Free Hunter by Diana Palmer

embarrassment when she did.
    â€œApaches weren’t the only tribe around here,” he remarked as he lowered the tailgate and began removing equipment and sleeping gear. “Comanches roamed this far south, and Yaquis came up on raids from Mexico. There were bandidos, cavalry, cowboys and miners, gunfighters and lawmen who probably camped in this area.” He glanced at her with a faint smile. “I hope that makes you less nervous.”
    Her eyebrows arched. “I’m not nervous… Oh!” She jumped when a yelp sounded somewhere nearby, and got behind Hunter, sheltering behind his broad shoulders.
    He chuckled with pure delight, savoring that one surge of femininity from Miss Independence. “A coyote,” he whispered. He glanced down at her as the yelps increased. “Fighting. Or mating,” he added, his eyes burning into hers from scant inches.
    She went scarlet, swallowed, and abruptly tore away from him with her heart beating her to death. It wasn’t what he’d said, it was the way he’d said it, his black eyes full of knowledge, his voice like that of a lover.
    â€œCould you set up the tent, so that I can get the portable generator hooked up to my laptop?” she said with shivering dignity.
    He put down the sleeping bags and glanced at her. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œYou’re very blunt,” she said stubbornly. “I wish you wouldn’t go out of your way to make me uncomfortable.”
    His expression gave nothing away. He studied her curiously. “Did I embarrass you? Why? Mating is as natural as the rocks and trees around us. In fact,” he added, his voice deepening, “some native tribes weren’t that fanatical about purity in their young women. Adultery was the sin, not lovemaking.”
    She glanced at him angrily. “The Cheyenne were fanatical about maidenly purity, for your information,” she told him curtly. “And the Apache were just as concerned with virtue…”
    â€œWell, well,” he murmured. “So you do read about Indian history?” A faint smile appeared on his dark face. “Do you find the subject interesting?”
    Not for anything was she going to admit that she did because of him. She’d read extensively about the Apache, in fact, but she wasn’t going to admit that, either.
    Nevertheless, he suspected it. He pursed his lips. “Did you know that Apaches disliked children?”
    â€œThey did not,” she said without thinking. “They even kept captive children when they raided, raising them as their own flesh and blood… Oops.”
    He laughed. His face changed, became even more handsome with the softness in his black eyes, the less austere lines of his face. “So they did,” he murmured.
    She turned away. “That wasn’t kind.”
    â€œWhy does it bother you to be curious?” he asked pleasantly. “I don’t mind. Ask. I’ll tell you anything you want to know about my people.”
    She put down her computer and her blue eyes searched his black ones. “I didn’t want to offend you,” she said. “You’ve always been reticent about your ancestry, especially with me. I know I got off on the wrong foot with you, right at the beginning,” she added before he could speak. “You frightened me, and what I did, I did out of nervousness. I never meant to offend you.”
    â€œThat was a wholesale apology,” he murmured, watching her. “I’ll add one of my own. You frightened me, too.”
    â€œMe?” She was astonished. “Why?”
    His eyes darkened and he started to speak, but the sudden beat of helicopter blades diverted him. He looked up, glad that he’d parked the vehicle under the thick cover of the cottonwood trees.
    He caught Jennifer’s arm and propelled her close to the Jeep, at the same time reaching behind him, into his belt, for the .45 automatic he always