Tiger Magic

She’d thought Yvette would tell Armand to kick Carly out on her ass for taking her car and bolting in the middle of a busy workday, but Yvette never did. Carly didn’t find out why until she went to work one morning about a month after her return, fighting her morning sickness with soda crackers and weak tea. In an hour or two, however, she knew she’d be ravenous.

“You did it for a man,” Yvette said as she stirred her latte, the odor of the coffee making Carly’s nausea rise. “During my modeling days, when I was in so much demand from all the photographers and fashion houses, I met Armand. He was poor, a struggling artist—he had nothing. I had everything—career, money, luxurious apartment, rich boyfriends. But I’d never met anyone like Armand. I was enchanted with him. I posed for him, and he told me his troubles. We became friends and then lovers. But because he was so very poor, he did jobs for the wrong people, put himself in debt to them. He tried to pay with his art when they came to collect, but they were philistines and did not want it. Armand came to me one night and said he had to leave the country. He wanted to go to America, and wanted me to go with him. We’d change our names so the bad people wouldn’t follow him. Start fresh.” Yvette shrugged. “So I did.”

Carly listened, the coffee’s scent becoming less sickening and more desirable. A latte with thick, luscious cream started to sound like heaven. She couldn’t have it, of course, but she could breathe in the aroma.

“You walked away from your life,” Carly said as Yvette fell silent. Yvette’s casual So I did meant she’d given up her career, her home, her family, and started over again in the States, all for Armand’s sake.

“We had to flee in the night,” Yvette said after a dainty sip of her latte. “I took whatever cash I could find and got us out of the country and to New York. Even that was too conspicuous, so we came to Texas, to Dallas first and then to Austin. I never modeled again. Except for Armand.”

“You must have loved him very much to do that.”

“Oh, I did. Still do. So you borrowing my car to help a man you love get away is understandable to me. My surprise is that you didn’t stay away with him.”

Carly’s eyes stung with tears. “He didn’t give me the choice.”

Yvette’s usual expression was cool and distant, she an elegant statue who looked with hauteur upon the world. When she saw Carly’s tears now, the hauteur melted away, Yvette’s eyes softened, and she gathered Carly into an embrace. “You poor darling.” She kissed the top of Carly’s head. “The heart, it is a fragile thing.”

Carly let herself relax against Yvette’s strong shoulder. She hadn’t broken down and cried, truly cried, since she’d come home. No time, Carly had told herself. And now she had a child coming. She had to be strong, like her mother had been strong for her.

But for a few minutes, she didn’t want to be strong. She let herself cry, heartbroken.

Armand came in as Carly’s sobs were quieting, and Carly straightened up, wiping her eyes. Yvette went to Armand and kissed his cheek. “Darling, I was just telling Carly our love story.”

Armand smiled, his goodness beaming from him. Carly saw why beautiful, elegant Yvette had fallen in love with this bearlike, rather homely man, and loved him still. Armand dropped a kiss onto his wife’s lips and squeezed her with one arm around her waist.

“I couldn’t believe my luck, Carly,” he said. “A nobody like me landing an angel like my Yvette. But my father always told me to seize the day, and I did. No regrets.”

“No regrets,” Yvette responded, and they looked into each other’s eyes. No regrets must have been a catchphrase with them, because their faces softened, and years fell away.

Carly sniffled. “You two are so wonderful.” She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes again. “I’m going for coffee.”

By the time she returned, Yvette and Armand were businesslike once again. Carly cleared her throat and sucked down her decaf latte—ah, sweet, warm cream.

“Armand,” she said. “I want to do something for the Shifter kids. I thought maybe a visit to the gallery, maybe an art class from you. You teach art classes for kids at community centers, right? Would you be willing to do one for Shifters?”

Armand looked surprised. “Are Shifter children interested in learning art?”

“I don’t see why not. They’re not allowed to do so many things, but no one has anything against them becoming artists. I checked. I thought some of the kids might enjoy it. Just a thought.”

“A very good thought. We will arrange it.”

Yvette said nothing, but Carly knew she approved. Yvette never kept strong opinions to herself.

Carly went back to work, more contented. A little bit. If she was carrying a Shifter cub, she wanted to learn all about Shifter kids. Besides, if she could put a little happiness into the eyes of a kid like Olaf, it would be totally worth it.

* * *

Lieutenant Colonel Sheldon looked Sergeant Crosby up and down as Crosby stood at stiff attention in front of Sheldon’s desk.

The young man was a machine, Sheldon thought, nothing more. Not like Walker Danielson, who had an idea or two in his head. Danielson was a good XO, but Sheldon preferred Crosby, who did what he was told and didn’t ask questions. No matter what Sheldon wanted him to do, Crosby figured the fact that Sheldon wanted it done was a good enough reason to do it.

Sheldon did not want to give up on the Shifter. The tiger was different, and the research on him had turned up astounding conclusions. Sheldon had seen great potential for either training the tiger or creating new Shifters from him—a body of soldiers who didn’t need much food, water, or sleep, who ran straight at enemy fire without quailing, and whose bodies adapted to survive that enemy fire. Shifter soldiers who could be controlled by the shock Collars they already had.