Tiger, Tiger

Tiger, Tiger
Robyn Donald

Not only opposites attract! When Lecia first spotted Keane Paget, his presence burned like a shining beacon. He was handsome, certainly, and profoundly male, but the face that stared back at her was otherwise her own! Lecia was stunned… hypnotized… and it wasn't just his likeness - an unsettling, wild attraction immediately coursed between them.They say that the greater the resemblance, the happier the relationship. But Lecia's passions had only ever led to heartbreak - and guilt! No, Keane Paget was dangerous. Not only did he have her face, he seemed to see inside her soul! They were too alike for comfort. Resist, resist… .

“Why are you afraid of me?” (#uf1f37e71-c910-5eef-acd8-74f9bbd77b9a)About the Author (#u1fcffd22-40b1-528f-b7b9-26a5c1facf76)Title Page (#ua2132d4b-179b-5666-ae40-e328498847f1)CHAPTER ONE (#u0f006e49-13bb-5767-ac2b-24c819e955a2)CHAPTER TWO (#ubf2940ec-a81e-5f3d-8906-c84bb055c528)CHAPTER THREE (#ue49cb9b5-6c5c-55bc-918b-bfe869a57d7d)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not!”

“Afraid of yourself, then?” Keane’s swift sideways glance caught the truth. “Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? Why?”

“It’s got nothing to do with fear,” she said, grabbing desperately at some semblance of calmness. “It makes me feel strange to look at you and see my own face. I feel—invaded. No, cloned. Oh, I don’t know what I feel, but I don’t like it!”

“If we’d had brothers or sisters, we’d be accustomed to it,” he said imperturbably.

“Well, yes, but...” Again her voice faded. She certainly wasn’t going to explain that she couldn’t control her wildfire, unwanted attraction to him.

ROBYN DONALD has always lived in Northland in New Zealand, initially on her father’s stud dairy farm at Warkworth, then in the Bay of Islands, an area of great natural beauty where she lives today with her husband and an ebullient and mostly Labrador dog. She resigned her teaching position when she found she enjoyed writing romances more, and now spends any time not writing in reading, gardening, traveling and writing letters to keep up with her two adult children and her friends.

Tiger, Tiger

Robyn Donald

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

‘LECIA, look at that man! The tall one walking towards us with the very chic blonde beside him. He could be your twin!’

Lecia Spring’s clear green gaze followed her friend’s discreet nod towards the man coming up the marked path between the thousands of people who’d decided that watching opera in the Auckland Domain was the perfect way to spend this summer afternoon.

Broad-shouldered in a well-cut shirt, and with legs that seemed to stretch for miles, he strode through the press of people, apparently expecting them to part in front of him and his companion like the sea before Moses. Which was exactly what was happening.

That formidable confidence was something Lecia envied. He stood about six inches taller than her five feet eight inches, and except for a pronounced male toughness his face was the one that looked out from her mirror every morning.

Primitive, superstitious apprehension kicked her in the gut.

‘Same bone structure,’ Andrea was muttering excitedly. ‘Same straight, long nose with the tiniest bump on the bridge and—heavens, yes—the same cleft chin! I can’t believe it! You’re fairer, but you both have honey-coloured hair. Dark manuka honey in his case, closer to clover in yours! He must be related to you.’

‘He can’t be,’ Lecia returned, prickling all over with absurd diffidence. ‘I agree, he looks just like Dad, but Dad had no relatives except his parents.’

‘Cousins? Everyone has cousins.’

‘Not in Dad’s family. They were a most unproductive lot. Just one child each generation back as far as anyone remembers—and always a son until I turned up to break the pattern.’

Lecia’s glance travelled to the woman beside the unknown man. Slim, with a patrician face, she wore clothes that were exactly right. As befitted the occasion, they were casual, although she’d dressed the outfit up with a gold chain and supple Italian sandals. The floaty silk shirt and trousers, cool, expensive and elegant, suited her. And she knew it.

Repressing a sudden twist to her heart, Lecia concentrated on what she was about to say. ‘Anyway, Dad was an Australian and this is New Zealand.’

‘What a shame.’ Andrea sighed and murmured throatily, ‘If he was a relative you could introduce me. Talk about the it factor! That woman’s staring at him as though she’d eat him if she had the chance.’

Andrea was right. Although nothing but relaxed interest showed in that lovely face, the man’s companion couldn’t hide the awareness surrounding her like an aura.

Switching her gaze back to the strong bones and hard-honed masculinity that stamped the stranger’s face, Lecia observed, ‘He’d be a tough mouthful.’

‘Those calories I’d really enjoy,’ Andrea said suggestively. ‘I lo-o-ove the way he walks! As though he expects the whole world to scuttle out of his way. I’ll bet he’s a tiger in bed.’

Lecia forced a smile into her tone. ‘You can tell that by looking at him?’

‘And so can every other woman here. You’re just obstinately refusing to read the signals.’ Andrea put on her sunglasses and assumed what she thought was an English accent. ‘Note, my dear Watson, the way those muscles work together, so powerfully smooth and sure. He’s coming up the hill without even sweating, so he has stamina.’ She growled the final word with comical lasciviousness. ‘Terribly important is stamina. And because he’s wearing clothes that cost more than half my salary—and we know how rare inherited wealth is in New Zealand—we can deduce that he’s not only rich, he’s intelligent enough to hold down a very good job. Intelligence, dear Watson, is another vital attribute in a lover.’

Lecia’s amusement was diluted by another emotion, a kind of shocked bewilderment. Hypnotised, she gazed at the man, absorbing greedily the cool, commanding presence, the way the sun was imprisoned in the tawny amber hair, the golden hue of his skin.

Beside her, Andrea continued, ‘As for passion—well, just take a quick glance at that mouth! It’s kept very firmly under restraint, but it’s there.’ Shuddering enjoyably, she pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head and surveyed the approaching man with bright, intrigued eyes.

Lecia swallowed. ‘It’s uncanny,’ she mumbled, assailed by an odd feeling of connection, a bond forged only by their shared features. ‘And very unsettling.’

Reluctantly, Andrea dragged her gaze away to scan Lecia’s taut face. ‘I suppose it is,’ she said slowly. ‘Come to think of it, I wouldn’t like to meet my double, however gorgeous he was.’

By this time it was plain that the man and his companion were making for the corporate tents on the low hill behind the crowd. All his attention seemed to be on the woman at his side, but when a small child barrelled out in front of him and tripped, he stopped in mid-stride and picked the child up, setting her on her feet with a gentleness at variance with his autocratic air.

The toddler puckered up her face and let out a wail. Immediately the man swung her to his shoulder and turned so that the people in the crowd could see the child. A woman scrambled to her feet and began to shuffle through the blankets and picnics and umbrellas and seated people.

When she reached him the man handed the child over with a few unsmiling words before walking on. Cuddling the toddler, the woman stared with an offended expression after the tall, lean figure. Not until somebody bumped into her did she shrug and make her way back into the crowd.

‘I wonder what he said?’ Andrea hissed. ‘Judging by the frown on the mother’s face it wasn’t exactly a compliment.’

‘The child shouldn’t have been able to get that far without her noticing,’ Lecia said curtly. ‘It would be so easy for a little thing to get lost in all this crowd. Her mother should have kept a closer watch on her.’

Andrea laughed. ‘That’s probably exactly what he said. You see, you even think alive.’

The stranger was only a few metres away. For some reason Lecia wanted to hunch down, keep her head low in case he saw her. It was a ridiculous impulse, and one she refused to obey, although she did turn her face away and look across to the stage.

But at the sound of her name her head whipped around, and her gaze collided with that of the stranger.

Something dissolved in her stomach—no, she thought dazedly, in her bones. His dark blue eyes registered astonishment before they hardened into a polished, unreadable sheen.

‘Here you are, girls,’ came a male voice. ‘Eat them quickly because they’re already melting.’

Peter Farring looped an arm around Lecia’s shoulders and dropped a kiss on the top of her head before she had time to move away. The stranger’s burnished gaze flicked over the man beside her. Without breaking stride, he switched it to the path ahead and walked on up the hill.

Shakily Lecia took the proffered ice-cream cone, took a deep breath and produced a smile. ‘Thanks very much.’

‘My pleasure,’ Peter said gallantly.

Between enthusiastic ticks, Andrea told him all about the man with Lecia’s face. ‘Lecia says he looks just like her father,’ she finished, ‘in spite of the fact that she doesn’t have any relatives on her father’s side.’

‘None?’ Peter asked, intrigued. ‘But there could have been—ah—well, not all families know exactly who all their relatives are.’ His flush made his meaning clear.