Untamed by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

prettiest of the ladies. Ophelia, who had a litter last year; and Abra, eight, a bit bad-tempered but a good balancer.”
    Hearing her name, the cat rose, stretched her long, golden body, then began to rub it against the bars of the cage. A deep sound rumbled in her throat. Jo scowled and jammed her hands into her pockets. “She likes you,” she muttered.
    â€œOh?” Lifting a brow, Keane studied the three-hundred-pound Abra more carefully. “How do you know?”
    â€œWhen a lion likes you, it does exactly what a house cat does. It rubs against you. Abra’s rubbing against the bars because she can’t get any closer.”
    â€œI see.” Humor touched his mouth. “I must admit, I’m at a loss on how to return the compliment.” He drew on his cigar, then regarded Jo through a haze of smoke. “Your choice of names is fascinating.”
    â€œI like to read,” she stated, leaving it at that. “Is there anything else you’d like to know about the cats?” Jo was determined to keep their conversation on a professional level. His smile had reminded her all too clearly of their encounter the night before.
    â€œDo you drug them before a performance?”
    Fury sparked Jo’s eyes. “Certainly not.”
    â€œWas that an unreasonable question?” Keane countered. He dropped his cigar to the ground, then crushed it out with his heel.
    â€œNot for a first of mayer,” Jo decided with a sigh. She tossed her hair carelessly behind her back. “Drugging is not only cruel, it’s stupid. A drugged animal won’t perform.”
    â€œYou don’t touch the lions with that whip,” Keane commented. He watched the light breeze tease a few strands of her hair. “Why do you use it?”
    â€œTo get their attention and to keep the audience awake.” She smiled reluctantly.
    Keane took her arm. Instantly, Jo stiffened. “Let’s walk,” he suggested. He began to lead her away from the cages. Spotting several people roaming the back yard, Jo refrained from pulling away. The last thing she wanted was the story spreading that she was having a tiff with the owner. “How do you tame them?” he asked her.
    â€œI don’t. They’re not tame, they’re trained.” A tall blond woman walked by carrying a tiny white poodle. “Merlin’s hungry today,” Jo called out with a grin.
    The woman bundled the dog closer to her breast in mock alarm and began a rapid scolding in French. Jo laughed, telling her in the same language that Fifi was too tough a mouthful for Merlin.
    â€œFifi can do a double somersault on the back of a moving horse,” Jo explained as they began to walk again. “She’s trained just as my cats are trained, but she’s also domesticated. The cats are wild.” Jo turned her face up to Keane’s. The sun cast a sheen over her hair and threw gold flecks into her eyes. “A wild thing can never be tamed, and anyone who tries is foolish. If you take something wild and turn it into a pet, you’ve stolen its character, blanked out its spark. And still, there’s always an essence of the wild that can come back to life. When a dog turns on his master, it’s ugly. When a lion turns, it’s lethal.” She was beginning to become accustomed to his hand on her arm, finding it easy to talk to him because he listened. “A full-grown male stands three feet at the shoulder and weighs over five hundred pounds. One well-directed swipe can break a man’s neck, not to mention what teeth and claws can do.” Jo gave a smile and a shrug. “Those aren’t the virtues of a pet.”
    â€œYet you go into a cage with twelve of them, armed with a whip?”
    â€œThe whip’s window dressing.” Jo discounted it with a gesture of her hand. “It would hardly be a defense against even one cat at full charge. A lion is a very tenacious enemy. A