by Rachel Lee
She dragged her gaze from his hands and forced herself to stand to get a couple of mugs and the coffeepot.
“Like now,” he said.
“What?” She turned, met his eyes, and almost dropped the mugs and pot. How could black eyes burn that way?
“You have a fascinating face,” he said quietly. “Nearly everything you think shows on it.”
“Oh, God.” She wanted to sink, to fall into a hole beneath her feet. To hide. “Don’t strip me.”
“I’m not stripping you. I just enjoy your expressions. Don’t ever play poker.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She cleared her voice and managed to sit again and pour coffee.
“You want me,” he said.
“Is this where I go bury my head somewhere or throw you out?”
He laughed. Man, she envied how comfortable he was with this. She just wanted to sink. “No. Because I want you, too. The thing is, neither of us is sure that would be right, so we’re just going to hang fire.”
“What’s that expression mean?”
“It comes from explosives. It’s when a fuse appears to burn out, or an electronic trigger doesn’t work immediately.”
“But it’s still dangerous?”
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t approach a brick of explosive that had been triggered but didn’t go off. I’d wait a good long while.”
She nodded and managed to steal a look at him. Seeking safer ground she asked, “I guess you know a lot about explosives?”
“Enough. I know a lot of things that mostly won’t be useful now. But my training runs deep, Allison. I don’t go into any potentially dangerous situation unprepared. That’s why the gun and knife.”
She considered his words. “I guess you could be pretty lethal without them, though.”
“If necessary. It’s not preferred.”
“I don’t imagine it would be. Look, I’m sorry, I was just...shocked. Unprepared. That’s all. I wasn’t being critical of you. I was trying to deal with something unexpected, and I guess I did a lousy job of it.”
“It’s okay. But what you said about maybe someone is still using that poison? I’ve been wondering about that all along. One use seems kind of strange.”
“One use would be enough, depending on what you’re after. But I feel kind of foolish for not having thought of it sooner. What if this guy is still putting out bait? What if he’s after something where one application might not be enough?”
“Like a wolf pack?”
“That would be one. Especially if you don’t understand wolves enough to know how easy it is to break up a pack. Regardless, when I think about repeated uses of that stuff, I stop feeling like you’re being hypercautious.”
“A nice way of saying you’ve been wondering if I’ve been exaggerating the possible danger to you.”
“Well, yes,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks warm again.
“You have a beautiful blush,” he remarked, then moved on quickly. “You say this guy can’t be found by tracking the poison. Maybe not, and maybe he doesn’t know that. Or maybe he’s still using it and now that you’re going out there again, and into the mountains, he might be even more worried. I’ve found that people who are willing to break the law about one thing don’t generally worry too much about it when it comes to other things.”
“Like murder? Are you suggesting someone would kill me over this?”
“I don’t know. It might satisfy them just to put you out of commission. Or maybe they wouldn’t come after you at all. I don’t read minds. But on the off chance, I just want us to be careful.”
She couldn’t argue with that. It was hard, though, to think about poison when a little tape was running in the back of her mind, the sound of his voice as he’d said he wanted her, too.
They were hanging fire? She wondered if she’d be able to stand it.
But he continued as if he hadn’t just probably read her dancing thoughts on her face. Sheesh. Like an open book. She hadn’t heard that in years. Or maybe he was just unusually good at reading faces.
“So what do you want to do first?” he asked. “Cook or make our plan for tomorrow?”
Chapter 6
With a huge pot of marinara sauce simmering on the stove and a big chicken casserole in the oven, they sat at the table with a laminated topographic map Allison had borrowed from the geology department.
It covered a much larger area, making it more difficult to focus in on the small area they’d be searching. Jerrod, Allison noticed, didn’t seem to have any trouble making sense of it, though. It was as if he had reading maps in his blood. More of his training and experience, she supposed.
“What I’m going to suggest,” he said after studying it for a few minutes, “is that you use a grid pattern.”
“Why?”
“Partly because it’ll work better on this terrain, and partly because I want to fan out and circle around you.”
“Protection?”
“Again, partly. But also I’ll see the areas you’re not likely to. Does that radio of yours have GPS on it?”
“The sheriff said it does.”
“Good. I’ve got my own GPS gear.”
“Will it work in the mountains?”
He arched a brow at her. “What do you take me for?”
The way he said it elicited a laugh from her. “Okay, okay.”
“Tell me one thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Why’d they pick a chemist to do this? You said you can’t even test the samples in your lab. Why not somebody else?”
“Because I understand exactly what I’m dealing with and how to take precautions. Plus I’m linked in with the state lab through the college, and I once took a class in hazardous material handling.”
“Just wondering.”
“Why? You think they should have sent in a whole team, armed to the teeth?”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “No. Not yet, anyway. I think we’re dealing with a single offender.”
“And you could handle four or five by yourself?”
She’d meant the question to be light, but the answer he gave her was anything but.
“If I need to.”
He tossed that off as if he were utterly confident of his abilities. Allison supposed he had enough experience to know. Returning to the map, he checked coordinates and began to draw lines with an erasable marker. They were far from straight.
“You won’t be able to follow a beeline, given the terrain. But this is pretty close to what you should be able to do, if the map is accurate. Stay away from ravines, though, and watch out for loose rocks.” He paused and looked up. “Sorry, you probably already know that.”
“Yes.”
The grid he was drawing was already implanting itself in her brain. Not that it would do her a whole lot of good, she thought with some humor, being directionally impaired as she was, which she’d proved earlier today.
“The GPS will keep you on track,” he said as if he read her mind. “And I won’t ever be farther away from you than a shout, okay?”
“Okay.” That did make her feel a little more secure. Yes, she liked hiking, but she generally stuck to marked trails. Now she was proposing to head out with a GPS and map? Oh, boy. What was she thinking?
But she thought of the devastation this toxin could cause, and how important it was to know, insofar as she could find out, if there were other poisoned animals. Right now they might not pose much of a risk, but if the snow started to melt, contaminated water would run down the slopes into the stream below. A lot of ranchers depended on that stream.
She was rapidly losing interest in the map and the plans for tomorrow, though. Almost as if a magnet drew her attention, she once again grew increasi
ngly aware of the man who sat across the table from her.
While he was absorbed in his task, making his own mental map she was certain, she indulged the luxury of just looking at him.
Her eyes traced the contours of his sturdy shoulders, the strength in his arms as he moved. The chiseled lines of his face that could look so cold or so incredibly warm. That mouth, which had kissed her like she’d never imagined possible.
Was it so wrong to want more? If she was willing to take the risk, to toss caution to the wind and enjoy a brief affair, was that so awful?
It was so easy to remember how his arms had felt around her, how his mouth had felt on hers and to extrapolate from there to being free to run her hands over him, to feel his hands running over her. So easy to imagine sharing intimacy with him.
Of course, it might not measure up to her imaginings. Her one serious relationship had taught her that. Not only had she found lovemaking to be rather boring after the initial burst of excitement, but the guy had wounded her deeply by saying she was a lousy lover.
Was she? She had no idea. One person hardly provided an accurate gauge. As one of her girlfriends had said when she was crying about it, “Don’t listen to him. How are you supposed to become a good lover if you don’t have a good teacher?”
Good question. But remembering that comment still had the power to make her hesitate and hold back. She looked down, feeling a sting in her cheeks, a sting of humiliation. Did she really want to take such a risk with Jerrod? What if he felt the same way?
“Allison?”
She didn’t want to look up. If he could read her face as easily as he said, she’d probably reveal this whole embarrassing story with one look. Or at least enough of it to complete her humiliation.
A chair scraped and the next thing she knew he was squatting beside her. “No,” she said quickly, hoping he’d back off. Her thoughts had wandered down trails they shouldn’t have followed, and she just wanted him to back off so they could get back to business. Business was the only safe place to go.
But he didn’t listen. With a strength that surprised her, he lifted her right out of her chair, knocking it over in the process.
“Jerrod!”
“Shh,” he said.
He carried her so easily, one arm behind her shoulders, one beneath her knees. Confused, delighted, hopeful and afraid, one clear thought nevertheless burst through. “Your back!”
“It’s fine,” he answered. Moments later they were in her living room. He set her on her feet, but before she could figure out which way to run, he settled on the sofa and pulled her down so that she straddled his lap. His hands gripped her waist, making it clear she was going nowhere.
Oh, God, how had things become so intimate so quickly? She could feel his heat between her legs and was sure he could feel hers, too. In an instant she was open to him, layers of clothing notwithstanding.
She had to reach forward to prop herself on his shoulders, to resist that last little bit of contact because alarms rang deafeningly in her brain. This could get out of hand so fast. So very fast.
“Jerrod,” she said, but didn’t know what she wanted to say. Yes? No? What are you doing?
“You should have seen your face,” he said. “Whatever was bothering you was bad, wasn’t it?”
Being close to him like this seemed to be sucking all the air from the room. Her heart was skipping beats, and between her legs, awareness of his heat, his closeness, was turning into a steady, aching throb.
“You wanna talk about it?”
She managed to shake her head.
“Okay.” He released her waist and lifted her arms so that she started to fall toward him. The next thing she knew, his arms wrapped tightly around her and held her hard against his chest. Her chin rested against his shoulder, and her nose nearly touched his neck. How was it possible that he could smell so good?
But his scents, a male muskiness tempered by the time they’d spent outdoors, and even with the cooking they’d been doing, enticed her. It took all her willpower not to just burrow in, but she couldn’t help drawing those aromas deep within her.
He hugged her, and she needed it. And while it was an unusual hug, she decided it was probably better for his back than standing slightly bent to hold her. Whatever, it felt so damn good she never wanted it to end.
Everything else slipped away as warmth, heat, even an internal light seemed to fill her. Little by little, her arms inched up and wound around his neck, holding him as he held her.
Even as need pulsed within her, she felt a contradictory relaxation seeping through her. Muscles she hadn’t realized were tight let go, until she felt more like a puddle than a body. He made her let go just with the power of his embrace, and only in the letting go did she realize how much tension she had been carrying within her.
He didn’t say anything, just held her close. He made no moves, although she had a ratcheting desire for more, even though part of her remained frightened.
Better not to know, she told herself, and gave in to the relaxation, the simmering heat, the feelings that might have been.
Right now seemed perfect. Why ruin it?
* * *
Jerrod couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman this way, to provide comfort, to take nothing. Surprised, he realized that he enjoyed it. He got some inkling of why so many of his buddies had married, even though they could be home so rarely and for such short periods. Maybe the only reason that he’d missed that train was because he had insisted on maintaining his emotional distance.
Right now he wasn’t, and he liked it. Something inside him began to unwind from the corkscrew it had been in for so long. Dangerous? Probably. But he was damned if he was going to give it up right now.
Not when she leaned so trustingly against him, not with her arms around his neck. He wouldn’t give that up until he had to.
He didn’t even mind the stiffening of his staff, the throbbing need that demanded to be satisfied. It seemed part and parcel of this experience, this rarer-than-diamonds experience of just holding a woman to offer comfort.
God, who would have thought a simple hug could be so important? Or that he was so hungry for one?
Certainly not him. All that camaraderie and companionship he was used to sharing with his men that had filled his life for so long had apparently been lacking something essential: hugs. Real hugs. The kind he could only get from someone like Allison.
For the past six months, he’d been pretty much solitary. A hermit within his own mind. Grieving, maybe, the way Allison had suggested. But now, he didn’t feel alone at all.
Seldom had he wanted something to go on forever, but he wanted this experience to never end.
After a bit, he dared to rub her back gently, intending only to comfort. A soft sound escaped her and she relaxed against him even more. It was a gift so great he made up his mind to never do anything that might betray the trust she was placing in him.
It was so different from the trust his men had placed in him, trust in his skills and knowledge, in his tactical sense. A trust he had often felt he hadn’t really deserved, even though he’d had to earn every bit of it.
This was pretty much unearned. It came from a woman who had little reason to trust him, and it was independent of anything he might do. It wasn’t earned, it was freely given.
He swelled inside with an amazing sense of worth. That he had a purpose beyond doing, a purpose that came from simply being. It was enough for her that he was here, that he hugged her, held her. Nothing depended on him except these moments of comfort, freely offered and freely accepted.
It damn near turned his world upside down. He’d spent his entire adult life being judged by what he did, not by who he was. Now that he felt like next to nothing at all, she was showing him that something else mattered, too.
&n
bsp; An internal earthquake rocked him, and he knew to his very core that he had been changed forever by this embrace. He couldn’t imagine what it might mean, or where it might lead.
Nor did he get time to even start thinking about it.
The oven timer began to beep from the kitchen.
* * *
“Damn,” said Allison.
“Damn?”
“If I don’t get that casserole out of the oven soon, it won’t be very edible. Right now I’d cheerfully let it burn, but that would be a criminal waste.”
Having been in places where hunger was an ever-present companion, he appreciated her concern, but he was awfully reluctant to let her go. Still, with a sigh, she pushed herself upright and twisted off his lap, reminding him just how badly his body wanted her right now.
Down, boy, he warned himself with genuine amusement. He’d cut his own throat before he risked the trust she had just shown him. He waited a few minutes before following her into the kitchen. The casserole rested on a hot pad, and she was stirring the spaghetti sauce gently.
“Smells good,” he said as if they hadn’t just shared an intimacy that would forever linger in his memory.
“It does, doesn’t it?” she said pleasantly. “I may use some of this for our dinner tonight. Or I could make us something different. I’ll see.”
Our dinner? He liked the sound of that. He only wished he could learn what had made her hang her head like that. Allison didn’t seem like the head-hanging type. Brisk, confident, usually cheerful and certainly competent. But something had brought her low in a way that had troubled him greatly.
But he couldn’t just come out and ask. She’d been quite clear she didn’t want to talk.
Nor could he blame her. There was plenty he didn’t talk about, either, because of the restrictions that hemmed him in or because he simply didn’t want to share them. Things better kept locked in his mind and heart. They might fester there, but that was the price of the life he had chosen.
