Wildcat Blues by Nalini Singh (read aloud books TXT) 📕

“Oh, mercy,” she whispered, because watching Tanner move… She fanned herself while his back was turned and he couldn’t see her combusting.

Then he was pulling himself up onto Star, and the race was on.

She stretched out at full feline speed, giving no quarter as they raced home. He kept his horse at enough of a distance from her that the animal wouldn’t spook, but she could feel the vibration of Star’s hoofbeats, and knew she was smoking Tanner.

So she wasn’t the least surprised to reach the front door and look back to find him still halfway across a field. She waited. For what, she didn’t know…not until he grinned and lifted his hat to sweep it down in a salute.

Her own lips twitched.

Yeah, so he didn’t mind that she’d beaten him, was a man confident enough of his own strength that hers didn’t frighten him. As a younger woman, she’d had the misfortune to date someone who was scared by her—then—burgeoning confidence, and who’d delighted in making her feel less.

Never again would Zara permit any man to make her feel that way.

“And none of that has anything to do with Tanner,” she told herself sternly. “He’s just being a nice host and you’re being a friendly guest. That’s all.”

She even half-believed her stern pep talk through her quick shower and change—into a pretty yellow sundress, her curls out. She completed the outfit with white canvas sandals that were totally impractical for a farm, but that made her feel good. Then she stepped out the front door again, to find Tanner waiting for her beside what must’ve been an old farm vehicle. It was dented and scratched, the color a faded camo green, and it looked as tough as a grizzled old leopard.

Tanner’d changed too, was dressed in well-worn jeans that hugged his thighs, and a black tee that was loose enough not to hug his biceps. But Zara had x-ray vision now that she’d seen him half-naked once. She could imagine those biceps, count the ripples on his stomach.

Her mouth watered.

Opening the door of the vehicle, he said, “You look like sunshine,” and her cat preened.

Vain, vain, vain. But his words still made her happy. “You clean up nice, too,” she said in return, even though she liked him dirty just fine.

A languid smile that creased his cheeks and lit up his eyes was her reward.

Reaching the vehicle moments later, she saw the distance from the ground to the seat.

“Want some help?” murmured a deep male voice at her back, Tanner’s heat burning through her dress.

She wanted to angle her head in a silent invitation for him to kiss the slope of her neck as he stroked his hands— Focus, Zara!

What had he asked? If she wanted a lift.

Zara was a wildcat. She lived in an aerie in a tree. She climbed on a daily basis. But she turned and said, “Yes,” and Tanner put his big, warm hands on her waist, lifting her up until her mouth was at the same level as his. Her hands landed instinctively on the muscled power of his shoulders.

Their breaths mingled in the space between.

Her heartbeat turned into a drum.

Tanner’s smile faded into something darker, more intimate.

And her claws sliced out of her skin, pricking him through the soft cotton of his tee, her wildcat in no more mood to wait for a taste of sexy, gorgeous, all-wrong-for-her Tanner Larkspur.

Part 3

Tanner’s eyes flicked to the farmhouse. “Hold that thought, kitty cat.” It came out hoarse, Tanner making no attempt to hide his response to her. “I have a feeling we’ve got an audience.”

Zara didn’t much care, but then, she was a cat. She could be a showoff at times. “The twins?”

“Nope. I think it’s Ma.” A wicked grin. “Probably praying to all the gods in the universe that you rope me good and well, and she can finally stop worrying about her bachelor son.”

Zara snorted. “I don’t think you have any trouble getting dates, Tanner Larkspur.” He was a tall drink of sexy deliciousness. Just the kind of man who’d ride her hard and probably leave her wanting.

A twinkle in his eye, he put her into the passenger seat, then shut the door.

As he ran around to get into the driver’s seat, she frowned to herself. This was Tally’s brother, and Tally was Zara’s friend. “We’re not about to do something stupid, are we?” she said when Tanner got in.

He shot her a dark-eyed glance, a sudden seriousness to him that made her skin prickle. “You worried about Tally?”

“I just don’t want to overstep.” It sounded so stuffy put that way, so she tried again. “There are rules when it’s the brother of a friend.”

Another slow smile. “Shall I tell you how many times she’s told me I need to meet her friend Zara, that she’s sure we’d get along like a house on fire?”

Blinking, Zara twisted on the seat. “She did not.”

He reached out to tug on one of her curls, watched it bounce. As if he was the cat and not her. That she was allowing him all these skin privileges…yeah, she was in trouble.

“She showed me photos too,” Tanner said. “Oh, she’d send them through saying it was of her and Clay, or the kids, but oh, what a coincidence, there’s Zara in the background, or posing with Noor on an ice cream date, or oh, look, there she is being a badass architect on a building site with Clay.” He winked. “I like your cute pink hardhat and black work boots with silver stripes. You look like you could kick ass.”

Zara’s mouth had fallen open halfway through that recitation. Snapping it shut, she fought the blush on her cheekbones. “I spray-painted my hardhat pink when I was on my first building site and assh*le men kept trying to talk down to me. I thought, if I’m going to deal with this sh*t anyway, I might as well