The Untamed Hunter. Lindsay McKennaЧитать онлайн книгу.
Two
Maggie rubbed her long fingers together. They were ice cold. They got that way when she was nervous. She stood in her office at OID, waiting. According to Casey, Shep Hunter would arrive at 0900, and after Casey talked to him, Maggie would be buzzed on her desk monitor to come to Casey’s office for a wrap-up on the final details of the mission.
Why, oh why, had she agreed to take the mission? In her angst, Maggie paced the length of her rectangular office, jamming her cold hands into the pockets of her white lab coat. Outside, the day was beautiful. The bright sun and dark green grass and lush trees made her yearn to be astride her Thoroughbred and galloping through the countryside. The sky was so blue it almost made her squint as she looked out the venetian blinds. Her heart and mind swung back to Shep. What a fiery relationship they’d had, each of them bullheaded, each so very sure their own way was the right way.
Maggie ran her fingers through her hair, which she wore loose today because she wasn’t going to be working in the lab. No, today was going to be spent arranging details for a very dangerous mission. Maggie told herself she had agreed to the mission because she understood the impact of anthrax bacteria being dropped by bioterrorists on some unsuspecting city. She couldn’t stand to think she would refuse a mission because the man working with her was an old boyfriend. Actually, Shep had been much, much more than that. Maggie had fallen helplessly in love with him all those years ago. He’d been a star football player while keeping his straight A average at Harvard. He was keenly intelligent, competitive, and he’d loved her with a passion that Maggie had never experienced since.
Sighing, she ran her chilled fingers through her shoulder-length hair once more. “What have you done, Maggie?” she whispered through tight lips as she ruthlessly perused her desk, which looked like a tornado had hit it. Restlessly, she picked up some papers and tried to concentrate on them.
The phone on her desk buzzed. She jumped. The paper fluttered out of her fingers and wafted to the tile floor.
“Oh!” Maggie whispered, scooping up the letters. She was jumpier than a kangaroo. Her heart was throbbing at the base of her throat. She knew it was Casey buzzing her. It was time. Reluctantly reaching for the phone, Maggie wished she was anywhere but here right now. She was actually afraid to meet Shep once again. Gulping, she picked up the phone.
“Maggie?” Casey asked.
“Yes?”
“It’s time. Come on down so I can give you two the final briefing on this mission.”
Shutting her eyes, Maggie whispered, “Okay…I’ll be right there….”
Placing the phone gently back into the cradle, Maggie tried to steady her breathing. It had been so long since she’d seen Shep. Had he changed? Had life softened him at all? Was he more inclined to listen to other people now? Or was he still arrogant and self-righteous? A chill swept through her. She felt fear—raw, unbridled fear. Chastising herself mentally, Maggie automatically touched her hair. Taking a look in the ornate, gold-framed mirror that hung in her office, she saw that her eyes looked huge. Like a rabbit about to face a starving wolf.
Her fingers were so cold they almost felt numb. She was unhappy with her reaction. She was acting like the freshman she’d been when she first met Shep. Back then, Shep always seemed to have the world by the tail. It was as if he knew what would happen next, planned for it and then executed it so easily that Maggie felt like an idiot in comparison. Hunter was always calm, cool and collected. Right now, as she swung out her door and into the highly polished hall that lead to Casey’s corner office, she felt disheveled, unprepared and scared.
Giving herself a stern talking to as she slowly walked down the hallway, she greeted her lab cohorts who passed, feeling comforted by the sight of familiar faces. The people at OID had some of the best minds in the U.S. They were at the vanguard of the attempt to keep people safe from killer bacteria and viruses.
Shep was a virus, Maggie decided with mirth. She was infected by him and hadn’t built an immunity to him yet. That was why she felt vulnerable right now. But wouldn’t eighteen years be an immunity in itself? Time was supposed to heal everything, wasn’t it?
As Maggie reached for the brass doorknob that led to Casey’s office, her heart beat hard in her breast and she quickly ran a hand over the maroon slacks she wore beneath her lab coat. Mouth dry, she closed her fingers around the doorknob. Inside that office was Hunter. She felt hunted, all right. Taking a deep breath, Maggie jerked open the door and forced herself to move quickly into the office.
Shep contained his surprise. The woman who walked resolutely through the door into Casey Morrow-Hunter’s office was even more beautiful, more poised and more confident than he could recall. Despite her small stature, Maggie carried herself proudly, that small chin of hers leading. The years had been kind to her, Shep realized with pleasure. He rose from his chair at the corner of Casey’s desk as Maggie closed the door quietly behind her.
Their eyes met for the first time. Shep felt his heart thud hard, like someone had struck him full force in his chest with a sixteen-pound sledgehammer. He struggled for breath as he studied Maggie’s oval face, her high, smooth cheekbones. The freckles across her nose and cheeks—those delicious small copper spots—were still there. He saw her nostrils flare. That was something she’d done when he knew her years earlier—something she’d done when she was afraid. Her eyes widened incredibly. He saw every nuance of every emotion she was feeling in her gaze. The fear was there, the uncertainty, the desire…yes, desire. He knew he hadn’t wrongly read what she was feeling. That made him feel good. Damn good.
“How are you?” he said, his voice deep and unruffled. Stepping forward, Shep offered his large hand to her. He saw Maggie recoil. It wasn’t so much her posture or any outward shrinking away from him; rather, it was in her jewel-like, hazel eyes.
Forcing herself to lift her hand, Maggie croaked, “Fine…just fine, Shep….” As her fingertips slid into his proffered hand, she was once again reminded how large he was. She felt like a midget in comparison. To her right, she saw Casey stand, a smile affixed to her face but trepidation in her eyes. Maggie knew she had to make this work for Casey’s sake and for the OID.
“Your hand is cold,” Shep murmured, stepping closer and placing his other over the one he’d held captive. So much was flooding back to him about Maggie. Oh, he’d never forgotten that whenever she was nervous and upright, her hands would turn freezing cold. As he covered her hand with his now, he also remembered how small and delicate and feminine her hands were compared to his huge, hairy paws. Shep strangled the desire to pull Maggie into his arms and hold her. What would she feel like? As warm and fragrant as he recalled? A hint of honeysuckle wafted into his nostrils and he drew the scent deep into his chest. He knew it was Maggie’s skin and the delicate perfume she wore. He saw her face turn a dull red as she tried to pull her hand from his.
Panicking, Maggie jerked her hand free from Shep’s. She stood there, looking up at him and thinking that life had made him even more ruggedly handsome than before. Those ice-blue eyes of his, so wide and filled with intelligence, now burned with a tender regard for her. His mouth curved in a slight smile of welcome. Hunter rarely smiled. She felt special. She felt enveloped by his intense interest in her as a woman. There was no doubt Shep was all-male. Very male and very dangerous to her wildly thudding heart. Rubbing her hands together, Maggie managed to murmur, “You haven’t changed at all, Shep.”
The corners of his mouth turned upward even more as he watched Maggie nervously rub her cold fingers together. “Eighteen years has done nothing but make you more beautiful, Maggie.” And that was the truth. He remembered the soft, young Maggie of before. This was a woman standing before him, mature and confident. He liked that. He saw her arched red brows dip momentarily in reaction to his compliment.
“Have a seat, you two,” Casey invited. She pointed to a second chair at the opposite corner of her desk, gesturing for Maggie to sit there.
Relieved, Maggie sat before she fell down. Just the way Shep perused her—with that raw, naked look that was so male—made