Morgan's Hunter (19 page)

Scowling, Morgan turned back. She bent slightly, and the towel loosened around her waist. She grabbed the end, catching it just before it hit the water.

Hunter’s grin turned into a roar of laughter.

“I’m glad you find this so funny.” She walked closer to the bank, threw her towel down.

Hunter’s laughter died. His eyes widened as he tried not to swallow his tongue. Her bikini-cut panties showed off her tanned, glorious legs. When she pivoted to rescue the shower bag on the verge of sinking, he read ‘TOO HOT’ printed in big black letters on the ass of her pink underwear. He couldn’t agree more. He wanted his hands all over her shapely, sculpted butt.

Morgan turned again with her small biceps bulging from the weight of the bag. Their eyes held, sparked as desire pounded through him in time with his rapid pulse.

Morgan stepped from the stream, bent over, tied a piece of sturdy rope around the handle of the makeshift shower and walked off.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Don’t go too far. It’ll be dark soon.”

Moments later, Morgan swore. He turned to see her standing on tiptoes with her arms reaching above her head, trying to get the rope over a sturdy branch. Her calf muscles bunched. Her tank top rode high, showing off her impressive backside.

Hunter walked toward her, picked up the shower supplies she left behind. He came up behind her, grabbed the bag she struggled with. She fell back and her body brushed against the front of his. The contact was shocking, like a bolt of lightning.

Morgan stepped to the side, stared at him with the same heat and surrender he saw in her eyes the night before, when she had wrapped herself around him as he carried her to the bed.

He clenched his jaw, remembered his vow to keep his hands to himself. “Are you going to take this stuff so I can hang the damn thing up or just look at me?”

She blinked and stepped over to grab her things.

He knotted the rope and walked away. As he approached the campsite, steam from the bubbling stew caught his attention. He spun on his heel to tell her supper was ready, but the words died in his throat. She turned toward the shower, pulling her tank top over her head.

She was the most spectacular thing he’d ever seen. His gaze wandered over her petite, athletic body, and he remembered the way her soft skin felt against his, the way her exotic scent made him want more.

She stood with her back to him, gasped as the first drops of spray hit her. The water cascaded down her hair, her skin, turning pink underwear a darker shade, accentuating the taut body beneath.

Hunter took a deep breath, turned away, looking forward to his turn under the spray. He desperately needed a cold shower.

Chapter 17

S
EXUAL FRUSTRATION BURNED HOT AND bright through Hunter’s blood. His need to touch Morgan, to be inside her, to pound and plunder away all of the
want
went from smoldering to flashpoint within seconds.

He used his energy to create a fire pit, willing the visions away. The sweaty work of gathering heavy rocks to construct an ornate circle did little to erase the picture of cool water sluicing over golden skin.

In the end, Hunter sat in front of the fire, staring into the flames with his muscles wound tight as an archer’s bow, hoping the images torturing his mind would vanish.

By the time Morgan approached from behind he’d found a tenuous grip on his unrelenting need. He used the small ladle to scoop simmering stew.

“You can’t have a fire out here. This isn’t a designated area.”

He glanced up—stomach clutching in reflex—but never skipped a beat, even though she wore a towel and wet hair. “They’ll have to fine me. I’ll put it out in the morning before we go.” He spooned up a bite of carrot and beef.

“I forgot to grab clean clothes. It’s getting cold.” She took pajamas from her pack, stood behind him. “No peeking.”

It was tempting—too tempting. He knew how to be a gentleman when it suited him, and it did now. If he looked back and saw her, he’d take her. Desperate to think of something other than Morgan’s hot body, he changed the subject. “Stew’s good. You really are an amazing cook. I’ll admit I’m surprised.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” She put her towel and other clothes over a fallen tree, then sat down next to him in her snug, white long johns and black fleece top, scooped herself a healthy portion of stew, blew on the first bite.

Hunter shrugged. “The image doesn’t fit. I didn’t think someone like your mother would know how to cook. I figured you had a cook.”

Brows furrowed, Morgan put the spoon back in her bowl and stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean, someone like my mother?”

“I wasn’t being insulting. She’s a great lady.”

“Yes, she is. She learned to cook from her mother and taught me. Just because you have financial advantages as an adult doesn’t mean you had them as a child. She didn’t. She was raised by a single mother who worked her butt off in a factory to get by. It’s my dad who comes from money.”

“Your grandmother was a senator. I kind of figured that out.” Hunter scraped the rest of the stew from his bowl. “Like I said, I wasn’t trying to insult you or your mother. I was raised by a single mother myself.”

Morgan perked up. “You were?”

“Yup, she’s a pediatric nurse back in L.A.”

“Have you always lived in Los Angeles?”

“Born and raised.”

“Do you have brothers or sisters? I heard you talking to your niece the other day.”

Hunter immediately thought of Jake and shut down. “Neither, it’s just me and my mom.” He stood, walked to the tent.

“I feel like I said something I shouldn’t have.”

He turned, saw the questions in her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to shower real quick. Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself for a few minutes?”

“Of course, you’ll just be over there.” She gestured toward the darkened area by the trees. “I’ll wash the dishes after I finish up. I might be down by the stream when you get back.”

“All right. Stay close to camp and bring a flashlight.” He strode off into the darkness.

Morgan walked away from the light and comfort of the campfire wondering what she’d said to upset Hunter. Their conversation played through her mind; she couldn’t figure it out.

If he didn’t have any siblings, how did he have a niece? She would’ve asked him about the little girl he clearly adored, but his eyes had changed. They’d grown so cool and distant in the firelight; his voice had lost its inflection while he spoke.

He’d actually shared something about himself; she couldn’t help but be sorry the moment ended so quickly. She wanted to know the man who slept inches from her every night.

Shaking off the sense of loss, she scooped up water in her collapsible bucket, started toward camp. A wave of unease hit her and she stopped. Her eyes darted back and forth in the pitch black. Her pulse jumped as dread curled like a tight fist in her stomach. She felt as if she were being watched.

Grabbing the flashlight, Morgan shot the beam into the distance but saw nothing. She laughed nervously as she cursed her imagination, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

Spinning slowly, she examined her surroundings. She snatched up her pail with hands that shook, dropped it, spilling the water. “Damn it,” her voice trembled. She went back to the stream for more, even as her instincts told her not to.

With breath quickening, Morgan dipped the bucket in the current, suppressing the overwhelming need to run. She took a step back from the water’s edge, heard the snap of a branch to the right of the stream. She pivoted with the flashlight, scrutinizing the dark.

She picked up her pace as her chest constricted and her breath sobbed in and out. Someone was definitely watching her and they were close, very close. She whirled again and screamed.

Hunter froze his ass off as he washed. The cool night air and frigid water were a bad combination. Goosebumps covered every inch of him. He clenched his jaw, fighting against the racking shudders threatening to chatter his teeth. He couldn’t wait to get back to L.A. He wanted the hot summer sun.

Turning on the shower nozzle again, he sucked in a sharp breath, cursed the ice cold water, rinsing the Campsuds he lathered in his hair. He turned the nozzle off, dried himself, threw on his boxers, his jeans. He was about to pull on his shirt when Morgan’s bloodcurdling scream echoed through the air.

With his heart in his throat, Hunter grabbed his gun and flashlight and sprinted forward in bare feet. He fought the urge to call out her name, to tell her he was coming. He had to stay quiet until he knew what he was dealing with.

He ran until he saw the beam of her flashlight, came to a dead stop. Of all the scenarios racing through his mind, he hadn’t expected this. Morgan gripped a big rock in her hand as a pair of green, glowing eyes stared at her in the light’s reflection.

Hunter racked the slide on his Glock, held the gun over his head, fired into the air. Morgan jumped, screamed again as the cougar ran off into the night.

Hunter walked over, yanked the flashlight from Morgan’s hand. He trained the beam into the distance, making sure the animal left. When he was certain it was gone, he shined the light to see her more clearly.

Morgan didn’t look scared. Her eyes glistened bright with excitement. He’d almost had a heart attack and she was grinning from ear to ear. Christ, she was something. “That cougar was about to pounce on you. That doesn’t seem to bother you.”

She rested her hand on his arm. “Thank you for not shooting him. I was scared breathless until I heard you coming. I could see he was going to leap, but he didn’t. This is amazing, just amazing. Sightings of the cougar are fairly rare. Not as rare as the lynx, but still.”

She spoke rapidly in her enthusiasm. “This is great. He was
so close
—inches away,
just inches
. We must be in his territory or too close to his kill. From his size, I’d be willing to bet he’s about two years old. Often times, a cougar his age will’ve just separated from his mother and be on a search for his own territory. Attacks are rare but more likely during that time.”

Hunter’s pulse steadied as he continued to stare. “Fascinating.”

His sarcasm completely escaped Morgan in her delight. “Oh, I know. I’ll have to record this in my log, get some pictures of his tracks—measurements too.”

Her hand still rested on his arm. It was damp and clammy, but he had to give her points for her guts.

Morgan started forward to pick up the pail she’d dropped, turned back. “Thank you.”

She sent Hunter one of her knock ‘em dead smiles and he fought to keep his breath as he gave her a brisk nod. She was absolutely stunning. He wanted her like he’d never wanted before.

Morgan turned again. “Well, let’s get things cleaned up and go to bed. Tomorrow’s bound to be another long day.”

“Yeah,” was the best he could do as he watched her walk toward the stream for another bucketful of water.

After Morgan took her pictures and recorded measurements with his assistance, they settled into their sleeping bags in the bright orange two-person tent. Morgan’s deep, steady breathing told him she slept. She seemed as accustomed to sleeping in the great outdoors as she was in the posh guesthouse in D.C.

He wondered what she would think if they found the mine tomorrow, when she put the pieces of her friends’ deaths together. He had no doubt she would; she was too damn smart not to.

Chapter 18

B
Y LATE MORNING, HUNTER AND Morgan made it to the banks of the Slough River. The sun blazed bright in the cloudless blue sky, baking the tall grass in the valley surrounding them. The cool mountain breeze, usually plentiful and refreshing, blew stingily, offering little relief from the stifling heat.

Hunter swallowed the last of his water as they approached the blessed shade of several tall pines—one of the few groupings of cover along the river. “Let’s stop here for awhile, take a break, refill our bottles. I want to look at the map again.”

“When are you going to tell me more about this lead?” Morgan demanded. “I just can’t figure out what the river has to do with the team’s deaths. We’re
miles
from where Shelly turned on her GPS, from where their bodies were found.”

Morgan took off her pack, sanitized her hands, reached in for the double-sealed package of trail mix. She popped a handful of raisins, peanuts and chocolate pieces into her mouth as she sat next to Hunter on a small boulder while he scanned the map.

“I’ve already told you, I’m not saying anything until I can confirm the information given to me.” If they were able to verify Shelly’s journal entry today, he wouldn’t have to say a thing.

Hunter snagged Morgan’s wrist as she brought another handful to her mouth, brought it up to his own instead, dumped it in. His lips brushed the soft skin of her palm and she stiffened. He realized his mistake instantly as his gaze met hers. Hunger burned in her eyes and his stomach clenched tight.