Perilous Pleasures (3 page)

Then her eyes flared and her hand shot up with splayed fingers. She was mad as a hornet about something. He wanted to capture that restless hand and hold it. He could imagine those tapered fingers exploring his body.

"Forget that one, Stefan, she bring bad luck," Tekla said in a dark, ominous voice. Stefan turned and saw his grandmother watching the woman, forewarning in her eyes. "I feel it here—" she pressed her fingers between her breasts "—and here—" she pressed her fingers to a spot between her brows. "She cause you great pain. This I know."

Stefan heard the grave, mysterious tone in his grandmother's voice and knew her words were not idle warnings, but a prophecy that came from deep within her soul. He shifted uneasily as he studied his grandmother's troubled face. Be it intuition or premonition, he'd learned long ago that when Tekla de Josefoski Janacek made a prediction, it most often came to be.

***

Karl Porter intercepted Stefan as he was crossing the midway. "What do you have planned for your opening performance?" he asked.

"A mixed ring," Stefan replied. "Four tigers and six lions. I'll have the pyramid, some rolls and leaps, the fiery ring, and the leopard walking on the mirrored globe."

"I'm looking forward to that," Porter said, as they entered the exhibition pavilion. "I understand leopards are totally unpredictable, the most difficult of all big cats to train."

"No question about that," Stefan agreed. "A variation in routine can send them into fits of anger. But so far, my leopard hasn't let me down."

Karl looked at him, curious. "Didn't you have a spotted leopard in your act?"

Stefan reflected on the beautifully-marked cat that repeatedly turned on him without warning. "I sold him to the Chicago zoo. One of my handlers had been prodding him to move him around the cage, and any trainer who wants to live never prods a cat. Eventually the day of reckoning will come when the cat turns on its trainer for revenge."

Porter's eyes shone. "I hope your animals aren't too predictable," he said. "People don't come to see overgrown house cats. They come to see the threat of death at any moment. I'm counting on your act being the most terrifying Porter Brothers has ever had."

"Don't worry," Stefan said. "I have a big male lion who's the most formidable animal I've ever faced. He recently fought off five lions and two tigers and came out with only a few scrapes." He looked up, distracted by voices. The woman from the menagerie stood poised on a platform, her hand on the trapeze. "Who's the woman?" he asked, following her graceful movement as she swung in a wide arc and returned to the platform.

Karl Porter's smile faded. "Joanna Livingston. One of the Flying Marquis."

Which explained her enmity in the menagerie, Stefan mused. Hers was the act his replaced. She also occupied the stateroom across the passageway from him. He'd seen her name plate on the door. "The men with her. Is one her husband?" he asked, watching her let go of the bar, turn two somersaults, and be caught by one of the men.

"No," replied Porter.

Stefan watched her return gracefully to the platform. "She's good."

"She's also poison," Porter said. "Stick to your cats, Janacek. Their claws are retractable."

Stefan caught the malice in Porter's tone. Whatever Joanna Livingston had done, Porter despised her for it. He made a mental note, then looked toward the woman again.

***

Hands tightening on the bar, Joanna hurled herself from the platform. As she soared upward she felt the wind on her face, sifting through her hair, sweeping her body, and savored the freedom of flying. Hearing Otto's clap, she released the bar and tucked her body into a tight coil, spinning two complete turns, and precisely at her count of three, unfolding. Instantly, hands smacked her wrists and snatched her from weightless freedom. And the moment was gone.

Returning to the platform, she waited while Gene completed his two-and-a-half. Hearing voices below, she looked down and saw Stefan Janacek watching her as he stood talking to Karl. She could imagine the lies Karl was telling him.

She looked up to catch Otto's signal, gripped the bar and swung out. When she let go of the trapeze and twisted in space, Otto caught her wrists, but the catch was clumsy. Otto's hands tightened on her forearms. "Your timing's off," he said as they sailed in an arc.

"I'm fine now," Joanna replied, her grip inching down to settle against the balls of Otto's hands. On returning to her perch, she saw that Stefan Janacek was still watching. Determined to ignore the man, she concentrated on Otto, caught his cue and swung out. Again, the pass was clumsy. By the third faltering pass Otto said, while swinging in a wide arc, "You're through for today. Your timing's shot to hell. Get ready, I'm dropping you."

"
Not now
!"

"You know the rules." Otto released her and she plunged to the net below, bouncing high before breaking her rebound with bent legs. Angry and humiliated, she marched across the webbing in springy strides, grabbed the framework holding the net and somersaulted over the edge. Gene dropped to the net and turned a somersault beside her. "What the hell is going on?" he clipped. "You're coming out of your tucks too late."

Moments later, Otto tumbled off the net. "You'd better snap out of whatever your problem is or I don't want to be on the catching end."

Joanna looked to where Stefan Janacek stood watching her.

Gene followed the direction of her gaze. "So that's it. Janacek."

Joanna grabbed a towel to mop her brow. "Just what is
that
supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well what it means," Gene snapped. "When you're on the bars, keep your mind on what's going on up there, not on what, or who's down here."

Joanna glanced at Stefan Janacek, who continued watching them, then glared at Gene and said, "I refuse to defend a minor offset in timing. Everyone is entitled to an occasional off-day." Swirling her cloak around her shoulders, she headed for the midway.

Gene called after her, "Don't forget, you're on for the interview this afternoon."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Joanna called back, acutely aware of the green eyes following her, and of the fact that the haughty gypsy behind those eyes would be the other party at the newspaper interview.

Three hours later, dressed in a white costume trimmed in sequins, Joanna stood in front of a white horse with plumes in it's ornate headpiece while acknowledging a small gathering. At the entrance to the pavilion, she saw Stefan Janacek approaching. What caught her attention was the expanse of broad bare chest exposed beneath his hussar vest as he walked toward them. She'd expected him to wear work clothes. Then she realized Karl would have insisted he look as he did on the placard. When he caught her watching, she looked up at Royal Dobbs, advance man for the show, who sat atop the horse.

After addressing the reporters, Dobbs said, "We have two of Porter Brother's star performers: queen of the air, Joanna Livingston of the Flying Marquis, and king of the gypsies, Stefan Janacek, whose act featuring lions, tigers and a black leopard is new to Porter Brothers.

While attention centered on Dobbs, Joanna studied Stefan's face. With his dark hair and green eyes, he was without doubt the most exotic-looking man she'd ever seen. And perhaps the handsomest. Her gaze meandered down his muscular chest to the dark trousers tucked inside tall black boots and back to his face. Heat settled in her cheeks as she saw the amusement in his eyes and realized she'd been ogling the man.

"I say there... Miss Livingston?" She looked at a reporter who was addressing her. Perhaps for the second time? "Is it true the Flying Marquis plan to perform without nets?"

"You must have been talking to Gene Marquis," Joanna replied. "Gene has visions of grandeur. I have visions of staying alive. If we fly together, it will be over a net."

Another reporter asked, "How does the queen of the air feel about sharing accolades with the king of the gypsies?"

Joanna looked at Stefan. "That would be impossible," she said. "I'll be at the top of the pavilion with the doves. Mr. Janacek's will be down in the dirt with the lions. The spectators will have to focus on one act—" a sly smile tugged at her lips "—or the other."

Stefan responded to her offhanded remark by allowing his eyes to lazily roam down the length of her body and slowly return to rest on her bosom. Disarmed by his blatant perusal, and feeling the sting of heat in her cheeks, Joanna raised a hand to cover her chest while nervously fingering the choker hugging her throat.

"Mr. Janacek," the reporter asked, drawing Stefan's eyes away from Joanna, "how did you happen to become a lion tamer?"

"I started out as cage boy for my father," Stefan replied, "then moved to assistant trainer when my father was killed by his lions, and on to top trainer when the man I was working under lost his arm in an attack."

"A German fellow wasn't it?" the reporter asked.

Stefan nodded. "Klaus Haufchild." He wondered if Haufchild still blamed him for the accident that ended his career. He was a haughty man, a man too proud to admit his mistake. He remembered his words that night at the hospital...
I'll get you for this, Janacek. You won't know when, so you'll wait and wonder, but it will happen. Now go. Get the hell out of my sight...

The reporter eyed him curiously. "It seems the odds are against you. Aren't you afraid you too could be mauled or killed?"

Stefan shrugged. "If I were to dwell on how many trainers have ended up as cat food, I probably wouldn't go into the cage at all."

The reporter laughed uncertainly, then returned to Joanna. "This is the first time Porter Brothers has had a big cat act. How do you feel about having Stefan Janacek's vicious lions and tigers on the premises?"

Joanna eyed the powerfully-built chest and muscular veined biceps in Stefan Janacek's crossed arms. "I feel quite safe," she replied, eyes moving up to meet his gaze, "as long as Mr. Janacek is in the cage with them."

That brought the kind of a smile to the man's lips that made Joanna immediately regret her bold remark. When he offered no comment, but continued to look at her in amusement, she batted her eyes nervously and said, "Yes... well... I have to go now," then turned and headed for the
Aurora
, where she would be away from the unsettling effect that Stefan Janacek's presence seemed to have on her. Away, that is, until he settled into his staterooms. She found the idea of being isolated with the man, at the end of a long private passageway, deeply disturbing, while at the same time, she felt restless for the danger and excitement his hooded green gaze promised.