Morgan's Hunter

by Cate Beauman

  Hunter brushed a strand of hair that escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “I’m glad you didn’t.” Trying to keep the mood light, he gave her a gentle elbow bump in the side. “You did a good job. You’re in one piece.”

  She looked like she was ready to drop. Her green shirt clung to her, soaked with sweat. Her flushed face dripped from forehead to chin with fat drops of perspiration.

  Morgan cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m ready for a dip in a ten-foot pool, but I guess a cool shower with stream water will have to do.” She took a long drink of her Gatorade and turned to walk again.

  Hunter fell into step beside her. “Why don’t we sit down for a few minutes?”

  She shook her head. “No, I want a shower.”

  “We’re a good two miles away from that. I want to rest.” He could’ve kept going for miles, but worry tugged at him. Her cheeks were so flushed, her hair soaking wet.

  “Then go for it. I’m going to keep on. I know where we are now. Catch up when you’re ready.” She looked at him. “I’m—I’m glad you made it back safely.” She cleared her throat again and pulled ahead.

  They walked the last two miles in silence.

  Morgan saw the knee-deep pool she waded in the night before; the ash pile they doused as they left earlier that morning. It seemed like days since they’d been there, not hours. She still couldn’t believe what they found.

  She dropped her pack with a thud by the edge of the quick moving stream, took her boots off and walked into the chilly water with her socks and khaki pants on. Tipping her head skyward, she moaned as the cool liquid moved against her legs.

  Hunter wandered over with the shower bag he dug from her pack. “Feels pretty good, huh?”

  “It’s heaven.”

  Morgan watched him fill the bag and tie it to the tree where they showered the night before. He stripped off his filthy shirt, took off his grubby pants, turned the nozzle on full blast.

  The steady stream of water rained over him. His boxers clung like a second skin. Morgan couldn’t help but stare. Desire tugged low in her belly as she remembered the weight of his magnificent body pressed against hers.

  She studied every muscled inch of him when he closed his eyes and let all five gallons of water drain from the bag onto his back without picking up the bottle of Campsuds.

  Shaking her head, Morgan snapped out of her sex-hazed trance and put her effort into maintaining her balance while she stripped down to her panties and green t-shirt in the stream. Despite where her thoughts drifted, she felt her body temperature returning to normal even if her pulse still pounded. She had no plans to leave the blissful coolness of the water anytime soon.

  Her pants landed on the bank with a wet plop as Hunter walked back to the river. He waded in, filled the bag for the second time. “I’ll give you fair warning. I’m taking it all off for a good rinse.” He gestured to his underwear. “If you don’t want your sensibilities shocked, I wouldn’t look over by the tree for the next few minutes.”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow, giving him no hint to where her mind had wandered just moments before. “I’ll try to control myself.”

  Hunter smiled and sent a tidal wave-sized splash her way.

  She gasped as chilly water soaked her shirt, laughed and splashed him back. He cast another wave in her direction. Unwilling to be outdone, she gave as good as she got. Before long, they both dripped from head to toe, breath heaving, and called a truce.

  While Hunter tied the shower bag to the branch again, Morgan got out of the water. She dug through her pack until she found the ultra long-range radio she brought with them. She tuned into the frequency she knew the northeast ranger’s station used and tried to radio in. “Robert, Miles, are you there? Can you read me?”

  She only heard static.

  “Northeast Station, do you read? This is Morgan Taylor checking in.”

  When no one responded, she shrugged, turned it off. She put it back in her bag, returned to the deliciously cool water, unaware that the radio had been fitted with a beacon that activated when the radio powered on.

  “I can’t begin to tell you how good it feels to be clean,” Hunter said. “Your turn, if you want one.”

  Morgan glanced over, lost her breath. He stood grinning, wrapped from waist to calf in a navy blue towel. Droplets glistened on his powerful body. He was perfectly beautiful and she, desperately in love. Stunned, shaken, she stared down into the pool of clear water.

  Hadn’t she just looked at him minutes before? She hadn’t felt anything then but a heavy dose of lust and longing. Yet something had changed in a flash of a moment, and she knew she would never be the same.

  Morgan sat back against a large, slippery rock, shaking her head, trying to deny the overwhelming feelings rushing through her. “Yeah, I’ll take a turn. Just give me a minute,” she said dully.

  “You okay?”

  She looked up. Hunter stood before her, studying her. She stepped from the water, desperate for space and time to think. “Yes, of course. I’m just ready for a shower and a real meal.”

  He put his finger under her chin. “You need to rest.”

  “I’m fine. In fact, I think we should keep going after I shower and we eat.”

  “Not happening. You’re done for today.”

  Her eyes met the concerned blue of his, making her want. When he was kind, when he looked at her as if he gave a damn, she wished for something that could never be. Her voice chilled in defense. “What do you care? The rich-bitch princess wants to keep moving.”

  He winced as she pulled away. “Morgan.”

  She walked backward toward the shower, meeting his stare. “I’m sure if I tell Daddy I was brave and kept going, even though I broke a nail, I’ll get a matching bracelet for that new diamond necklace. I’ll be stripping down to nothing, so if you don’t want your sensibilities shocked, you might want to turn around.”

  Steadier, she turned without giving him another glance.

  CHAPTER 20

  WHILE MORGAN SHOWERED, HUNTER SET up camp. After staking the two-person tent to the hard-packed ground, he crawled inside, unrolled the navy blue sleeping bags, set them on their mattress pads. He placed the small LED lantern at the head of the beds as his mind wandered back through the events of the day.

  With a weary sigh, he sat on his haunches, rubbed his fingers over the tight knots of tension squeezing the base of his neck like a vise. Christ, it had been a long one. There’d been too many close calls. He thought of the guard that all but stepped on Morgan, the flyover that missed discovering them by seconds.

  No one could argue he wasn’t earning his pay.

  He was ready to finish this job, hoped to wrap it up in the next seventy-two hours. It was time to get the hell out of Yellowstone. If they could make it to Bozeman without encountering any more complications, he could check this assignment off as another success. Morgan would return to D.C. in one piece—with the answers she’d come looking for—and he would be able to give Stanley the coordinates to bust up the mine.

  But first they had to walk the several miles back to the cabin and actually avoid another catastrophe. He was starting to wonder if that was possible. Morgan seemed to attract trouble like a magnet attracted metal. Wherever she went, disaster wasn’t far behind.

  Despite the chaos they encountered throughout the afternoon, Hunter couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. Hell if he knew why that amused him. She was a piece of work.

  Their conversation moments before played through his mind, and his smile spread to a grin. She’d certainly told him where to go with her frosty words and firey green eyes.

  Morgan could hold her own, of that he had no doubt. For such a tiny thing, she had one hell of a bite. It was easy to forget Morgan had a soft, sweet side and could be just as vulnerable as the next person. She didn’t show it often, which made it all the more powerful when she did—like earlier today when the guard almost found her.

  Hunter’s smile vanishe
d, his jaw clenched tight as he thought of the way she’d looked at him—pale, terrified. She’d almost undone him when she crawled into his lap, wrapping herself around him like a vine.

  Her heart had pounded against his while she trembled and burrowed into him. As the scent of her soft hair surrounded him and her body pressed to his—molding perfectly as if she was made for him—tenderness engulfed him. He would have done anything to make everything okay, to make her feel safe again.

  Hunter unclenched his bunched fists, let out another weary breath. It was definitely time to go. Seventy-two more hours, he promised himself, then he could put this all behind him and get back to his life in L.A.

  With everything settled and little else to do, he backed out of the tent, started a fire for an early supper. He hoped the busy work of preparing a meal would distract him from his unwanted thoughts.

  By the time Morgan wandered to their small camp—towel clad and hair dripping—chili simmered on the cook stove. Hunter sat comfortable and more relaxed in his convertible shorts, reading the novel he brought along.

  He flicked a glance at her, sincerely wishing he hadn’t as a hot ball of lust settled uncomfortably in his belly. He knew just what was bundled under her towel and wanted his hands all over her soft skin. Was she trying to make him crazy?

  “I told you I wanted to keep moving,” Morgan said. “It can’t be more than three thirty, four o’clock. We can put in several more hours before we call it a night.”

  Out of self-preservation, Hunter stared at the words in his book. “I’m ready to stop. We’ve had a long day.”

  “I want to radio our location in to Miles and Robert tomorrow morning, when we get farther down in elevation. We have to tell them what we saw.”

  Hunter’s head whipped up. His eyes locked on hers as a shiver ran down his spine. If only she knew how closely her thoughts mirrored her doomed team’s actions. He wanted to tell her about Shelly’s journal, to give her the rest of the answers she sought, but he couldn’t risk it. The less she knew the better. “I think we should skip the radio and head back to the station. We’ll book a flight home and tell your father when we get to D.C.”

  She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. We’ll radio in tomorrow. I tried while you showered, but I only got static.”

  He shot up, grabbed Morgan’s arm. “You did what? Shit, Morgan, why did you do that?”

  She yanked free of his grip. “Why wouldn’t I? We found an illegal mining operation on federally protected land. They’re rangers. That’s exactly what I’m supposed to do.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “I just did. What’s your problem?”

  “I don’t have one. You shouldn’t be using the radio, that’s all.” He thought quickly. “The guards at the mine have one. They might be able to pick up our frequency.”

  “Oh God, I didn’t think of that. All I got was static. I don’t think anyone heard anything.”

  “I’m sure everything’s fine.” He hoped. “Just tell me before you want do something like that.”

  “Fine.” She walked away, bent down, unzipped the tent and crawled in.

  “Chili’s ready,” Hunter called over his shoulder.

  No response. He hadn’t heard a peep from Morgan for several minutes. Curious, he got up, wandered over to the tent, peered through the black-mesh top he’d left open for ventilation.

  Morgan lay on her side, asleep, with her towel still snug and knotted at her breasts. His first thought was to wake her; he decided against it—she needed to rest more than she needed to eat.

  Hunter turned to leave when the gouge on the heel of her hand caught his attention. He winced, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he bent closer to examine the deep, purple bruising surrounding the ugly looking gash.

  “Ouch, that looks nasty,” he muttered.

  He would help her clean it when she woke up.

  The stars winked in the sky as Morgan opened her eyes. Cricket songs echoed in the night as the stream rushed over rocks creating a musical tinkle. She could just make out Hunter’s profile from the light of the half moon. His chest rose and fell with each strong, steady breath.

  She sat up and her towel loosened around her breasts. She tucked it tight again, pulled back the sleeping bag Hunter must’ve covered her with. The movement caused her injured hand to throb.

  Skimming her hand along the bottom of the tent, she tried to find the small flashlight she knew they kept between their beds. Her fingertips made contact with the cool metal handle. She grabbed hold, put it under her sleeping bag, hoping to have enough light to see but not wake Hunter.

  Blinking, squinting from the dim glow, she examined her palm. It had been bandaged with gauze and medical tape. He’d cleaned it too. When she moved her fingers her palm stung like fire. How had she slept through that?

  Morgan kept the flashlight on while she pushed forward, grabbing the tank top folded at the foot of her makeshift bed. The zipper slid down with her movements and she jumped as Hunter sprang up to sitting, reaching for his gun.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was going to put on the clothes you laid out for me.”

  Hunter squinted, took a deep breath, scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s all right,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

  Morgan pushed forward again, lost her balance, caught herself with her sore hand. “Ouch!”

  Hunter took her by the wrist, grabbed the flashlight from her sleeping bag. His knuckles brushed her leg, and she suppressed a shiver. He put the handle in his mouth, shined the light down on the gauze, spread her palm flat with both of his hands.

  Morgan tried to tug free as pain radiated through her palm in time with her heartbeat. “Hey, be nice. That hurts.”

  Hunter took in the illuminated wound. “That’s a nasty little cut you’ve got. It doesn’t look red or swollen around the bandage, so I don’t think we have to worry about infection. We just have to keep it clean.”

  Her brow winged up. “I’m pretty sure it’s never been cleaner. Did you leave any antiseptic in the bottle or just dump it all on tonight? It stings like crazy.”

  Hunter grinned. “I only used what I needed. There’s plenty left for tomorrow.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes, smiled as she pulled her hand away. “Great.”

  Hunter turned on the LED lantern, shut off the flashlight. “Here, why don’t you get dressed. It’s cold out.”

  They both reached forward, grabbing for Morgan’s shirt. Her head connected with Hunter’s chin.

  He pulled back, rubbing his chin, swore. “I know you have a hard head but Christ, Morgan.”

  She laughed. “Oh stop. It’s not that bad.”

  He continued to massage the sore spot, scowled. “It is from where I’m sitting.”

  She picked up the flashlight lying on his sleeping bag, shined the beam in his face.

  Hunter squinted, blocking the glare with a hand. “What are you doing, besides blinding me?”

  Morgan leaned forward. “I’m just making sure I don’t need to perform emergency surgery. A bump to the chin can be a life threatening injury.”

  Hunter reached for the flashlight she kept moving out of reach. When he finally grabbed it, he gave her a playful shove. “Smart ass.”

  She fell back laughing while he grinned. Her hair clouded around her face as she looked up at him.

  Hunter’s smile disappeared. Her laughter quieted as she watched his eyes travel down her towel-clad body.

  Morgan sat up for her shirt, staring, paralyzed, by his gaze. The anger and disdain she saw last time weren’t here tonight. Her heart stuttered as she recognized hot, needy desire and wanted.

  Hunter grabbed the front of her towel, pulled her to him. Their breath mingled before he took her mouth. A moan of surrender escaped her throat as he put his hands on her face, changing angles, deepening the kiss. Morgan got to her knees, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling them closer, desperate to feel his body against
hers.

  He drew her back, looking into her eyes, tugged the towel from her. She quivered when his big hand lazily caressed her body from the valley of her breasts to just above her center, making her shudder. His hand came back, stopping short of her ribs.

  “I want you, Morgan.” He put his arm around her waist, moved her until she sat on his lap.

  She felt him, hard and ready, through his navy blue shorts. With her lips a whisper from his, she smiled, wrapped her legs around his waist. “Then take me.”

  Hunter groaned as his firm lips captured hers; their tongues danced and tangled. He got to his knees with her legs still around him, laid her on his sleeping bag.

  She sighed as he brushed kisses along the soft skin of her neck, moved to her sensitive collarbone, nibbled the side of her breast, making her whimper as his feathered touches set off a storm of need.

  His fingertips whispered over her nipples. She sucked in a breath as the teasing sensations drove her mad. Hunter’s blue eyes, darker in the moonlight, stared into hers as she put her hands on top of his, pressing his callused palms over her breasts. “Touch me, Hunter. Touch me.”

  He moved her hands, continued with his caresses. “I’m taking my time. I’m going to make you as crazy as you’ve been making me.”

  Goose bumps covered her skin as she shivered from his strained promise.

  Hunter skimmed his knuckles up and down the sides of her waist until she gasped. He showered her with hot, moist kisses from the velvety underside of her breasts, stopping at her belly button. She trembled as sensations built deep, desperate for release. “Please, Hunter.”

  He walked his fingers down her hips; his mouth followed, grazing her with his teeth, making her moan. He ran his tongue along her firm inner thighs, stopping short of fulfillment.

  She gasped when she felt his warm breath against her center, his lips a brush over her skin, teasing. More. She needed more. Just a little more pressure to send her flying. Her fingers were wild in his hair, gripping, pushing him forward, urging him to finish her. Her hips moved back and forth, waiting, waiting.