Tempting Faith

“I told him no.” Faith shook her head and looked at Cort. “Reporters. One of them called from an L.A. station and asked for an interview. He’d heard rumors about the kittens. I told him I wouldn’t talk to him.”

Cort stared at her. Did she say kittens? Before he could ask, she’d pulled the truck up next to the van.

Faith set the brake. Five people glanced up at her. Two looked incredibly guilty, three vaguely surprised.

“This is private property,” she told the newspeople as she got out of the truck. “You don’t have permission to be here. You’re trespassing. I want you out of here, now!”

It wasn’t hard for Faith to pick out the reporter. Aside from being indecently handsome, he wore a coat and tie over his jeans. The other two men with him, one holding a camera, the other operating a mike, smiled winningly and began clicking on switches.

“Hey, I’m James Wilson, from Los Angeles. K-NEWS,” the reporter said, moving next to her and offering his hand. “We spoke on the phone yesterday. What a great story. I’ve got all I need from your assistants, but maybe we could talk for a few minutes. It would really add some depth to the piece.”

Faith ignored the outstretched hand. “You’re right, Mr. Wilson. We did speak on the phone. I told you not to come up here. The kittens aren’t to be taped or photographed. This is private property. You are trespassing. Please leave.”

His perfect smile faded slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple,” she said. “You don’t have permission to be here, or to write a story. You’re trespassing.”

“Hey, this was on the wire service. Don’t blame me. Besides, the freedom of the press—”

“Does not include trespassing. Leave now.”

“Lady, I don’t know what your problem is.”

She turned away without speaking. She heard the slamming of the truck’s passenger door. Cort was about to get an interesting introduction to the way station. It couldn’t be helped. Beth and Rob, two of her college employees, were toward the main office building. The low one-story structure stood across the front of the compound.

“Freeze,” she ordered.

They froze.

Faith walked into the building, past the offices, to the supply room. She pulled a bunch of keys out of her jeans pocket and opened a metal locker. Choosing a rifle from the assortment of weapons, she picked it up and held it in her left hand. The barrel had been modified to shoot darts instead of bullets. She put a couple of tranquilizers in her pocket and left the building.

“This is private property,” she said as she walked back into the sunlight. “I’m only going to say this one more time. You are trespassing. Leave, now.” She loaded one of the darts. “Or you’ll be sleeping for the next twenty-four hours.” The barrel snapped closed with an audible click.

Behind her, Beth and Rob chuckled.

The reporter’s handsome face froze. “Listen, lady, there’s no reason to get violent. Mac, Vern, tell her.”

But his two friends had already abandoned him and were tossing their equipment into the van.

“Wait for me,” Wilson called. He spun on his heel and jogged to the van, then ducked into the passenger seat.

Within seconds, the engine roared to life and the newspeople made a tight U-turn, then headed down the drive. Cort stood next to Faith’s truck, leaning his weight on the fender and watching the proceedings with interest. She ignored him, popped the dart out of the rifle and lowered the butt to the ground.

“Where’s Ken?” she asked, turning back toward the kids.

Beth, a petite brunette with gold-rimmed glasses, stared at her feet. “Putting the kittens back in their cages.”

Faith held on to her temper. “Why did you let in the reporters?”

“We left the gate open for you,” Rob answered. “They just kind of showed up.”

“You didn’t ask them to leave?”

Rob shook his head. “Ken said—”

Faith held up her hand. “I’ll deal with Ken in a minute. Why didn’t you ask them to leave? Either of you?”

Guilt was written all over their young faces. Faith hired college students because they had enthusiasm and dedication, plus she preferred part-time help. The only problem was sometimes they weren’t as mature as she would have liked.

Beth stared at her shoes. “He was so nice, and it seemed so exciting that I didn’t think about how you said you didn’t want any publicity about the kittens until it was too late.”

“You just thought he was totally cool,” Rob said, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Some good-looking older man says a few nice words and you melt like butter.”

“That’s not true.” Beth flushed with anger. She stood a good eight inches shorter than Rob’s six feet, but that didn’t intimidate her. “I didn’t see you ordering him off the property. In fact, you were real interested in the sound equipment and asked the guy a lot of questions.”

“That’s better than swooning. You won’t see me on the six o’clock news.”

“Stop!” Faith held up one hand. “You know the rules.”

Beth nodded. “You’re right, Faith. I apologize. I should have thought about what would happen. I know the kittens are important to you and the facility. I wouldn’t purposely do something to hurt either.”

“Me, too,” Rob mumbled, nudging Beth on the arm when she turned and glared at him.

Faith fought back a smile. Eloquent to the last, that boy, she thought. These kids were basically well-meaning. They’d been caught up in the excitement of the moment. She didn’t like it, but she understood how it happened.

“I accept your apologies,” she said. She heard footsteps behind her, but didn’t turn around.

“What’s going on? Beth, why are they leaving so soon? I wanted to show them— Oh God, Faith. You’re back.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation, Ken,” she said coldly, still not turning around. “Make it a good one.”

“Gee, Faith. I’m sorry. This isn’t what it looks like.”

Her grip on the rifle tightened. She tapped her booted toe against the asphalt. A couple of deep breaths didn’t help, either. “What the hell were you thinking?” she said as she spun to face the young man. Her voice rose in volume. “Reporters? Reporters?”

Rob and Beth slunk away, leaving Ken alone. The young man stood over six feet tall. With broad shoulders, long brown hair and a scraggely beard that hadn’t completely filled in, he looked more like a teenager than a college senior. At her words, his bravado faded. He slumped visibly and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“It wasn’t like that,” he mumbled.

“It wasn’t like that?” she said loudly, then forced herself to lower her voice. “We have a few rules here. They are for your safety and for that of the cats. Rule number one is no reporters without my say-so. Ken, you know where those kittens came from. The last thing we need is word getting around about their whereabouts.”

“I’m sorry.” Brown eyes pleaded for understanding.

She gripped the unloaded rifle in both hands and tossed it at him. He caught it. “’Sorry’ doesn’t cut it,” she said, pacing in front of him on the asphalt. “I should bust your butt back to the dorm and never let you on this mountain again.”

“It was an accident.” He shuffled his feet.

“How do you figure? The reporter said the wire service had the story and…” Realization dawned, and she was grateful she wasn’t holding the rifle anymore. “It’s that girl! You let her take pictures.”