Hard to Handle (11 page)

She sat up, a little self-conscious of her nudity, but his eyes were
warm and admiring and she forgot her shyness. “But we didn’t do anything, really,” she said.

He brought her hand to his chest and caressed it. “I felt exactly what you did. The same need, the same sweet release.” His head turned toward her. “Sleep with me.”

She colored. “You just said…”

“That I wouldn’t have sex with you,” he agreed. “That isn’t what I asked. Stay the night. We’ll lie in each other’s arms and sleep.”

Her breath caught. “Could we?”

He drew her to his side, pillowing her head on his broad shoulder. “Yes. We could.” His hand reached for the light, and he turned it out, folding her closer. “For tonight,” he whispered at her ear, “we’re lovers. Even if not conventional ones.”

She closed her eyes with ecstasy, wanting to tell him everything, how she felt, how deeply she loved him, needed him. But she didn’t dare. He thought it was just desire, and she had to let him keep thinking it. If he knew how involved she was emotionally, his pride wouldn’t let him near her again. He wouldn’t want to hurt her.

She flattened her hand on his chest and sighed. “This is heaven,” she whispered.

He didn’t echo the words back, but he could have. He’d never spent an entire night in a woman’s arms. The need to keep Jennifer here kept him awake long after she relaxed in sleep.

The next morning, he kissed her awake. He was already dressed, but his eyes were enjoying the sight of her with the covers pulled away in a purely masculine way.

“Nymph,” he murmured, sweeping a possessive hand down her body. “How can you be a virgin?”

“Pure living,” she said, and laughed delightedly.

He brought her to her feet and kissed her softly. “You’d better get dressed. Morning is a bad time for men, and all my noble scruples aren’t going to protect you if I have to look at you this way much longer.”

She sighed and leaned against him. “There won’t be a man,” she whispered. “Not now.”

His teeth ground together. Why in God’s name did she have to say things like that? “Get dressed,” he said tersely.

She was shocked at the sudden change in attitude, at his fierce anger. She pulled back from him, wounded, and searched for her clothes.

He didn’t turn his back. He couldn’t. He watched her dress, his heart pounding, his body aching for hers. It had taken all his willpower to drag himself out of bed this morning, when he wanted her to the point of madness. It had taken a cold shower and a self-lecture to get himself back in control.

“I wanted you last night,” he said huskily. “I want you even more this morning. I’m not trying to be cruel, but the risk is just too damned great, do you understand?”

She was back in her gown now, everything under it in place. She nodded without really understanding and without looking at him and went to get her purse off the dresser, where he must have put it this morning. She took out a small brush and made some sense of her disheveled hair. She shouldn’t feel like a fallen woman, she told herself. But she did. She’d thrown herself at him, and he hadn’t wanted her enough to take the risk of involvement. It had been just a pleasant interlude to him. But to her, it had been everything.

He stood behind her, in dress slacks and shirt and tie and sports jacket, very urbane and sophisticated. His lean hands held her
shoulders and he looked at their joint reflection, his eyes narrowing at the contrast.

“Dark and light,” he said curtly. “Indian and white. If I gave you a baby, it would belong to both worlds and neither world. We could never have a child together.”

So that was why he was so afraid of not being prepared with her. Because he didn’t want her to have his child. It was so final…

She broke down and cried. He whipped her around and held her, rocking her, his arms fiercely possessive, the tremor in her body echoing in his.

“I could love you,” he said roughly. “You could become the most important thing in my life. But I won’t let it happen. We can’t become involved. You have your world, I have mine.” He tilted her mouth up to his and his dark eyes were frightening as they searched hers intently. “Kiss me. This is goodbye.”

Her mouth opened for his, inviting it, giving him everything he asked for, everything he didn’t. He groaned, lifting her into an intimate, exquisite embrace, and she whimpered because the pleasure was overwhelming. She clung to his powerful shoulders, breathing him, while the kiss reached its climax and left them both shaking. He let her slide to the floor, letting her feel his stark, urgent arousal. She was the cause of it; he was proud that he was such a man with her.

She took a slow breath, her mouth red from the aching kiss, and stepped back from him. Something died in her soft blue eyes as she looked up at him, but she managed a smile.

“Do you have a first name?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Phillip. I don’t think I’ve ever told it to anyone else.”

She fought back the tears. “Thank you.” She turned away from
him, picking up her purse with hands that shook. “I’d better go back to my room.” She glanced back at him. “It was the best night of my life. I’ll live on it forever.”

She opened the door and ran out, blind and deaf, almost stumbling in her haste to get across the parlor of the suite to her own room. Such a short distance, yet it was like moving from one life to another, she thought, blind to the tormented face of the man she’d left behind.

Hunter watched her door close, and he leaned heavily against his door facing. It was for the best, he kept telling himself. But the memory of Jennifer in his arms was going to take years to fade. Maybe more years than he even had left.

B
ack in her own room, Jennifer changed from her evening dress into slacks and a short-sleeved red silk top, put her blond hair in a ponytail and tied it with a colorful red patterned scarf. But her heart wasn’t in how she looked. Hunter had said goodbye, and what he meant was that they could work together for another ten years, but it would never again be more intimate than two colleagues.

She hoped that Eugene would be through with his politicking so that they could go home to Tulsa. She couldn’t spend much more time around Hunter without going mad, especially after last night. He knew things about her now that no one else in the world did, and it was faintly unnerving.

His tenderness had surprised and delighted her, despite the circumstances. She wished she knew a little more about men. It occurred to her that a man who’d worked himself into a frenzy wanting a woman would have every right to be furious when he had to draw back. But Hunter hadn’t been angry with her. He’d been kind. Did that mean that he hadn’t wanted her very much in
the first place, or did he care enough to put her feelings before his? She’d never been so confused, or so embarrassed. It was humiliating to have him know not only that she was on fire for him, but that she was a virgin to boot. If he wanted a weapon to use against her, he had a great one now. She dreaded facing him again. She had a feeling that last night wouldn’t make any difference in his public treatment of her.

As it turned out, she was right. When she got downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast, Hunter stood, as did Eugene, for her to be seated, but his expression was stony and it gave away absolutely nothing.

“Good morning,” Eugene said with a smile.

“You look very pretty,” Cynthia added.

It wasn’t a good morning, and Jennifer didn’t feel pretty, she felt sick all over. She didn’t quite meet Hunter’s eyes as she sat down, mumbling something polite.

“Wasn’t the ball wonderful?” Cynthia asked with a sigh. “I’ve never enjoyed anything quite as much.”

“It was super,” Jennifer said, staring blankly at her menu.

“I noticed that you were getting a lot of attention, Hunter,” Eugene murmured dryly. “Especially from our host’s sister.”

“She wanted to see my scalps,” he explained with a faint smile. He glanced toward Jennifer, his dark eyes giving nothing away. “Jennifer rescued me. We both had enough popularity to suit us by then, so we went back to the hotel.”

“Sorry,” Eugene said, sobering. “I hadn’t realized I’d be putting you on the spot like that.”

“I can handle social warfare,” the younger man said imperturbably. “How did things work out?”

Eugene grinned. “Great. I got my deal. All we have to do is wait
for the paperwork, and they’re going to shoot that through. We should be able to send you two back down there to finalize the exact location within a month. I want to talk to two more people today. We’ll fly home first thing in the morning.”

At the mention of sending them back to the desert, Jennifer’s face went paper white. Under the table, Hunter’s lean hand caught hers where it lay on her lap. He enfolded it and his fingers contracted gently, sending a fiery thrill through Jennifer’s body.

“I thought you knew where to look,” Hunter replied.

Eugene nodded. “Oh, we do. What we’re going to need you to do is camp out at a false location, to make sure our friends are led off the beaten track while we’re running our seismic survey and doing flyovers.”

“You don’t think the agents will be able to hear dynamite blasts going off over the hill when our geologic technicians set up the seismic equipment to register the sound waves?” Jennifer asked with a smile. Hunter’s strong fingers were warm and reassuring around her own, but they were making it hard to breathe normally.

“We’ll work something out,” Eugene said. He studied Jennifer’s face with an intensity that made her nervous, especially when his calculating blue eyes went to Hunter. “Uh, you don’t have any problem with spending a few more days out on the desert together?”

“Of course not,” Hunter said easily.

“No,” Jennifer agreed, and even smiled.

“You’re both lying through your teeth.” Eugene nodded slowly. “But I can’t help it. You started this for me, you’ll have to finish it. I’ll try to work things so that we keep the field time to a minimum. Now. What shall we eat?”

Breakfast seemed to take forever. Jennifer still couldn’t puzzle out Hunter’s behavior. That lean hand wrapped around hers before
breakfast had knocked half the breath out of her, even if his expression hadn’t revealed anything.

While Eugene and Cynthia stood at the counter, Hunter caught Jennifer’s arm and pulled her gently to one side.

“There’s no need to look like that,” he said softly, his dark eyes searching her shy ones. “It’s all right.”

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Embarrassed. Shamed.” His hand dropped from her arm. “We did nothing last night that would have consequences. You understand?” he added, his dark eyes probing.

She turned red and swallowed hard. “Yes, I know,” she said huskily. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“But it still embarrasses you to look at me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His lean hand touched her long ponytail and he felt at a loss for words for the first time in recent memory. He didn’t quite know what to say to her. She was nothing like the woman he’d thought her. He could hardly make himself believe that such a beautiful, desirable woman was totally innocent. And in so many ways. He looked at her mouth and felt again its soft, hungry response, felt the fierce need in her body that he’d wanted so desperately to satisfy. He still ached for her, but the shock of her chastity had spared him the shattering loss of honor he would have felt had he compromised her.

“You were a surprise, little one,” he said half under his breath.

“And a big disappointment, I imagine, too,” she replied.

“No.” He gently tugged her ponytail until she looked up at him. “You don’t have to worry about being alone with me on the desert. I’ll take care of you. In every way.”

She forced a smile. “I’ll try not to be too much of a trial to you,”
she said quietly. “I’m…sorry…about what happened at the ball. I guess you know it all, now, don’t you?”

“I know that you’re vulnerable,” he replied, his eyes soft and very dark. “I won’t take advantage of it.”

She searched his eyes with helpless attraction. “It’s never been like that,” she whispered worriedly. “Not ever…”

“We all have an Achilles’ heel,” he said. “Apparently I’m yours.” He smiled gently. “It’s all right. We’ll muddle through.”

“Do you have one?” she asked shyly.

“One what?”

“An Achilles’ heel.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course. Haven’t you guessed yet what it is?”

“Your ancestry,” she said with sudden insight.

“Smart lady.” He noticed Eugene gesturing toward them and slid a careless arm around her shoulders. He couldn’t help but feel the shiver that ran through her slender body, and he felt a little guilty at encouraging her physical infatuation for him. But it flattered his pride and touched his heart. If he didn’t put some distance between them pretty soon, she could become a worse Achilles’ heel even than his ancestry.

The day wore on, with Jennifer trying desperately not to look at Hunter with equal amounts of possession and wonder, and failing miserably. Eugene stayed in meetings until dinner, so Hunter escorted the women to all the places they hadn’t seen before. Nothing had changed on the surface in Hunter’s relationship with Jennifer. He didn’t touch her except when it was necessary, and he didn’t pay her any more attention than he paid Cynthia. Jennifer noticed that, and it made her feel even worse than she already did. The night before had been a revelation to her. But Hunter, even
though he seemed a little less rigid with her, betrayed no sudden passion for her. By the time Eugene rejoined them and they had dinner at the restaurant that evening, Jennifer was more depressed than ever.

Hunter noticed her lack of spirit, and he was sorry. It had been equally difficult for him to pretend that nothing had happened. But for his sake as well as Jennifer’s he had to keep things on a business basis from now on. He didn’t dare risk a repeat of the night before. Having found Jennifer virginal had kept him awake all night. He wanted her more now than he ever had. It was agony to look at her and know that she’d give in to him with hardly any coaxing; to know that she’d give him what she’d never given another man.

He watched her all through dinner, hungry to get her alone, to kiss her until she was too weak to stand up. He didn’t dare, of course. He was going to have to think of something to keep him occupied tonight and out of trouble.

Fate did it for him. He went with the women upstairs while Eugene had a drink with another contact. He’d suggested that they go by their suite first, to drop off Jennifer, trying not to notice the wounded look on her young face. But just as they rounded the corner off the elevator, they spotted a man coming out of Jennifer’s room.

“Stay here,” he said tersely, jerking out his .45 automatic. He was off in one single graceful movement.

Jennifer wanted to scream after him to be careful, her heart in her eyes, her pulses jerking wildly as he pursued the other man down the corridor and around another corner.

“Oh, Lord,” Cynthia said huskily, putting a protective arm around Jenny.

“He was in my room,” Jennifer said. “I hope he doesn’t hurt
Hunter! It’s got to be some of that same group who broke into my apartment before. They’re after my maps!”

“But you didn’t bring them, did you?” Cynthia asked worriedly.

“Hunter has them,” Jennifer said huskily. “But he hides things well. I suppose my room was the natural one to search.”

“Risky for them to come here,” Cynthia commented.

Jenny’s thoughts were occupied with the man chasing the prowlers. She didn’t hear the other woman’s words. “I wish Hunter would come back!” She stared down the corridor worriedly.

He did, a minute later, pushing his automatic back into its holster on the way. He looked and felt furiously angry. Just the thought that the agent could have broken into Jenny’s room while she was in it, asleep, made him crazy.

“He got out on a fire escape. There was a car waiting, damn the luck,” Hunter said angrily. “We’ll have to arrange something for tonight.”

“Jennifer can stay with me, and you can stay with Eugene,” Cynthia volunteered.

“No.” Hunter didn’t look at Jennifer. “You’re safer with Eugene. I’ll be in the suite with Jennifer. Nobody will get in.”

“You could sleep on the sofa,” Jennifer volunteered with downcast eyes, thrilled that he was being so protective.

“We’ll discuss it after we leave Cynthia at her door. I’ll post an operative outside it tonight. You’ll be safe until Eugene comes up,” he promised Cynthia.

“You’re very efficient,” Cynthia said with a smile, and a teasing glance at Jennifer.

Jennifer didn’t say a word. She went along to drop Cynthia off and then minutes later she was alone with Hunter in her room. He had some odd instrument and he went over the entire apart
ment with it, careful to check everywhere. He discovered two tiny metal devices, which he dealt with before he said a word.

“I’ve sent a man down to my room to play possum,” he told her, shucking his jacket. The shoulder holster was firm around his broad chest, the dark butt of the handle stark against his white shirt.

She shivered at the sinister outline of the gun, at the memory of how Hunter earned his living. Sometimes she could forget it altogether, but not at times like this, and she feared for him.

He saw that nervous scrutiny and lifted an eyebrow. “I won’t shoot you by mistake,” he murmured dryly.

“It’s not that.” She wrapped her arms around his chest. “They never give up, do they?”

“From what you’ve told me about strategic metals, I’m not surprised.” He moved closer, his lean hands smoothing over her shoulders. “Lie down and get some sleep, if you can. In the morning we’ll go home. A couple of weeks in the desert while things are finalized, and we’ll be home free. No more danger.”

“Yes.” And no more interludes like this. She thought it, but she didn’t say it.

His dark eyes held hers. “Go on,” he said gently. “I told you last night, there won’t be any more close calls.”

“I know. I’m a little nervous about the intruder, that’s all,” she lied.

“Of course.” He knew she was lying. He watched her put away the clothes that had been disarranged, seeing the way she grimaced at the thought of strange hands on her things. But she packed them before she got out a nightgown. He was standing in the doorway, and his expression was grim.

“Are you…going to stay there while I change?” she asked huskily.

His jaw tautened. “If I did, you wouldn’t spend the night alone.”

He turned away and closed the door, trying not to picture Jennifer’s soft, nude body in that room.

It was a long night, but there were no incidents. The next morning when Jennifer got up and dressed, Hunter was on his way out of the suite.

“Marlowe’s outside the door,” he said tersely. “We leave for the airport in thirty minutes.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said quietly.

He nodded curtly and closed the door behind him.

They flew back to Tulsa that morning, but Jennifer barely had time to get settled back in her apartment before she and Hunter were on a plane heading to southern Arizona all over again.

“Same song, second verse,” she murmured as they took the camping equipment back out to the desert, having gone through the process of renting a four-wheel-drive vehicle and buying camping equipment all over again.

He glanced at her, a smoking cigarette in his hand. “Well, it’s not quite so bad. This time you don’t have to do any real prospecting. We’re only camping out.”

“No television, no movies. Just the two of us and a handful of enemy agents, right?” she mused, trying not to give away how miserable she was.

“It won’t be that bad,” he said with a faint smile. “I’ll teach you how to track and all about Apache customs. We’ll get by.”