Hunter (15 page)

“Hurt me how?”

She flushed.

He laughed gently. “Oh. That. No. I had as much pleasure from it as you did.” He rolled over onto his back lazily and stretched, feeling years younger and full of life. He sprawled, aware of her fascinated eyes on his body, drinking in that feminine appreciation. “God, that was good,” he said huskily. “Good! Like the first sip of water after the desert.”

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.