First the car, now the house—Hunter had a feeling this mission wouldn’t be as easy as he’d anticipated. Everything about her suggested this was a woman accustomed to being in command. Her need to cede control Saturday night had been an aberration, not the norm for her, which left him with an uphill battle when it came to her book.
But that wasn’t what left his lower body aching. Even if her book hadn’t come between them, they never would have gotten beyond the sex-in-the-hotel-room stage. Not when Little Miss Maggie parked her hundred-thousand-dollar car in front of a two-hundred-year-old mansion and he couldn’t even afford an apartment with street parking for his fifteen-year-old truck.
A one-night stand was one thing, but ask for a repeat performance and a woman like her would expect things he couldn’t provide. In his book, money and commitment went hand in hand. And right now, he couldn’t afford either.
7
SHUFFLING THROUGH THE papers on her desk, Maggie replayed their conversation from the car over and over in her mind. Had he forgiven her for walking out on him? He hadn’t been overly friendly, but she got the sense he meant it when he said his job took priority. At least, she hoped he did.
She unearthed her blue spiral notebook and scooped up her laptop, annoyed that he’d insisted on meeting in her home. She didn’t want him calling the shots. Saturday night she’d followed his orders, but when it came to her book, she was in charge.
She walked back down the hall. Meeting here wasn’t only a bad idea because he’d suggested it. People, men in particular, took one look at her grandfather’s mansion and made assumptions about her. Some assumed her work was merely an amusing diversion, while others believed everything in her life came easy. No one guessed at the hard work it had taken to keep her family home and how the fear of failing, of losing the one stable place in her life, had left her determined to keep control. One wrong move would mean she’d failed her responsibilities.
Maggie made her way to the screened porch, pausing with her hand on the doorknob when she spotted Hunter. She’d seen the man naked and still the sight of him lounging on her patio—his fingers laced behind his head, his biceps flexed and his worn black boots resting on her grandfather’s ottoman—sent a thrill to parts of her body best forgotten while she worked. His toned arms shouted touch me, squeeze me, caress me. Even in profile, his face hinted at pleasure—those lips that had licked and kissed her into paradise, those George Clooney eyes.
But this wasn’t the relaxed pose of a man waiting for a woman. Hunter looked like a lion surrounded by wicker. Large. Imposing. Ready to spring up from his sprawled position and pounce on his prey—her.
Maggie’s grip tightened on her laptop and notebook, but she didn’t look away. Hands down, the man was gorgeous. But if he thought he could run roughshod over her with his sex appeal, he was sorely mistaken. Now was not the time to let him call the shots.
Maggie stepped onto the porch, her fingers drumming against her laptop. Hunter turned to her and she met his brown bedroom eyes. Maybe it was her imagination, but the look in there hinted at take-me-now need. His gaze seemed to say I know your fantasies, your secrets, your vulnerabilities.
“Maggie?”
The sound of his voice went right to her nipples, driving them into tight peaks. He might as well have reached across the room and touched her breasts. Either this man was trying to distract her with sex or the natural chemistry she’d felt Saturday night had pushed her right to the edge—or maybe it was a disastrous combination of the two.
Hunter offered her another seductive smile and Maggie knew it was a trick. Maybe he’d forgiven her for walking out Saturday night, but Chief Hunter Cross still had something up his sleeve.
She looked over his head to the open fields and counted to ten. This was her interview. She was in charge here. Then she turned her gaze back to him, careful not to look straight at him.
“I have my notes, so if you’re ready, I’d like to start.” Thankfully, she sounded like a professional and not a turned-on mess. Still on edge, she sat on the chair across from his and set her laptop down on the table. “Can I offer you tea? Cookies? Coffee?”
“Maybe later.” His sexy smile faded. “First, I need to set the record straight on one thing. I’m not a cowboy and neither are my teammates. I rode a horse because it was my job. While I was there, I didn’t discharge my weapon until we rode out to rescue those women. Not even to slaughter a goat for dinner when we ran out of MREs during our ride.” He paused. “Ready-made meals.”
“I know what they are.” Maggie scribbled a note about the goat and looked up at him. This time, when she peered into his eyes, it wasn’t about sex. The thrill of her job—finding a story and putting it together, discovering new facts—pushed aside her desire. “You want me to change the title of my book.”
Hunter nodded.
“Because you don’t think of yourself as a cowboy,” she said.
“It’s an insult to my team.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “If you start your interviews tossing out the word cowboy left and right like you did this morning, you’re not going to get much out of them.”
/> “Point taken, and we’ll circle back to the title of my book. I’m more interested in when I can arrange to speak with your teammates. Would Thursday work? I can book flights today—”
“Afraid not.” Hunter shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “You need to sit down with Connor, Jed and Mike. I took the liberty of checking their schedules and all of them are on a training mission until Friday. You’ll have to interview them this weekend. They ship out again on Monday.”
“This weekend for Connor, Jed and Mike,” she said. “What about the others? I thought there were six of you.”
“That’s right. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I thought we were going to chat about us first and save the interviews for later.”
Maggie frowned. “I think we said everything that needed to be said in the car.”
Hunter raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head, flexing his biceps. “You really are an all work or all play kind of girl, aren’t you?”
No, she wasn’t. That was part of the problem. Her mind might be turned to work mode, but right now, at this moment, her body was reacting to the sight of his powerful arms.
“Back to the schedule,” she said, pretending to study her computer screen.
“If you insist.” He dropped his arms down. “Riley, our former team leader, left the army after our last mission. He lives about forty-five minutes north of here.” Hunter smiled. “He was with me at the car show before you approached.”