Hunter. Diana Palmer
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pick up the ringleader, you remember. He got away,” he added with a cold glare at her.
She flushed. She didn’t like being reminded of how helpless she’d felt. “I didn’t ask you to stop to see about me,” she defended.
He knew that. The memory of seeing her lying inert on the floor still haunted him. That was when he’d first realized he was vulnerable. Now he seemed to spend all his time trying to forget that night. The agents, his job to protect Jenny and the company, had all been momentarily forgotten when the agent knocked her down in his haste to get away. Hunter had been too shaken by Jennifer’s prone position to run after the man. And that was what made him so angry. Not the fact that the agent had gotten away, but the fact that his concern for Jennifer had outweighed his dedication to his work. That was a first in his life.
“We’re transferring to another flight in Phoenix, under different names,” he said, lowering his voice. “With luck, the agents will pursue us on to California before they realize we’re gone.”
“How are we going to give them the slip? Are they on the plane?”
He smiled without looking at her. “Yes, they’re about five rows behind us. We’re going to get off supposedly to stretch our legs before the plane goes on to Tucson. We transfer to another airline, though, instead of coming back.”
“What if they follow us?”
“I’d see them,” he murmured dryly. “The rule of thumb in tracking someone is to never let your presence be discovered. Lose the subject first. This isn’t the first time I’ve played cat and mouse with these people. I know them.”
That said it all, she supposed, but she was glad she could leave all the details to him. Her job was field geology, not espionage. She glanced up at him, allowing herself a few precious seconds of adoration before she jerked her eyes back down and pretended to read a magazine.
She didn’t fool Hunter. He’d felt that shy appraisal and it worried him more than the agents did. Being alone with Jennifer on the desert was asking for trouble. He was going to make sure that he was occupied tonight, and that they wouldn’t set out until tomorrow. Maybe in that length of time, he could explain the situation to his body and keep it from doing something stupid.
It was a short trip, as flights went. They’d just finished breakfast when they were circling to land at the Tucson airport.
Hunter had everything arranged. Motel reservations, a rental car, the whole works. And it all worked to perfection until they got to the motel desk and the desk clerk handed them two keys, to rooms on different floors.
“No, that won’t do,” Hunter replied with a straight face, and without looking at Jennifer. “We’re honeymooners,” he said. “We want a double room.
“Oh! I’m sorry, sir. Congratulations,” the clerk said with a pleasant smile.
Dreams came true, Jenny thought, picturing all sorts of delicious complications during that night together. The desk clerk handed him a key after he signed them in—as Mr. and Mrs. Camp. Nice of Hunter to tell her their married name, she thought with faint amusement. But it was typical of him to keep everything to himself.
He unlocked the door, waited for the bellboy to put their luggage and equipment in the room, and tipped the man.
They were alone. He closed the door and turned to her, his dark eyes assessing as he saw the faint unease on her face. “Don’t start panicking,” he said curtly. “I won’t assault you. This is the best way to keep up the masquerade, that’s all.”
She colored. “I didn’t say a word,” she reminded him.
He wandered around the room with some strange electronic gadget in one hand and checked curtains and lamps. “No bugs,” he said eventually. “But that doesn’t mean much. I’m pretty sure we’re being observed. Don’t leave the room unless I’m with you, and don’t mention anything about why we’re here. Is that clear?”
“Why don’t we just go out into the desert and camp?”
“We have to have camping gear,” he explained with mocking patience. “It’s too late to start buying it now. The morning’s over. We’ll start out later in the afternoon.”
“All right.” She put her suitcases on the side of the room that was nearest the bathroom, hesitating.
“Whichever bed you want is yours,” he said without inflection. He was busy watching out the window. “I can sleep anywhere.”
And probably had, she thought, remembering some of his assignments that she’d heard about. She put her attaché case with her maps on the bed, and her laptop computer on the side table, taking time to plug its adapter into the wall socket so that it could stay charged up. It only had a few hours’ power between charges.
“Give me that case,” he said suddenly. He took the case with the maps and opened it, hiding a newspaper he’d brought into the case and then putting it in a dresser drawer with one of his shirts over it. The maps he tucked into a pair of his jeans and left them in his suitcase.
Jenny lifted an amused eyebrow. He had a shrewd mind. She almost said so, but it might reveal too much about her feelings if she told him. She unpacked her suitcase instead and began to hang up her clothes. She left her underthings and her long cotton gown in the suitcase, too shy of Hunter to put them in a drawer in front of him.
The gown brought to mind a question that had only just occurred. Should she put it on tonight, or would it look like an invitation? And worse, did he sleep without clothes? Some men did. She’d watched him put his things away out of the corner of her eye, and she hadn’t seen either a robe or anything that looked like pajamas. She groaned inwardly. Wouldn’t that be a great question to ask a man like Hunter, and how would she put it? Isn’t this a keen room, Mr. Hunter, and by the way, do you sleep stark naked, because if you do, is it all right if I spend the night in the bathtub?
She laughed under her breath. Wouldn’t that take the starch out of his socks, she thought with humor. Imagine, a woman her age and with her looks being that ignorant about a man’s body. Despite the women’s magazines she’d seen from time to time, with their graphic studies of nude men, there was a big difference in a photograph and a real, live man.
“Is something bothering you?” he asked suddenly.
The question startled her into blurting out the truth. “Do you wear pajamas?” she asked, and her face went scarlet.
“Why?” he replied with a straight face. “Do you need to borrow them, or were you thinking of buying me a pair if I say no?”
She averted her face. “Sorry. I’m not used to sharing a room with a man, that’s all.”
No way could he believe that she’d never spent a night with a man. More than likely she was nervous of him. “We’re supposed to be honeymooners,” he said with faint sarcasm. “It would look rather odd to spend the night in separate rooms.”
“Of course.” She just wanted to drop the whole subject. “Could we get lunch? I’m starving.”
“I want to check with my people first,” he told her. “I’ve got a couple of operatives down here doing some investigative work on another project. I won’t be long.”
She’d thought he meant to phone, but he went out of the room.
Jenny sprawled on her bed, cursing her impulsive tongue. Now he’d think she was a simpleminded prude as well as a pain in the neck. Great going, Jenny, she told herself. What a super way to get off on the right foot, asking your reluctant roommate about his night wear. Fortunately he hadn’t pursued the subject.
He was back an hour later. She’d put on her reading glasses, the ones she used for close work because she was hopelessly farsighted, and was plugging away on her laptop computer, going over detailed graphic topo maps of the area, sprawled across the bed with her back against the headboard and the computer on her lap. Not the best