Bear Claw Bodyguard. Jessica Andersen
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vibe might’ve made her think of the mountains, but his eyes were the cerulean of a perfectly flat high-country lake beneath a cloudless sky. The kind of lake that hikers would take a day’s climb to reach, and then be grateful to simply sit and stare. Which was exactly what she was doing.
Staring up at him. Like a five-foot-nothing dork.
Say something, idiot!
“Yes, I’m Dr. Bay,” she blurted, loud enough to make herself wince. Forcing her voice to something approaching its normal businesslike tone, she added, “How did you recognize me?”
The university typically didn’t send much advance info on their field researchers, never mind photos. Then again, the people requesting her services typically didn’t insist on police protection either.
The corners of his eyes crinkled arrestingly. “Given the knapsack, hiking boots and the insignia on your wind-breaker, I figured it was a good bet you were the tree doctor.”
Catching Blondie’s smirk in her peripheral vision, Tori bristled. She didn’t need to look down at herself to know that she was rocking the earthy-crunchy factor in jeans and a plain forest-green T-shirt, along with a U.S. Plant Pathology Association windbreaker that was a couple of sizes too big because they didn’t come in extra small. And, yeah, given that she had her bark-brown hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail and was wearing her glasses because airplanes did wonky things to her contacts, she wasn’t even close to being in Blondie’s league. And not just because she was lacking the designer suit, stilettos and a foot of height.
Worse, she had actually bothered to catalog those differences.
Hello, she thought loudly, hoping both her libido and her brain would listen up, you’re not here for a fieldwork fling. You’re here to do a job. Granted, she’d combined the two more than once in the past, but this particular job fell under the category of “potential disaster, probably shouldn’t let yourself get distracted, hunky escort or not.”
Besides, he was a cop.
Deliberately, she put her head back in the work zone where it belonged. The U.S. National Park Service was worried about the newly discovered breeding population of barred eagles, and the strange, threadlike fungus that was killing huge chunks of forest near the eagles’ nesting area. Given the ecological chaos caused by the recent oak-blight epidemic in California’s Point Reyes Park, the Park Service wasn’t taking any chances in Bear Claw Canyon. When the local scientists hadn’t been able to crack the fungus’s life cycle or the real cause of the problems the trees were experiencing, Tori had gotten the call.
Her family might not understand her choosing to save trees rather than people, but she was very good at what she did.
Giving the cop a cool look, she said, “I prefer the term ‘phytopathologist.’ Or ‘plant disease epidemiologist’ is okay, too.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How about we go with Tori and Jack instead? Seems easier, and half the time when I hear ‘Detective Williams,’ I turn around to see if my dad or uncle are standing behind me.”
Which meant he wasn’t just a cop, he was straight out of a cop family, with all the “save the world and pat the little lady on the head” machismo that it entailed. Or maybe that was just her family, she thought, trying to smooth out the sudden tug of irritation he hadn’t earned.
Which just left her realizing that she had just told her local liaison to use her professional titles. God, she was still such a dweeb sometimes, especially when faced with a guy who felt just that little bit out of her league, turning him into a challenge.
Making herself grin rather than groan, she nodded. “Tori and Jack it is.”
She didn’t bother asking herself what it was about this guy that had her caught somewhere between lust and dorksville. He was seriously hot; she was exhausted by having done a week’s worth of grant writing in two days to make this trip; and it had been a few months since she and her last equally on-the-go lover, Greene, had called it quits. So she was noticing the handsome detective in a chemically combustible way, and it was making her a little silly. Okay, more than a little.
Focus. “We should get going. I understand that the site is pretty far off the beaten path.”
“That’s an understatement. We’ll be using Ranger Station Fourteen as a base camp and driving out to the Forgotten from there on a daily basis.”
“Wait. What?” She frowned up at him. Way up, which made her feel short, and in turn, irritated her. “We won’t need the ranger station. We’re camping out at the site for the duration.” That was SOP for the more remote locations, and she’d been assured there would be no problem.
His expression tightened and those lake waters chilled. “Not with an armed militia out there, we’re not.”
“An …” She blew out a breath, not liking the sound of that one bit. “I was under the impression that the area was secure.”
“That might be the official line, but it’s not the reality as far as my contacts within the investigation are concerned. So here’s the deal: either we bunk at Ranger Station Fourteen and day-trip it out to the Forgotten, or you hold off on your investigation until we’ve got a real handle on the Shadow Militia. Your call.”
Even as jitters took up residence in her stomach, she narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out if he was on the level or if this was another version of the familiar song that went I’ve got better things to do than drag you around; I wish you’d go away.
Most of the time, her escorts were happy to bring her to the infected site and eager to hear what she had to say about their problem. Occasionally, though, she ran into the other kind: the ones who didn’t want her around, whether because she’d been foisted on them, they saw her as a threat or because they didn’t want to be anyone’s chaper-one. She didn’t peg this guy as foistable or threatened, but he also didn’t strike her as the type to volunteer to babysit a visiting scientist. What she didn’t know was whether he was overemphasizing the danger in an effort to run her off … or if there was really a chance that there were still armed killers hiding somewhere in the Forgotten, which had the rep of being seriously rough territory in its own right.
Her jitters edged toward nerves, but she held her ground because logic said it couldn’t be that bad or her assignment would’ve been called off. Whether or not she agreed with it—which she didn’t—investigations into plant outbreaks often got shunted back behind human factors, and she’d had cases canceled over far smaller problems before.
Testing the waters, she said, “If it’s that dangerous, I’m surprised your bosses okayed the investigation.” Glancing down, she went for her phone. “Maybe I should call—”
He caught her wrist. “Don’t.”
For a few agonizing seconds all she could feel was the warm touch of his hand and the press of his fingers over her pulse. Heat washed up her throat to her face, bringing a heady mix of attraction and nerves. Her heart pounded, she couldn’t catch her breath, and … Knock it off, she told herself. He’s not that hot.
Okay, maybe he was, but that didn’t change his basic makeup: namely, a cop from a cop family. What was more, she had her answer. He was trying to play her.
Tugging her arm from his grip, she regarded him coolly. “Level with me, then. How high is the risk really, Detective?”
“Too high.” But when she just kept looking at him, he glanced away and made an annoyed sound. “Look, it’s nothing solid at this point, or else you’re right, your people or mine would’ve already called things off. But some of the cops on the task force—good cops, people I trust—say their guts are telling them that the militia is still in the area. There’ve been some signs.” He looked back at her, his eyes making her think once more of clear, still lakes and reflected skies. But there was zero sunshine in his voice when he continued, “If I’m under orders to keep you safe, then I wouldn’t be doing