Free Wild by Jill Sorenson Page A

dance across the surface.
    Chloe kept shivering.
    Mateo sat down beside her. After a short hesitation, he put his arm around her. He thought she was cold, and she was. The warmth of his body felt pleasant, but it was the basic human contact that soothed her. The same way his support had kept her going, and the candy revived her spirits, his touch lifted her up.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    H ELENA’S WARNING CAME a second too late.
    She watched in horror as Josh froze on the ladder, midstep. The lower half of his body was beneath the safety guard, about four feet off the ground. He couldn’t avoid Zuma’s stealth attack. The lioness rushed from the shadows and leaped into the air, pouncing on Josh’s dangling foot.
    Helena swallowed a scream, expecting to see sharp teeth, gore and bits of flesh attached to a shinbone. Instead the lioness let out a playful growl and held his boot between her paws as if she’d just caught a mouse.
    Josh made the high-pitched yelp of a man who’d been goosed. He jerked his foot back and forth, trying to shake loose from the big cat’s paws. Zuma didn’t put up much of a fight; she was just toying with him. He broke free and high-tailed it back up the ladder so fast Helena didn’t have time to move to make room for him.
    “Fuck,” he said, crowding in behind her.
    Directly below them, Zuma sniffed at the weapons and rubbed her cheek against the lowest ladder rungs. After circling the pole a few times, she batted a pile of leaves on the ground. Then she rolled in them.
    Helena wasn’t fooled; this was not a cute kitty.
    Lions were social animals, even in captivity. Some were friendly with their handlers, docile at all times. Not Zuma. She was an aggressive member of the species, difficult to work with and picky about food. She could be gentle one minute and nasty the next. Her jowls were stained red with Greg’s blood.
    Helena pressed her forehead against the cool metal rung, her heart pounding. She pictured Josh kicking wildly and shooting up the ladder. His panicked whoop echoed in her ears. The scene played over and over in her mind like a Three Stooges reel. She imagined it set to a slapstick soundtrack, with a lively piano riff as he raced along the rungs.
    There was nothing the least bit funny about a lion attack, or anything else they’d experienced today. But Josh’s freak-out struck her as hilarious, and her attempts to smother the giggles didn’t work. Maybe it was the stress of the situation. Maybe she was having a mental breakdown. She couldn’t seem to get a grip on herself, so she just surrendered to the moment and laughed like a madwoman.
    Josh seemed baffled by her outburst. He glanced down at Zuma, who was stretched out in the shade. Then he shifted his position on the ladder so he could examine Helena’s face. It was probably red and splotchy. She was almost crying.
    “Are you laughing?”
    She nodded and laughed some more. Ugly laughing. Her nose was running.
    “You’re laughing at me. Witnessing my near-death amuses you.”
    “I’m sorry,” she gasped, trying to get a hold of herself. “Are you hurt?”
    “No, I’m not hurt. I almost pissed my pants, but I’m not hurt.”
    That set her off again. She giggled until she was out of breath. Then she sagged against the ladder, belly aching.
    “Are you done?”
    She blotted her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “Yes.”
    “You sure?”
    “You must think I’m crazy.”
    “No.”
    “Weird, then.”
    “Not at all. I’m just glad we found your sense of humor. It went missing for a few years.”
    “Ha-ha,” she said, rolling her eyes.
    “You should laugh more often. It looks good on you.”
    She sobered at this statement, said in a warm tone. His gaze was admiring, even eager. He’d clearly enjoyed her loss of control, and not just because it broke the tension between them. There was a sexual element to his reaction. He liked seeing her flushed with pleasure.
    She’d learned to be wary of male coworkers at