It Came Upon a Midnight Dream

It Came Upon a Midnight Dream by Bobbi Romans Read Free Book Online

Book: It Came Upon a Midnight Dream by Bobbi Romans Read Free Book Online
Authors: Bobbi Romans
Tags: Romance
Chapter One
     
     
    The storm blew in, howling with angry fury. I snatched the down comforter and yanked the thing up to my chin. Sure, I love winter. Love donning all my gay apparel. No, I do. Thick warm socks, old sweatshirts paired with soft faded fleece bottoms—the works.
    Yep, I looked ready to stroll those super click runways the models walked. Um, not. Is it bad to admit I always watch waiting for a supermodel to bust her ass? We’ve all seen the clip where one does. We laugh. I mean, I do pity her, but laughter comes first.
    What I want right now, though, is someone to take up the chilly spot on the bed next to me. Someone to warm me through the night. Being a single girl in New York is rough on a good day. Also being damn near five feet ten inches and one hundred forty pounds of plain Jane in a town where models came a dime a dozen... Well, those measurements don’t help for shit.
    That’s me, average Zhara Johnson, accountant at Polly’s Pastries down on the corner of Crosby Ave. and Middleton Rd. All that said, I feel kinda lucky. My skin is virtually scar free and though I can afford to get and maintain a weave, truthfully, I can’t stand sitting still for so long. So I opt for my natural hair, cropped short. Hey, with sparkly shadow and a good set of earrings, in my opinion, I appear far more elegant.
    Sophisticated, even. Not the sexy glamorous hooker-mama type the cute dudes in this town are apparently attracted to. At least with me those bozos wouldn’t wake up shocked to see what their model overnighter looked like under all the pancake makeup and glitter in the morning.
    Nope. With me, what you see is what you get.
    I glanced at the clock. Three a.m., far too early to even think of rising on this frigid morning. Pulling the covers up just a tad more, to my ears, I let the whistling winds lull me back into a sleepy state.
    I awoke and found myself in my pajamas in the middle of the Bronx zoo staring at the most gorgeous creature I’d ever laid eyes on.
    A white tiger.
    A blue-eyed white tiger at that.
    The wondrous beast stalked to the fencing. His gaze not predatory, but curious. If he’d been human, I’d have said curious.
    Wait, him? I stepped closer to the fence and tilted to attempt a peek beneath his fur from this angle.
    Oh, yeah. Boy kitty, all right. No missing the size of those balls hanging in the back.
    When I righted myself the damn thing grinned at me. No shit. Full-fledged, big-ass grin. On a fucking tiger.
    “Quit laughing at me,” I demanded, indignant. I’ll be damned if the thing didn’t respond. Wasn’t a purr, or roar, but a yip-like sound as he tossed his head back.
    “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? Wonder what your name is. I think I’ll call you smart-ass. The name suits you quite well, in fact.”
    Again the jeep-sized furball made a yipping, laugh-like sound.
    “Fine. Smart-Ass it is, then.” The cat leapt toward the gate at the side of his enclosure. Paced the area as if trying to tell me to let him out.
    “Tigers are known for eating people. I don’t think releasing you is the best of ideas.”
    The damn thing licked his lips. The look turned from curious to predatory and then he ambled my way again.
    I still couldn’t believe I was standing in the middle of the Bronx zoo, with snow coming down, having a discussion with a tiger. My gray flannel, ugly nightgown had kept me warm so far—but wait. That couldn’t be.
    How was any of this even possible?
    The tiger turned and showed me his ass. I’d obviously pissed him off when I refused to free him.
    And then it happened.
    The son of a bitch sprayed me.
    I was in a deserted zoo. Talking with a tiger. In the snow. And now smelling rank from cat urine.
    This shit better be a nightmare.
    Nnnaannnaaannnnnna
    Nnnaannnaannnnnnna
    I slung my pillow hard as I freaking could. I hate mornings but I loathe alarms even more. The infernal blaring waking me from a perfectly good dream...
    Bolting upright, I actually

Similar Books

Donovan's Woman

Amanda Ashley

Untouchable

Chris Ryan

Monarch of the Sands

Sharon Kendrick

Old Neighborhood

Avery Corman