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Hunter
Diana Palmer
New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer serves up HUNTER, a fan-favorite Man of the Month, for your reading pleasure!Phillip Hunter is a strong, independent loner who bears his Native-American heritage with pride. He’s also able to overcome the most life-threatening dangers with ease. But his next assignment as chief of security for a top-secret operation brings him into contact with geologist Jennifer Marist. Suddenly, Hunter finds himself tempted to overstep his orders to protect Jenny from all danger and take her into his arms…The mission soon proves the ultimate challenge of his career—spending a week on the rugged Arizona plains with the one woman he yearns for above all others, and the one he is determined to keep at arm’s length. But Hunter never planned on facing the allure of Jenny's wild, sweet passion—or on discovering a love he'd never dared dream could be his.


New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer serves up HUNTER, a fan-favorite Man of the Month, for your reading pleasure!
Phillip Hunter is a strong, independent loner who bears his Native-American heritage with pride. He’s also able to overcome the most life-threatening dangers with ease. But his next assignment as chief of security for a top-secret operation brings him into contact with geologist Jennifer Marist. Suddenly, Hunter finds himself tempted to overstep his orders to protect Jenny from all danger and take her into his arms…
The mission soon proves the ultimate challenge of his career—spending a week on the rugged Arizona plains with the one woman he yearns for above all others, and the one he is determined to keep at arm’s length. But Hunter never planned on facing the allure of Jenny’s wild, sweet passion—or on discovering a love he’d never dared dream could be his.
Hunter
Diana Palmer


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

Contents


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1 (#u0330040d-2bfd-5570-979b-7efc9a97077d)


The silver-haired man across the desk had both hands clasped together on its surface, and his blue eyes were narrow and determined.
Hunter wanted to argue. He’d protested assignments before, and Eugene Ritter had backed down. This time the old man wouldn’t. Hunter sensed Ritter’s determination before he even tried to get out of the job.
That didn’t stop him, of course. Phillip Hunter was used to confrontation. As chief of internal security for Ritter Oil Corporation for the past ten years, he’d become quite accustomed to facing off against all manner of opponents, from would-be thieves to enemy agents who tried to get the jump on Ritter’s strategic metal discoveries.
“The desert is no place for a woman,” he told the old man. He sat back comfortably in the straight-backed chair, looking as formidable as his Apache ancestors. He was very dark, with jet-black hair conventionally cut, and eyes almost black in a lean, thin-lipped face. He was tall, too, and muscular. Even his perfectly fitted gray suit didn’t hide the hard lines of a body kept fit by hours of exercise. Hunter was ex-Green Beret, ex-mercenary, and for a short time he’d even worked for the CIA. He was an expert with small arms and his karate training had earned him a black belt. He was thirty-seven, a loner by nature, unmarried and apt to stay that way. He had no inclination to accompany Eugene’s sexy field geologist out to Arizona on a preliminary survey. Jennifer Marist was one of his few ongoing irritations. She seemed to stay in hot water, and he was always deputized to pull her irons out of the fire.
Her last exploration had put her in danger from enemy agents, resulting in a stakeout at her apartment a few months ago. Two men had been apprehended, but the third was still at large.
Hunter and Jennifer were old sparring partners. They’d been thrown together on assignments more often than Hunter liked. Like two rocks striking, they made sparks fly, and that could be dangerous. He didn’t like white women, and Jennifer was unique. Her soft blond beauty, added to her sharp intellect, made him jittery. She was the only female who’d ever had that effect on him, and he didn’t like it. The thought of spending a week in the desert alone with her had him fuming.
“Jennifer isn’t just a woman, she’s one of my top field geologists,” Eugene replied. “This is a potentially rich strike, and I need the new capital it will bring in. Jennifer can’t go alone.”
“I could send one of my operatives with her,” Hunter replied.
“Not good enough. Jennifer’s already been in danger from this assignment once. I want the best—and that’s you.”
“We don’t get along, haven’t you noticed?” he said through his teeth.
“You don’t have to get along with her. You just have to keep anyone from getting his hands on her maps or her survey results.” He pursed his lips. “The site’s in Arizona, near the Apache reservation. You can go see your grandfather.”
“I can do that without having to follow your misplaced ingenue around,” he said coldly.
“Jennifer is a geologist,” the older man reminded him. “Her looks have nothing to do with her profession. For God’s sake, you get along with my other female employees, why not with Jennifer?”
That was a question Hunter didn’t really want to answer. He couldn’t very well tell Eugene that the woman appealed to his senses so potently that it was hard to function when she was around. He wasn’t in the market for an affair, but he wanted Jennifer with a feverish passion. He’d managed to contain his desire for her very well over the years, but lately it was becoming unmanageable. The temptation of being out on the desert with her was too much. Something might happen, and what then? He had good reasons for his dislike of white women, and he had no desire whatsoever to create a child who, like himself, could barely adapt to life in a white world. White and Apache just didn’t mix, even if he did frequently wake up sweating from his vivid dreams about Jennifer Marist.
“You can always threaten to quit,” Eugene advised with a sharp grin.
“Would it work?” Hunter queried.
Eugene just shook his head.
“In that case,” Hunter said, rising to his feet with the stealthy grace that was unique to him, “I won’t bother. When do we leave?”
“First thing in the morning. You can pick up the tickets and motel voucher from my secretary. You’ll need time to lay in some camping equipment, so the motel room will be necessary the first night. You and Jennifer will be pretending to be husband and wife when you switch flights in Phoenix to head down to Tucson. That’s going to throw any followers off the track, I hope, and give you both time to scout the area before they discover their mistake and double back. Better get in touch with our operatives in Arizona and advise them of the plan.”
“I’ll do that now.”
“Try not to look so dismal, will you?” Eugene muttered darkly. “It’s demoralizing!”
“Stop sending me out with Jennifer Marist.”
“You’re the only man in my corporation who could complain about that.”
“I’m Apache,” Hunter said with quiet pride. “She’s white.”
Eugene had been married twice and he wasn’t stupid. He could read between the lines very well. “I understand how it is,” he replied. “But this is business. You’ll have to cope.”
“Don’t I always?” Hunter murmured. “Will you tell her, or do you want me to?”
“I’ll enjoy it more than you would,” Eugene chuckled. “She’s going to go right through the ceiling. It may shock you to know that she finds you offensive and unpleasant. She’ll fight as hard to get out of it as you just did.”
That didn’t surprise Hunter. He had a feeling Jennifer felt the same unwanted attraction he did and was fighting it just as hard. From day one, their relationship had been uneasy and antagonistic.
“It won’t do her any more good than it did me,” Hunter murmured. “But if she ends up roasting over a campfire, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Eugene’s blue eyes twinkled. “Okay. I won’t.”
Hunter left and walked along the corridor with an expression so cold and so fierce that one employee turned and went back the other way to avoid him. He had a fairly decent working relationship with some of Eugene’s people, but most of them kept out of his way. The icy Mr. Hunter was well-known. He was the only bachelor who didn’t have to fight off feminine advances. The women were too intimidated by him. All except for Jennifer, who fought him tooth and nail.
And now a week on the desert with her, he mused. He lit a cigarette as he walked and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. He’d just managed to give up cigarettes the week before. He was getting hooked again, and it was Eugene’s fault. For two cents, he’d quit and go back and raise horses on the reservation. But that would bore him to death eventually. No, he’d just have to find some way to survive Jennifer. One day, he promised himself, he was going to walk out the door and leave Eugene with it.

2 (#u0330040d-2bfd-5570-979b-7efc9a97077d)


Jennifer Marist shared an office with several other geologists, a roomful of high-tech equipment, maps and charts and assorted furniture. On good days, she and the other geologists who worked for the Ritter Oil Corporation could maneuver around one another as they proceeded with their individual and collective projects. Unfortunately this wasn’t a good day. Chaos reigned, and when the big boss himself, Eugene Ritter, asked Jenny to come into his office, it was a relief.
She took her time going down the long hall enjoying the glass windows that gave such a beautiful view of Tulsa, Oklahoma, and the lush vegetation that accented the walkway. Jenny was twenty-seven, but she looked much younger. Her long blond hair was soft and wavy, her deep blue eyes full of life and quiet pleasure. She wore a white knit sweater with simply designed gray slacks, but she still looked like a cover girl. It was the curse of her life, she thought, that men saw the face and not the personality and intelligence beneath it. Fortunately the men in her group were used to her by now, and none of them made sexist remarks or gave wolf whistles when she came into a room. They were all married except Jack, anyway, and Jack was fifty-six; just a bit old for Jenny’s taste.
All told, though, Jenny had given up on the idea of marriage. It would have been lovely, but despite the modern world she lived in, the only two men she’d ever come close to marrying refused to share her with her globe-trotting career. They wanted a nice little woman who’d stay at home and cook and clean and raise kids. Jenny wouldn’t have minded so much with the right man, but she’d spent years training as a geologist. She was highly paid and tops in her field. It seemed wasteful to sacrifice that for a dirty apron. But, then, perhaps she’d just never met the man she’d want to compromise for.
She glanced around as she entered the waiting room of Eugene’s plush carpeted office, looking for Hunter. Thank God he was nowhere close by. She let out a tense sigh. Ridiculous to let a man get to her that way, especially a cold-blooded statue like Mr. Hunter. He was the company’s troubleshooter and there had been a little trouble just lately. He and Jenny had partnered up for an evening to catch enemy agents who were after Jenny’s top-secret maps of a potential new strike in strategic metals. It had been an evening to remember, and Jenny was doing her best to forget it all. Especially the part that contained him. They’d caught two men, but not the ringleader himself. Hunter had blamed her. He usually did, for anything that went wrong. Maybe he hated blondes.
She lifted her eyebrows at Betty, Eugene’s secretary, who grinned and nodded.
“Go right in. He’s waiting,” she told Jenny.
“Is Hunter in there?” she asked, hesitating.
“Not yet.”
That sounded ominous. Jenny tapped at the door and opened it, peeking around to find Eugene precariously balanced in his swivel chair, looking thoughtful.
“Come in, come in. Have a chair. Close the door first.” He smiled. “How’s the world treating you?”
“Fair to middling,” she replied, laughing as she sat down in the chair across the desk.
He leaned forward, his silver hair gleaming in the light from the window behind him, his pale blue eyes curious. “Getting lonely since Danetta married my son and moved out?”
“I do miss my cousin,” Jenny replied, smiling. “She was a great roommate.” She leaned forward. “But I don’t miss the lounge lizard!”
He chuckled. “I guess she misses him. Danetta’s iguana is living with us, now, and my youngest son Nicky and he are best friends already. Cabe has promised Danetta a nice stuffed one for a pet anytime she wants it.”
Jenny smothered a grin. Her employer’s older son Cabe was well-known for his aversion to anything with scales; especially iguanas named Norman. Jenny had gotten used to the big lizard, after a fashion, but it was a lot more comfortable living without him.
“I’ve got a proposition for you,” Ritter said without further preamble. “There’s a piece of land down in Arizona that I want you to run a field survey on. I’ll send down your equipment and you can camp out for a few days until you can get me a preliminary map of the area and study the outcroppings.”
She knew she was going white. “The Arizona desert?”
“That’s right. Quiet place. Pretty country. Peace.”
“Rattlesnakes! Men with guns in four-wheel drives! Indians!”
“Shhhhh! Hunter might hear you!” he said, putting his finger to his lips.
She glared at him. “I am not afraid of tall Apaches named Hunter. I meant the other ones, the ones who don’t work for us.”
“Listen, honey, the Apaches don’t raid the settlements anymore, and it’s been years since anybody was shot with an arrow.”
She glared harder. “Send Hunter.”
“Oh, I’m going to,” he said. “I’m glad you agree that he’s the man for the job. The two of you can keep each other company. He’ll be your protection while you sound out this find for me.”
“Me? Alone in the desert with Hunter for several days and nights?” She almost choked. “You can’t do it! We’ll kill each other!”
“Not right away,” he said. “Besides, you’re the best geologist I have and we can’t afford to take chances, not with the goings-on of the past month. And our adversary is still loose somewhere. That’s why I want you to camp in a different section each night, to throw him off the track. You’ll go to the target area on the second night. I’ll show you on the map where it is. You aren’t to tell anyone.”
“Not even Hunter?” she asked.
“You can try not to, but Hunter knows everything.”
“He thinks he does,” she agrees. “I’ll bet he invented bread…”
“Cut it out. This is an assignment, you’re an employee, I’m the boss. Quit or pack.”
She threw up her hands. “What a choice. You pay me a duke’s ransom for what I do already and then you threaten me with poverty. That’s no choice.”
He grinned at her. “Good. Hunter doesn’t bite.”
“Want to see the teeth marks?” she countered. “He snapped my head off the night we lost that other agent. He said it was my fault!”
“How could it have been?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what he said. Does it have to be Hunter? Why can’t you send that nice Mallory boy with me? I like him.”
“That’s why I won’t send him. Hunter isn’t nice, but he’ll keep you alive and protect my investment. There isn’t a better man for this kind of work.”
She had to agree, but she didn’t like having to. “Can I have combat pay?”
“Listen or get out.”
“Yes, sir.” She sat with resignation written all over her. “What are we looking for? Oil? Molybdenum? Uranium?”
“Best place to look for oil right now is western Wyoming,” he reminded her. “Best place to look for moly is Colorado or southern Arizona. And that’s why I’m sending you to Arizona—molybdenum. And maybe gold.”
She whistled softly. “What an expedition.”
“Now you know why I want secrecy,” he agreed. “Hunter and you will make a good team. You’re both clams. No possibility of security leaks. Get your gear together and be ready to leave at six in the morning. I’ll have Hunter pick you up at your apartment.”
“I could get to the airport by myself,” she volunteered quickly.
“Scared of him?” Ritter taunted, his pale eyes twinkling at her discomfort.
She lifted her chin and glared at him. “No. Of course not.” “Good. He’ll look after you. Have fun.”
Fun, she thought as she left the room, wasn’t exactly her definition of several days in the desert with Hunter. In fact, she couldn’t think of anything she was dreading more.
Back in the office she shared with her colleagues, two of her coworkers were waiting. “What is it?” they chorused. “Moly? Uranium? A new oil strike?”
“Well, we haven’t found another Spindletop,” she said with a grin, “so don’t worry about losing out on all that fame. Maybe he just thinks I need a vacation.” She blew on her fingernails and buffed them on her knit blouse. “After all,” she said with a mock haughty glance at the two men, “he knows I do all the work around here.”
One of her coworkers threw a rolled-up map at her and she retreated to her own drafting board, saved from having to give them a direct answer. They all knew the score, though, and wouldn’t have pressed her. A lot of their work was confidential.
She’d just finished her meager lunch and was on her way back into the building when she encountered a cold, angry Hunter in the hallway that led to her own office.
The sight of him was enough to give her goose bumps. Hunter was over six feet tall, every inch of him pure muscle and power. He moved with singular grace and elegance, and it wasn’t just his magnificent physique that drew women’s eyes to him. He had an arrogance of carriage that was peculiarly his, a way of looking at people that made them feel smaller and less significant. Master of all he surveys, Jenny thought insignificantly, watching his black eyes cut toward her under his heavy dark eyebrows. His eyes were deep-set in that lean, dark face with its high cheekbones and straight nose and thin, cruel-looking mouth. It wouldn’t be at all difficult to picture Hunter in full Apache war regalia, complete with long feathered bonnet. She got chills just thinking about having to face him over a gun, and thanked God that this was the twentieth century and they’d made peace with the Apache. Well, with most of them. This one looked and sometimes acted as if he’d never signed any peace treaties.
In her early days with the company, she’d made the unforgivable mistake of raising her hand and saying “how.” She got nervous now just remembering the faux pas, remembering the feverish embarrassment she’d felt, the shame, at how he’d fended off the insult. She’d learned the hard way that it wasn’t politic to ridicule him.
“Mr. Hunter,” she said politely, inclining her head as she started past him.
He took a step sideways and blocked her path. “Was it Eugene’s idea, or yours?”
“If you mean the desert survival mission, I can assure you that I don’t find the prospect all that thrilling.” She didn’t back down an inch, but those cold dark eyes were making her feel giddy inside. “If I got to choose my own companion, I’d really prefer Norman the Iguana. He’s better tempered than you are, he doesn’t swear, and he’s never insulted me.”
Hunter didn’t smile. That wasn’t unusual; Jenny had never seen him smile. Maybe he couldn’t, she thought, watching him. Maybe his face was covered in hard plastic and it would crack if he tried to raise the corners of his mouth. That set her off and she had to stifle a giggle.
“Something amuses you?” he asked.
The tone was enough, without the look that accompanied it. “Nothing at all, Mr. Hunter,” she assured him. “I have to get back to work. If you don’t mind…?”
“I mind having to set aside projects to play guardian angel to a misplaced cover girl,” he said.
Her dark blue eyes gleamed with sudden anger. “I could give you back that insult in spades if I wanted to,” she said coldly. “I have a master’s degree in geology. My looks have nothing whatsoever to do with my intelligence or my professional capabilities.”
He lifted a careless eyebrow. “Interesting that you chose a profession that caters to men.”
There was no arguing with such a closed mind. “I won’t defend myself to you. This assignment wasn’t my doing, or my choice. If you can talk Eugene into sending someone else, go to it.”
“He says you’re the best he has.”
“I’m flattered, but that isn’t quite so. He can’t turn anyone else loose right now.”
“Too bad.”
She pulled herself up to her full height. It still wasn’t enough to bring the top of her head any higher than Hunter’s square chin. “Thank you for your vote of confidence. What a pity you don’t know quartz from diamond, or you could do the whole job yourself!”
He let his gaze slide down her body and back up again, but if he found any pleasure in looking at her, it didn’t show in those rigid features. “I’ll pick you up at six in the morning at your apartment. Don’t keep me waiting, cover girl.”
He moved and was gone before she recovered enough to tell him what she thought of him. She walked back to her own office with blazing eyes and a red face, thinking up dozens of snappy replies that never came to mind when she actually needed them.
She pulled her maps of southern Arizona and looked at the area Eugene had pinpointed for her field survey. The terrain was very familiar; mountains and desert. She had topographical maps, but she was going to need something far more detailed before Eugene and his board of directors decided on a site. And her work was only the first step. After she finished her preliminary survey, the rest of the team would have to decide on one small area for further study. That would involve sending a team of geologic technicians in to do seismic studies and more detailed investigation, including air studies and maybe even expensive computer time for the satellite Landsat maps.
But right now what mattered was the fieldwork. This particular area of southern Arizona bordered government land on one side and the Apache reservation on the other. The reservation was like a sovereign nation, with its own government and laws, and she couldn’t prospect there without permission. What Eugene hoped to find was in a narrow strip between the two claimed territories. He had a good batting average, too. Old-timers said that Eugene could smell oil and gold, not to mention moly.
It was too short a day. She collected all her equipment to be taken to the airport and the charts and maps she expected to have to refer to. With that chore out of the way, she went home.
Jenny cooked herself a small piece of steak and ate it with a salad, brooding over her confrontation with Hunter and dreading the trip ahead. He didn’t like her, that much was apparent. But it shouldn’t have affected their working relationship as much as it did. There were other women in the organization, and he seemed to get along well enough with them.
“Maybe it’s my perfume,” she murmured out loud and laughed at the idea of it.
No, it had to be something in her personality that set him off, because he’d disliked her on sight the first time they met.
She remembered that day all too well. It had been her first day on the job with the Ritter Oil Corporation. With her geology degree under her belt—a master’s degree—she’d landed a plum of a job with one of the country’s biggest oil companies. That achievement had given her confidence.
She’d looked successful that day, in a white linen suit and powder-blue blouse, with her blond hair in a neat chignon, her long, elegant legs in sheer hose, her face with just the right amount of makeup. Her appearance had shocked and delighted her male colleagues on the exploration team. But her first sight of Hunter had shocked and delighted her, to her utter dismay.
Eugene Ritter had called Hunter into his office to meet Jenny. She hadn’t known about his Apache heritage then; she hadn’t known anything about him except his last name. He’d come through the door and Jenny, who was usually unperturbed by men, had melted inside like warm honey.
Hunter had been even less approachable in those days. His hair had been longer, and he’d worn it in a short pigtail at his nape. His suit had been a pale one that summery day, emphasizing his darkness. But it was his face that Jenny had stared at so helplessly. It was a dark face, very strong, with high cheekbones and jet-black hair and deep-set black eyes, a straight nose and a thin, cruel-looking mouth that hadn’t smiled when they were introduced. In fact, his eyes had narrowed with sudden hostility. She could remember the searing cold of that gaze even now, and the contempt as it had traveled over her with authority and disdain. As if she were a harem girl on display, she thought angrily, not a scientist with a keen analytical mind and meticulous accuracy in her work. It occurred to her then that a geologist would be a perfect match for the stony Mr. Hunter. She’d said as much to Eugene and it had gotten back to Hunter. That comment plus the other unfortunate stunt had not endeared her to Hunter. He hadn’t found it the least bit amusing. He’d said that she wouldn’t appeal to him if she came sliced and buttered.
She sighed, pushing her last piece of steak around on her plate. Amazing that he could hate her when she found him so unbearably attractive. The trick fate had played on her, she thought wistfully. All her life, the men who wanted her had been mama’s boys or dependent men who needed nurturing. All she’d wanted was a man who was strong enough to let her be herself, brains and all. Now she’d finally found one who was strong, but neither her brains nor her beauty interested him in the least.
She’d never had the courage to ask Hunter why he hated her so much. They’d only been alone together once in all the years they’d know each other, and that had been the night they’d staged a charade for the benefit of the agents who were after Jenny’s survey maps.
They’d gone to a restaurant with Cabe Ritter and his then-secretary, Danetta Marist, Jenny’s cousin. Jenny had deliberately worn a red, sexy dress to “live down to Hunter’s opinion” of her. He’d barely spared her a glance, so she could have saved herself the trouble. Once they’d reached the apartment and the trap had been sprung, she’d seen Hunter in action for the first time. The speed with which he’d tackled the man prowling in her apartment was fascinating, like the ease with which he’d floored the heavier man and rendered him unconscious. He’d gone after a second man, but that one had knocked Jenny into the wall in his haste to escape. Hunter had actually stopped to see that she was all right. He’d tugged her gently to her feet, his eyes blazing as he checked her over and demanded assurance that she hadn’t been hurt. Then he’d gone after that second man, with blood in his eye, but he’d lost his quarry by then. His security men had captured a third member of the gang outside. Hunter had blamed Jenny for the loss of the second, who was the ringleader. Odd how angry he’d been, she thought in retrospect. Maybe it was losing his quarry, something he rarely did.
She washed her few dishes before she had a quick shower and got into her gown. The sooner she slept, the sooner she’d be on her way to putting this forced trip behind her, she told herself.
She looked at herself in the mirror before she climbed wearily into bed. There were new lines in her face. She was twenty-seven. Her age was beginning to bother her, too. Many more years and her beauty would fade. Then she’d have nothing except her intellect to attract a husband, and that was a laugh. Most of the men she’d met would trade a brainy woman any day for a beautiful one, despite modern attitudes. Hunter probably liked the kind of woman who’d walk three steps behind her husband and chew rawhide to make them soft for his moccasins.
She tried to picture Hunter with a woman in his arms, and she blushed at the pictures that came to mind. He had the most magnificent physique she’d ever seen, all lean muscle and perfection. Thinking of him without the civilizing influence of clothes made her knees buckle.
With an angry sigh, she put out the light and got under the sheets. She had to stop tormenting herself with these thoughts. It was just that he stirred her as no other man ever had. He could make her weak-kneed and giddy just by walking into a room. The sight of him fed her heart. She looked at him and wanted him, in ways that were far removed from the purely physical. She remembered hearing once that he’d been hurt on the job, and her heart had stopped beating until she could get confirmation that he was alive and going to be all right. She looked for him, consciously and unconsciously, everywhere she went. It was getting to be almost a mania with her, and there was apparently no cure. Stupid, to be so hopelessly in love with a man who didn’t even know she existed. At her age, and with her intellect, surely she should have known better. But all the same, her world began and ended with Hunter.
Eventually she slept, but it was very late when she drifted off, and she slept so soundly that she didn’t even hear the alarm clock the next morning. But she heard the loud knocking on the door, and stumbled out of bed too drowsy to even reach for her robe. Fortunately her gown was floor-length and cotton, thick enough to be decent to answer a door in, at least.
Hunter glowered at her when she opened the door. “The plane leaves in two hours. We have to be at the airport in one. Didn’t I remind you that I’d be here at six?”
“Yes,” she said on a sigh. She stared up at his dark face. “Don’t you ever smile?” she asked softly.
He lifted a heavy, dark eyebrow. “When I can find something worth smiling at,” he returned with faint sarcasm.
That puts me in my place, she thought. She turned. “I have to have my coffee or I can’t function.”
“I’ll make the coffee. Get dressed,” he said tersely, dragging his eyes away from the soft curves that gown outlined so sweetly.
“But…” She turned and saw the sudden flash of his dark eyes, and stopped arguing.
“I said get dressed,” he repeated in a tone that made threats, especially when it was accompanied by his slow, bold scrutiny of her body.
She ran for it. He’d never looked at her in exactly that way before, and it wasn’t flattering. It was simply the look of a man who knew how to enjoy a woman. Lust, for lack of a better description. She darted into her room and closed the door.
She refused to allow herself to think about that smoldering look he’d given her. She dressed in jeans and a pink knit top for travel, dressing for comfort rather than style, and she wore sneakers. She left her hair long and Hunter could complain if he liked, she told herself.
By the time she got to the small kitchen, Hunter was pouring fresh coffee into two mugs. He produced cinnamon toast, deliciously browned, and pushed the platter toward her as she sat down with him at the table.
“I didn’t expect breakfast,” she said hesitantly.
“You need feeding up,” he replied without expression. “You’re too thin. Get that in you.”
“Thank you.” She nibbled on toast and sipped coffee, trying not to stare. It was heart-breakingly cozy, to be like this with him. She tried to keep her eyes from darting over him, but she couldn’t help it. He looked very nice in dark slacks and a white shirt with a navy blazer and striped tie. He wore his hair short and conventionally cut these days, and he was the picture of a successful businessman. Except for his darkness and the shape of his eyes and the very real threat of his dark skills. He was an intimidating man. Even now, it was hard going just to make routine conversation. Jenny didn’t even try. She just sat, working on her second piece of toast.
Hunter felt that nervousness in her. He knew she felt intimidated by him, but it was a reaction he couldn’t change. He was afraid to let her get close to him in any way. She was a complication he couldn’t afford in his life.
“You talk more at work and around other people,” he remarked when he’d finished the piece of toast he’d been eating and was working on his second cup of coffee.
“There’s safety in numbers,” she said without looking up.
He looked at her until she lifted her head and then he trapped her blue eyes with his black ones and refused to let her look away. The fiery intensity of the shared look made her body go taut with shocked pleasure, and her breath felt as if it had been suspended forever.
“Safety for whom?” he asked quietly. “For you?” His chin lifted, and he looked so arrogantly unapproachable that she wanted to back away. “What are you afraid of, Jennifer? Me?”
Yes, but she wasn’t going to let him know it. She finished her coffee. “No,” she said. “Of course not. I just meant that it’s hard to make conversation with you.”
He leaned back in his chair, his lean, dark hand so large that it completely circled the coffee mug. “Most people talk a lot and say nothing,” he replied.
She nodded. Her lips tugged up. “A friend of mine once said that it was better to keep one’s mouth closed and appear stupid than to open it and remove all doubt.”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes did, for one brief instant. He lifted the mug to his lips, watching Jenny over its rim. She was lovely, he thought with reluctant delight in her beauty. She seemed to glow in the early morning light, radiant and warm. He didn’t like the feelings she kindled in him. He’d never known love. He didn’t want to. In his line of work, it was too much of a luxury.
“We’d better get going,” he said.
“Yes.” She got up and began to tidy the kitchen, putting detergent into the water as it filled the sink.
He stood, watching her collect the dishes and wash them. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes narrowed as they sketched the soft lines of her body with slow appreciation.
He remembered the revealing red dress she’d worn the night they’d staked out her apartment, and his expression hardened. He hoped she wasn’t going to make a habit of wearing anything revealing while they were alone together. Jennifer was his one weak spot. But fortunately, she didn’t know that and he wasn’t planning to tell her.
“I’ll get your suitcases,” he said abruptly. He shouldered away from the wall and went out.
She relaxed. She’d felt that scrutiny and it had made her nervous. She wondered why he’d stared at her so intently. Probably he was thinking up ways to make her even more uncomfortable. He did dislike her intensely. For which she thanked God. His hostility would protect her from doing anything really stupid. Like throwing herself at him.
He had her bags by the front door when she was through. It was early fall, and chilly, so she put on a jacket on her way to the door. He opened the door for her, leaving her to lock up as he headed toward the elevator with the luggage. They didn’t speak all the way to the car.

3 (#u0330040d-2bfd-5570-979b-7efc9a97077d)


Jenny was aware of Hunter’s height as they walked to the car in the parking lot under her apartment building. He towered over her, and the way he moved was so smooth and elegant, he might have been gliding.
He put the luggage into the back of his sedan and opened the passenger door for her. He had excellent manners, she thought, and wondered if his mother had taught him the social graces or if he’d learned them in the service. So many questions she wanted to ask, but she knew he’d just ignore them, the way he ignored any questions he didn’t want to answer.
He drove the way he did everything else, with confidence and poise. Near collisions, bottlenecks, slow traffic, nothing seemed to disturb him. He eased the car in and out of lanes with no trouble at all, and soon they were at the airport.
She noticed that he didn’t request seats together. But the ticket agent apparently decided that they wanted them, to her secret delight, and put them in adjoining seats. That was when she realized how lovesick she was, hungry for just the accidental brush of his arm or leg. She had to get a grip on herself!
He sat completely at ease in his seat while she ground her teeth together and tried to remember all the statistics on how safe air travel really was.
“Now what’s wrong?” he murmured, glancing darkly down at her as the flight attendants moved into place to demonstrate emergency procedures.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Then why do you have a death-grip on the arms of your seat?” he asked politely.
“So that I won’t get separated from it when we crash,” she replied, closing her eyes tight.
He chuckled softly. “I never took you for a coward,” he said. “Are you the same woman who helped me set up enemy agents only a few weeks ago?”
“That was different,” she protested. She lifted her blue eyes to his dark ones and her gaze was trapped. Her breath sighed out, and she wondered which was really the more dangerous, the plane or Hunter.
He couldn’t seem to drag his eyes from hers, and he found that irritating. At close quarters, she was beautiful. Dynamite. All soft curves and a sexy voice and a mouth that he wanted very much to kiss. But that way lay disaster. He couldn’t afford to forget the danger of involvement. He had a life-style that he couldn’t easily share with any woman, but most especially with a white woman. All the same, she smelled sweet and floral, and she looked so beautifully cool. He wanted to dishevel her.
He averted his face to watch the flight attendants go through the drill that preceded every flight, grateful for the interruption. He had to stop looking at Jennifer like that.
They were airborne before either of them spoke again.
“These people that you think are following us,” she said softly, “is it the same group that broke into my apartment?”
“More than likely,” he said. “You have to remember that strategic metals tend to fluctuate on the world market according to the old law of supply and demand. When a new use is found for a strategic metal, it becomes immediately more valuable.”
“And an increase in one industry can cause it, too,” she replied.
He nodded. She was quick. He liked her brain as much as her body, but he wasn’t going to let her know that. “We didn’t pick up the ringleader, you remember. He got away,” he added with a cold glare at her.
She flushed. She didn’t like being reminded of how helpless she’d felt. “I didn’t ask you to stop to see about me,” she defended.
He knew that. The memory of seeing her lying inert on the floor still haunted him. That was when he’d first realized he was vulnerable. Now he seemed to spend all his time trying to forget that night. The agents, his job to protect Jenny and the company, had all been momentarily forgotten when the agent knocked her down in his haste to get away. Hunter had been too shaken by Jennifer’s prone position to run after the man. And that was what made him so angry. Not the fact that the agent had gotten away, but the fact that his concern for Jennifer had outweighed his dedication to his work. That was a first in his life.
“We’re transferring to another flight in Phoenix, under different names,” he said, lowering his voice. “With luck, the agents will pursue us on to California before they realize we’re gone.”
“How are we going to give them the slip? Are they on the plane?”
He smiled without looking at her. “Yes, they’re about five rows behind us. We’re going to get off supposedly to stretch our legs before the plane goes on to Tucson. We transfer to another airline, though, instead of coming back.”
“What if they follow us?”
“I’d see them,” he murmured dryly. “The rule of thumb in tracking someone is to never let your presence be discovered. Lose the subject first. This isn’t the first time I’ve played cat and mouse with these people. I know them.”
That said it all, she supposed, but she was glad she could leave all the details to him. Her job was field geology, not espionage. She glanced up at him, allowing herself a few precious seconds of adoration before she jerked her eyes back down and pretended to read a magazine.
She didn’t fool Hunter. He’d felt that shy appraisal and it worried him more than the agents did. Being alone with Jennifer on the desert was asking for trouble. He was going to make sure that he was occupied tonight, and that they wouldn’t set out until tomorrow. Maybe in that length of time, he could explain the situation to his body and keep it from doing something stupid.
It was a short trip, as flights went. They’d just finished breakfast when they were circling to land at the Tucson airport.
Hunter had everything arranged. Motel reservations, a rental car, the whole works. And it all worked to perfection until they got to the motel desk and the desk clerk handed them two keys, to rooms on different floors.
“No, that won’t do,” Hunter replied with a straight face, and without looking at Jennifer. “We’re honeymooners,” he said. “We want a double room.
“Oh! I’m sorry, sir. Congratulations,” the clerk said with a pleasant smile.
Dreams came true, Jenny thought, picturing all sorts of delicious complications during that night together. The desk clerk handed him a key after he signed them in—as Mr. and Mrs. Camp. Nice of Hunter to tell her their married name, she thought with faint amusement. But it was typical of him to keep everything to himself.
He unlocked the door, waited for the bellboy to put their luggage and equipment in the room, and tipped the man.
They were alone. He closed the door and turned to her, his dark eyes assessing as he saw the faint unease on her face. “Don’t start panicking,” he said curtly. “I won’t assault you. This is the best way to keep up the masquerade, that’s all.”
She colored. “I didn’t say a word,” she reminded him.
He wandered around the room with some strange electronic gadget in one hand and checked curtains and lamps. “No bugs,” he said eventually. “But that doesn’t mean much. I’m pretty sure we’re being observed. Don’t leave the room unless I’m with you, and don’t mention anything about why we’re here. Is that clear?”
“Why don’t we just go out into the desert and camp?”
“We have to have camping gear,” he explained with mocking patience. “It’s too late to start buying it now. The morning’s over. We’ll start out later in the afternoon.”
“All right.” She put her suitcases on the side of the room that was nearest the bathroom, hesitating.
“Whichever bed you want is yours,” he said without inflection. He was busy watching out the window. “I can sleep anywhere.”
And probably had, she thought, remembering some of his assignments that she’d heard about. She put her attaché case with her maps on the bed, and her laptop computer on the side table, taking time to plug its adapter into the wall socket so that it could stay charged up. It only had a few hours’ power between charges.
“Give me that case,” he said suddenly. He took the case with the maps and opened it, hiding a newspaper he’d brought into the case and then putting it in a dresser drawer with one of his shirts over it. The maps he tucked into a pair of his jeans and left them in his suitcase.
Jenny lifted an amused eyebrow. He had a shrewd mind. She almost said so, but it might reveal too much about her feelings if she told him. She unpacked her suitcase instead and began to hang up her clothes. She left her underthings and her long cotton gown in the suitcase, too shy of Hunter to put them in a drawer in front of him.
The gown brought to mind a question that had only just occurred. Should she put it on tonight, or would it look like an invitation? And worse, did he sleep without clothes? Some men did. She’d watched him put his things away out of the corner of her eye, and she hadn’t seen either a robe or anything that looked like pajamas. She groaned inwardly. Wouldn’t that be a great question to ask a man like Hunter, and how would she put it? Isn’t this a keen room, Mr. Hunter, and by the way, do you sleep stark naked, because if you do, is it all right if I spend the night in the bathtub?
She laughed under her breath. Wouldn’t that take the starch out of his socks, she thought with humor. Imagine, a woman her age and with her looks being that ignorant about a man’s body. Despite the women’s magazines she’d seen from time to time, with their graphic studies of nude men, there was a big difference in a photograph and a real, live man.
“Is something bothering you?” he asked suddenly.
The question startled her into blurting out the truth. “Do you wear pajamas?” she asked, and her face went scarlet.
“Why?” he replied with a straight face. “Do you need to borrow them, or were you thinking of buying me a pair if I say no?”
She averted her face. “Sorry. I’m not used to sharing a room with a man, that’s all.”
No way could he believe that she’d never spent a night with a man. More than likely she was nervous of him. “We’re supposed to be honeymooners,” he said with faint sarcasm. “It would look rather odd to spend the night in separate rooms.”
“Of course.” She just wanted to drop the whole subject. “Could we get lunch? I’m starving.”
“I want to check with my people first,” he told her. “I’ve got a couple of operatives down here doing some investigative work on another project. I won’t be long.”
She’d thought he meant to phone, but he went out of the room.
Jenny sprawled on her bed, cursing her impulsive tongue. Now he’d think she was a simpleminded prude as well as a pain in the neck. Great going, Jenny, she told herself. What a super way to get off on the right foot, asking your reluctant roommate about his night wear. Fortunately he hadn’t pursued the subject.
He was back an hour later. She’d put on her reading glasses, the ones she used for close work because she was hopelessly farsighted, and was plugging away on her laptop computer, going over detailed graphic topo maps of the area, sprawled across the bed with her back against the headboard and the computer on her lap. Not the best way to use the thing, and against the manufacturer’s specs, but it was much more comfortable than trying to use the motel’s table and chairs.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he remarked, watching her.
“You didn’t?” she asked with mock astonishment. “Why, Mr. Hunter, I was sure you’d know more about me than I know myself—don’t you have a file on all the staff in your office?”
“Don’t be sarcastic. It doesn’t suit you.” He stretched out on the other bed, powerful muscles rippling in his lean body, and she had to fight not to stare. He was beautifully made from head to toe, an old maid’s dream.
She punched in more codes and concentrated on her maps.
“What kind of mineral are you and Eugene looking for?” he asked curiously.
She pursed her lips and glanced at him with gleeful malice. “Make a guess,” she invited.
She realized her mistake immediately and could have bitten her lip through. He sat up and threw his long legs off the bed, moving to her side with threatening grace. He took the laptop out of her hands and put it on the table before he got her by the wrists and pulled her up against his body. The proximity made her knees go weak. He smelled of spicy cologne and soap, and his breath had a coffee scent, as if he’d been meeting his operatives in a café. His grip was strong and exciting, and she loved the feel of his body so close to hers. Perhaps, subconsciously, this was what she’d expected when she antagonized him…
“Little girls throw rocks at boys they like,” he said at her forehead. “Is that what you’re doing, figuratively speaking? Because if it is,” he added, and his grip on her wrists tightened even as his voice grew deeper, slower, “I’m not in the market for a torrid interlude on the job, cover girl.”
She could have gone through the floor with shame. The worst of it was that she didn’t even have a comeback. He saw right through her. With his advantage in age and experience, that wasn’t really surprising. She knew, too, from gossip that he disliked white women. Probably they saw him as a unique experience more than a man. She didn’t feel that way, but she couldn’t admit it.
“I’m not trying to get your attention. I’m tired and when I’m tired, I get silly,” she said too quickly, talking to his shirt as she stiffened with fear of giving herself away. Odd, the jerky way he was breathing, and the fabric was moving as if his heartbeat was very heavy. Her body was melting, this close to his. “You don’t have to warn me off. I know better than to make a play for you.”
The remark diverted him. “Do you? Why?” he asked curtly.
“They say you hate women,” she replied. “Especially,” she added, forcing her blue eyes up to his narrowed dark ones, “white women.”
He nodded slowly. His gaze held hers, and then drifted down to her soft bow of a mouth with its faint peach lipstick, and further, to the firm thrust of her breasts almost but not quite touching his shirtfront. He remembered another beautiful blond, the one who’d deserted him when he’d been five years old. Her Apache child had been an embarrassment in her social circles. By then, of course, her activist phase was over, and she had her sights on one of her own people. Some years back, he’d been taken in by a socialite himself. An Apache escort had been unique, for a little while, until he’d mentioned a permanent commitment. And she’d laughed. My God, marry a man who lived on a reservation? The memories bit into him like teeth.
He released Jennifer abruptly with a roughness that wasn’t quite in character.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she saw the expression in his dark eyes. She winced, as if she could actually feel his pain. “I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories for you.”
His expression was frightening at that moment. “What do you know about me?” he asked, his voice cutting.
She managed a wan smile and moved away from him. “I don’t know anything, Mr. Hunter. Nobody does. Your life is a locked door and there’s no key. But you looked…” She turned and glanced back at him, and her hands lifted and fell helplessly. “I don’t know. Wounded.” She averted her eyes. “I’d better get this put away.”
Her perception floored him. She was a puzzle he’d never solved, and despite his security files, he knew very little about her own private life. There were no men at the office, he knew. She was discreet, if nothing else. In fact, he thought, studying her absently with narrowed eyes as she put away her computer, he’d never heard of her dating a man in all the years she’d been with the company. He’d never seen her flirt with a man, and even those she worked with treated her as just one of the boys. That fact had never occurred to him before. She kept her distance from men as a rule. Even out in the field, where working conditions were much more relaxed, Jennifer went without makeup, in floppy shirts and loose jeans, and she kept to herself after working hours. He’d once seen her cut a man dead who was trying to make a play for her. Her eyes had gone an icy blue, her face rigid with distaste, and even though she hadn’t said much, her would-be suitor got the message in flying colors. Hunter wouldn’t admit, even to himself, how that action had damned her in his eyes. Seeing her put in the knife had made him more determined than ever not to risk his emotions with her. There were too many hard memories of his one smoldering passion for a white woman, and its humiliating result. And, even longer ago than that, his mother’s contempt for him, her desertion.
He turned away from Jennifer, busying himself with the surveillance equipment one of his cases contained. He redistributed the equipment in the case and closed it.
“Why do we have to have all that?” she queried suddenly.
He nodded toward her computer and equipment. “Why do you have to have all that?” he countered.
“It’s part of my working gear,” she said simply.
“You’ve answered your own question.” He checked his watch. “Let’s get something to eat. Then we’ll have a look at camping supplies.”
“The joy of expense accounts,” she murmured as she got her purse and put away her reading glasses. “I wonder if Eugene will mind letting me have a jungle hammock? I slept in one when I was a kid. We camped next to two streams, and they were like a lullaby in the darkness.”
“You can have a jungle hammock if you think you can find a place to hang it.”
“All we need is two trees….”
He turned, his hands on his lean hips, his dark face enigmatic. “The desert is notorious for its lack of trees. Haven’t you ever watched any Western movies?” he added, and came very close to a smile. “Remember the Indians chasing the soldiers in John Wayne movies, and the soldiers having to dive into dry washes or gulches for cover?”
She stared at him, fascinated. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d watch that kind of movie…” She colored, embarrassed.
“Because the solders won?” he mused. “That’s history. But the Apache fought them to a standstill several times. And Louis L’Amour did a story called Hondo that was made into a movie with John Wayne.” He lifted an eyebrow. “It managed to show Apaches in a good light, for once.”
“I read about Cochise when I was in school. And Mangas Coloradas and Victorio…”
“Different tribes of Apache,” he said. “Cochise was Chiricahua. Mangas and Victorio were MimbreÑos.”
“Which…are you?” she asked, sounding and feeling breathless. He’d never spoken to her like this before.
“Chiricahua,” he said. His eyes searched her face. “Is your ancestry Nordic?” he asked.
“It’s German,” she said softly. “On my father’s side, it’s English.” Her eyes wandered helplessly over his lean face.
Her intense scrutiny disturbed him in a new and unexpected way. Her eyes were enormous. Dark blue, soft, like those of some kitten. He didn’t like the way they made him tingle. He turned away, scowling.
“We’d better go, Jennifer.”
Her name on his lips thrilled her. She felt alive as never before when she was with him, even if it was in the line of duty.
She started toward the door, but he turned as she reached it, and she bumped into him. The contact was like fire shooting through her.
“Sorry!” She moved quickly away. “I didn’t mean to…!”
He put a strong hand under her chin and lifted her face to his eyes. Her eyelids flinched and there was real fear in them at close range. “You really are afraid of me,” he said with dawning comprehension.
She hadn’t wanted him to know that. Of course she was afraid of him, but not for the reasons he was thinking. She moved back and lowered her eyes. “A little, maybe,” she said uneasily.
“My God!” He jerked open the door. “Out.”
She went through it, avoiding him as she left. She hadn’t expected the confession to make him angry. She sighed heavily. It was going to be a hard trip, all the way, if this was any indication. He was coldly silent all the way to the motel restaurant, only taking her arm when they were around people, for appearance’s sake.
They were halfway through their meal when he spoke again.
“It’s been years since I’ve scalped anyone,” he said suddenly, his angry eyes searching hers.
The fork fell from her fingers with a terrible clatter. She picked it up quickly, looking around nervously to see if anyone had noticed, but there was only an old couple nearby and they were too busy talking to notice Jennifer and her companion.
She should have remembered how sensitive he was about his heritage. She’d inadvertently let him believe that she was afraid of him because he was an Indian. What a scream it would be if she confessed that she was afraid of him because she was in love with him. He’d probably kill himself laughing.
“No, it’s not that,” she began. She stopped, helplessly searching for the right words. “It’s not because you’re…” She toyed with her fork. “The thing is, I’m not very comfortable around you,” she said finally. She put down her fork. “You’ve never made any secret of the fact that you dislike me. You’re actively hostile the minute I come into a room. It isn’t exactly fear. It’s nerves, and it has nothing to do with your heritage.”
She had a point. He couldn’t deny that he’d been hostile. Her beauty did that to him; it made him vulnerable and that irritated him. He knew he was too touchy about his ancestry, but he’d had it rough trying to live in a white world.
“I don’t find it easy, living among your people,” he said. He’d never admitted that to anyone before.
“I can imagine,” she replied. Her eyes searched his. “You might consider that being a female geologist in an oil company isn’t the easiest thing to do, either. I loved rocks.”
His dark eyes conquered hers suddenly. The look was pure electricity. Desert lightning. She felt it all the way to her toes.
“I find you hard going, too, Miss Marist,” he said after a minute. “But I imagine we’ll survive. Eugene said we were to camp on the actual site the second night.”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded breathless, choked.
He found himself studying her hand on the table. Involuntarily his brushed over the back of it. He told himself it was for appearances. But touching her gave him pleasure, and she jumped. He scowled, feeling her long fingers go cold and tremble. His eyes lifted back to hers. “You’re trembling.”
She jerked her hand from under his, almost unbalancing her water glass in the process. “I have to finish my steak.” She laughed nervously. “The stores will close soon.”
“So they will.”
The subterfuge didn’t fool him, she knew. Not one bit. His chin lifted and there was something new in the set of his head. An arrogance. A kind of satisfied pride that kindled in his eyes.
He was curious now. A beautiful woman like Jennifer would be used to giving men the jitters, not the reverse. He let his gaze fall to her soft mouth as it opened to admit a small piece of steak, and he felt his body go rigid. Over the years, he’d only allowed himself the occasional fantasy about making love to her. As time passed, and he grew older, the fantasies had grown stronger. He could keep the disturbing thoughts at bay most of the time. But there was always the lonely night when he’d toss and turn and his blood would grow hot as he imagined her mouth opening for him, her hands on his back, her soft legs tangling with his in the darkness. Those nights were hell. And the next few, alone with her, were going to sorely test his strength of will. For her it would be a field expedition. For him, a survival course, complete with sweet obstacles and pitfalls.
He had to remember that this was an assignment, and enemy agents were following them. Strategic metals always drew trouble, not only from domestic corporations struggling to get their hands in first, but from foreign investors interested in the same idea. He had to keep his mind on his work, and not on Jennifer. But her proximity wasn’t going to make that job any easier. He almost groaned aloud at the difficulties. There hadn’t been a woman in a long time, and he was hungry. He wanted Jennifer and he was relatively sure that she was attracted to him. She was certainly nervous enough when he came close.
But, he thought, what if her fear of him was genuine and had nothing to do with attraction? Her explanation that it was because they were enemies didn’t hold up. It was far too flimsy to explain the way she trembled when he touched her hand. Fear could cause that, he had to admit. And he had been unkind to her, often. He sighed heavily. Thinking about it wasn’t going to make it any easier.
They went to a hardware store when they finished their meal, and Jennifer watched him go about the business of buying camping supplies with pure awe. He knew exactly what to get, from the Coleman stove to the other gear like sleeping bags and tent and cans of Sterno for emergencies. Jennifer had gone out into the field before, many times, but usually there was some kind of accommodation. She hadn’t relished the idea of camping out by herself, although she loved it with companions. Hunter, though, was going to be more peril than pleasure as a tent mate. She had to get a grip on herself, she told her stubborn heart again. The prospect of a few nights alone with him was sending her mad.
He loaded the gear into the four-wheel drive vehicle he’d had waiting for them at the airport. It was a black one, and he drove it with such ease that she suspected he had one of his own at home. That brought to mind an interesting question. Where was home to him? She knew he had an apartment in Tulsa, but he spent his time off in Arizona. Near here? With a woman, perhaps? Her blood ran cold.
“We’ll be ready to go in the morning,” he told her when they were back in the motel room again, with their gear stowed in the locked vehicle outside. All except her computer and his surveillance equipment, of course. He wasn’t risking that. “Do you want to shower first?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “If you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead. I’ll watch the news.”
She carried her things into the bathroom, firmly locking the door, despite what he might think about the sound. She took a quick shower and put on clean blue jeans and a clean white knit shirt. She felt refreshed and sunny when she came back out, her face bright and clean without makeup.
He was sprawled across a chair, his shoes off, a can of beer in his hand. He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you mind beer, or does the smell bother you?”
“No. My father likes his lager,” she said as she dealt with her dirty clothes.
He finished his drink and stood, stripping off his shirt. “If you’re finished, I’ll have my shower. Then we’ll think about something for dinner.”
She was watching him as helplessly as a teenage girl staring at a movie star. He was beautiful. God, he was beautiful, she thought with pleasure so deep it rivaled pain. Muscles rippled in his dark torso from the low-slung belt on his jeans to the width of his shoulders as he stretched, and her eyes sketched him with shy adoration.
He was aware of her scrutiny, but he pretended not to notice. He got a change of clothes to carry into the bathroom with him and turned, faintly amused by the way she busied herself with her computer and pretended to ignore him.
Her helpless stare had piqued his curiosity. He deliberately paused just in front of her, giving her an unnecessarily good view of his broad, naked chest.
“Don’t forget to keep the door locked,” he advised quietly, watching the flicker of her lashes as she lifted her blue eyes to his. “And don’t answer it if someone knocks.”
“Yes, sir, is that all, sir?” she asked brightly.
He caught her chin with a lean hand and his thumb brushed roughly over her mouth, a slow, fierce intimacy that he watched with almost scientific intensity. She knew her eyes were wildly dilated as they looked into his, and she couldn’t help the shocked gasp that broke from her sensitized lips or the shiver of pleasure that ran through her body.
His dark eyes didn’t miss a thing. Her reaction, he decided, was definitely not fear. He couldn’t decide if he was pleased about it or not. “Don’t be provocative,” he said softly, his voice an octave deeper, faintly threatening. “Get to work.” He moved away before she could find anything to say that wouldn’t be provocative.
She sat down at her computer, her fingers trembling on the keyboard.
He closed the bathroom door behind him. His action had been totally unexpected, and it made her even more nervous than she already was. If he was going to start doing that kind of thing, she’d be safer in the lion cage at the zoo.
She was uncertain of him and of herself. Being around him in such close quarters was going to be a test of her self-control. She only hoped that she wouldn’t give herself away. She’d had some naive idea that because Hunter disliked women, he didn’t sleep with them. But she was learning that he knew a lot more than she did, and the sultry look in his dark eyes really frightened her. If she didn’t watch her step, she was going to wind up with more than she’d bargained for.
His motives were what bothered her most. He didn’t like white women, especially her, so what had prompted that action? She didn’t want to consider the most evident possibility—that he thought she was fair game, and he had seduction on his mind. She ground her teeth together. Well, he could hold his breath. She wasn’t going to be any man’s light amusement. Not even his.

4 (#u0330040d-2bfd-5570-979b-7efc9a97077d)


When Jenny heard the shower running, she got up from her computer and sat in the chair Hunter had occupied to watch television. The chair still smelled of him. She traced the armrests where his hands had been and sighed brokenly. Jenny felt like a fool. She had to stop this!
She got out of the chair and went to work on her contour maps, trying to pinpoint the best place to look, given the mineral structure of the area. She’d begged time on Landsat earlier for another project, using the expensive computer time to study the satellite maps of this region of southern Arizona. The terrain they were going to survey was between the Apache reservation on one side and government land on the other. A narrow strip of desert and a narrow strip of mountain made up the search area, although they were going to be camping in several different spots to throw any would-be thieves off the mark.
She was deep in concentration when Hunter came back out of the bathroom, wearing clean jeans and no shirt, again. She had to bite her lip to keep from staring at him. He was unspeakably handsome to her, the most attractive man she’d ever known, but she couldn’t afford the luxury of letting him know that. Especially not after the way he’d touched her mouth…
“Found what you’re looking for?” he asked, placing one big hand on the table beside her and resting the other on the back of her chair. He leaned down to better see what she was studying. His cheek brushed hers and he felt her jump. His own breath caught. He wanted her. He should never have agreed to come on this expedition, because being close to her was having one hell of a bad effect on his willpower and self-control. He’d thought of nothing except the vulnerable look in her eyes when he’d touched her mouth so intimately, the yielding, the fascination. He wanted to grind his mouth into her own and make her cry out her need for him.
She was feeling the same tension. She knew he sensed her reaction, but she kept her head. “You startled me,” she said breathlessly.
He knew better. His lean, warm cheek was touching hers as he stared at the map on the computer’s small screen. She looked sideways and saw the thick, short lashes over his dark eyes, the faint lines in his cream-smooth tan. “Hunter…” His name was a soft whisper that broke involuntarily from her throat.
His head turned, and his eyes looked deeply into hers from scant inches away. She could taste his breath on her mouth, smell the clean scent of his body, feel the impact of his bare arms, his chest. He intoxicated her with his nearness, and she saw the hot glitter of awareness in those black eyes. She could see the thick dark lashes above them lower as his gaze suddenly dropped with fierce intent to her parted lips.
She shivered. All her dreams hadn’t prepared her for the impact of this. Like a string suspended from a height, waiting for the wind to move it, she hung at his lips without breathing. A fraction of an inch, and his mouth would be on hers…!

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