Making Her Purr [Tigers of Twisted, Texas 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Tigers of Twisted, Texas 6

  Making Her Purr

  Catherine Alexander is a self-proclaimed, Gucci-loving, Tesla-driving, spoiled, rich kid. But when her oil tycoon father dies, she’s left trying to run his going-belly-up-fast company. Soon it’s too much for her to handle, and she escapes, ending up in rural Texas.

  Weretiger brothers Smoke and John Westbrook, along with their cousin Tatum Westbrook, know Catherine’s their intended mate as soon as they see her lying on a hospital gurney. She’s already wiped out a fence, nearly taking out a herd of cows and the rancher along with it. Is she bad news in heels? Or their dream come true? She’s rich and spoiled, qualities they hate, but the connection is too strong to ignore.

  Catherine’s stunned to find out what the men expect of her. Yet the real stunner is yet to come. They’re out to teach her some manners, but will she stick around long enough to let them? Or will shady dealings with her father’s oil company pull her away for good?

  Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 39,879 words

  MAKING HER PURR

  Tigers of Twisted, Texas 6

  Jane Jamison

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  MAKING HER PURR

  Copyright © 2016 by Jane Jamison

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-68295-358-7

  First E-book Publication: July 2016

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2016 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

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  DEDICATION

  To those who make my dreams come true.

  Thank you, Readers.

  Jane

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  MAKING HER PURR

  Tigers of Twisted, Texas 6

  Jane Jamison

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  “That’s a load of bullshit, Thomas. My father’s company has always made a profit. A hell of a good profit. Now you’re telling me we’re going under? I say it again. Bullshit. Something is very wrong.”

  Catherine Alexander tightened her grip on her phone as she steered with the other hand. Somehow holding the phone instead of using the hands-free option made her feel as though her words would have more impact. She glanced at the phone every so often, willing the caller to give her the answers she wanted. The news he’d given her had shocked her.

  Yet hadn’t she seen the end coming? Hadn’t she noticed her father’s declining health, more than likely due to stress? But she’d ignored the warning signs, preferring to live her pampered life. Wasn’t that why she was in her car driving away from the company instead of toward it?

  Shit.

  The tree-lined Texas highway was empty except for her baby blue Tesla charging down the middle of the road. Driving on the white line was against the law, but why not do it when she was the only one on the damn road? Besides, keeping to the center allowed her to look at her phone more often and still have time to correct the direction of the car before it got too close to the gravel side.

  Thomas Ritland, the boy wonder and CFO of Double A Oil Corporation, took his sweet time answering. “You know what’s wrong. All the oil companies are having a tougher go of it since the fracking outrage started. People want their gas cheap as long as there aren’t any earthquakes at their house. Our profits have tanked.”

  Fracking was all over the local news. In the past few months since fracking had started, Oklahoma had been experiencing a large jump in earthquakes, going from less than a thousand a year almost small, unnoticed tremors in 2012 to over six thousand quakes, many of them measuring above 4.0. At first, the oil industry had denied that fracking had anything to do with the quakes. But now, after scientists had shown a direct correlation between the disposal of waste from oil and gas drilling operations, they’d had to face the facts. Even then they’d stalled. Until the people who’d invested tons of money in the oil business had started experiencing quakes where they lived, they’d done everything they could to keep from shutting down operations.

  She’d never been part of the company until her father’s death six months earlier. Hell, she knew more about Gucci than she did oil and had wanted to keep it that way. But with her mother already gone five years earlier and now her father’s passing, she’d had no choice but to step into her father’s very large, very formidable boots.

  “There’s more to it than fracking, and you know it.” If she could talk faster, get angrier, she would. Granted, she didn’t know much about the business, but she had a good nose for telling wh
en someone was lying. Right now her nose told her something stank to high heaven.

  “I’m looking into it. Until then, you need to get back here. It’s not like this is anything new. Your father knew the company was going broke over a year ago.”

  Thomas sounded too calm. Did he know more than he was saying?

  “That’s bullshit, too.” She fought against a wave of nausea. “He would’ve told me. Hell, if that’s true, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I only just realized it. Hindsight, after all.”

  Had her father tried to tell her? Had he tried to tell anyone?

  “He would’ve told me.” She was like a dog with a bone.

  “No, he wouldn’t. You were his little princess. And why would he? You weren’t involved in the business. Besides, he wouldn’t have wanted you to worry.”

  Damn how she hated being called princess. Who cared if what he said was true? How often had her father told her that he didn’t want to worry “her sweet little head”?

  “Fuck off, Thomas, and do your job.” Save my company. Save my money.

  “I’m doing everything I can. You need to come back.”

  He was right, of course. She had no business hightailing it out of Tulsa while shit was hitting the fan. But she’d mentally and emotionally hit a brick wall and couldn’t stand another minute of all the turmoil swirling round the company. It was a coward’s way out, but she didn’t care. Thomas hadn’t been around much lately, either, and now she knew why. He’d probably been busy lining up a new job instead of taking care of business. Yet instead of turning the car around and getting her ass back to work, she pushed down harder on the gas pedal.

  “Just handle things until I get back.” She ended the call, clenching her teeth to keep from saying more.

  Why hadn’t her father told her? Yet it was a silly question. He hadn’t wanted to worry her. She couldn’t blame him for thinking that way. She’d never shown one minute of interest in the business—other than to ask for an increase in her monthly five-thousand-dollar allowance. An allowance she’d wanted to double the last time she’d spoken with her father. The next day he’d collapsed with a heart attack. She’d been stunned and grieving when she’d found out that the company was deep in debt. To add guilt to her grief, she was sure that some of the personal debt had been accumulated to keep her in the luxurious life she’d always enjoyed.

  How had her brilliant business-minded father let things go so bad, so fast? Yet her gut kept saying it was more than a slowing oil business. But what? Had she heard something in Thomas’s voice? Even when he was trying to order her back to work, she’d heard reluctance in his tone.

  Nah. I’m reading more into it than I should. Which is why I need this time away.

  At least it sounded like a good excuse.

  She scowled at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Ever since taking the CEO position, she’d had to neglect her beauty regimen and it was starting to show. How did anyone stand getting up so early and heading off to a cold, boring office job? She leaned forward, examining the newest line in her forehead.

  Her phone rang, and she didn’t need to check it to know it was Thomas calling again. Without looking, she swiped her thumb across the screen, declining the call.

  Forget the damn company. What am I going to do about these crow’s-feet? When was the last time I had Botox?

  Tossing the phone on the passenger seat, she leaned in even closer for a better view. “I’m turning into an old hag. All work and no play—”

  Catherine saw the deer darting across the highway as only a quick flash of white and brown. Slamming on her brakes sent her car careening off the highway and over the gravel side. She screamed as she saw the wooden fence looming ahead of her and laid on the horn. Cattle scattered out of the way as her car blasted through the fence, sending pieces of wood flying into the air. A man sitting on top of a tractor waved his arms and shouted, but there was nothing either one of them could do to stop her car’s forward momentum.

  She closed her eyes.

  Damn it.

  Her father’s image floated in and out of her mind.

  Her wonderful, loving mother, so devoted to her only child, reached out to her. She wanted to take her mother’s hand, but something pulled her back.

  Mamma?

  Light hit her then was swept away by darkness. Pain seared through her like a hot blade. Sounds penetrated the heavy fog clouding her mind, yet she couldn’t make out what the sounds were.

  Are they voices? Am I at the office? At home? Is that a cow?

  “Open your eyes.”

  What? But how?

  She didn’t want to open them. Not yet anyway. Her eyelids felt as though they were glued to her cheeks.

  “You can do it.” The voice changed, going from an encouraging softness to a harder, business-like tone that spoke words she didn’t understand.

  No matter. The voice is nice. Deep and rich. Velvety and sexy all at the same time.

  She smiled—or at least she tried to smile—as the voice flowed over her, comforting her. Whoever it was sounded very sure of themselves. That had to be good, right? Especially since she hurt so damn much. She’d be happy to let someone else take charge.

  “Open your eyes. Are you listening? Open your eyes, damn it.”

  The voice was more commanding now, as though whoever the man was had the right to order her around. Giving someone the okay to take charge was one thing. But no one had ever ordered her around, including her private school teachers. They wouldn’t have dared to tell Richard Alexander’s daughter what to do. Only her father had the power to tell her what to do and, much of the time, even he hadn’t tried.

  She felt hands running along her body but not in a way that made her feel wanted. Sometimes the hands were even rough. A quick flash of pain hit her hand, and she moaned.

  “That’s good. Keep moaning. Now open your eyes.”

  She wanted to see who was ordering her around. Who the hell did he think he was? Once she did, she’d tell him to call her concierge doctor. And after he’d done that, she’d tell him to go to hell.

  “Open your eyes, Catherine.”

  Did he know her? Did she know him? Curiosity added to the wild mix of emotions warring inside her. A strange feeling, different from the rest, enticing her, sped its way through her.

  What went wrong? My company? My car? Did I hit a damn cow?

  “Please, Miss Alexander, open your eyes.”

  At least now he was showing her the respect she deserved. Was it the man on the tractor?

  Suddenly, her memory came back full and intact. As though standing outside, she saw her car careen off the road, hit a fence, and plow into a pasture.

  Then there was nothing but darkness.

  Panic swamped her. Am I going to die? No. I’m too young to die.

  She tried to sit up but couldn’t, held down by something around her arms and legs. Instead, she opened her eyes and sucked in a big gulp of air. To her relief, she didn’t see the pearly gates of Heaven. But what she did see was almost as good. Maybe even better since she was still alive to enjoy it.

  Smoky gray eyes met hers. A nice smile, kind of cockeyed but genuine, grew wider. “Hey, there you are.”

  The man could take her pain away with one look. Or at least she thought so until a fresh wave of hurt swept through her. She groaned and again tried to sit up.

  “Nope. Don’t try to sit up. Just lie back and take it easy.”

  His face was handsome, his voice the one she’d heard. He was stocky with arms that rippled with muscles as he moved his hands over her, checking one place then another. Her gaze settled on the badge sewn on his uniform.

  Smoke Westbrook EMT

  Nice name. It fits his eyes.

  More aches hit her as she attempted to move.

  “Don’t move.” He gave her a stern look that wasn’t really all that stern. The concern weighed out the sternness. “You don’t take orders well, do you?”

 
She moaned and wished the moan was a result of the feel of his hands and not from the pain.

  “Just kidding.” He glanced to the side then locked those amazing eyes of his back to hers. “Miss Alexander, you’re in an ambulance on the way to the Crosston Regional Medical Center.”

  Fear hit her as the rest of her memory returned.

  I was in an accident. Am I going to die? Have I been disfigured? Will I have ugly scars?

  She sucked in a hard-won breath as panic set in. Why was everything bad happening to her?

  “Hey.” He put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be all right. Stay calm, okay?”

  “My car?” Was it a total loss? She loved that car. Had waited months to get one exactly the way she’d wanted it. She’d taken great pains to keep it from getting scratched even parking away from the other executives’ cars at work.

  A slight flicker of annoyance crossed his features. “Sorry, but your car didn’t fare as well as you. Still, the good news is that you’re going to be fine. I’ll take good care of you until we get to the medical center.”

  Disappointment was an unexpected surprise. Couldn’t he take care of her after the hospital? What was she supposed to do? Hire a cold-toned nurse? She’d much rather have his handsome self with his deep voice at her bedside.

  “You can talk, right?” he asked.

  She cleared her throat to find that it was suddenly raw. Instead of her melodic voice, which she really liked and had actually practiced to make it sound sexy, out came an awful croak. “Yes. I can talk.”