Bear Claw Bodyguard. Jessica Andersen

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      She wasn’t wearing her windbreaker or glasses anymore, and those changes made way too much of a difference. Gone was the impression of an adolescent owl or a teenager wearing her boyfriend’s jacket. In its place was the sight of a woman who might not be built big, but she was built right. Her legs were long in proportion to her body, and her slim waist accentuated with a webbed utility belt fitted through the loops of cargo pants that hugged her hips and moved lovingly with her as she came toward him. Her T-shirt was tight across a pair of surprisingly full breasts and snugged in at her waist and across a flat stomach that showed just a hint of a feminine curve.

      She was carrying a knapsack over one shoulder, and the combined effect made him think of coeds and college. Hesitating near the breakfast bar, she said, “What’s wrong?”

      In other words, he was staring. And that thing he’d been thinking about there not being a problem with attraction? Yeah. That had just gone straight out the window. She might not be long, cool or blonde, but he was attracted all right.

      Yanking his attention to the last of the gear he hadn’t yet put in the truck, he set his jaw. “Nothing. Everything’s just fine.” He would make damn sure of it, in fact. Grabbing the last of the stuff, he turned away. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

      As far as he was concerned, the sooner she finished her studies and headed back wherever she had come from, the better, because right now he couldn’t afford the distraction. He had to protect her, look for clues on the militia and get back on the Death Stare case as quickly as possible. The victims might be nothing more than junkies to some, but as far as he was concerned, they were just as important as any other group of victims. Which meant that he didn’t have time for big brown eyes or surprising breasts, or the way his body tightened as he heard her come outside behind him.

      And even if he did have time, he reminded himself as he stowed the last of his gear, he wouldn’t be spending it with another woman who was just passing through. Been there, done that, bought the tux.

      BY THE TIME Jack parked the SUV in a small clump of scrubby, stunted trees that looked exactly like the last thousand such clumps they had passed since leaving Ranger Station Fourteen, Tori wasn’t sure which was worse: the way he was grimly ignoring her, or the fact that it bothered her far more than it should.

      Throughout the drive, one part of her had been cataloging the passing scenery, tapping notes into her handheld and generally getting a feel for the northernmost reaches of the state park and the damage done by the recent drought conditions. Another part of her, though, had been all too aware of Jack as he navigated the rugged one-lane track with deceptive ease and one hand on the wheel. Beneath that layer of calm, though, there was an electric tension that was transmitted in his every shift and breath, and in the few glances he sent her way.

      She didn’t kid herself into thinking that he, too, was far too aware of the small space they were sharing. No, he was undoubtedly still seething over having to babysit a “tree doctor” instead of working other, more important—to him, at least—cases. But even that didn’t seem to be enough to make her hormones cool their jets, because as he climbed out of the SUV and turned back to retrieve a shotgun from a box in the backseat, she caught herself admiring the smooth grace of his big body, and the lethal economy of his practiced movements, which made her feel simultaneously safer and more exposed.

      More, as she set about pulling the nonessentials from her knapsack, lightening the load for her first look around the site, she was acutely conscious of the way he slung the shotgun across his back with an easy, practiced move that brought a shiver of pure feminine appreciation.

      Still, though, while he might be easy on the eyes and practically oozing outdoorsy pheromones, facts were facts: he was a cop; he was a local; and, justified or not, he was making it difficult for her to do her job. Three strikes and you’re out.

      She should do herself a favor and remember that. Focus. She needed to focus, darn it. Forcing herself not to watch him as he walked an ever-widening spiral away from the vehicle, scanning the territory as he went, she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. When she did, the world spun slowly, warning her that she was more tired and jet-lagged than she’d even realized. Which explained her overactive libido but warned her that she needed to pay attention to her surroundings, not her escort. The Colorado backcountry could be seriously unforgiving, as could a mishandled investigation.

      The scuff of a footstep had her straightening and turning to face him, hoping that he couldn’t see anything in her face—not the fatigue, not the knowledge that she wasn’t at her best and certainly not the buzz that entered her bloodstream as he drew close, eyes still scanning their surroundings, then going to the sky as he said, “You’ll have about three hours before we need to turn back, and even at that time we’re going to be getting in later than I like.”

      His voice sounded strange to her after so much quiet between them. He didn’t offer an explanation or apology, but then again, he didn’t owe her either of those things. Regardless of what her hormones thought, they were nothing more than temporary business acquaintances. And if he could keep it professional despite not wanting to be there, she could do the same despite wanting … Well, better not go there.

      Dredging up a professional smile and keeping a tight rein on both her thought process and her tendency to blurt the first thing that came to mind, especially when she felt a little out of her depth, she nodded. “Like I said before, I’ll take what I can get. Are we at the edge of the infected area?” The trees around them appeared normal, with none of the ghostly white filaments she’d seen in the photographs that had been sent to her by the prior Park Service investigator.

      “Yeah. The white stuff starts about fifty feet from here and stretches all the way to the river, which is a few miles away. We can walk it or drive it, your call.”

      She didn’t make the mistake of thinking the “your call” would extend one iota beyond when it suited him, but had to give him credit for trying. “It’ll take me a couple of hours to take preliminary samples and measurements, so parking here and hiking works for me. Then tomorrow I’d like to start from the river and spiral in from there.”

      “Sounds like a plan.”

      It didn’t take her long to select the gear she wanted to carry with her and load it into her knapsack, then jettison a few of the less crucial pieces so she wouldn’t kill herself trying to carry it. Jack stood nearby the whole time, keeping watch. With the shotgun slung across his back and a 9 mm in a hip holster, and his eyes scanning the trees with practiced intensity, he didn’t look like any cop she’d dealt with before. There was no badge or polyester, no subtle twitch that said he was more comfortable with civilization than out in the backcountry. Instead, there was the deep stillness she associated with hunters and spiritualists, though he didn’t strike her as either of those things, or at least not entirely. He was … different, she decided. Unexpected.

      And she really needed to stop trying to figure out her chaperone and do her darned job. “Ready?” she said too brightly.

      He gave her a look that said they weren’t headed off to a picnic and she didn’t need to sound so happy about it, but aloud, he said only, “You take point and I’ll watch our backs. You see anything suspicious, yell out, okay? I don’t care how small or silly it might seem—let me make that call.”

      Sobering, she nodded. “Got it.” Even though given how thoroughly he was scanning their surroundings, she had a feeling he would pick up on anything suspicious way before she even had a clue. She wasn’t sure why that made her nerves worse rather than better, but she was definitely on edge as they headed off along the continuation of the tire-beaten track. She was hyperaware of his walking slightly behind СКАЧАТЬ