Hunting the She-Cat Read Online Free PDF

warned. Well, darn, why not
snarl and bare her teeth too. Not sure why she did not want him any
closer than an arm length to Lugar, but the need was strong. “Stay
back,” she ordered.
    “Misha?” Lugar asked.
    “Misha?” Bronson asked.
    “It … it’s very dark here,” she said.
“There are too many of us on this small balcony,” she said,
improvising a plausible excuse, waving a hand toward the doorway
behind him. “The weight. The welds are old and not up to code any
longer. I need to repair it.” The truth was she wanted to insure
Bronson stayed back far away from Lugar.
    God help her, for Lugar’s safety, she
realized. She wanted her own boyfriend gone -- or at least at a
greater distance. Bronson was fit and he held several kinds of
different colored Asian martial arts self-defense belts. She was
not familiar with the details, but knew he was trained to be sneaky
and skilled, very good with the hand-to-hand fighting.
    Sensing her alarm, Lugar began to
stroke her hair in a soothing way, from top to ends of its length.
“Be calm,” he whispered near the shell of her ear. “It’s alright,
Misha. I am a civilized being. I will not kill your
friend.”
    Some of the tension in her stance
eased, but she did not correct his misinterpretation of her insane
behavior. No need to feed his ego with knowledge of her fear for
him.
    “Well that’s just damn friendly for a
colleague,” Bronson said, his eyes narrowed now in a suspicious
way. “There’s not enough space between you two for a
pencil.”
    Sala spoke, “Smart man. Let’s go
inside, shall we, Bron? Give them a minute.” She winked brazenly at
Misha. “We’ll pave the way for with the others, Mr. Alpha. Long
lost boyfriend sound about right?”
    “Yes. Thank you,” Lugar
said.
    “Oh, damn it Mish, he’s polite
too.”
    “What did you call him?” Bronson asked
with his eyes turned on Sala now.
    “Nothing, Slick.” Boldly, she took
Bronson’s arm, steering him to the door. “Just relax and come with
me, handsome,” she said.
    Bronson looked down at Sala’s hand,
then gave Misha a puzzled frown.
    “Just his name,” Sala continued,
clearly attempting to distract Bronson from more questions. “I
said, Mr. Roma.”
    “Rova,” Lugar corrected. Then he took
Misha’s elbow and escorted her after the other two. “You smell
glorious,” he whispered near Misha’s ear.
    Her darned knees went weak nearly
melting out from under her, and she closed her eyes a moment to
regain composure. He caught her by the waist, steadying her
balance. “I don’t even know you,” she hissed. “I’m not sure I like
you.”
    “You will soon. Soon.” Laughing softly,
Lugar calmly took her into her own house as if they had not been in
the throws of hot-out-of-control passion just moments
ago.
    As the evening wore on, Lugar never
left her side. His body language reminded her of a high-powered
bodyguard. He watched everyone who approached her. She began to
suspect he could have held his own with Bronson, all martial arts
training aside. Explaining who he was went smoother than she
thought. Since he acted like a bodyguard that’s what she said. That
she’d met him a few years ago, through a dignitary client who had
been under Lugar’s protection until he’d safely testified in court
trial. A believable lie. Lugar even seemed to be able at speaking
SWAT team speak where needed -- he knew a lot about Earth’s police
special weapons and emergency tactics. Not to mention carbines and
body armor.
    Sala used her considerable and
devastating feminine wiles keeping Bronson away from them all
evening. Her friend also sensed the potential volatility of the
situation between the two men. From his expression, Bronson was
willingly distracted, mesmerized by Sala’s unexpected attention.
Misha felt no jealousy that he gave Sala attention in return. She
was amazingly relieved in fact.
    Toward the end of the night, only
stragglers remained and Lugar’s high-tech