“A broken heart can make a man do stupid things,” he said. “Christ, Maggie, he showed up at your doorstep with a box of muffins.”
“I sent him away. It’s over.”
“For now. If he comes back with something more threatening than muffins and I’m not here, you bolt the door and call the cops, okay?”
She nodded. That was the best he could do for now.
“How about I whip us up some eggs and toast?” he asked, opening the egg carton. “That tasteless, fat-free thing didn’t do it for me.”
“You can cook?”
“You don’t need to sound so surprised. Breakfast is my specialty.” Turning around, he opened a cabinet and found a glass bowl. Returning to the island, he cracked two eggs into the bowl and began whipping them with a fork. “I’m hoping if I impress you with my cooking skills you might let me crash in your guest room again. It’s a hell of a lot nicer than the motel.”
She hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We need to maintain a professional relationship.”
He set down the bowl and studied her. Those loose blond curls, that smooth skin and those bright blue eyes—he wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in a long time. Looking at her now, he realized that the reasons he couldn’t have her paled in comparison to his desire.
He turned his gaze to the open fields beyond her. He’d ridden a freaking horse through Afghanistan on a saddle made out of wooden boards and goat hide. He’d negotiated with warlords, evaded capture more times than he wanted to count and completed dozens of successful recon missions. He was a goddamn U.S. army ranger. He could keep his personal and work life separate. The question was could she?
“What happens if we don’t?” he asked.
“If anyone found out, your colonel, my editor,” Maggie said. “It’s not professional. I can’t sleep with you and interview you.”
“Not at the same time.” Hunter went to her side, put his hands on her waist and turned her to look at him. He kept his hold on her, feeling her body tense with nerves and indecision. “But what if we kept the two separate? We’ll do the interviews during the day, and then at night...”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her ear. “At night, you’re mine.”
“Yours?” She lifted her hands to his chest, but she didn’t push him away.
“Whatever drew us together that first night—lust, chemistry, call it whatever you want. It’s still here between us. You feel it, too, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I made a promise to you that first night, Maggie. A promise to blow your fantasies out of the water.” He drew back. “Look at me, Maggie.” She lifted her gaze to meet his and he saw the desire in her eyes.
“But that was just for one night—”
“I’m not asking you for a commitment, Maggie. I don’t do long term. I’m here for as long as this assignment lasts, but that’s it. I’m not going to lie to you. You have my word on that. I’m not your ex. But none of that changes the fact I made a promise to you, and I keep my promises.”
11
ONE MINUTE HE’D been making eggs, the picture of domesticity, and the next he had her body purring with need, asking her to throw away her career for wild leave-your-control-at-the-door sex.
Deep down Maggie knew the career risk was an excuse. Yes, having sex with an interview subject was unprofessional, but once she finished interviewing Hunter, the lines blurred. Even then, fear would linger, holding her back. If she went to bed with him again, he’d claim control of her body, bringing her sexual fantasies to life. Part of her wanted that. Desperately. But she wasn’t sure she was ready. If the panic she’d felt Saturday night had taught her anything, it was that letting a man take charge involved trust. And she wasn’t sure she could trust the injured Ranger standing in front of her.
Hunter cupped her jaw with his hand, his thumb stroking her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Say yes, Maggie.”
“I’ll think about it.” It was the best she could do.
Smiling, he released her and went back to cooking. “Don’t think too long. I’m not here forever.”
No, he wasn’t. This might be her only chance to make her fantasies come true. She clenched her thighs. Work. She had to work before they could play. “But first I want an interview. A real one.”
“Okay.” He opened a cabinet. “Where are your plates?”
“Above the dishwasher.” She hesitated. She had to know, before this thing between them went any further, didn’t she? “There’s something else.”
“Shoot.”