Read Hunter for Free Online Page A

felt alive as never before when she was with him, even if it was in the line of duty.
    She started toward the door, but he turned as she reached it, and she bumped into him. The contact was like fire shooting through her.
    â€œSorry!” She moved quickly away. “I didn’t mean to…!”
    He put a strong hand under her chin and lifted her face to his eyes. Her eyelids flinched and there was real fear in them at close range. “You really are afraid of me,” he said with dawning comprehension.
    She hadn’t wanted him to know that. Of course she was afraid of him, but not for the reasons he was thinking. She moved back and lowered her eyes. “A little, maybe,” she said uneasily.
    â€œMy God!” He jerked open the door. “Out.”
    She went through it, avoiding him as she left. She hadn’t expected the confession to make him angry. She sighed heavily. It was going to be a hard trip, all the way, if this was any indication. He was coldly silent all the way to the motel restaurant, only taking her arm when they were around people, for appearance’s sake.
    They were halfway through their meal when he spoke again.
    â€œIt’s been years since I’ve scalped anyone,” he said suddenly, his angry eyes searching hers.
    The fork fell from her fingers with a terrible clatter. She picked it up quickly, looking around nervously to see if anyone had noticed, but there was only an old couple nearby and they were too busy talking to notice Jennifer and her companion.
    She should have remembered how sensitive he was about his heritage. She’d inadvertently let him believe that she was afraid of him because he was an Indian. What a scream it would be if she confessed that she was afraid of him because she was in love with him. He’d probably kill himself laughing.
    â€œNo, it’s not that,” she began. She stopped, helplessly searching for the right words. “It’s not because you’re…” She toyed with her fork. “The thing is, I’m not very comfortable around you,” she said finally. She put down her fork. “You’ve never made any secret of the fact that you dislike me. You’re actively hostile the minute I come into a room. It isn’t exactly fear. It’s nerves, and it has nothing to do with your heritage.”
    She had a point. He couldn’t deny that he’d been hostile. Her beauty did that to him; it made him vulnerable and that irritated him. He knew he was too touchy about his ancestry, but he’d had it rough trying to live in a white world.
    â€œI don’t find it easy, living among your people,” he said. He’d never admitted that to anyone before.
    â€œI can imagine,” she replied. Her eyes searched his. “You might consider that being a female geologist in an oil company isn’t the easiest thing to do, either. I loved rocks.”
    His dark eyes conquered hers suddenly. The look was pure electricity. Desert lightning. She felt it all the way to her toes.
    â€œI find you hard going, too, Miss Marist,” he said after a minute. “But I imagine we’ll survive. Eugene said we were to camp on the actual site the second night.”
    â€œYes.” Her voice sounded breathless, choked.
    He found himself studying her hand on the table. Involuntarily his brushed over the back of it. He told himself it was for appearances. But touching her gave him pleasure, and she jumped. He scowled, feeling her long fingers go cold and tremble. His eyes lifted back to hers. “You’re trembling.”
    She jerked her hand from under his, almost unbalancing her water glass in the process. “I have to finish my steak.” She laughed nervously. “The stores will close soon.”
    â€œSo they will.”
    The subterfuge didn’t fool him, she knew. Not one bit. His chin lifted and there was something new in the set of his head. An arrogance. A kind of