Hunter (9 page)

None of which had anything to do with being Apache, he mused, relaxing a little. He smiled with reluctant amusement.

“I could go on,” she added. “But I do have a job to do.”

“I'm not the only one here with a bad temper,” he replied as they started out. “And you have a hard head of your own.”

“I wouldn't have a bad temper if you'd stop stripping around me,” she blurted out.

His eyebrows arched. “When did I do that?”

“At the motel.”

“Oh.” He chuckled as he strode along beside her. “I wanted to see if it would affect you.” He glanced down. “It did.”

“Most men your age are as white as dead fish and flabby,” she remarked, refusing to let him get to her. “I can't be the only woman who's ever found you fascinating without your shirt.”

No, but she was the only one it mattered with, he admitted to himself. He found her equally disturbing, but it wasn't a good time to say so. His eyes were alert, watching for signs.

“Look!” she exclaimed, bending down at the creek where tracks were visible in the wet sand. “A cougar!”

He knelt down beside her. “So it is. How did you know?”

“Big print, no claw marks,” she explained. “Dogs and wolves can't draw their claws back in like a cat can, and they leave claw marks. Look at this. It's a buck deer—cloven hoofprint. A doe's is rounded.”

He met her eyes with grudging admiration. “Tracking interests you, I gather?”

“It always has. My father hunts deer every fall. He taught me.”

“Kill Bambi?” he exclaimed with mock horror.

It was the first real flash of amusement she'd seen in him. She laughed delightedly and impulsively pushed him. He fell heavily onto his side, laughing, too.

“You hellcat,” he murmured, reaching out with a lightning movement to drag her down heavily against him. He rolled her in the damp sand, pinning her, his face hard, his eyes glittering with excitement as he loomed over her. His gaze went down to her breasts, where the buttons of her blouse had parted during the struggle, leaving her cleavage bare. His breath quickened as he looked at her, his expression changing from humor to intent male appreciation.

The feel of all that hard muscle so close made her tremble with pure need. She could smell the scent of his clothing, the cologne that clung to his skin. She looked up into his black eyes and knew in that moment that he was everything she'd ever want. She wanted him to bend down, to pin her body to the damp sand. She wanted his hard, warm mouth to crush into hers and kiss her senseless. She wanted him.

And the ferocity of her desire made her ache. “Kiss me,” she whispered, unbearably hungry for him. She reached up and touched his lean, hard face with hands that trembled, loving the warm strength of him. “Hunter…!” She managed to lift herself enough to reach his hard mouth, and hers touched it with helpless need.

He froze at the contact, his breath catching as he felt her lips so soft and warm against his own. For one insane second he almost gave in to his own hunger. But she was off-limits. She had to be, because there was no future in it for either of them. He forced himself to go rigid, despite the fact that his damned heart was beating him to death as he struggled with desire.

His lean hands caught her wrists and he pushed her down, tearing her mouth from his as he loomed over her, looking cold and dangerous. “Stop it,” he said curtly, forcing the words out.

She felt the rejection right through to her heart. He didn't want her, so why couldn't she stop offering herself? She hated having him know just how vulnerable she was. How could she have done something so stupid? She flushed beet red. Yes, she was vulnerable, but not Hunter. Mr. Native American was steel right through.

“Let me get up, please,” she said, her voice trembling.

Pure bravado, and he knew it. He could have her, right here, and she'd give herself with total abandon. But he knew, too, that once would never be enough. He'd have her and then he'd die to have her again. The fever would never be satisfied.

He let go of her wrists and got to his feet, turning away to keep his vulnerability from her as he stared up at the mountains with apparent unconcern. God, that had been close! He wondered if he could ever forget the way he'd seen her, the sound of her soft voice begging for his kiss, the petal softness of her seeking lips on his mouth…!

Jenny shivered with reaction, barely able to breathe. She got up and her eyes went helplessly to his back. Well, he'd made his lack of interest clear enough. Maybe her body would eventually give up, she thought with hysterical humor. Despite her beauty, he simply did not want her. It was the most humiliating lesson of her life.

She looked away, gathering her savaged pride. “I'm supposed to be working,” she said in a thready whisper.

“The sun's getting high,” he said without looking at her. “Get your samples and then we'll find something to eat.”

She felt totally drained. She picked up her hat with a shaken sigh and retrieved the backpack with her tools. She didn't even remember dropping it, she'd been so hungry for the touch of him.

His dark face gave nothing away as he glanced once at her and turned away. “Where do you want to look? And for what?” he asked curtly. “Gold? Is that why this operation is so secretive?”

She glanced up at him, twisting her contour map in her hands. “I know what you must be thinking,” she said. She could still taste him on her mouth and it made her giddy. “Gold and Indians don't mix. White man's greed for it has cost the Native Americans most of their land.”

“There was a flurry here a year or two ago when someone found a very small vein of gold,” he said. “There were amateur prospectors everywhere, upsetting the habitat, invading private property, some of them even came on the reservation to dig without bothering to ask permission. The Bureau of Indian Affairs takes a very negative view of that kind of thing, and so does the tribal government.”

“I don't doubt it. But gold isn't what I'm after right now. I'm looking for a quartz vein, actually.”

“Quartz?” He glared at her. “Quartz is a worthless mineral.”

“Perhaps, but it can lead to something that isn't. I'm looking for molybdenite ore.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Molybdenum is a silver-white metallic chemical element, one of the more valuable alloying agents. It's used to strengthen steel, which makes it of strategic worth. Like oil, it's a rather boom-or-bust substance, because its value fluctuates according to demand. Back in 1982, weak market conditions led to the closure of most primary molybdenum mines. Now there's a new use for it, so it's back in demand again. The United States produces sixty-two percent of all the world's moly, and that's why we've got competition for new discoveries.”

“So you're looking for molybdenum,” he murmured, trying to follow the technical explanation.

“I'm looking for its source ore, molybdenite, a sulfide mineral. It looks very much like graphite, but its specific gravity and perfect cleavage differentiate it from that. It's found primarily in acid igneous rocks such as granite in contact metamorphic deposits, and in high-temperature quartz veins. That's why I'm looking for quartz veins.” She smiled at his confusion. “Don't look so irritated, Mr. Hunter. I couldn't fieldstrip an Uzi or set up surveillance equipment, either. If what I'm doing is Greek to you, what you do is another language to me, too.”

That eased his bruised pride a little. He turned away. “Then we'd better get going. This area looks promising, you said?”

“Yes. The lay of the land and the mineral outcroppings I've found so far look very promising here.”

“Moly. You say it's used to strengthen steel,” he said, watching her.

She nodded. “A very profitable mineral to mine, too. There's already a deposit of it here in southern Arizona, another one in Colorado.”

“But if you found gold instead, you'd put a real feather in your cap, wouldn't you?” he persisted, his eyes narrow and watchful.

“Oh, for heaven's sake!” She threw up her hands, her blue eyes blazing with hurt and anger. “You just love to think the worst of me, don't you? If I find gold, I'll take out ads in all the national tabloids and give interviews and send millions of people out here to harass the locals…!”

Involuntarily he put his thumb over her lips, stilling the words. “All right,” he said quietly. “My mistake,” he said, and his eyes fell to her mouth. His thumb moved caressingly over it, and his body began to tense. Her lips trembled under his touch. She was so vulnerable, and he hated hurting her. He wanted her, too, but it was simply impossible.

She couldn't bear to give herself away again. She drew back from him, still wounded from his earlier harsh rejection. “I'll just take some samples here,” she said in a subdued tone, and without looking at him. “And get a few instrument readings.”

He didn't say another word. But he was more watchful than ever for the rest of the day. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, and the more he looked, the more he wanted her. He almost groaned out loud when she stretched and he could see the sweet curves of her breasts outlined against the thin fabric of her blouse. She wouldn't deny him, and knowing it made the desire even greater. He had to get a grip on himself!

He prowled around his surveillance equipment, trying to get his mind off Jennifer's gorgeous body. When he couldn't prowl anymore, after dark, he stretched out on his sleeping bag and read by the light of the Coleman lantern while Jennifer rummaged in her suitcase.

Jenny was fascinated when she saw his books, the text indecipherable to her, despite her cursory knowledge of Spanish and French and a few words of Sioux.

“It loses something in the translation,” he remarked when he noticed her interest. “I prefer the original language. This is Greek,” he added, smiling faintly at her blush when she'd told him that what she was doing must seem like Greek to him.

She recovered quickly, though. “How did you learn Greek?”

“Overseas. I was CIA, didn't anyone tell you?”

She nodded, her eyes openly curious. “About that. And that you were in the special forces, and briefly a mercenary. You've done a lot of dangerous things, haven't you?”

“A few,” he said, refusing to elaborate on it.

She gave up and busied herself getting a clean T-shirt and bra out of her suitcase. “It's dark. Do you think it would be all right if I bathed off a little of this dust? Are we safe here?”

“If you've got skinny-dipping in mind, I wouldn't advise it,” he began.

“No, just my face and arms,” she replied.

“Go to it. It's relatively protected here, and I've got sharp ears.”

“Okay.” She wanted some verbal reassurance that he wouldn't look, but he'd been withdrawn since they came back to camp. Probably she left him so cold that he wouldn't buy a ticket to see her totally nude. She felt terribly demoralized. Ironic, that men usually went crazy to have her, and Hunter wouldn't have her with cream and sugar.

The light from the smokeless campfire gave her enough to see by. She pulled off her khaki blouse and, glancing behind at the half-closed tent flap, her bra. The cool water felt like heaven on her hot skin. She sponged herself off, thinking that Indian women must have bathed like this a century before, in this clean, cool glade with the sounds of crickets in the brush and the distant howl of coyotes or wolves and the faint swish of the trees when the wind blew.

Hunter tried to read his book, but the thought of Jennifer out there alone was too disturbing, especially after the chopper that had come so close. He didn't want to spy on her, but he justified his flash of conscience by telling himself that he'd been assigned to protect her.

He opened the tent flap and moved outside, silhouetted by the smokeless campfire that was still burning under a pot of brewing coffee. Its dark, rich aroma filled his nostrils as he moved closer to the stream under the dark shadows of the trees.

Jennifer had her blouse and her bra off. He could see her smooth, silky back in the firelight, see the white lines where she'd sunbathed and the sun hadn't been able to reach. Odd that she didn't sunbathe nude, with a body like that, he thought stiffly.

He couldn't help looking. She half turned, her arms uplifted as she dashed water on her breasts, and his breath caught in his throat. They were full. Very full and very firm, and tip-tilted. Her nipples were hard from the cold water, dusky against the white streaks that cut across where her bra would have been. His body tautened and he felt himself beginning to tense with desire. He'd dreamed of seeing her this way, but the reality was devastating.

Jennifer, unaware of his scrutiny, finished her half bath and stretched, her body sensuously arched because the air was just cool enough to be delicious on her bare skin, and there was faint light from the nearly full moon. She sighed, brushing her long blond hair away from her freshly scrubbed face. The action lifted her breasts and they were high and firm and softly glowing in the light from the campfire.

Hunter heard himself speaking, when he'd never meant to betray his presence. “In the old days, the penalty for an Apache warrior who spied on a woman at her bath was death. The risk seems worth it to me right now, Jennifer. I've never seen anything quite so beautiful.”

His voice had startled her. She whirled from the big rock she was sitting on, her body poised for flight, so shocked by his eyes and nearness that she hadn't the presence of mind to cover her breasts.

He was looking at them, too, with blatant appreciation, without even trying to hide that he was studying her. “Your breasts are lovely,” he said quietly, his voice a whisper of deep tenderness in the night. “Much fuller than I thought. Pink and mauve, like clouds on the horizon just at dawn when the sun touches them.”