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Jenny was aware of Hunter’s height as they walked to the car in the parking lot under her apartment building. He towered over her, and the way he moved was so smooth and elegant, he might have been gliding.
He put the luggage into the back of his sedan and opened the passenger door for her. He had excellent manners, she thought, and wondered if his mother had taught him the social graces or if he’d learned them in the service. So many questions she wanted to ask, but she knew he’d just ignore them, the way he ignored any questions he didn’t want to answer.
He drove the way he did everything else, with confidence and poise. Near collisions, bottlenecks, slow traffic, nothing seemed to disturb him. He eased the car in and out of lanes with no trouble at all, and soon they were at the airport.
She noticed that he didn’t request seats together. But the ticket agent apparently decided that they wanted them, to her secret delight, and put them in adjoining seats. That was when she realized how lovesick she was, hungry for just the accidental brush of his arm or leg. She had to get a grip on herself!
He sat completely at ease in his seat while she ground her teeth together and tried to remember all the statistics on how safe air travel really was.
“Now what’s wrong?” he murmured, glancing darkly down at her as the flight attendants moved into place to demonstrate emergency procedures.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Then why do you have a death-grip on the arms of your seat?” he asked politely.
“So that I won’t get separated from it when we crash,” she replied, closing her eyes tight.
He chuckled softly. “I never took you for a coward,” he said. “Are you the same woman who helped me set up enemy agents only a few weeks ago?”
“That was different,” she protested. She lifted her blue eyes to his dark ones and her gaze was trapped. Her breath sighed out, and she wondered which was really the more dangerous, the plane or Hunter.
He couldn’t seem to drag his eyes from hers, and he found that irritating. At close quarters, she was beautiful. Dynamite. All soft curves and a sexy voice and a mouth that he wanted very much to kiss. But that way lay disaster. He couldn’t afford to forget the danger of involvement. He had a life-style that he couldn’t easily share with any woman, but most especially with a white woman. All the same, she smelled sweet and floral, and she looked so beautifully cool. He wanted to dishevel her.
He averted his face to watch the flight attendants go through the drill that preceded every flight, grateful for the interruption. He had to stop looking at Jennifer like that.
They were airborne before either of them spoke again.
“These people that you think are following us,” she said softly, “is it the same group that broke into my apartment?”
“More than likely,” he said. “You have to remember that strategic metals tend to fluctuate on the world market according to the old law of supply and demand. When a new use is found for a strategic metal, it becomes immediately more valuable.”
“And an increase in one industry can cause it, too,” she replied.
He nodded. She was quick. He liked her brain as much as her body, but he wasn’t going to let her know that. “We didn’t 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
