WHERE TIGERS PROWL

by Karin Story

  Gathering her wits about her, she turned to face him. And was immediately sorry she had, because he released her from his embrace. Still, the sight of him went a long way toward making up for his lost touch. He was dressed in a denim shirt, jeans, and hiking boots, and he'd shaved off his beard. He'd looked damn good with it, but was just as breathtaking without it. His windblown hair gave him a roguish appearance. His split lip had healed, and the bruises along his jawbone were nearly invisible. But he still wore a sling, evidence of the gunshots he'd taken in his shoulder. However, what commanded her awareness the most, as always, were his golden-brown eyes. They gazed soul-deep into her now, but she couldn't read the thoughts behind them, couldn't tell if he was happy to see her, or if he was still on a distant emotional plane.

  A hollow ache began to throb in her chest.

  "How was Denver?"

  "It was excruciating. And long." He shook his head. "I'm glad it's over."

  He caught a curling strand of her hair that was blowing in the wind, and tucked it back behind her ear. His touch, as small and quick a gesture as it was, sent a long, slow shudder through her, and gave her a small flare of hope. But she determined not to read too much into it. If he needed time, she had to give it to him.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked.

  "I'm doing okay. How about you?"

  "Not too bad. My shoulder's a little stiff sometimes." He moved his injured arm in the sling and grimaced slightly. "I'll live."

  "I'm glad you're all right," she said softly, meaning it from the bottom of her heart.

  Something warm flared in his gaze at that. Flared, then grew steadily stronger until she realized she had forgotten to breathe she was studying him so intently.

  "You want to go for a drive?" The soft, husky sound of his voice caused her breathing to catch.

  "Sure."

  "Come on then." He grabbed her hand, his grip warm and solid, and led her back through the fields to the driveway. They got into the Range Rover, which she and Jess had retrieved from the mountains just yesterday from exactly where she'd left it.

  "Shouldn't we tell someone we're leaving?" she asked.

  "Nah, they won't worry."

  "Okay…" she answered slowly. "Care to tell me where we're going?"

  He picked her hand up off her lap and kissed her palm. His lips lingered against her cold skin. Then his gaze met hers and his eyes sparkled in what could be nothing else but blatant mischief. Her pulse skipped a beat, then thudded like crazy, while liquid quicksilver shot through her veins.

  "No, Wonder Woman, I don't believe I do want to tell you. For once in your life, you'll just have to wait and see."

  Then he smiled a slow, devastating smile.

  Oh, crud. All her fears, heartaches, and worries scattered to the back of her mind to be dealt with later. Right now, she had to concentrate on continuing to breathe. The god was back. And just like that, she was about two seconds away from orgasm.

  They drove straight through Colorado Springs and got onto I-25 north.

  The stereo played soft music as the sun slowly sank over the mountains. They didn't talk, weren't even touching, but she began to feel a closeness developing between them. A closeness that she hadn't felt since…well, maybe never.

  Denver came, and then almost went. He turned off on 36, heading toward Boulder.

  As they passed through Boulder, a wave of homesickness hit her. These were her old stomping grounds. This is where she'd finally found true friends and a home for the first time in her life. A part of her wanted to be here again—right here—and have things the way they used to be.

  But then there would be no Tom.

  She watched him in the darkness of the car, watched the subtle shifting of his muscles as he steered through the evening traffic. Watched the play of emotions across his face as whatever thoughts he was thinking went through his head.

  No. What she wanted was right here beside her. A life with this man. He only had to say the word.

  He must have felt her gaze on him, because he turned to her, his eyes burning into her, even in the dark. "You okay?"

  "I'm wondering where the heck you're taking me."

  He gave her another slow, sexy smile and didn't answer.

  Damn. That smile was more than a woman could bear. She let out a long, shaky breath and tried to ignore the sudden urge she had to squeeze her legs together. She turned to look out the window, but swore she heard him chuckle under his breath.

  They followed 36 through Boulder and up toward Lyons, and finally after almost three hours in the car, he pulled into a bed and breakfast on the outskirts of Estes Park.

  Light snow fell and it dusted the streets and rooftops. The sidewalks and stores were already decorated for Christmas, since the holiday season would officially start next weekend at Thanksgiving. It was as enchanting as a scene off a Christmas card. With a rush of goose bumps that had little to do with the cold, she took Tom's offered hand and let him pull her out of the SUV.

  "Let's get inside before we freeze."

  His low voice only stirred up her sentimentality further, and with her hands and legs trembling, she let him lead her through the small yard and up the elaborately decorated porch steps, into the warm charm of the Victorian house.

  "Mr. Eberson?" A soft-spoken woman with long brown hair greeted them, an open smile on her face.

  "Please, it's Tom. And this is Maris. You must be Elizabeth?"

  "I am. Welcome to our humble home, both of you. Let me show you to your room."

  They followed her through the exquisitely adorned front room, down a long hallway carpeted in a soft pink and mauve floral pattern, and into a gorgeous Victorian room. Dark cherry paneling covered the lower half of the walls, while wallpaper sprigged with old-fashioned tea roses spread up to the ceiling. A fire burned brightly in the fireplace. And the enormous four-poster bed beckoned with its fluffy, cream-colored down comforter and lace-edged pillows. Arrangements of dried roses decked the mantle over the fireplace and the bedside table.

  "I'll bring your dinner in about five minutes," Elizabeth said, her gentle voice one of those that could soothe anyone out of a bad mood. "Please make yourselves at home and if there's anything at all you need, you merely have to ask. We'll see that you get it." With a smile, she was gone.

  Maris stood in the middle of the graceful room, knowing that as soon as Tom said one single word to her she was going to bawl. She'd been sitting down there at the ranch for nearly a week wondering if he could ever love her again after what she'd put him through, and he'd been planning this.

  He crossed to the fireplace and used the iron poker to stir up the logs, which only caused her throat to tighten further. The rear view of him—his long, jean-clad legs, the muscles of his back rippling through his denim shirt as he bent over the fire, his hair curling slightly at his collar—sent a spike of longing through her. Every little thing he did, every movement he made, every word he spoke made her love him more.

  He put the poker back into the stand and turned to her. Then slowly, very slowly he came to her and took her hands in his. His eyebrows drew together. "You're awfully quiet all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?"

  She gulped back tears. "No. You did everything right."

  His forehead creased in concern. "If that's true, then why are you crying?"

  She couldn't help but smile through her damp haze at the earnest look on his face. "I've just never felt so…I don't know…romanced?"

  He smiled at that. "Why do you say it like a question?"

  "Because I guess I'm not sure if that's what this is."

  "If I'm romancing you?"

  "Yeah."

  He gently pushed a curl off her face, then ran his thumb over her cheek and lips. "Maris, in the time we've known each other, we've been so busy worrying about bad guys, and commitments that I might or might not have, and whether or not we were going to live to see the next sunrise, that we haven't exactly had a lot of time for things like this
. I just thought it was about time we did."

  Relief and sheer, blissful joy spread through her. "So you took me on a drive?" She sniffled and grinned. "A three hour drive?"

  He grinned back.

  A knock sounded on the door and Tom opened it to Elizabeth, who carried in a tray laden with dishes of all kinds. She slid it onto the round table in front of the fire, then went back into the hall only to return almost immediately with a bottle of champagne on ice.

  She disappeared as quietly and unobtrusively as she'd entered.

  Maris stared at the feast spread out before them. "Good lord, are we actually supposed to eat all that?"

  Smiling, Tom seated her in one of the chairs, then took a place across from her where the firelight danced off his golden eyes. He opened the champagne and poured them each a glass. "To romance," he said, his deep voice spiraling a thread of warmth and longing through her body.

  "To romance."

  They managed to do fair justice to the dinner. The Châteaubriand was beyond words, the new potatoes perfectly seasoned, the home-baked bread mouthwatering, the salad crisp and tangy.

  And the company…well that was something else all together. She could barely eat her own food, for staring in fascination at Tom. And every time he caught her staring at him—because that's what she was doing, staring—he'd just smile that smile that left her breathless.

  When they'd finished, he led her over to the loveseat in front of the fire. He'd taken off his sling before dinner, and now he wrapped both arms around her and snuggled her against him.

  "Happy Birthday."

  Startled, she stared up at him. "How did you know?"

  He grinned and it caused her heart to skip a beat. "Genny told me. The big three-oh. A momentous occasion."

  "I don't know how momentous it is. Doesn't that just mean I'm getting old?"

  "If it makes you feel any better, I'm older than you are."

  She studied him with raised eyebrows. "How much older?"

  "I'm thirty-three."

  "Oh yeah, you're practically ancient. And just so I'm not at a disadvantage here, when's your birthday?"

  He chuckled.

  "When is it?"

  "Today."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Cross my heart." And he did cross it, with his index finger.

  "You're telling me that we have the same birthday?"

  "Mm-hmm. Pretty amazing, huh?" His eyes sparkled.

  "How come your family didn't mention anything about it?"

  "Because I swore them to secrecy."

  She couldn't help but laugh. "If Genny were here, she'd probably give us some cryptic words of wisdom about fate."

  "Do you believe in fate?" he asked, his expression suddenly serious.

  "Well…" She shifted position on the loveseat so she sat facing him, and tried to follow his sudden mood shift. "If you mean, do I believe that we all go blindly through the universe and no matter what we do we have no control over our lives, no." She frowned as she thought about it. "And if you mean, do any of us have the responsibility or right to take charge of other people's fates, I'd have to say no to that, too. But if you mean, do I believe things happen sometimes that are meant to happen, that there is some higher power at work that brings balance to the universe, then, yes." She shrugged. "It's a tough question. Why do you ask?"

  He exhaled slowly, and rubbed his eyes between his thumb and forefinger. Then he took her hands in his and gazed deeply into her eyes. "I'm sorry I avoided you this week. I knew I was doing it, and I knew it was hurting you, and God knows I don't ever want to hurt you any more. But I had to have time to think."

  A slow ache started inside her. She reached up and smoothed the back of her hand down his cheek. Her heart twisted at the words she had to say, but she had to offer them…for both their sakes. "I understand. I pushed you too hard in Mexico, Tom. I asked you to put aside everything that fundamentally makes you who you are. I…" she swallowed hard, "…I would understand if you can't be with me because of that."

  A startled expression swept over his face. It was followed by a haunting guilt in his eyes. "Oh, God, no, Mare, don't think that at all." He grasped her hand again and pressed a kiss against her closed fist.

  "It was just that, that night…" His eyes clouded with pain. "That night, when I let go of you and you went over the cliff—it did something to me. It…I don't know…it changed something inside me. It was like facing my worst fear in the world, and, in a way, having to jump into the middle of it feet-first and blind-folded."

  "I know. That's what I mean," she whispered. "I'm afraid it was too much to ask of you."

  "It was the hardest thing I've ever done, or probably will ever do. And this past week I had some of the worst bouts of guilt I've ever had in my life. Kicking myself for taking such a risk with your life, for getting you involved in all of that mess in the first place. But every time I'd be kicking myself the hardest, I just kept remembering that look on your face when I let go of you, that look of sheer determination." He paused, gazing into the fire.

  "And then I started thinking about some of the things you've told me, about how I have a male ego protector hang up. How I always want to be the 'great protector.' And I realized that you're right. I've spent my life doing that."

  Maris nodded, knowing he truly had. And he'd probably never given himself a moment's peace over it either.

  "Do you know about what happened to Carrie?"

  She put her hand over his and squeezed. "Yes. She told me, and showed me the scars." When Tom had been fourteen and Carrie twelve, Carrie had been caught in a grass fire and Tom had pulled her out of it. That's where the burn scars on his chest and stomach had come from. Carrie had been severely burned on her legs and had spent months in the hospital.

  "Yeah, well, ever since then, I've done exactly what you said. I've felt so overwhelmed with guilt about what happened to her—guilty because I didn't see her before it happened, guilty because I didn't get to her more quickly—"

  "But Carrie said—"

  "Yeah, I know, and she's right. It wasn't my responsibility to watch her. Dad was there, too, and he and I and all the other ranch hands were fighting the fire. Neither I, nor anyone else, could have gotten to her sooner. Don't you think I've told myself those things a thousand times over the years?" He ran a ragged hand through his hair. "But this week, the more I thought about what happened down in Mexico with you, the more I began to finally believe all those things. Believe that I don't have control over other people's fates. Believe, in fact, that sometimes when I've tried to manipulate other's fates, like I did when I left you in that cabin, I've actually made things worse.

  "Mare, when I let go of you on that cliff, I realize now that I did it because for the first time in my life, or at least since that fire with Carrie, I made the conscious decision to let go. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. I trusted you enough to know that you could do just as good a job, or better, of protecting yourself and saving your life as I could."

  "That's not an easy thing for a man who's always been the protector," Maris said softly, her heart in her throat.

  "No. Not an easy thing. But it was an important lesson for me to learn."

  He spread her hand open, brought it to his mouth, and kissed her palm. When he looked up and gazed at her, his eyes, overflowing with love, were damp. "Thank you for believing in me. And thank you for letting me believe in you."

  Tears welled in her eyes. And when Tom put a gentle finger under her chin and kissed her with a tenderness that she'd never experienced from him before, a dam broke inside her. All the pain and worry and fear that had been her constant companions over the past weeks flooded through her in a torrent. And when it finally ebbed, for the first time in weeks she could breathe easily again.

  She looked into his eyes, the eyes that had mesmerized her from the beginning. Right now they were clear amber, and for the first time ever, she could see all the way to his soul.

  "S
o what happens now?" she asked softly.

  "That depends on you."

  A tingle began in the deepest part of her heart, and slowly seeped outward. "What do you mean?"

  He wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger and tugged gently. "I'm not your protector or your keeper. I'm just the man who loves you. I want to spend my life with you, but I can't make any decisions for you, or make any assumptions about what you want. We're in this together, as you've told me on more than one occasion."

  She trembled at the love in his voice and glowing in his eyes. "A partnership?" she asked in a quavering voice.

  A slow half-smile crept onto his face that did unspeakable things to her insides.

  "I can't promise you that everything will always be perfect, Mare, or that I won't still want desperately to take care of you and keep you safe. But I can promise you that I'll always love you. And I'll always be here for you and for us. If you'll have me."

  Her heart swelled. "God, I love you," she whispered. Then she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "And you know I'll have you."

  * * *

  Significantly later, the fire only glowing embers, they cuddled together in the big bed. Tom brushed the curls out of her face and kissed her again, leaving her panting for air.

  "Hey, we never ate dessert tonight." He slid out of the bed and strode to the table where he rummaged around.

  "What are you looking for?" she asked as she sat up amidst the rumpled pillows and admired the silhouette of his splendid backside in the fading glow of the fire.

  "Dessert."

  "I'm wondering if I should be offended by that," she said with a grin. "How can you think of food at a time like this?"

  She heard him chuckle. When he turned back to her, the soft light of candles created a halo around him. He set the glowing object onto the bed between them.

  "What is this?"

  "What does it look like? It's birthday cake."

  "Two candles?"

  "Of course. One for you and one for me. Quick, blow them out before they melt all over everything."

  They both blew, and the candles flickered and went dark.

  "Hey, wait a second. What's on this cake?" She leaned closer and took a good look, then gazed up at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to stifle a laugh. "Is there supposed to be some significance to this?"