Free Tallchief: The Hunter by Cait London Page B

between us.”
    She couldn’t have predicted that gentle kiss, either. She didn’t like uncertainty and Adam managed to hand it to her at every turn.
    “Well, then. I guess our business is finished, for now,” Adam said. “It’s a long way to the ground, Jillian. I can help you, or you can stay perched up there all day until someone notices you. Or you can be a nice, sensible girl, and let me carry you across the field and tuck you in your car.”
    He glanced at a big ram watching them. “That old boy over there isn’t a pleasant sort. We’re not the best of friends yet, but I intend to get to him. For now he’s leaving me alone, but you’re a different matter. It’s only a short distance, Jillian. You’ll be safe with me.”
    While Jillian hovered between safety and pride, Adam reached up his arms to her. It was for her to decide to trust him or not. Once she hadn’t hesitated, leaping from the football field bleachers into his arms, trusting him. “Are you certain that ram is dangerous?”
    “I’ve got a bruise on my backside that says he is.”
    She studied the tilt of his head and the angle of that hard jaw. Her bargaining position wasn’t good. “You’d really leave me here, wouldn’t you?”
    He shrugged and the wind caught his hair and his arrogance. In Jillian’s mind, she could imagine his ancestor, Tallchief, standing just like that while he forced his captive bride to do as he bid. According to Tallchief legends, Unahadn’t liked the taming a bit and did a little of her own. But then, Tallchief had stayed in one place with the brood he and Una raised. He’d loved her as deeply as she loved him and both fought for their marriage and home. In those times, their marriage must have had many trials. He made cradles to provide for them, and Una had sold her dowry.
    But Adam wasn’t likely to settle in one place for long—
    “Fine,” Jillian said dully.
    He chuckled at that. “Ask me nicely, Jilly-dear.”
    She sighed heavily. Not really asking the question, she plodded through the words as if doomed. “Will…you…please…help…me.”
    “Adam,” he insisted softly.
    She sighed again and repeated, “‘Adam.”’
    She wasn’t certain what she saw in his eyes, just that steely spark, the look of a hunter hitting his mark. “Am I going to owe you for this?”
    “I’m certain the fee won’t be too high for a successful businesswoman such as yourself.”
    She had a degree in business, but it wasn’t in her heart. She preferred textures and colors and images. “I’m a freelancer now, Adam.”
    “Could that be because you don’t want to be tethered to anyone? Maybe we’re alike in that. Maybe there is fear in us, the fear of loving. It can be a dangerous thing, if mishandled.”
    She didn’t want to discuss anything with him; his thoughts were too deep, probing at hers. “I wouldn’t call drifting all over the world a freelance occupation.”
    She resented reaching out to him, bracing her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her into his arms. “Maybe I’ve had my fill of drifting. Maybe not. I’ve learned to take life as it comes, to flow with it. Put your arm around my shoulder, Jillian,” he ordered gently. “Even through the coat, your shoulder is sharp against my chest.”
    Jillian closed her eyes, inhaled, and forced her arm to lift and circle his shoulders. He was so big, too masculine,and uncertainty speared her once more. Adam hadn’t moved as he watched her. Their eyes met and Jillian looked away, afraid that he would see too much.
    Adam walked slowly, carefully, across the field. Wrapped in his arms, wearing his coat and surrounded by his scents, it wasn’t a journey she would forget soon. She could feel his warmth and strength. When she glanced at him, Adam’s expression was grim, and on impulse she reached to push her fingers through his wind-blown hair, tethering it from his face.
    His warm scalp, the crisp feel of his shaggy hair between her fingers shocked