been injured.
“Sure,” he said, shifting his weight so he leaned against the wall. He set the crutches next to him, securing them near the cage.
“Here, baby,” Faith said, moving close to him and petting the cub. “They thrive on attention. In the wild, they’re totally dependent on their mother. They won’t even stray from her side until they’re more than a year old. They want to be cuddled, don’t you?” She softened her voice and nuzzled the kitten’s soft ears. “You’re a sweet baby. Hold your arms out, Cort, and cradle it while I’m still holding on.”
She moved until she was inches from him, then felt his hands slip between her and the cub. His knuckles brushed against her belly. A shiver raced through her, and she had to fight not to jump. What on earth…?
“You got it?” she asked.
“I think so. God, he’s so soft. Come here, monster,” Cort said, keeping his tone low and calm. “Get a load of those feet.”
She gave the cub one last pat and stepped back. “They’ll both grow to be several hundred pounds.”
“That’s a lot of kitty.” Cort held the kitten in his arms. The animal looked from her to Cort, then mewed and snuggled close to his chest.
“It likes you.” Something sharp nibbled on her ankle. “You want attention, too, don’t you?” She leaned down and picked up the smaller cub. Icy blue eyes stared back at her. The small triangular nose quivered as it inhaled her scent. “The changes have been hard on them. I don’t know how many people have handled and fed them, but it’s pretty obvious they haven’t had a stable life.”
“So now you’re doing cat therapy?”
“Cort!”
He grinned. “How rare are white tigers?”
“It depends,” she said. “Some people are breeding white tigers, but they aren’t true mutants. You can tell by the eye color. A true white tiger has blue eyes. Just like yours, huh?” She scratched the cub’s head. The baby arched back against her hand and wiggled to get closer. “They have brown stripes on white fur, and the nose and lips are pinkish gray.”
“I never thought of tigers as having lips.”
He held the cub securely, but without too much pressure. The lonely cat sniffed at his neck and face, making throaty noises and generally looking pleased.
“Not quite the same as fighting warlords and terrorists, is it?” she asked.
Their eyes met. She felt that same shiver again, but this time he wasn’t even touching her. Her heartbeat clicked up a notch, pounding harder and faster in her chest. Her palms suddenly felt damp, and she fought the urge to moisten her lips. What was happening to her?
“So who takes care of them?” he asked. “You?”
“I’ve been sharing the duties with the kids, when they’re here, but it would be better to have just one person. After all the cubs have been through, they need some stability.”
Cort shifted suddenly and disentangled the cub’s claws from his shoulders. “I’m not a scratching post,” he told the animal. “They’re feisty little buggers, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, and hungry. They get fed every few hours. They have to be rubbed down and massaged to keep their circulation and bowels going. They need attention and affection and a lot of other things I don’t have time for.”
“You want a volunteer?” he asked.
“I wasn’t hinting.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Okay, maybe I was. But it’s a lot of work and time.”
He glanced around the small room. “Once I get the security system installed, maintenance shouldn’t take much of my day. If they don’t object to a gimpy role model, I’ll give it a try.”
She told herself the sensation of nerves in her stomach came from relief and nothing else. Certainly not from being near Cort. He was here to protect her and the cubs. She knew better than to risk being attracted to any man.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I really didn’t mean to make you think you had to help. Keeping the cubs safe is my main priority.”
“Mine, too.” He gave her a slow smile. It caused lines to crinkle by the corners of his eyes. She felt her own lips tug in response. “I’m here because of them, Faith. If I help you with feeding and whatever else you do, I’m also looking out for them.”
It seemed easiest to accept gracefully. After all, she really didn’t have time to take care of the cubs along with all her other duties. “Thanks.” She placed the baby she was holding back in the cage and reached for the other one. “Let me show you the feeding schedule. Then we can tour the compound. By the time we’re done, it’ll be time to feed them and you can get your lesson in Tiger Mothering 101.”
She secured the cage. Cort collected his crutches. The cubs stared up at him and began to mew. He looked at her. “How do you resist them?”
She shrugged. “Practice, and the knowledge that if they had their way, someone would be with them twenty-four hours a day.” She shook her head. “That’s the worst of it. People smuggle in rare animals because they want to own something unique, but they don’t bother to consider the animal itself. They don’t think about the special diet and attention, the needs of babies this tiny.” She crouched down and patted the smaller of the two through the wire cage. “Poor sweeties. We need to find you a good home, and fast.” She rose and started out of the room.
“How long will that take?” Cort asked, hobbling behind her.
“It depends. It’s not that easy to hand them over to a zoo or a breeding center. Tigers are expensive to keep and cubs are demanding. Most facilities don’t have the room, the personnel or the funds. Jeff wants to make sure he gets it right the first time. That’s why they’re with me. I can hold them longer than most places.”
They entered her office. Photos of big cats lined the walls. Her scarred, thrift-store desk took up a good portion of the space. File cabinets and a couple of chairs filled the rest. Faith waved him into the seat in front of her desk. Cort settled into the chair and placed the crutches on the floor.
“How’s the leg?” she asked as she pulled open a file cabinet drawer and withdrew several forms.
“Not bad. I should be walking without help in a day or so.”
“Good.” She turned around and looked at him.
In his jeans and long-sleeved cotton shirt, he looked like any local. Most of the men living on the mountain did physical work for a living, so his broad shoulders and defined muscles wouldn’t set him apart. It had to be something else that made her heart flutter foolishly. Maybe it was the shape of him—lean and graceful with a concealed power. Even with the bandaged leg and crutches, he reminded her of her cats, moving carefully, deliberately, the wary instincts of a predator never far below the surface.
“These are the forms I use to keep track of the cubs’ care.” She handed him several papers. “I don’t think
