys, please.”
He rubbed his chin with his knuckle as if he were thinking it over. “I’ll tell you what. Unbutton your shirt and I’ll give you the keys.”
“What?”
“It’s my best offer. Take it or leave it.”
As she saw what passed for mischief glinting in his eyes, she wondered how someone so serious could have such a playful nature when it came to sex. “You actually expect me to . . .”
“Uh-huh.” He leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for her.
A flare of heat bolted through her as she saw the desire in his eyes. She was by no means certain she was ready for another sexual encounter with him, but on the other hand, what would be the harm in a little naughty foreplay? The dampness of her blouse reminded her she’d been working all morning and wasn’t any too clean. On the other hand, neither was he, and after all, they were just playing around, so what did it matter?
She looked down her nose at him in her best imitation of royalty. “I’m certainly not going to use my body as barter. That’ s offensive.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” He withdrew the keys from his pocket and, with exaggerated innocence, tossed them up and down in his palm.
The soft skin of her breasts prickled beneath her damp shirt, and the nipples pebbled. “How would you like it if I did something like this to you?”
“Sweetheart, I’d love it.”
Suppressing a smile, she slowly opened the top button. “Maybe just a peek.” An inner voice told her she was playing with fire, but she ignored it.
“A peek might get you the key to the tailgate, but not the ignition.”
She opened another button. “What do I have to do to get the ignition key?”
“Have you got a bra on?”
“Yes.”
She should call a halt to this game right now, but instead she opened another button. “You are responsible for the truck, so I suppose it’s only fair that you dictate the terms.”
He looked amused.
She took her time with the last buttons. When they were open, she lightly clasped the front edges of the blouse in her palms and toyed with them, deliberately teasing him even as she recognized that this was a dangerous sort of mischief. “Maybe I should think about this some more.”
“Don’t make me get rough.” His smoky whisper didn’t bear the slightest trace of menace, but it still made her shiver.
“Since you put it that way . . .” She parted the blouse, revealing the floral print bra that stuck to her skin.
“Open that clasp.”
She toyed with it but didn’t unfasten it.
“Do as I say and nobody’ll get hurt.”
She couldn’t hold back a smile as she opened the clasp. Slowly, she peeled the moist lacy cups away from her breasts and stood before him like a wanton, fully dressed, but with her blouse open and her breasts exposed.
“Beautiful.” His whispered compliment made her feel like the most treasured woman on earth.
“Good enough for an ignition key?”
“Good enough for the whole damn truck.”
In two long strides, he had her in his arms. His mouth swooped down to cover hers, and the world spun like a crazy carousel. He shoved her blouse down over her shoulders, then clasped her hips and lifted her just enough so he could grind against her. She felt him hard and demanding and knew the time for teasing had come to an end.
Blood rushed hot and needy through her veins. She opened her mouth to his tongue as he swept her from her feet and carried her toward the bed where he dropped her none too gently on the mattress.
“I’m dirty and sweaty.”
“I am, too, so we don’t have a problem.” With one powerful motion he stripped his grimy T-shirt over his head. “You’re also overdressed.”
She kicked off her grubby shoes and tugged at her jeans, but she wasn’t working fast enough to please him.
“You’re taking too long.” Within moments, he’d stripped her so that she was as naked as he.
Her eyes took in his nude body with its whipcord strength and workingman’s tan. Strands of hair on his chest feathered around the icon he wore. She needed to ask him about that. She needed to ask him about so many things.
As he lay down beside her, she smelled the earthy scent of sweat and hard work on both their bodies and wondered why she wasn’t repulsed. There was something primitive about coming together like this that aroused her in a way she would never have been able to imagine. Her abandon embarrassed her. “I’m—I need to shower.”
“Not till we’re done.” He pulled a condom from a small drawer in the chest beside the bed, tore it open, and put it on.
“But I’m so dirty.”
He wedged her knees apart. “I want you like this, Daisy.”
She moaned and sank her teeth into his shoulder as he thrust into her. She tasted salt and sweat and knew he was tasting the same on her breasts. Her voice caught in her throat. “I really need to wash.”
“Later.”
“Oh, God, what are you doing?”
“What does it feel like?”
“It feels like you’re—”
“I am. Do you want more?”
“Yes. Oh, yes . . .”
The smells and tastes. The touches. The sweat and grit beneath her palms. The thrust and parry.
Her hair stuck to her cheeks, and a piece of straw poked her neck. He pushed his fingers into the cleft of her bottom and turned her on top of him, smearing grease from his arm down her side. He squeezed the backs of her thighs hard in his hands.
“Ride me.”
She did as he said. She arched and plunged, moving instinctively, and then wincing as she hurt herself on him.
“Slow down, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I can’t.” She gazed at him through the haze of her pain and passion and saw his sweat-slicked face, lips drawn thin and pale. Flecks of dirt stuck to those harsh Russian cheekbones and a bit of straw clung to his dark crisp hair. Sweat trickled over her breasts. She plunged again and gasped with pain.
“Don’t, sweet. Shh . . . take your time.”
He slipped his hands up along her back and pulled her down to stretch out over him, breasts to chest where he helped her find a new rhythm.
The insides of her thighs clasped the outsides of his, the icon abraded her skin, and she moved on his body, slowly at first, then writhing, loving the sensation of being in control, of dictating the rhythm and thrust. There was no pain, only sensation.
He gripped her bottom and let her have her way. She knew by the coiled tension she felt in those hard muscles beneath her what it cost him to relinquish control. He sank his teeth into the flesh over her collarbone, not hurting her, merely using another part of her body to fill another part of his.
She gave herself up to skin and sweat and musk. He made incoherent sounds and she answered in the same language. Both were lost to all that was civilized, thrown back to the jungle, the cave, the place of wildness until, for one suspended moment, they gripped creation’s source.
She left him as soon as she could and sealed herself in the bathroom. As the shower water rushed over her, she was shaken by this new barbaric part of herself. Was it sacred or profane? How could she have abandoned herself like that with a man she didn’t love? The question tormented her.
When she came out, wrapped in a towel with her skin scrubbed cleaner than her troubled soul, he was standing at the sink. Wearing only his dirty jeans, he held a beer bottle in his hand.
When he saw the expression on her face, he scowled. “You’re going to make this complicated, aren’t you?”
She pulled her clean clothes from the drawer and turned her back on him to dress. “I’m not sure exactly what you mean.”
“I can see it in your face. You’re having all kinds of second thoughts about what just happened.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Why would I be? Sex is simple, Daisy. It’s fun and it feels good. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
She nodded toward the bed. “Did that seem simple to you?”
“It was good. That’s all that matters.”
She zipped up her shorts and pushed her feet into her sandals. “You’ve had sex with a lot of women, haven’t you?”
“I haven’t been indiscriminate, if that’s what you mean.”
“Is it always like that?”
He hesitated. “No.”
For a moment, some of her tension eased. “I’m glad. I want it to mean something.”
“All it means is that, while our minds may have trouble communicating, our bodies don’t have any problem at all.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“Sure it is.”
“The earth moved,” she said softly. “That has to be more than bodies communicating.”
“Sometimes it works between two people, sometimes it doesn’t. It works between us, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Daisy, listen to me. You’ll only get hurt if you start imagining things that aren’t going to happen.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He stared straight into her eyes, and she felt as if he were gazing into her soul. “I’m not going to fall in love with you, sweetheart. It’s just not going to happen. I care about you, but don’t love you.”
How his words hurt. Was love what she wanted from him? She lusted after him. She respected him. But how could she fall in love with someone who had so little regard for her? She knew to the very depth of her being that she wasn’t tough enough to love a man like Alex Markov. He needed someone as stubborn and arrogant as himself, someone just as hardheaded and impossible to intimidate, a woman who could hold her own beneath the force of those dark scowls and give as good as she got. A woman who felt at home in the circus, who wasn’t afraid of animals or backbreaking work. He needed—
Sheba Quest.
Jealousy snapped at her. While her mind recognized the logic of Alex and Sheba together, her heart rejected the idea.
Living with him had taught her something about pride, and she lifted her head. “Believe it or not, I haven’t been spending all my time worrying about how I’m going to make you fall in love with me.” She picked up the brimming laundry basket. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want your love. What I do want are the keys to your darned truck!”
She snatched them off the counter and stomped toward the door. He moved swiftly to block her way. Taking the laundry basket from her, he said, “I’m not trying to hurt you, Daisy. I care about you. I didn’t want to, but I can’t seem to help it. You’re sweet and funny, and I like looking at you.”
“You do?”
“Uh-huh.”
She reached up to rub a speck of dirt from his cheekbone with her thumb. “Well, you’re bad-tempered and humorless, but I like looking at you, too.”
“I’m glad.”
She smiled and began to take the laundry basket back, only to have him hold on to it. “Before you go . . . Sheba and I have been talking, and you’re getting a new assignment.”
She regarded him warily. “I’m already helping with the elephants and working with the menagerie. I don’t think there’s time for anything more.”
“As of now, you’re off elephant duty, and Trey can take over the menagerie.”
“The menagerie’s my responsibility.”
“Fine. You can supervise him. The fact is, Daisy, the crowd likes you and Sheba wants to take advantage of that. I’m putting you in my act.”
She stared at him.
“I’ll start rehearsing you tomorrow morning.”
She realized he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. “Rehearse me doing what?”
“Mainly, you’ll just stand around and look pretty.”
“What else?”
“You’ll need to do some holding for me. No big deal.”
“Holding? What does that mean—holding?”
“Just what I said. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Tell me now.”
“You hold some things, that’s all.”
“I hold them?” She gulped. “And you whip them out of my hand, don’t you?”
“Out of your hand.” He paused. “Your mouth.”
She felt the blood drain from her head. “My mouth?”
“It’s a standard trick. I’ve done it hundreds of times, and there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.” He opened the door for her and set the laundry basket in her arms. “Now if you’re going to stop at the library, you’d better get to it. I’ll see you later.”
With a light push, he propelled her outside. She turned around to tell him there was no way she’d ever go into the ring, but the door shut before she could say a word.