Chase, Zara - Tigers' Temptation [Impulse 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (4 page)

“You’ve got good reflexes,” Layla said.

Shit!

“Bet he couldn’t do it again,” Philo quipped, taking the sting out of the moment as he caught the keys Mikael tossed him and headed for the stairs.

“Let’s wait in the other room.”

Mikael had no wish to be alone in a bedroom with Layla when he was doing his damnedest not to think of her in the sack. The battle with his inner self wasn’t going well, causing him to speak to her with the minimum of civility. They reached the sitting room, which was when Mikael expected the barrage of questions to start. He threw himself into a chair and stared moodily out of the window, not caring if he was being rude. After all, she was the one who’d foisted herself on them uninvited. To his astonishment, she didn’t say a word. That was such a rarity in his experience that he turned to look at her, wondering what she thought she was playing at.

“Okay,” he said, sighing. “I expect you have questions.”

“Actually, I was thinking of leaving. You clearly don’t want me here, which makes me wonder why you invited me to stay.”

Hell, she’s sharper than I realized.

“I already said, we like our privacy. Besides, it’s hard to work when a stranger’s dogging your every move.”

“I’ll try not to get in your way.”

Yeah, like that’s gonna work!

“You don’t seem to like reporters, but we’re not all cut from the same cloth, you know. Anything you tell me will remain confidential, unless you give me permission to publish it.” She met his gaze and held it. “On that you have my solemn word.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

Layla sighed but didn’t take issue with his sarcasm. “You said earlier that you don’t think much of modern medicine. What do you do that’s better?”

“Traditional medicine treats a condition, not its cause.”

“Because people don’t have their bodies regularly checked over in the way that they do their cars?”

Mikael raised a brow, impressed by her quick understanding. “Exactly. Most patients only see a doctor when they’re aware of a problem, and by then it’s usually too late to stop the rot.”

“A Band-Aid to fix a tumor?”

“Something like that. We’re into prevention rather than trying to fix a condition that’s already too far advanced to be fixed.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She leaned forward, giving him a good view of her cleavage, but whether by accident or design, Mikael couldn’t have said. She was intense, clearly interested in what he had say, and he found her difficult to read. It wasn’t too easy to concentrate, either. There was an inherent sensuality in her movements and gestures that distracted Mikael. Her voice was pitched low and soft, and she had a way of focusing her extraordinary eyes directly on him when she asked her questions, making Mikael want to go that extra mile to satisfy her curiosity, in spite of his determination to remain detached.

Admit it, pal, it’s more than her curiosity you’d like to satisfy.

Which was absolutely true. Mikael had never been so drawn toward any woman before. But she was a journalist—the irony wasn’t lost on Mikael—but it was a useful brake to use whenever his thoughts roved into forbidden territory. Philo might think she was the one for them, but she couldn’t be. What she did for a living made that impossible, and that was the end of the matter.

“Mikael?” She lifted her brows, reminding him that she was waiting for an answer to her question. He’d been so lost in erotic thought that he didn’t remember what the question was.

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Just remembered something I need to do.”
Something I’ve been waiting to do with the right woman for decades.
“What did you ask me?”

“You were talking about prevention rather than cure.”

“Right.” Mikael made an effort to focus on something other than Layla’s tempting body. “Say, for example, you have a history of high blood pressure in your family. There’s a good chance you’ll develop blood pressure issues, too.”

She nodded. “So you devise ways to stop people at risk from sharing the family’s ailment of choice?”

Mikael expelled a mirthless chuckle, wondering what she was wearing beneath her sleeveless top. She’d sat up again and he could see the outline of the lacy bra encasing her pert tits. He wondered what color it was. He wondered what noises she’d make if he wrapped his lips around one of the big nipples he could see through her clothing.
Shit, don’t go there!

“The majority of people
wouldn’t
get sick if they paid attention to their diet and exercised, but that rarely happens. Philo and I work with herbs found locally to try and combat the toxins that cause specific diseases.”

“Which is what you’re using on the volunteers?”

“You got it,” Mikael said, telling the truth, just not the complete truth.

“How’s it going?”

“It’s too soon to tell. These studies take years to produce results.”

“But if they do, drug companies could make billions producing your medications.”

“Yeah, but it’s a big
if.
”
Mikael scowled.
“And the last thing I want is greedy corporate types coming down here, throwing their money around, and getting in the way of my studies. Besides, the herbs only grow in this area. They wouldn’t last five minutes if the whole world raided them.”

“Why do they only grow here?”

Mikael shrugged. “No idea.”

“Why not the rest of Florida? Is it something to do with Impulse’s weird climate?”

“Could be.”

“But surely they could be transplanted elsewhere. Then, if your cures work, more people could benefit.”

“We haven’t got that far yet.”

“Okay.” She flashed a smile that went straight to his groin. Mikael shifted his legs farther under the table. She didn’t need to see just how graphically her smile had affected him. “I can see you don’t like my questions and obviously don’t like journalists much, either. No wonder you didn’t welcome me with open arms.”

Mikael allowed himself the merest hint of a smile as he raked her body with his gaze. “You’re probably not used to halfhearted reactions, looking the way you do.”

His smile actually broadened when she returned the favor, subjecting him to a minute once-over. “I prefer to rely on my brains to open doors for me, just like you do.”

“
Touché
!”

“What part does Philo play in all this?”

“He’s a botanist.”

“Ah, so his input must be vital when it comes to choosing and mixing the right plants.”

“Put simplistically, I guess it is.”

“Aw, did he just admit that he actually needs me?” Philo had walked soundlessly up the stairs with Layla’s overnight bag and now stuck his grinning face around the door.

“Listening at doors again, lover?”

“Of course. That’s how I find out what’s going on. And what I’ve found out is that you’re hot for her.”

“Yeah, okay, but she’s a journalist so it’s no-go.”

“Get over yourself. She’s the one and we both know it.”

“Later.”

“I’ll just put this in your room, shall I?” Philo said, smiling at Layla.

“Thanks.”

“Come on,” Mikael said when Philo rejoined them. “We’ll give you a guided tour. Then, later on, we have to be at a meeting. You can come along and chat to some of the other locals. They’ll be able to give you a different angle on the Institute.”

“Can I talk to some of the volunteers?”

Mikael shrugged. “I’m not gonna give you their names, but if you ask and they admit to being a part of the program, that’s a decision for them.”
Except I’ll make damned sure none of them say a word.

“He’s always this crabby on a Tuesday,” Philo said, taking Layla’s arm and walking with her toward the stairs. “Don’t take it personally.”

Her laughter went straight to Mikael’s groin. Again. Having her stay definitely wasn’t one of his better ideas, but it was necessary. He knew from bitter experience that determined journalists didn’t give up when they thought they were onto a story. He’d get through her visit. Somehow. Presumably the cold shower would be in for a pounding. Either that, or he and Philo would be fucking each other’s brains out even more frequently than usual.

“Come in here,” Mikael said, opening a door on the main floor of the Institute. “This is our data collection room. We collate test results, and these guys are putting the information onto spread sheets for me to study later.”

Mikael introduced the two guys and two young girls—a puma, a cheetah, and two human mates—who were performing that task. He’d already sent out a pheromone to the colony, so everyone in this room knew who Layla was and why she was there. Her questions were answered in a friendly way, but told her absolutely nothing she hadn’t known before she entered the room.

“If there’s nothing more that interests you here, shall we move on?” Mikael asked.

Layla shot him a look that said she knew she was being snowed. “Sure, nice meeting you guys,” she said to the workers.

“You, too,” they answered in unison.

“This is Philo’s domain.”

Mikael showed her into a temperature-controlled room that filled his senses with the pungent aroma of dried herbs and wild fungi. The walls were lined with shelves neatly stacked with bottles and jars that immediately took Layla’s interest. A collection of fridges and freezers, immaculately clean scientific equipment, and a large stainless-steel table took up the rest of the space.

“It’s like an operating theater,” Layla remarked, glancing at the table.

Mikael suppressed a smile, recalling what use he and Philo had put that table to on several occasions recently. Not being able to keep their paws off one another wasn’t a problem when they had so much space at their disposal and a never-ending stream of inventive ways to use that space.

“That’s more or less what it is,” Philo told her, making no effort to suppress his own smirk. As usual, the two of them were on the same wavelength, no twiddling of dials required.

Layla peered at the labels on the jars. “I’ve never heard of wingrass, or oatbitter, either.” She smiled at Philo. “Are they your secret local ingredients?”

“Some of them, but there’s nothing particularly secret about them.” He shrugged. “Anyone’s free to gather them and make of them what they will.”

“It’s not the ingredients, but the way you mix them together, I guess.”

“Right.”

“And you’re not going to tell me anything about that?”

Mikael curled his upper lip. “’Fraid not,” he said.

“Does he always answer your questions for you?” Layla asked Philo.

“He’s the boss, or likes to think he is.”

Mikael grunted but refrained from comment.

“Do you have to heat things up?” Layla pointed toward the stove and the line of Bunsen burners arrayed along a granite surface.

“Sometimes,” Philo replied.

She glanced at the dried herbs and powders, but Mikael was pretty sure she’d get nothing from them. Her fingers ran across the digital scales, which Mikael guessed was a delaying tactic. He knew without tuning into her head that she was trying to formulate questions that would catch him unawares.
Don’t bother, darlin’.