Heroes In Uniform (283 page)

“Going on six seasons, now.”

“It must be very interesting.”

She shrugged, an inscrutable expression on her face. “It's a living.”

“Such enthusiasm.” With a long-suffering look, Rollo looped his arm through Maggie's. “You see what I have to put up with? It
is
interesting. Please, say you'll come visit.” He shot Sally a look. “Soon.”

Maggie expected Sally to be uncomfortable because of his obvious flirting, but she just nodded in agreement. “Please do. I'll have your shirt cleaned and you can pick it up.” She slanted her a sidelong glance. “Bring your non-friend, if you like.”

“Who?” Rollo didn't resist as Sally peeled him off Maggie and led him toward the exit.

Maggie grinned, and stood for a moment watching them go. What a strange pair.

Before she could move, Lori came up and whispered conspiratorially. “Oh, man, he is
so
sexy. Did you see how he disarmed Justin? And how that drunk literally ran for it?”

Maggie was actually afraid Lori might swoon. “Who? Rollo?”

Lori gave her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? Coop! He has such power and authority. What are you waiting for, girl?”

Hell to freeze over?
“Lori, please. I hardly know the man.”

“So what? If you don't want him, I'll be glad to take him off your hands.” Breathless, Lori stole a glance at Cooper, who was standing at the other end of the bar handing Gina an empty pitcher. “Where's he from, anyway?”

“No idea.” Maggie fought an unwelcome spurt of jealousy. “Go for it. I have no interest in him.” None that she could act on, anyway.

“Yeah, right.” Lori brushed at her skirt. “I'll tell you what. I'll give you till the barbecue at the Wilkins ranch day after tomorrow to make up your mind, but then I'm moving in on him.”

Maggie started toward the ladies' room. “Whatever you say, Lori.”

Cooper walked past carrying the refilled pitcher. Lori preened, then glanced back at Maggie. “Remember, after the barbecue,” she said, and strolled off.

She could remember all she wanted. But it wouldn’t do her a bit of good.

For so many reasons, she and Cooper would never happen.

No matter how much she might wish things were different.

Barely Dangerous: Chapter Twenty-Five

Taking a seat at the table, Coop watched Maggie disappear into the ladies.

Damn
.

After the barbecue
. What the hell did
that
mean?

He was catapulted back to the case with a jolt.

He wanted to kick himself. Once again, Maggie had done it to him. Two minutes sitting across from that sensual mouth and those enticing curves and he'd forgotten all about his job and the reason he was in Marigold. And in this bar. Which had nothing to do with that mouth or those curves.

What was she planning to do with Lori after the barbecue?

The Wilkins' annual feast was famous around these parts. Everyone was invited, including the local CDFW patrol wardens, who’d made sure Coop was on the list. It was the event of the year, he was told, lasting far into the night. What could the women possibly be planning to do in the wee hours of the morning
after
the barbecue?

Please God, don't let the poachers be two women
.

On the other hand, didn't that new boyfriend of Lori's work for Wilkins? Maybe they were just planning a threesome.

Yeah, right.

“It’s true,” Phil was saying, “Maggie would give you the shirt off her back.” He snickered at his own joke.

Coop looked around the table at the grinning faces of the Smokeys, and felt their affection for her. He sipped his beer, focusing on the restroom door. Everything he had seen told him Maggie was worthy of respect. How had a woman like her gotten tangled up in a poaching ring?

Or had she...?

His somber gaze met that of Gus. The battalion chief raised his glass. “We like you, Coop. But we're watching out for Maggie. Hurt her, and you’re a dead man, you know that, right?”

“I do.” Coop raised his glass and clicked it to Gus's. “The question is, who'll watch out for me?”

Maggie returned, and slid back onto her chair. She gave him an admiring look. “Wow. What'd you say to that drunk? You must have put the fear of God in him to take off like that.”

Coop regarded her with amusement, his concerns forgotten under the lights sparkling in her eyes. “Old Indian trick.”

She snickered. “What? You threaten to scalp him, too?”

“Far worse.” He grinned. “Threatened to call his wife.”

She laughed. “You didn't! How did you know he was married?”

“That little white stripe on the ring finger gives them away every time.”

“Observant for a writer.” Then her gaze dipped to his left hand.

“Oh, we notice all sorts of things,” he said as he lifted it up for her scrutiny, wiggling the ring finger—which had a dark, even tan. She rubbed her bare arms and tried to pretend she hadn’t just asked if he was married.

He lowered his hand and picked up his glass. “So, how about you?”

She shifted in her seat. “What? Observant? I better be, considering my job.”

He gave her a withering look. “Really?”

She avoided his gaze and grimaced. “No. I’m not married.”

Not that he’d thought for a moment she might be. But it was always good to know for sure.

Slowly, he caressed the wet curves of his beer glass with his thumb. “Boyfriend?”

She followed the movement with reluctant eyes, and he saw the tips of her breasts harden under the thin fabric of her tank top, as they had on the ride into town. Answer enough for him. “I guess not.”

“Jeezus, Wolf,” she muttered. “Stop looking at me like that. I'm not interested.”

He raised a brow at her unconscious use of his name—and at the obvious lie. Oh, she was interested, all right. She just didn't want to be.

Sort of like him.

But he also knew that, sooner or later, he was getting her naked. Regardless of any objections either of them might have. Their chemistry was just too powerful to resist.

“Okay, little pup. You're not interested. Come on, it's late. Let's get out of here.”

She blinked. “So soon? You haven't finished your beer.”

He smiled, remembering the way she’d clung to him on the bike. He couldn’t wait to have her arms around him again. “I shouldn’t. I'm driving.” He stood up and pushed his chair in. Watching her hesitate, he grinned. “Unless you want to?”

She looked at him suspiciously. “
Uh
, no, I better not. I’ve had two beers.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave her a cocky grin. “Okay. I’m happy to drive. But no hanky-panky on the back seat.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny, Wolf. Bye, everyone. See you later.”

She pointedly ignored the guys’ eyebrow waggling and knowing looks as they headed for the door, but Coop couldn’t resist looking over his shoulder and waggling his own right back at them.

They exited to a chorus of hoots and howls.

“Idiots,” she muttered as the door slammed behind them.

He just laughed, and guided her out into the dark parking lot behind the bar. They headed for the Yamaha.

“By the way, nobody ever calls me Wolf,” he said as they walked. “Outside of my clan.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“They know what would happen to them if they did.” He winked. “But I just might make an exception in your case. I kind of like it when you call me Wolf.”

“Just getting you back for that pup thing.” She shrugged. “But maybe I will. It suits you.”

“How's that?” he drawled, ready to hear the usual corny lines
wasichu
women spouted about his name.

“Oh...you’re a man of action. Proud. A bit shaggy.”

He chuckled. At least she was original.

She glanced over at him consideringly. “A loner. Cunning.” She looked away, her smile fading. “Dangerous.”

Interesting choices.

“Okay, I'll give you shaggy. A lone wolf? Definitely.” He searched his pockets for the keys. “Dangerous?” His mind filled with visions of her deadly curves. “No more than you are, woman.”

She stopped behind him when they reached the bike. “Me? Dangerous? Don't be ridiculous.”

An incredulous snort caught in his throat. No, she was right. She wasn't dangerous. He peered over at her shadowed features. More like fucking lethal. Lethal to his wits. Lethal to his libido. Possibly lethal to his career, if he didn’t get his head screwed on straight.

Not to mention lethal to those bears...

“Woman, if you were any more dangerous, they'd have to carry me out on a stretcher.” He handed her over her helmet.

She frowned as she took it. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

Yeah. Like he was really going to get into that.
Nice try
.

“What do you think?” he muttered.

She gave him a penetrating look. “I think maybe it means you’re hoping I’ll forget to lock my door tonight.”

He stepped closer to her. Right up in her face. “You really think a locked door is going to stop me?” He smiled as he let his gaze drift over her pebbled breasts. Then he started to unbutton his work shirt.

Her lips parted and she took a swift step backward, nervously eyeing his parting buttons. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He stripped off his shirt. “You'll freeze in that flimsy tank top.” He dropped the shirt around her shoulders. “It's not much, but put this on.”

She rubbed shivers on her arms but didn’t touch the shirt. “No need. I'll be fine.”

“The wind'll be cold when it whips over you.”

She looked at his bare chest. He hadn’t worn anything under the shirt. “What about you?”

“I'm Canadian, remember? Part polar bear.” He mounted the bike and pushed the starter.

She fingered the sleeves dangling over her arms.

He slid on his gloves and flipped on the headlight. Over the roar of the engine, he ordered, “Just put on the damn shirt. It’s not going to bite.”

Barely Dangerous: Chapter Twenty-Six

Maggie relented, and pulled on his shirt.

Immediately, she was surrounded by a deliciously unmistakable male scent. The kind of scent that any cologne company would pay big bucks to capture in a bottle. The kind that jammed a woman’s hormones into overdrive. A scent that was saturated with
his
unique pheromones, every one of which had her name written all over it.

He beckoned her onto the bike with a quick jerk of his head. She jammed her helmet on, then climbed behind him, and tried not to breathe.

His smooth, naked torso gleamed blue in the light of a neon sign in the bar's rear window. With his long black hair and his leather gloves, he looked like every woman's wet dream. His shoulder blades and well-defined muscles threw indigo shadows over the huge expanse of his bare back and arms. Broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist, disappearing into the low-slung jeans riding his hips.

Lord almighty
. Where the hell was she going to put her hands?

Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, she slowly, gingerly, placed her hands on his waist. His flesh jumped at her touch, and she felt a spasm run through his body as he abruptly straightened. She tightened her grip on him, and his skin rippled with goose bumps under her fingers.

Her senses reeled with the touch and the spicy scent of him. Visions of two naked bodies exploded into her mind.

She jerked her hands off him, flung herself off the bike, and practically ripped his shirt off. “I can't do this. I'll take my chances with the wind.” She tossed the work shirt at him. “Put it back on.
Please
.”

He inhaled deeply, and she could practically hear him silently counting to ten. “Fine.” He grabbed the shirt and pulled it back on. “No problem.” Exhaling roughly, he shook his hair free of the collar and buttoned it all the way up to the top button. “Better?”

Hardly
. She knew she was fighting a losing battle trying to stay away from him. The thought sank like a lead weight to the pit of her stomach.

She nodded, climbed back on, and after a slight hesitation, put her hands on his thankfully covered waist. “Ready.”

He piloted the bike down the alley and out onto the deserted highway, then picked up speed as they cruised out of the sleeping village.

Damn
. He was right. The wind was viciously cold against her skin. She shivered, and snuggled a fraction closer to his back.

He must have felt it, because he pulled her hand around to his stomach and laid one arm protectively over hers, resting his smooth leather glove on the back of her hand. The warmth of their close contact soothed her chills enough that, after a moment, she sighed and wound her other arm around him in a tight embrace.

Her breasts and pebble-hard nipples pressed into his back, and she knew he had to be feeling them...along with her legs parted around his hips and gripping his thighs. Despite the cold, a pool of moist heat was gathering between them.

She let a low groan escape into the wind, and leaned forward in exquisite torture.

He rocked the bike into high gear. The faster he went, the closer she squeezed into him. He was doing it on purpose. She knew he was. But somehow, she didn’t have the will to protest. She was too freaking cold.

Her own fault
. Next time she wouldn’t lend out her flannel shirt.

Wait.
Next time?

Oh,
hell
no. This was not happening ever again. She’d learned her lesson. She shivered again. But this time, it wasn’t from the cold.

He tightened his glove around her hand and, to her shock, slipped it up under his shirt. She tensed and tried to pull away.

He held her firm.

Her heartbeat doubled, pounding against his back, when he brought her icy hand even farther up his chest. She felt him suck in a breath, and a shiver rippled down his torso as he pressed her hand to the middle of his abs. From the chill? Or from her touch...?

She barely resisted the urge to brush her fingers over his tight nipple to find out.

He gave her hand a squeeze, then pulled his out and resumed steering.