Hard to Handle

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 relation
ship 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.

J
ennifer 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 embar
rassment 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.

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