Leopard 04 - Wild Fire

reminded Isabeau of a praying mantis, an insect ready to strike her prey the first chance she got. Imelda’s gluttonous gaze slid dismissively over Isabeau once, but moved quickly on to the men in the group—a new supply of men for her voracious appetite.
    That told all of them that Imelda wasn’t leopard, or even part leopard. She would have known Isabeau was close to the Han Vol Dan and therefore her biggest threat. The two rogue leopards would be consumed by her presence. Their duty to Imelda would be second to their need of mating with a female leopard in the throes of the Han Vol Dan.
    Imelda moved across the room, aware all eyes were on her. She pursed her lips and made a little clucking noise, shaking her head. “This is no way to treat Philip’s guests, Martin.” She slid her fingers playfully down Conner’s arm. “Who do we have here?”
    Isabeau’s cat gave a fierce snarl, but subsided under her growing control. Conner didn’t even so much as glance at Imelda. His gaze remained fixed and focused on Martin’s. There was a threat there, very real, and Martin didn’t dare move, not even with Imelda clearly giving him the signal to back off.
    “Conner,” Marcos said in a low tone. “I think he has the message.”
    Conner took a step back immediately, never taking his eyes from Martin. The rogue leopard stepped back as well and broke the stare, looking at his employer. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.
    Imelda gave a sniff of contempt and handed him a handkerchief. “Mop up. You look ridiculous.” She glided close to Conner, and ran her finger down his chest this time, a blatant invitation, her breasts nearly touching him, her perfume engulfing him, her eyes devouring him. “Very few men can get the better of my Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    guards.”
    Martin stirred as if he might protest. Imelda’s hand came up and she waved languidly. “Go away, Martin.
    You’re boring me.”
    Martin glanced at Isabeau, his eyes glittering dangerously and then he looked once more to his boss.
    Hatred flared briefly, and he turned abruptly, signaling the other security guards, who dispersed to various spots in the room. Only then did Conner look down at Imelda. Isabeau held her breath. There was no expression whatsoever on his face.
    “Excuse me, ma’am.” He moved in silence back toward the wall where the shadows in the room swallowed him.
    “Oh my,” Imelda said, fanning herself. “You have good taste in protectors, Marcos. I’m Imelda Cortez.”
    Marcos bent gallantly over her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Imelda—may I call you Imelda?”
    “Of course. I believe we’ll be great friends.” She flashed him a lovely smile, all teeth and flirty pouting lips.
    Conversation began cautiously around them once more. Imelda didn’t seem to notice the chaos her men had caused. Or rather, she knew, Isabeau decided, but she didn’t care what inconvenience there was to anyone else. She thrived on the drama she created.
    “May I present Elijah Lospostos and his charming little cousin, Isabeau.”
    “ Cherished cousin,” Elijah corrected, making her instantly off limits to the attentions of Philip or any of her men.
    “Elijah,” Imelda murmured. “Your . . . reputation precedes you.”
    “All good, I’m certain,” Elijah replied smoothly and bent over her hand, although he didn’t pretend to allow his lips to brush her skin.
    “Of course,” Imelda agreed with a feigned smile and turned her attention to Isabeau. “My dear, what a lovely dress. Who is the designer? I must have one.”
    Elijah answered, taking Isabeau’s elbow, his fingers sinking into her skin. Imelda’s sharp gaze couldn’t miss the signal to Isabeau not to speak. “I brought the dress for her from one of our little boutiques in the States. I travel quite often and saw this and knew it would be perfect for her. It’s one of a kind and suits her less dramatic appearance.”
    Isabeau heard the small bite in his voice, implying the innocence of Isabeau’s dress would never suit someone who wore the bloodred gown revealing half of Imelda’s body. She held her breath, afraid Elijah was antagonizing the woman, but Imelda took it as a compliment. She ran her hand down her hip, smoothing the material and jutting out her breasts, turning her back on Isabeau as if she was of little consequence. Isabeau realized that was Elijah’s intent, to make certain Imelda