Heroes In Uniform (292 page)

He gave her a look. “Yeah. You've made that abundantly clear.” He slid the wide strap of the shotgun he'd just fetched from his camper off his shoulder, and cradled the gun in his arms.

She gasped and jumped back.

“But don't worry,” he added. “I'm not taking it personally. I know we have a few issues to resolve.” He smiled. “After that, you're welcome to throw yourself at me, too.”

She made a face, then eyed the shotgun warily. “Expecting trouble, or do you always shoot your trout?”

He laughed. “You’re funny when you’re not insulting me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you if you take that thing along,” she said, planting her cute pink sneakers in the dirt.

His lifted a brow. “Is that a fact.”

“That”—she crossed her arms—“is a fact.”

He didn't want to leave the gun. There were already too many wild cards in this case, and he had an uneasy feeling things were about to start heating up.

Yeah, yeah. Again, with the instincts.

But he wanted her with him more. Fool that he was. “Okay. I'll leave it here.” Not that it mattered. His Glock was in the fishing creel.

She frowned. “Why the sudden desire to carry a weapon?”

“You really have to ask?” he said, and headed for the tent. “I'll just get the fishing gear.”

She was watching him uneasily and worrying the edges of a paperback when he backed out with a rucksack, two rods, and a pair of waders. He’d left the shotgun under his sleeping bag.

“Sorry, I only have one set,” he said, holding up the waist-high rubber boots.

She looked puzzled. “You need more than one?”

He surveyed her legs, and she tugged self-consciously at the hem of her shorts. “The water might be a little chilly, dressed like that,” he said.

“Water?” She looked at him askance. “Surely, you didn't think I'd actually
fish
?”

He set the fishing rods carefully aside. “No?”

“Fishing's a guy thing.”

He gave her an amused look. “Like riding motorcycles, you mean?”

Her return gaze was sharp as a dagger and smug as a princess. “For your information, our male ancestors only hunted animals because they were too lazy to do the hard work of gathering fruits and berries and herbs and nuts. Oh, yeah, and because they were too impatient to have seven snotty kids hanging off their furs. So, they took off with the boys and did a little fishing, or killed a mammoth or something.” She waved an arm. “It's got nothing to do with motorcycles.”

Momentarily stunned into silence, he rocked back on his heels. Then he almost choked with laughter. “Wow. I'd love to hear what
Nimosom
would say to your theory. The aurora borealis would have nothing on the sparks that would fly between you two.” He snorted out a final chuckle. “So, Ms. Anthropologist, you're saying this inborn need to go fishing is in my genes, but not in yours?”

Her chin went up. She tried to keep a straight face but her eyes were twinkling too much to hide. “Clearly, I’m not wearing jeans. But you can wear anything you like, including those stupid rubber boots, as long as you don't expect me to put worms on your hooks.”

“
Ah
.” He nodded. “So that's it. Not to worry, I'm not into worms myself. I prefer flies.” He held up a tackle box with rows of clear square compartments. Each one contained a different tiny, colorful, insect.

“Oh, Coop, they're beautiful!” she said, and reached out reverently to touch the box. “They look like they'll fly away when you open the lid. How in the world can they make them so lifelike?”

He smiled with pride. “I'll show you how, sometime.”

She looked at him in wonder. “You made these? Yourself?”

“It's not so difficult.” He winked. “Just takes a little hard work and patience.”

She grinned. “
Touché
.”

Their eyes met and locked for an endless moment. He had an almost overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss her. It nearly killed him not to.

Instead, he reached back into the tent and pulled the box of condoms he’d bought at Tommy’s out from his duffle.

Her eyes got big as saucers as she watched him take out a foil packet and rip it open. “Cooper...
uh
—” She swallowed.

He slid a hand into his front pants pocket—

“What do you think you’re—”

—and pulled out a box of matches.

Her mouth dropped open.

He waggled his brows. “I like to be prepared when I take a woman out in the forest.”

Her scandalized expression was priceless.

Slipping the matchbox into the end of the condom, he unrolled it over the box and tied the end loosely. “In case we get wet.” Depositing it in his fishing vest, he grinned wickedly. “Never know when a lady will want to light a fire.” He held up another foil packet and stuck it in his back pocket. “In case we tear the first one.”

Her tongue skittered across her lower lip. “Coop—”

“Lighting a fire.”

“Wolf, I don't think—”

He decided to take pity on her. Sort of. “Don't worry, baby. If I were thinking along the lines
you’re
thinking, I'd bring a hell of a lot more than one.”

Which, of course, he had. In the fishing creel, along with his Glock.

She looked like she was counting to ten. “Have I mentioned lately how obnoxious you are?”

“Let's get out of here,” he said, grabbing the gear. “I suddenly feel the need to stand up to my waist in cold water.”

Barely Dangerous: Chapter Fifty-One

He was baiting her
.

Deliberately. With malice aforethought.

Maggie glanced out at Cooper’s graceful form in the river eloquently whipping the line back and forth over his head, the end barely skipping over the surface, until it finally came to rest and floated slowly downstream.

After the first hour, he had stripped off his vest and shirt in the late morning heat. He now stood in the water, his wet, naked torso rising from his waders, subtly flexing his well-defined muscles under the thin guise of casting. A faint breeze ruffled the end of the raven braid falling over his broad, sundrenched shoulder.

Maggie was burning up—and it wasn't because of the damn sun.

She scowled and tried again to read the paragraph she'd been working on for over half an hour.

It was no use. She had to get away from this walking candy store.

She flopped over in annoyance and lay on her stomach, resting her cheek against the cool, moist earth of the river bank. Letting the book slip from her hands, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. The soft gurgling of the river drifted over her, along with the wind rustling in the pines. In the distance, a mountain jay chattered.

She felt connected to the ground below her cheek, and through that link she could feel a low current flowing into her, warm and comforting, almost as if the earth itself was filling her with its calm strength. She ran her fingers through the long strands of grass growing around where she lay, and breathed deeply of the meadow perfume. It had a spicy, herbal, dusky odor.

She inhaled again, smiling in enjoyment of the powerfully sensual experience. Her nostrils flared slightly at the heady, almost masculine scent. Opening her eyes, she focused slowly.

Cooper was watching her, lounging not two feet away. His discarded waders half-floated in the shallow water below them. “Sure you don't want to try it?”

She smiled and shook her head. “You make it seem so simple, but I know damn well it's hard.”

Stifling a chuckle, he turned on his side to face her and propped his head on one hand, the other toying with his bear claw necklace. A devilish smile crept onto his lips. “Nah. You just hold that rod in your hand and stroke it on down. The rest just follows naturally.”

Her lips twitched. “Careful, rod man. Better check your fly. I think it's coming undone.”

“
Mmm
. Best you grab it before the big one gets away.”

She cracked a smile, then rested her chin in a fist and gazed at the river. “I don't think so. I've seen your lures. With that equipment, you could catch anything you set your sights on. But the hook’s too sharp for me.”

Sliding closer to her, he reached out and drew a finger around her ear, pushing a couple of errant hairs behind it. “It’ll go in smooth as velvet, with plenty of line. For sure, the fish will enjoy the rod play as much as the fisherman.”

She closed her eyes and fought the fires flaring deep in her center. Her blood chanted loudly in her ears. It would be so easy to roll onto her back and reach out for him.

But no. She wouldn't give in.
Couldn't give in
. “I don't believe in catching wild creatures. They should be free to live as they like.”

He withdrew his hand and turned to face the sky. “Well, now. That could be a problem. I like to keep what I catch.” A lazy smile oozed into his voice. “Rub it in oil. Heat it up nice and slow, and then put it on my tongue and sink my te—”

Her eyes sprang open. “Wolf! If you're hungry, how about some lunch?”

She could see the sun's heat radiating off his skin, but it was easy to imagine it was from the heat of their conversation.

“Not what I had in mind.”

Oh, she knew exactly what he had in mind. The memory blazed through her body of his intimate description that morning. Along with that condom in his back pocket.

She could feel her resolve slipping dangerously low.

She yanked it back up. “Gina's, then?” she asked.

His resigned sigh floated away with the breeze. “Ah, Maggie. You sorely test a man.”

She smiled weakly. “I do my best.”

He sat up. “How about a nice, cold swim?”

Gazing wistfully at the water, she sat up, too. “I didn't bring a suit.”

He grinned incorrigibly. “Neither did I. Hey, you've already seen my lures, right?” With a laugh, he stood up and started to unfasten his jeans.

Good Lord in heaven
. He'd do it, too.

She leapt to her feet and grabbed his wrist. “No, wait!” A lump in her throat nearly blocked her breath. “You stay and have your swim. I've got to get back to work.” His skin was burning hot under her fingers. “Thanks for a wonderful morning.” She saw disappointment in his eyes, but not surprise. She slipped her hand down over his. “Coop, I— I really wish things were different.”

He grasped her fingers and pulled them up to his lips. He held her gaze as he kissed them one by one.

She felt herself float into the dark recesses of his eyes, as if she were a wisp of smoke drifting out into the great expanse of night sky. There was a whole universe out there in his eyes, calling her, pulling her in.

She closed her own against the intensity of the vision.

He kissed her palm, and said gently, “Yeah. Me too.”

Barely Dangerous: Chapter Fifty-Two

Coop waited until Maggie disappeared around the bend in the river before he ripped off his jeans and jumped into the icy water.

This whole situation was ludicrous. He wanted her in the worst way...and in the best way. But he wanted her to come to him of her own free will. No blackmail. No smoking. No seduction.

But he had lied—he was not patient. He was so damned impatient it was killing him.

When had that ever happened to him?
He’d always been so cool and unflappable—up until these past few days. Hell, he could normally sit stakeout for weeks without getting antsy. And here he was, unable to last three days without going into a tailspin over a woman.

He was totally losing it.

He shook the water from his hair after dunking his head back in the river. Why was he putting himself through this torture? Regardless of her protestations of innocence, she was still a
suspect
. She was
hiding
things from him.
Lying
to him.

How could he want someone like that?

Even if she turned out not to be involved in the poaching, she obviously didn't trust him. Not with her body. Not with her secrets—whatever they were.

Nimosom
had once told him, “If you want something and it alludes you,
you
must become what
it
wants.”

Coop had always found a way to follow that advice. It’s what made him so good undercover. But, once again, he was being frustrated by this case and this woman. He was sure if he could just crack one or the other, the whole house of cards would tumble.

Well, tonight was the Wilkins barbecue. He would watch her carefully, and hope the poachers would be there, too...and that he would be able to identify them. With or without her help.

If that didn't work, maybe he should just cry uncle, call Jack, and turn the whole damned case over to him.

Hell
. He must really have it bad, even to consider resigning a case over a woman. What was his world coming to?

He got out of the freezing water, hiked back upstream, and shivered on the riverbank until the sun warmed and dried him. Stretching out, pulled out some fruit and a couple of pieces of buffalo jerky to munch on. The grass wafted gently back and forth around him as he basked naked in the warm sun.

And thought,
damn
, there was only one thing missing to make this a perfect moment.

Or rather...one person.

And didn’t that just suck.

Barely Dangerous: Chapter Fifty-Three

Maggie shaded her eyes against the sun and peered up the tree-covered hillside. She was making her way back to the lookout tower along the riverbank she and Cooper had come by earlier that morning. She’d just heard an odd noise.

Where was it coming from? She walked slowly, searching the hillside.

Okay, so she didn’t really need to get back to work right away. That had been a slight exaggeration. All right, a bald-faced lie. What she had needed was to escape from the powerful temptation Cooper had been dangling in front of her. He’d been merciless in his flirting, flaunting his naked torso, flexing his corded muscles, branding her with sensual looks.

What had brought about the change? True, he had kissed her last night. A carnal, heart-stopping kiss. But it had not been a kiss designed to entice her to his bed. Rather, it had seemed almost like a threat, showing her how powerful he was, how easily he could control her, should he feel the need to. And then he had demonstrated just how capable of controlling her he really was, by smoking her. That had been the scariest, most bizarre experience of her life.