Morgan's Hunter (7 page)

“Holy shit,” Hunter muttered, letting out a long, slow breath. He stared after Morgan as she walked to a small house adjacent to an enormous, lagoon-style swimming pool. Her back end was as spectacular as her front. The picture in her father’s office had done her little justice.

She was even more striking in person and she smelled great. Her perfume fit her perfectly: dark and sexy. The bears and insects would eat her alive if she wore that in backcountry. A slow smile spread across his face. Perhaps a few bug bites would be good for her. It wouldn’t hurt to knock Princess down a few pegs, and he felt honor-bound to do so—free of charge.

Morgan opened the door to her cottage-sized house. Seconds later, wood cracked against wood as she sent it slamming home. There was certainly plenty of attitude packed into that hot little body of her.

Hunter’s gaze followed Morgan as she moved past a large picture window. Christ, what a stunner. Physically, she couldn’t be any more perfect. He’d never seen eyes as big and boldly green as hers. They should have looked odd with her small nose and full lips, but they didn’t. He’d enjoyed a peek at firm breasts and silk when she’d bent down to collect her bags after giving him the business. It was too damn bad he couldn’t stand women like her. First impressions told him he’d hit his mark. She appeared to be privileged and useless.

Taking his eyes from her window, he stepped back, scanned the enormous ramble of house, her high-end sports car pulled close to the posh guesthouse, and zeroed in on the dozen or so shopping bags remaining in the trunk.

He sniffed at her expensive perfume still lingering on the air. With a shake of his head, he started toward the mansion he would be staying in for the next few days, damning his luck. Morgan Taylor was a first class bitch and he was stuck with her for the foreseeable future.

Chapter 7

I
T WAS PAST NINE WHEN Hunter joined the fundraising event. At least two hundred people wandered the grounds of the Taylor estate. He’d expected formal and boring, but the twelve piece band tearing it up under the tent hinted that there might be a little life to this party.

He wore the black suit he’d been smart enough to pack. No matter the assignment, he always ended up wearing one.

The evening was warm, the sky clear and twinkling with stars. Spacious grounds spread as far as the eye could see. Trees closest to the house sparkled with white lights. The scent of summer flowers surrounded him as he made his way to the outside bar set up next to one of the many gardens.

Hunter grabbed a beer, scanned the crowd, spotting several of the nation’s most influential leaders. Ethan wasn’t kidding—Stanley Taylor was a big fucking deal. He nodded to a man discreetly tailing the Senator of Indiana—poor sucker was on duty. Happy he wasn’t, Hunter turned toward the guests beyond, looking for the boss-man. He would finish his beer, find Stanley, and make his excuses.

The bottle of Corona was halfway to his mouth when he saw her in the dim lights of the tent. The short, black backless dress she wore gave him an eyeful of gloriously toned arms and legs. The thin string tied at her neck kept the silky fabric from falling in a heap at her feet. Her shiny brown hair curled loosely around her shoulders. She smiled at something the handsome ebony-skinned man standing next to her said, laughed. Hunter gripped the bottle tighter when the smoky sound carried on the air, washing over him. She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and the diamond bracelet at her wrist winked.

An older couple came up to join Morgan and the man at her side. She exchanged air kisses and smiles. Hunter knew the moment she spotted him; her smile vanished. He tipped his bottle in salute, took a deep drink. She excused herself and made her way toward him.

“So, you decided to join us.”

His pithy remark withered on his tongue when her face lit with warmth as she smiled and waved to a woman across the lawn. God, she was beautiful. He took another pull from the bottle.

“I’m going to have to introduce you around. I’m not telling people you’re my bodyguard.” Morgan scowled as she said the word. “I’ll say you’re an associate of mine.”

He shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

“That’s right and—”

“There you are, Hunter.” Ilene walked up to his side, kissed his cheek. “We weren’t sure if you would make it.” Ilene Taylor was just as lovely as her daughter in her black off-the-shoulder dress. She was also a hell of a lot friendlier.

He grinned at her. “I got tied up with a couple of things. I wouldn’t have missed your event, Mrs. Taylor.”

Hunter studied Morgan’s mother. Morgan favored her. They shared the same delicate build, golden coloring, striking eyes, and small nose that turned up ever so slightly at the tip.

“I want you to call me Ilene, Hunter.” She laced her arm through his, smiling. “I’m sorry I left you by yourself this afternoon. I’ve been a terrible hostess.”

“Don’t worry about it. You had your hands full. Everything looks great.”

“Thank you. Morgan and I had to work quickly to get this ready.” She gestured to the people surrounding them. “Is your room comfortable?”

“It’s perfect.” He was curious about the event in question and the really bad timing. Her co-workers had been slaughtered just weeks before and they were already throwing parties again. Unbelievable. With an internal shrug, he glanced into Morgan’s cool, measuring stare. Some people had ice water for blood.

“Oh.” Ilene interrupted his thoughts with a gentle hand on his. “I thought I should tell you I talked to Helen, Stanley’s secretary, earlier today. She’s quite taken with you.”

Morgan’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What, not all women detest me on the spot.”

Ilene frowned, tsked in her daughter’s direction. “Has my daughter been nasty to you, Hunter? I’m sure she’s only surprised by Helen’s reaction because Helen doesn’t like many people.”

“Her nickname at the office is ‘Dragon Lady’,” Morgan said. “I can’t imagine how, but you’ve charmed the beast.”

“
Morgan
, go take Hunter around and introduce him. Dance with him, make him feel welcome. You two will be spending a lot of time together.”

“Mom, I know how to be a good hostess.”

Hunter’s brow winged up; Morgan frowned.

“Go have fun.”

Hunter extended his arm. Morgan stared a moment before putting hers through his. He watched her exchange a glance with her mother as they walked off into the crowd.

After being introduced to the throngs, Hunter was left alone as Morgan excused herself to speak to her parents. Desperate for quiet, Hunter wandered toward an empty corner of the tent where a large, draped table held dozens of framed pictures.

He bent down for a closer study when he realized Morgan was in several of the shots. She didn’t look like the sophisticated woman he’d spent the last two hours with. In many of the photographs she posed with five other people. He recognized the man she’d been standing with earlier in several of the photos. Apparently he was an identical twin.

Numerous shots showed Morgan and the men or a pretty blond woman in various stages of tagging wild animals. The pictures captured the group of six working in all four seasons. They wore shorts and t-shirts in some photos, parkas and snow pants in others. The only consistent thread in each picture was the elegant Morgan Taylor from Washington, D.C. ceased to exist.

In most of the photographs, she wore a red bandana wrapped around her hair. In every shot she was grubby or even filthy and appeared blissfully happy. The dirt and grime didn’t take away from her beauty; they somehow accentuated it.

Hunter’s eyes widened when he spotted one snapshot in particular. Morgan and a well-muscled man had their hands in the mouth of a tranquilized lion. Her long, graceful fingers held a caliper to a massive tooth while her partner wrote data in a notebook.

Hunter frowned. The woman in these pictures definitely knew what she was doing.

After several seconds, he moved to the last photograph. The group of six stood among a forest next to an empty cage. ‘
Back Where I Belong
’ had been written on a makeshift sign taped to the metal pen. Morgan smiled triumphantly and Hunter stared, captivated. Hypnotized by her eyes, he shook himself free of his trance and glanced away.

He watched the guests gathered in upper-crust herds, talking, laughing, sipping champagne, before turning back to the table. He avoided Morgan’s frozen smile and concentrated on the five other faces in the same shot. Three of those people were dead. The blonde woman he knew for sure, but he wasn’t certain about the men. Had the man he’d seen Morgan with that evening lost his twin? What about the well-built guy with the rakish grin who’d helped Morgan with the lion? Or the thin man with thick glasses?

He focused on arms linked around shoulders in one long chain. Morgan’s group had been close—connected. The obvious bond pulled at him.

“Excuse me.”

He glanced up; Morgan was on stage, speaking through a microphone.

“May I have everyone’s attention, please.” She waited for the crowd to quiet. “On behalf of my parents and me, we would like to thank you all for joining us this evening. Tonight we gather in memory of three of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.”

Murmurs spread through the group.

“Shelly Simmons, Ian Ledderbeck, and Thomas Smithson will be forever remembered as great scientists, dedicated advocates, conservationists, and most importantly, amazing friends and human beings. It is with….” She paused when her voice thickened, took a deep breath, continued.

“It is with a heavy heart I introduce to you our first annual fundraising event for a scholarship that will be set up in their names. With your generosity, we’ll be able to keep their dreams alive by helping aspiring wildlife biologists make a difference in the lives of the animals they worked so hard to protect. Thank you, again, for joining us.”

The band kicked into high gear with something fast and fun. Everyone clapped as Morgan stepped from the stage. She was instantly surrounded by those who wanted to offer their sympathies.

Her eyes met his across the room—wide and desperate. Hunter cut through the crowd, put his arm around her waist, whisked her from the mob. They walked out of the tent and kept going until music and conversation faded. When Morgan stopped, Hunter took a step back.

She glanced up at him. “I guess you’re pretty good with a quick exit.”

“That’s how I make the big bucks.”

She gave him a small smile. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“No problem.” He preferred the temper he’d seen in her eyes earlier to the misery clouding them now. Thinking fast, he stepped forward again. “You still owe me a dance.”

Long, heavy notes belted from the saxophone far in the distance.

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t—”

“I’m pretty sure your mother told you to make me feel welcome.”

Morgan eyed him as she let out a long, weary sigh. “You’re right. I think I do.”

She held up her hand for him to take in a more formal dance, but as they came together, Hunter put his hands on the exposed small of her back.

She hesitated before her fingers laced around his neck. As they moved in slow circles, he stared into her eyes. Testing himself and her, he caressed his thumbs against soft skin. She shivered in response.

He ignored the tug low in his belly. “I saw the pictures of you and your team. You did some amazing work together.”

“Yes, we did. I still can’t believe they’re gone. I just don’t understand why. How could someone end three people’s lives like that?”

He knew she wasn’t asking him, that she didn’t expect an answer.

“They must’ve been so scared.” She looked down, shook her head. “I can’t think about that. I can’t bear to.” When she looked back up, her eyes shimmered with pain.

Who was this woman he held in his arms? She wasn’t who he’d judged her to be initially. There was more to Morgan Taylor than wealth and a stunning face. Her vulnerability moved him. Surprising himself, he trailed his hand up her spine, to the center of her back, pressing her closer to comfort.

Her head rested against his chest. Her soft hair brushed his chin. The scent of her shampoo and perfume surrounded him, intoxicating.

His heart beat faster. Sweat beaded on his forehead as unease bloomed in his stomach. What was she doing to him? He pulled back abruptly, reached out, catching her as she fell forward. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He had to get out of there. “Let me walk you to the tent. I’m calling it a night.”

Her brows furrowed as she searched his face. “I’m okay. I could use another minute. Go on ahead.”

He needed to get to his room. He put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her forward. “I’ll take you. We’re pretty far from the house.”

“Hunter, I’m fine. I’m in my own backyard, for heaven’s sake.”

As his panic increased, his patience grew thin. “It isn’t safe to be out here by yourself. It’s dark. Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm, started walking.

She yanked back, trying to break loose. “What is wrong with you? You were acting like a human being a minute ago; now you’re being a jerk again.” She tried to stop, but he kept pulling her forward. “Let go of my arm.”

He didn’t say anything as he pulled her along.

When they reached the tent, a couple stopped them. “Why, Morgan, are you going to introduce us to your gentleman here?”

He forced a smile for the older man and woman. “If you’ll excuse me for just one moment.” Not waiting for a response, he turned his back and walked off toward the house, leaving Morgan staring after him.

Hunter turned on the light and locked the door when he entered his room. Sitting on the creamy white comforter, he ripped off the tie that felt as if it strangled, yanked off the jacket that was suddenly too tight.

He closed his eyes, took deep breaths and unballed his fists, consciously trying to relax them on his thighs. Muffled conversation and laughter from the party below drifted through his windows as he counted to two, inhaling through his nose, to four, exhaling through his mouth. The gallop of his heart steadied and the sick fear that was panic subsided as he collapsed back on the bed. What the hell?