Reid hurried ahead of her to scoop up her briefcase. “Let me get that,” he said.
“Thanks, but I’ll carry it on,” Casey said.
Stymied, Reid held out his hand as she straightened up, her dark brown leather briefcase, which had obviously seen a lot of wars itself, by the look of it, at her side. “Your ticket?”
“Yes, I have it.” She saw the quizzical expression on his features. “Captain, I really am capable of boarding a plane by myself—without your help.”
Reid felt helpless. “It’s my job… .”
Gently, because she could see he was truly at odds with her independence, she smiled and whispered, “I thought Army Rangers had other, more important jobs to perform?”
Reid realized she was teasing him. Falling into step with her, he murmured, “Good doctor, I’m a Recon Marine, not from the doggy army. There is a difference.”
Chortling, Casey handed her ticket to the awaiting flight attendant at the door. “Really?”
Once in first class, up in the top of the jumbo jet, Reid noticed to his satisfaction that they were alone. The flight wasn’t full and he was glad. Just ahead of them, the door to the cockpit was open, one of the male flight attendants having brought the crew hot coffee.
Reid and Casey sat down in two large seats separated by an area for drinks. He tried to be discreet as he gazed at Dr. Morrow, while she took off her sensible shoes and wriggled her toes with decided pleasure on the nubby carpet.
“The only thing missing on this grand adventure is a hot tub,” she said with a sigh, then rested her head against the plush seat.
“Where we’re going, there aren’t going to be many amenities,” he groused, laying the seat belt across his lap. Watching as the flight attendant closed the cockpit door and then quickly left, Reid met Casey’s half-closed eyes.
She smiled a little. “Tell me about it, Captain.”
Irked, he said in a low tone, “You can call me Hunter. Or Reid, if you like.”
“You have a strong name.” She sighed and closed her eyes as she brought the seat back into a semiupright position.
Reid sat there, knocked off balance by her warmth and familiarity with him. There was no shyness to Casey Morrow. None. She acted as if she had known him all her life. He ruminated about how he was the exact opposite: it took him time to let down his guard and open up to people. And then he grimaced. Maybe his trial with Janet had burned him so badly he couldn’t open up. Was he always this closed? This inaccessible?
As the jumbo jet slowly eased out of its loading dock, Reid slid deeper into his own tortured morass of emotions. Looking at Casey, who now had her eyes closed, her hands folded against her abdomen, he felt like a concrete wall in comparison. She was vulnerable. Accessible. Unlike him. And he recalled his ex-fiancée’s words: Hunter, you’re heartless. I mean it.
I’ve never seen a man so out of touch with his emotions and less willing to share them with someone he’s supposed to love. What’s wrong with you, Reid? Why can’t you share how you feel with me? Moving uncomfortably in his seat, he scowled unhappily.
“What’s wrong?”
Casey’s direct question surprised him. But then, Ty had warned him about her directness. “Nothing…just trying to get comfortable,” he muttered defensively. “Why don’t you go to sleep?”
Prying one eye open, Casey studied him. “What? And miss all the fun and excitement?” Her lips curved ruefully. She hoped the starched and pressed marine officer would relax a little, let down his considerable guard and just be himself. The guy was really uptight. Instead, Casey saw his lips flatten at her words. “I was just teasing,” she added, realizing he hadn’t taken it as teasing at all. Great. Her trip to Africa, complete with the threat of Black Dawn, was with an officer who was like a bow that was strung too tightly. And he was a Neanderthal on top of it all.
Looking down at his hands, she decided she liked them. He had long, lean fingers with large knuckles and there were plenty Of small, pale scars all over them. She saw no wedding ring on his hand and only a watch on his left wrist. Marines didn’t tend to wear a lot of jewelry, anyway. Casey felt badly for the man and opened both eyes and sat up. They were alone in the hump of the jumbo jet, and she was grateful for the privacy.
“Did you just get out of the field, Captain—I mean Reid?”
The husky warmth of her voice covered him like a blanket.
Reid stopped fidgeting with his lap belt and glanced over at her. “You might say that.”
“They gave me your personnel record just before I hopped my flight from Atlanta up to D.C. And as you’ve already revealed, you’re a Recon Marine and not from the doggy army.”
He had the good grace to grin slightly. “That’s right.”
“How long?”
Reid knew she was making small talk for his sake. That was another nice aspect about Dr. Morrow—a sensitive awareness of others. Sometimes scientists were so caught up in their microscopic world that they rarely connected on a human or social level with normal people out of their field specialty. And he’d had many opportunities to socialize with scientists as an NBC warfare specialist.
“I’ve been in the corps since I graduated from college.”
“That would be something like seven years? Give or take one?” She forced a bit of a smile. Though his face was rock hard, his eyes gave him away; they had turned a warm slate color as she engaged him in conversation. He’d also quit fiddling with his lap belt. Despite his tenseness, Casey liked him. She had no idea why. There was just something about the man that gave her a very protected feeling; it radiated out to her like the arms of a lover.
“Yes.”
Casey smiled inwardly. “Small talk isn’t your thing?”
Glancing at her, he snapped, “That’s an astute observation, Doctor.”
“As an officer, I’m sure you’ve had to cultivate it just a little?”
“Not as much as you might have hoped, Dr. Morrow.” And then, defensively, he growled, “I don’t think it’s right that a woman be put in danger. I argued against you going on this mission.”
Casey’s eyes narrowed speculatively on the hard-faced officer. “Well,” she began in a rigid tone of voice, “fortunately you don’t have a say-so on who does or doesn’t go on this mission.”
Reid held her intense stare. He was getting a taste of her tough side, he realized. “Terrorists aren’t your forte, Doctor. They’re mine. You aren’t trained for this.”
“That’s all right,” Casey rasped. “I’ve got a score to settle, and right now, I’ve got a very sweet taste in my mouth because I am on this mission. Whether you like or approve of it or not, it’s out of your hands.” She felt her heart pumping with grief as the words flowed from her lips. Anger bubbled dangerously beneath her sorrow. She saw the marine’s eyes widen momentarily, and then grow to slits as he studied her in the sudden, tension-filled silence.
“Revenge isn’t the right reason to dive headlong into this mission.”
The terseness in his voice made her even more determined to even the score. She’d fought for and won the right to go back to Africa for many reasons. She wasn’t about to let this arrogant, unfeeling marine officer in on why, either. It was none of his damn business. But Casey couldn’t help sparring with him, especially with the gut full of emotions she was feeling presently. “I’m a little shy on sleep, Reid, so don’t mind me. I get giddy and silly on less than two hours… .”
“Why are you short on sleep?” he asked, suddenly concerned. Reid wanted to dislike her, but somehow she had the ability to effortlessly engage him with her husky voice. A warmth flowed through him and he felt it settle in his chest. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it felt like a flower had just opened to the sun’s rays. Only Casey was the sun and he the flower. It was an absurd thought and Reid cursed silently. What was it about this mop-haired woman with sparkling green eyes that captured his tongue and made him sound like a heartless, snarling, growly old bear? She obvious
ly wasn’t going to jump his bones, although that thought had crossed his mind, making Reid wonder briefly about his sanity. The fiasco with Janet was a year old and he thought he was over it. Or maybe the carefree Dr. Morrow, whose girlish good looks, warmth and ability to set him too much at ease, was making him panic. Why?
Casey closed her eyes and smiled softly. “Getting ready for this trip to Africa was last minute.” Her smile disappeared and she opened her eyes and looked at Reid. “Two of my best friends were just murdered in Zaire, Reid. I’m still in shock over it. Shocked and angry. Ever since it happened, a little over three weeks ago, I haven’t slept well. Nightmares… ” She waved her hand helplessly.
“Yes, I have revenge in my heart. I want to even the score for the sake of my friends—and someone I loved. I want to outwit those terrorists who think they can get away with this.”
He studied her. The pain in her voice was real and it touched him deeply. No woman—indeed, no one, had ever reached inside of him the way Casey was right now. Wrestling with this unsettling discovery, Reid muttered, “I’m sorry for you, Dr. Morrow. Sorry for their families, and for your loss… .”
Sitting up, Casey felt the jumbo jet slowly trundle down the runway toward the takeoff point. So the robotlike officer could be vulnerable. She saw the sincerity in his eyes and heard it in his halting voice. If she didn’t know better, she might believe Hunter was deeply affected by what she’d just said, but he was having an awful time wrestling with the emotions of it, much less expressing them. His apology was halting, and terribly shy and awkward. In some ways, he appeared to be like a little boy who was a bundle of violent feelings, but simply didn’t have the ability to deal with them like most people did.
Stymied by her observation, Casey was intrigued by him even more. Because she was very intuitive, she felt people, felt their emotions, and many times sensed a lot about them even when they might not talk directly to her. That’s how she felt about Reid. It wasn’t that he was a cold automaton; it was that he was somehow disconnected from his feelings. And when he got around someone like her, who was all feelings, it put him at a decided disadvantage. In the military, emotions were suppressed and destroyed in preference to a clear head and clear thinking in dangerous circumstances. The only problem with that, Casey knew, was that emotions weren’t that easy to get rid of—or to ignore. And right now, she was watching Hunter wrestle with that very problem.
His sadness for her loss was there in his eyes. His struggle to connect with the feeling was wrenching to her. Emotionally, he was like a fish out of water. Realizing this, she said very gently, “That’s what I’ve lost sleep over—their families, Reid. At the OID, we’re like a big family of sorts. You get close in our business. Losing Vince and Stan… and… someone else earlier… ” she rubbed her face with her hands “… was horrible. A shock.”
“So they were friends, not just employees?” Reid asked, studying her tear-filled eyes. He was surprised at her ability to express her emotions so quickly and without reservation or apology.
“Vince had two kids. I was at the hospital, with his wife, Maureen, helping her deliver them when they were born. And Stan… ” Casey sniffed and leaned over and retrieved the large leather bag that served as both purse and briefcase “… he was like a brother to me.” Taking out a tissue, she blew her nose and wiped it.
The urge to reach out and catch those falling tears from her eyes was nearly Reid’s undoing. He hated to see a woman cry. It got to him faster than a bullet could and did more collateral damage. Tears tore him up every time. He supposed that was part of his Neanderthal makeup. Placing a steel clamp on his desire to reach out, frame her face with his hands and wipe her tears away with his thumbs, he sat there staring at her. Janet’s words haunted him: You’re heartless, Reid. You can’t reach out—ever— to someone who needs you. You’re afraid. You’re afraid because to reach out means you’re vulnerable, too, and you can’t stand the idea of being less than perfect. Heaven forbid that you’d be a fallible human being like the rest of us.
Tucking the tissue into a side pocket, Casey placed the briefcase beneath her seat again. “We’re all just reeling in shock over this,” she managed to add.
“Sounds like a concussion grenade hit the OID over this,” he muttered uncomfortably. “I didn’t realize the impact of their deaths on you.”
Sniffling, Casey wiped her tears away with trembling fingers. “In our business, we’re grateful for twenty-four hours of life at a time.”
Reid began to understand her just a little. “So, going into the hot-zone lab a couple of times a week makes you a little more cogent about living? About life?”
She warmed at his understanding. Despite that marine-officer veneer, the man had some feelings and depth to him, after all.
Casey was pleasantly surprised, and she found herself wanting to throw herself into Reid’s arms, to rest her head against his broad chest and to sob out a lot of feelings she hadn’t expressed yet. It was a ridiculous urge, she realized, as she sat there staring at his hard, unyielding face. It was his warm gray eyes with those huge, black pupils that held her—and her heart—in their sway. Sniffing again, she whispered, “Life? In my business, it’s one heartbeat at a time. One inhalation, one exhalation.”
“I can see that… .” And he could. One slip of a scalpel, one bone sticking out of a dead carcass filled with virulent Ebola could slit into the protective gloves she wore to do autopsies, and result in her death. Feeling suddenly suffocated by that possibility, because Casey Morrow was one of the most alive people he’d ever met, Reid fell silent.
The jumbo jet halted and the engines began to whine at a high pitch. Reid knew that in a few moments, the huge bird would launch skyward. He tried to relax as he sat back in preparation for takeoff. But when he heard Casey sniff and blow her nose again, the pain in him, like a huge fist pushing up from his heart into his chest and throat, forced him to do something he’d never done before. Seeing her left hand on the armrest, he reached out and covered it with his own.
Chapter Three
As the jumbo jet powered down the runway toward takeoff speed, Reid kept his hand over Casey’s. The fear of reaching out dissolved. The initial shock over what he’d just done was gone. Instead, new feelings—damn them— grew. A warmth filled his heart and then lapped outward, gently, wonderfully, and he held his breath, surprised by it all. The warmth moved downward and a new sensation replaced it. He ached to glide his fingertips across her soft skin. He found himself wanting to do many things with her. But Reid resisted. Since his debacle with Janet, he’d lost interest in women this past year—or so he’d thought. Until this red-haired hellion, who brooked no fools in her life, crashed into his unexpectedly.
Reid didn’t look up to gauge Casey’s reaction to his touch. He could no more explain to her his spontaneous reaction than he could to himself. Telling himself she was like a hurt animal that needed care, he let it go at that. Though he expected Casey to withdraw her hand, she didn’t. Maybe Janet had been wrong. Maybe he did have feelings, after all. Maybe he wasn’t the cold, unfeeling machine she’d accused him of being. A tiny thread of hope moved through his heavily walled heart.
As the jet became airborne, he released a breath caught deep inside his chest and allowed the pressure of gravity to press him against the seat. Closing his eyes, Hunter felt his awareness moving deep within himself, creating a volatile mix of feelings. An ache was centering in his lower body, a hunger that hadn’t been fulfilled or fed for a long, long time. Simultaneously, the sense of need—for Casey—serrated him and unexpectedly opened up his guarded heart like a knife. It was a painful sensation for Reid; the need for a woman was something he didn’t want to feel again. And not just any woman. He wondered how Casey felt about his hand over hers. Did she read it as sexual harassment? One human consoling another? What? How badly he wanted to ask. How scared he was of doing so. He’d never reached out like this before, so he had no experience, no way of knowing how she wa
s responding to it. On another level, Hunter felt like he’d just stepped on a claymore mine in the middle of a field. If he stepped off it, the whole thing would blow up in his face. If he remained standing on it, he was still in danger. What was he to do?
Casey stopped sniffling as Reid’s long, powerful fingers draped protectively over her own. She felt instant relief from her grief as his hand covered hers. She knew his gesture wasn’t a sexual or provocative one. No, she sensed he was trying to comfort her even though he was painfully uncomfortable with her tears, with her easy display of emotions. Something good and healing flowed from his warm fingertips into hers. Casey knew more than most what it took to allow oneself to remain open and vulnerable. It was easy, very easy, to close up like a book or a fortress and not let people in, not feel the full array of emotions. Somehow, as the jet took off, the gravity pressing like invisible hands against her, she felt safe, if but for a moment.
Sensing tension in Reid’s hand, she finally pulled hers free from beneath his as the jet continued to climb high into the deep blue, sunlit sky. Pretending to need another tissue, Casey busied herself momentarily. She felt Reid shift abruptly next to her. Blotting her eyes free of the last of her tears, she turned and studied his hard, chiseled profile. His face appeared carved from granite, there was no doubt. Yet for all his rocklike hardness, he had a heart and a soul of compassion, or else he would not have reached out as he had to comfort her. She saw the turmoil and confusion in his eyes, too. The hesitancy in his manner toward her. She sensed he felt as if he’d done something wrong. No, Casey wanted to tell him, you’ve done everything right—despite yourself. But she chose not to say anything. Hunter didn’t appear ready for that kind of discussion right now. Instead, she turned to another topic to try and soothe the torment she saw in his eyes.
“Every summer I climb El Capitan, a huge granite cliff at Yosemite,” she began softly, to catch his attention. When Reid barely turned his head, his gray eyes almost colorless now, the pupils dark and inquiring, Casey’s breath hitched. She read desire in the depths of his intense, intelligent gaze. Maybe she was wrong. Probably was. Right now, the way she felt, she was interested in no one on that level. Grief over Vince’s and Stan’s death had hit her hard and she was still reeling from the shock of it all, the reminders of her earlier painful loss. With a weak wave of her hand, Casey whispered, “Anyone looking at that gray granite face would think it was hard and unyielding.” She held up her palm. “When I place my hand against the rock, though, I feel the mountain’s spirit. I feel its heart, a pulsing life within the stone I am climbing.” She shook her head, one corner of her mouth lifting ruefully. “The stone is warm, like skin… . It has a heart. And as I climb higher and higher on the face, I feel my heart opening to it and I begin to feel an incredible oneness with the granite, with the spirit that lives captured within that stone.”
Heart of the Hunter Page 4
