Morgan's Hunter (16 page)

Robert took a big bite of meatball and spaghetti dripping in sauce. “This is delicious, Morgan, absolutely delicious. Where’d you learn to cook?”

Miles waved his hand. “Hey, I helped too.”

“You don’t cook like this.”

Morgan chuckled as she looked from Robert to Miles. “You were a wonderful assistant. Actually, I learned from my mother. She’s amazing in the kitchen. She started teaching me when I was a little girl.”

Miles glanced at Morgan before taking a sip of his Sprite. “Maybe I could get a couple of lessons before you leave.”

“I’d be happy to give you a lesson or two.”

Morgan’s gaze met Hunter’s. His eyes smoldered into hers as he chewed a bite of salad.

Still miffed and unconcerned with his mood, she turned her attention back to Miles. “Just think of a few dishes you’d like to learn and we’ll find some time. It’ll have to be in the next couple of days or at the end of the month before I head back to D.C. We’ll be going into backcountry soon.”

Robert wiped his mouth with his napkin. “This morning you weren’t sure where you would go. Did your hike give you any ideas?”

“The last documented tracks were found north of here. I imagine we’ll continue in that direction; perhaps we’ll go northwest.”

“Hmm, northwest. I would think you might want to try south of the location.”

She cut her meatball in half, in half again before she rolled spaghetti on her fork. “You think so? I just figured that since the lynx typically come down from Canada, north would be the most logical choice. Although we did look north today and I didn’t see anything. It couldn’t hurt to go south of the tracks.” She shrugged. “They’re such an elusive species. I’m pretty much flying blind here.”

“It’ll certainly be a difficult animal to tag.” Robert put his fork down. “This really was delicious, Morgan. I hate leaving the mess behind.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hunter and I’ll get it.” She flicked a glance at Hunter as his brow shot up. He hadn’t said a word during the entire meal. “Riding around in the pouring rain sounds like a miserable task.”

“It is, but it has to be done. We’ll be awhile. I can’t imagine we’ll be back before you’re asleep.” Robert brought his plate to the sink with Miles following behind.

On their way out, Miles stopped in front of Morgan’s chair, took her hand, kissed her knuckles. “Thank you for an enjoyable evening. I’m eagerly anticipating my next cooking lesson.”

Morgan didn’t dare look at Hunter as she gently pulled her hand free. “I had fun too. Goodnight. Be safe out there.”

Morgan stood, gathering dirty dishes from the table when the door closed behind Miles and Robert. In an attempt to drown out the tense, uncomfortable quiet, she turned on the small FM radio on the counter and fiddled with the dial until she found the one station that played Top 40 music instead of country.

She hummed along with The Script as the sink filled with hot water and lemon scented soap. Plunging her hands in, Morgan began to scrub. Hunter grabbed a towel, took the dripping plates she handed him, dried them in stony silence. She was shocked he stuck around to help, was even more surprised when he had nothing to say about Miles kissing her hand. She expected some sort of pithy comment.

It seemed he would rather stand inches away and brood in his pissy mood. Apparently Hunter didn’t like being put in his place.

When the kitchen was spotless, Morgan headed toward the bedroom, congratulating herself on finally putting him there—until she thought of the way Miles looked at her as he left. She gnawed on her bottom lip as guilt swamped her for leading him on. She wasn’t attracted to him or interested in anything more than friendship, but it had been important to send her point home to Hunter.

He’d had no right. He didn’t run that part of her life. She would cooperate for safety’s sake, but she’d be damned if he would have a say in her personal life.

She didn’t know how she would handle things with Hunter—she never did—but she could make everything right with Miles by giving him a couple of cooking lessons.

Conscience clear, Morgan gathered her items for a quick shower. A relaxing night with a good book was just how she planned to end this long, tense day. She glanced at the small curtained window in their room, hating that having Hunter close by on this dark, rainy night comforted more than annoyed. She still had the willies thinking that someone had watched them.

When Morgan was clean and refreshed, she went back to the bedroom, anticipating her warm bed and the new bestseller she brought along. She looked forward to getting lost in a good novel and the problems of the characters for a while and forgetting her own.

Her pleasure dimmed when Hunter lay on his side of the bed, reading, with the covers up to his waist. He wasn’t wearing a shirt again. She couldn’t help but stare at his chiseled torso and wonder what it would be like to run her hands along all of that smooth, golden skin. She felt the tug low in her belly, let out a quiet sigh as she closed the bedroom door behind her for the night.

Hunter glanced up from his book. “Squeaky clean,
honey
?” Eyes hard and scathing traveled down her body, back up, locking with hers.

Suddenly self-conscious in her black tank top and tiny white boxer shorts, Morgan pushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear and nervously licked her lips. Recognizing his mocking tone for what it was, she glared at him, turned away.

Morgan put her bathroom tote on the floor, hung her towel on the peg, bent down for her book. She’d be damned if he would spoil her night.

When she turned, she slammed into Hunter’s naked chest, gasped. Her hand flew to her heart as she backed up a step. “God, you scared me. Why are you always
doing
that?” Looking into his eyes, challenging, she tried to maneuver around him but he wouldn’t move. “Excuse me. I’d like to get by.”

He gripped her shoulders, walked her back until she touched the wall. Her book fell to the floor with a solid thump.

“Let go of me,” she said weakly. Her heart began to pound, but it wasn’t fear that made it race.

“Not yet.” Hunter’s hands moved down her arms, sending sparks of desire along her skin. He took her bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling gently, as his gaze burned into hers. “I’m the only person around here who’ll be taking a bite out of you, Morgan. You remember that.” His lips found hers, took them roughly, angrily.

She knew she should shove him away, but his firm mouth made her want more. Despite herself, she pulled her arms free, wrapped them around his neck, kissed him back just as potently.

His fingers trailed down her waist, stopped at her hips, snuck under her shirt on their way up. He found her breasts, sent shockwaves through her system as he rubbed his thumbs around and over her nipples—until her breath caught and rushed out.

Wanting to feel him, needing to, she skimmed her palms over his muscled back, relishing his warm, firm skin against hers. She cupped his butt over black mesh shorts, pulling him closer. She felt her effect on him, enjoyed the whippy thrill.

He tipped her head back, nipped her earlobe. His mouth wandered, leaving kisses along her neck, over her collarbone, making her whimper.

“God, Morgan, you smell good. You always smell so good. I want you.”

Hunter picked her up. Her breasts brushed his chest, teasing, and he groaned. She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. She feathered kisses along his firm jaw, biting gently at the dimple in his square chin. Her tongue flicked at his earlobe and she smiled when he hissed out a breath between his teeth.

The springs of the mattress squeaked when they collapsed on the bed with him landing on top of her. Hunter pulled her shirt up and off, stared. “My God, look at you. You’re perfect.”

The resentment in his strained voice registered, but her thoughts scattered when he traced his tongue around her nipple and took more of her into his mouth. She let out a quiet moan as pressure built between her thighs and she started to throb.

Morgan’s hands were wild in Hunter’s hair. Her hips moved against him, inviting him inside, ready, wanting. His mouth came back to hers as she opened her eyes; saw his before he closed them again. There was no tenderness, only anger.

She wanted him, but not like this. She put her hands on his shoulders, moved her chin up so her lips were out of reach. “Stop, Hunter. Stop. I want you to stop.”

He looked down at her, breathing hard. After a moment, he untangled himself, stood, turned, walked out of the room.

Suddenly cold, Morgan pulled her shirt back on and stared at the ceiling, trying to catch her own breath. She’d never wanted anyone the way she did Hunter. There’d been a moment where she’d almost let him keep going, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at her with such…derision while he moved inside her.

She had deep, complicated feelings she knew he didn’t return. It shamed her to know she’d almost settled for whatever he would’ve given her.

Morgan crawled to her side of the bed, pulled up the covers, turned off the light, and stared into the darkness until she finally fell asleep.

Hunter walked to the bathroom, turned the tap to cold, splashed frigid water on his cheeks. What the hell had he been thinking? He pressed his face into the towel, took a deep breath. As he hung the towel back on the hook, he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

Had he really believed he was proving a point by kissing Morgan, by putting his hands all over that sinful body? He leaned against the door, ran trembling fingers through his hair. Every time he looked at her he
wanted
. He didn’t know how to stop.

He’d set out to show Morgan, and himself, that she wanted him just as much. He’d been angry and jealous—he could admit—when Miles had been all over her. He didn’t do jealous, never had. Only she could make him feel such ugly emotions and he didn’t like it—at all.

Hunter dropped his hands, rested them on the corners of the sink. He was on shaky ground. His feelings for her were growing stronger. They were more than he wanted—more than he was willing to deal with. If he chose to be honest with himself he could acknowledge they were more than he could handle.

He would be keeping his hands to himself for the rest of this assignment. It was never wise to mix business with pleasure—especially in this business—and he never had. His objectivity was compromised. He knew he should call Ethan and request a change of assignment, but he wanted to see this through—had to—he realized.

In a little more than two and a half weeks he would be finished with Morgan Taylor. He wouldn’t have to talk to her, look at her, or think of her again.

Hunter glanced in the mirror, staring into his own blue eyes, knowing that forgetting her wouldn’t be so easy.

Chapter 15

S
TEAM HUNG IN THE AIR as Hunter stood under the hot spray of the shower. The miserly stream pelted at the firm muscles of his back, easing most of the tightly coiled tension.

He closed his tired eyes and stretched his neck with slow, smooth rolls, thinking of the many shitty events that had piled up high and fast throughout the day. It wasn’t a huge surprise that his temples throbbed like a jackhammer on pavement.

Hunter shut off the water, toweled himself dry. He opened the tiny medicine cabinet hanging above the sink, shook two Extra-Strength Tylenol into his hand and swallowed them. He pulled his boxers and black mesh shorts back on and headed toward the bedroom.

He had no idea what in the hell to say to Morgan, but whatever it was would start with an apology. He couldn’t deny he’d been way out of line.

Relief washed through him when he reached their door. The ugly lamp on the shelf above their beds had been turned off. He could see Morgan asleep from the light in the hallway—thank God. They both needed time to settle after what had passed between them. He would apologize in the morning.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about bumbling his way through a dicey conversation, Hunter wandered down the hall toward the kitchen. His stomach growled as he opened the refrigerator door, studied the shelves, looking for something to eat.