Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  He was determined to find out what her game was. Why had she loved him so well one day, then decided to dangle him like a trout on a hook before throwing him back the next?

  Well, when they were out fishing she had warned him she believed in living free, that she didn't believe in hooking wild creatures. And after last night, he figured he qualified in that department.

  He needed to get his life back in balance.

  He would not so much as touch her until they had gotten their relationship straightened out and nailed down. Especially what she had going with Dinny Paxton.

  Until he did, he didn't trust himself to be within five feet of the woman. No, he'd just be polite and friendly while they had lunch with Wilkins. Afterward, they would talk. Then, he'd see how close he could safely get. Because that conversation promised to be...well, potentially explosive.

  Did she even realize they had gone unprotected last night in the alley?

  Was she pregnant with his child?

  His gut clenched in fear at that last thought. Not because she might be carrying the child he had spent the last dozen years diligently trying to prevent. But because if she was, she might not want it.

  But he did want it. Like crazy, he wanted it.

  He closed his eyes and stabbed his hand through his hair, wincing at the pain. He hadn't remembered to bring gloves, and his hands were covered with scratches, cuts, and tree sap from weaving pine branches.

  Face it, he hurt everywhere, inside and out.

  How could he talk a woman who didn't believe in settling down, into staying with him and having his baby?

  Yeah, he felt like shit, all right.

  Back at camp, he gathered up some clothes and headed up the hill to borrow Maggie's shower.

  Clean and bandaged, clad in slacks and a turquoise golf shirt, he loped up the steps to the tower, and found a note taped to the door.

  MEET YOU AT THE WILKINS PLACE. M

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred and One

  Maggie pushed one last quarter into the industrial-sized dryer that held her final load of wet clothes. Thank God. Damn, she hated doing laundry.

  Justin had come by to do a quick load, and they'd sat outside on the alley stoop talking until his wash was done. The whole time, she’d had to dodge questions about how Cooper was treating her, and if she was spending the afternoon with him. She heaved a sigh of relief when, at last, Justin glanced at his watch and hurried off to meet a friend.

  Afterward, she tried to read, but found it impossible to concentrate. An hour later, she went back inside the laundromat and glanced at the grimy wall clock. She should get ready to meet Cooper at the Wilkins ranch.

  From her pile of clean clothes, she selected an aqua sundress—briefly considering how it would go with cowboy boots, since she'd forgotten to bring her sandals. Oh, well, what did it matter, anyway? Not like she had to look good for anyone.

  She glanced around for a bathroom to change in. Nothing. Terrific.

  The Caf was just a few doors down the alley, though, so she grabbed her purse and clothes, and went out the back door.

  Strolling down the quiet alley, she thought about Blue Wolf Cooper. Already, she loved him more than she'd ever loved anyone. She didn't want to lose him. And yet, what could she do? If he didn't return her feelings, what was the point? Even if her body could convince him to linger with her a while longer, that was only a temporary thing. Love was the only thing that could keep two people together forever.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of low voices coming from the Caf's back parking lot. A man and woman were talking. No, more like arguing. And the disagreement was getting louder.

  Well, damn. No way did Maggie want to get mixed up in someone else’s problems.

  Stopping behind the tall wooden fence separating the Caf from the electronics store next door, she slowed, hoping they would finish arguing and leave. She really needed to change her clothes.

  The argument behind the Caf had gotten loud enough to hear what was being said.

  “What am I supposed to do with it?” the man was saying angrily. His back was to Maggie and his voice was muffled, making it impossible to recognize.

  Annoyed that she would be forced to interrupt, she peered through the fence slats, trying to get a look at them, to gauge how much longer the quarrel might last. The man was hidden behind a dumpster, but she saw the woman standing on the back stoop of the Caf. It was Lori.

  And judging by the look on the waitress’s face, the two could be there all day.

  “Damn it,” Maggie mumbled under her breath.

  “I don't care what you do with it,” Lori snapped. “Just get it out of here. My boss nearly found it last night. I had to tell him they'd shipped us an extra carton of cheese.”

  “It's too big to go in that tiny fridge I've got. Hell, it gives me the willies just thinking of it being in there, anyway.”

  Oh, for crying out loud, Maggie thought. She was not going to stand there while they squabbled over cheese.

  “Cutting it off the damn bear didn't seem to bother you any,” Lori hissed.

  Maggie froze as her mouth dropped open in shock. Oh my God! They were talking about bears!

  “You don't have any objection to taking your cut of the profits, either,” Lori said sharply.

  Lori and some man were talking about cutting up bears for profit. Lori. The poacher was Lori!

  “Well, if I have to get rid of this, our profits will be a lot less than we expected,” the man said tersely.

  Maggie couldn't fathom it—Lori, a poacher?

  Why would she do it?

  It must be for the money. Lori had never made any secret of her desire to get out of town. But, good lord...

  “Then get busy and do another one tonight,” Lori retorted. “It's easier to hide the other parts, anyway. And the buyers are clamoring for more.”

  “We're already pushing our luck doing two so close together. Three? Fish and Wildlife will—”

  Lori snorted. “Those two Fish and Wildlife wardens wouldn't recognize their own asses if I handed 'em to them in a paper bag. They were more interested in finding Maggie Johansen half-naked with Coop than finding any damn poachers. If they come back, you just leave them to me.”

  Maggie ground her teeth. Damn them! Had Dinny and Jack broadcast the story to the whole frikkin’ Caf? Well, at least Lori didn’t know he was FBI.

  Maggie scowled through the fence again, going over her recent encounters with the woman. Had the waitress given any hint of what she was doing? Not really. Just a few disparaging comments about bears. Nothing remotely suspicious. But who was her accomplice?

  As she peered through the slats again, Lori stepped inside the Caf’s back door and bent over, struggling to lift a heavy cardboard box marked CHEESE in big yellow letters. Maggie heard the man grunt when Lori handed it off to him, then his boots turned on the pavement and shuffled away. The Caf's screen door slammed shut and Lori disappeared.

  Flinging her dress over one shoulder, Maggie gripped her purse and launched out into the center of the alley. She had to find out who the man was. She'd just brazen it out and follow him, walking along as if she had every reason to be there. Which, she did.

  A tiny glimpse of him tantalized her as he rounded the corner, heading out onto Center street. She hurried down the alley after him.

  Just as she passed the Caf, Lori called out through the back door, “Maggie! Where are you going in such a hurry?” She stepped out onto the stoop, smiling cheerfully.

  Maggie slowed, trying to edge past. “I came to borrow your restroom to change in.” She lifted her sundress and waved vaguely toward the street out front. “But I forgot my make-up out in the truck. Typical!”

  Lori tilted her head, a shadow of suspicion crossing her features. “What are you doing back here in the alley?”

  “Oh. Laundry.” She hitched a thumb back toward the laundromat. “There wasn't a parking spot.” She picked up her pace. “I've
got to hurry. I'm meeting Cooper at the Wilkins ranch in a few minutes. I'll come around front.”

  Spinning on a toe, she hurried after the man. At Center Street, she looked frantically in every direction. There was no one in sight.

  “Damn,” she muttered. Catching her breath, she fell back against the wall. She'd been so close.

  Slowly, she smiled, anyway. At least she had one of them. She couldn't wait to tell Cooper.

  Ha. She’d solved his case for him.

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred and Two

  Heels clicking daintily on the red tile floor, a pretty maid led Coop through the grand foyer of the Wilkins ranch. They went through the open concept great room, past a kitchen that oozed clouds of lusciously aromatic Mexican spices, and out back to a three-tiered redwood deck surrounding the pool and a large, steaming hot tub.

  The rich tones of the satiny wood blended perfectly with the carefully groomed trees and lawns surrounding the expansive entertaining space. The night of the barbecue, it had been impossible to get the full impact of the grounds because of the multitude of people, but now Coop glanced around in appreciation. It was not at all difficult to work up the requisite enthusiasm to convince Conrad Wilkins to give them a tour of the ranch later. Coop was curious what might show up on this confirmed bear-hater's home turf.

  Conrad strolled down from the top level of the deck where Maggie, Rollo, Sally, and Theresa stood under a rose-covered arbor sipping white wine. “Hey, Coop, glad you could make it,” his host greeted him.

  Shaking Conrad's hand, Coop made a polite reply while surreptitiously glancing over at Maggie.

  If she was upset about last night, she showed no indication. In fact, she seemed particularly glad to see him. “Hey, Coop.”

  He allowed her a tight smile. “Hi, pup.” The smile she returned was blinding, catching him off guard. What the hell?

  When he’d walked onto the deck, he had been fully prepared to face the enemy. Her lithe body stirred him not at all. Her luminous eyes didn't move him. Her intoxicating scent did not compel him to bury his face in her pale hair. And a second did not go by that he didn't remind himself of those facts.

  No. Way. He was not going to fall for that smile.

  With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he prayed he would not fall for that smile.

  By quickly turning to shake hands with Timmons, he narrowly ducked a kiss she tried to plant on his cheek. When he glanced back at her, the smile had lost some of its wattage. He dismissed the look that shadowed her eyes for a split second. No way was it hurt feelings.

  She silently mouthed, “We have to talk.”

  No fucking kidding.

  She looked so pleased with herself, that, for a moment, he wondered what she was bursting to tell him. His thoughts strayed to the alley. And the possible consequences of that encounter...

  Hello? Lunch with Wilkins was not the time or place to talk about that.

  He shook his head.

  She actually frowned at him.

  Good. Maybe she was getting the picture. She had one testy Wolf on her hands.

  As the maid announced lunch, he caught Maggie glancing over at him. When she winked, it was all he could do to keep his jaw from doing a freefall. He firmed his mouth into a line. What the hell was she up to, anyway?

  More to the point, how much longer would he be able to keep up this ridiculous façade of sangfroid?

  It was a toss-up which was making him more ravenous—the sumptuous meal set up on the elegantly appointed patio table, complete with crystal and pastel linens, or the whiffs he was getting of Maggie's sexy, seductive female scent. He was totally annoyed with himself at the speed with which he was conjuring up fantasies of hauling her off to Conrad's barn and giving her a good view of the hayloft rafters.

  As the party moved to seat themselves at the table, he knew he absolutely must avoid sitting next to her. Pretending to aim for one chair, when Maggie sat in the one next to it, he quickly moved around to another.

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred and Three

  Maggie sat perfectly still in her chair and blinked furiously, reeling with the hurt of Cooper’s repeated rebuffs.

  “So where's David?” Conrad asked Rollo as the maid served bowls of crisp salad and platters of mouth-watering enchiladas...and Maggie tried to keep it together.

  Why was Cooper deliberately humiliating her? Hadn’t last night been enough for him? He had to pile it on today, too?

  “David's been out since dawn trying to chase down one of our elusive bears,” Rollo said. “It's a damned nuisance those poachers don't return our tags so we know which bears are gone for good.”

  Conrad picked up his glass. “Yeah, the sheriff was out earlier and told me all about the new one Justin found yesterday.”

  She bit her lip. She had been so excited about her news. She'd even swallowed her unhappiness that with her information he’d close the case that much sooner, and concentrated on how pleased and grateful he'd be.

  What a fool.

  Rollo looked pointedly at their host while holding up his wine glass for the maid to refill. “You wouldn't know anything about those missing bears, would you, Conrad?”

  She’d even thought Cooper’s feelings might soften a bit toward her in appreciation for her assistance.

  Downright stupid.

  Conrad guffawed. “What, and skew your data in my favor?” There was a glint in his eye. “You know me better than that.”

  “Do I?” Rollo drawled.

  Maggie gazed out over the trees, blinked away the sting in her eyes, and took a large swallow of wine. Foolish woman. Foolish, stupid woman.

  Conrad turned to Cooper. “So what's your take on this bear poaching, Coop? Isn't killing bears some kind of big sin against the Great Spirit or something to you Indians?”

  Cooper paused, a forkful of enchilada halfway to his mouth.

  “Something like that,” he said evenly. “In many Native American religions, bears represent a potent intermediary between man and God, or the Great Spirit as you called Him. A bear is a Messenger, a reflection even, of the qualities of the Great Spirit, much as scriptures or priests are in other religions.”

  Conrad leaned back in his chair. “So...killing a bear is like killing a priest or burning a Bible?”

  Cooper lowered his fork. “Not exactly. It's okay to kill bears as long as it is done according to the rules. The biggest sins in killing any animal are irreverence and waste.” He smiled. “But that's not exclusive to us,” he said. “Plenty of hunters the world over feel the same way, including some of you white fellas.”

  Rollo chuckled.

  Maggie leaned her chin on a hand. “You know, bear myths almost identical to Native American ones are found all over Scandinavia and Siberia.”

  Cooper turned reluctantly toward her. “I've never heard that.”

  “I'm not surprised.” Under his dour scrutiny, she took a shaky sip of her wine. “Native Americans were uprooted from their cultures within our living memory. Most people believe they're the only hunter-gatherers that ever existed. Not true.”

  He crossed his arms and sent her a challenging glare. “I can feel one of your cultural lessons coming on.”

  She forced a smile, ignoring his barb. “It wasn't too many generations ago we Scandinavians lived in much the same way as you Cree. My people chased the glaciers of the last ice age north, along with the animals living in its shadow. They hunted with spears, bows and arrows, just like you.” She turned to Conrad and gave him a genuine smile. “That is, until we were invaded by a foreign culture that burned down our forests in order to graze their domestic livestock.”

  The small gathering erupted in laughter. Except Cooper, of course.

  “So, that's why you're a firefighter,” Rollo said with a grin.

  As they ate and chatted, it was impossible not to let Cooper's deliberate snubs affect her. How could three little words scare a man so much that his feelings and behavior changed
so radically, like a switch being flipped? His arctic reserve was just plain cold-blooded.

  Rising to join the others for a tour of the barn and stables, she told herself to forget the man and move on.

  The thoroughbreds in Conrad's stable were gorgeous. She found it slightly easier to ignore the plummeting state of her emotions watching a groom put them through their lovely paces.

  In the gigantic, rustic barn, Rollo regaled the party with stories of his adventures riding with the Bedouin while on a research trip to Yemen. Maggie hung on every word. But the whole time Rollo spoke, she saw Cooper standing with a fierce scowl on his face...for some reason transfixed by the rafters over the hayloft.

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter One Hundred and Four

  Coop thought he was going to be sick. If Roland Timmons told one more tall tale featuring himself as some kind of dashing desert sheikh, he would literally puke.

  He had to steer the conversation back to the poaching. He wanted to solve this case and get out of Dodge. He longed to grill Conrad and Timmons, and Sally, too, for any possible clue. Sure, Gary’s transmitter would eventually trap the culprit, but Coop honestly didn't know how long he could stay sane sharing the forest with Maggie Johansen.

  He glanced back up at the roof beams, and nearly groaned out loud.

  When the hell were they going to get out of that damned barn, anyway?

  As the lunch party rambled back to the table on the deck an excruciatingly long while later, a truck pulled up. Doug jumped out from one door, Justin from the other. The bed of the truck was piled high with boxes of supplies.

  “Justin!” Theresa waved and ran over to the truck, embracing him.

  Well, that was interesting. Coop glanced over at Maggie. Her focus was riveted on Doug, who was lowering the tailgate of the truck.

  Coop ground his jaw. Strolling over to the truck with the rest of the group, he fell back and studied the layers of footprints covering the dirt driveway in a vain attempt to compose his chaotic emotions.