Cathie Linz - Seducing Hunter

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Gaylynn demanded uneasily.

“I was just thinking about that time you invited yourself to our secret tree house. Do you remember?”

“Yes.” Gaylynn stared down at her hand, the one with the tiny scar, the one with her badge of courage. It was still there, mocking her fear. Now she had another scar, the tiny one at the base of her throat from the knife, as well as the jagged one on her soul.

She’d lost more than the thirteen dollars and twentyone cents she’d had in her wallet that day she’d been attacked. She’d lost her nerve.

It hadn’t happened instantly. At the time, one of her first concerns had been making sure that no one in the police department blabbed to her brother, who still had a few police connections from his academy days. Driving home that night after the attack, she’d resolutely blocked the entire thing out of her mind. At first, she thought she’d succeeded.

Then she’d seen the TV news. The horror had gripped her by the throat and the tears had started. She’d gritted her teeth and gone back to work the next morning only to have the terror creep up on her the moment she’d entered her classroom. She hadn’t been able to speak, hadn’t been able to move. For the first time in her life, Gaylynn had experienced the paralyzing effects of blinding fear.

Unaware of her thoughts, Hunter was saying, “You weren’t afraid of anything in those days.” The approval in his drawl was clear.

She knew he valued courage. She just wished she had some. But she did have her pride. She didn’t want him seeing how scared she was; she didn’t want his sympathy or pity. She had to get rid of him. “While I’d love to talk over old times with you, I was just getting ready to make dinner…”

“Great. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“I don’t have enough food for two.”

“Then we can go to my place. I’ve got plenty of food.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t want to go out.”

“Fine. I’ll bring the food over here. I haven’t seen you in years. It’ll be fun to catch up on things.”

Kissing him would be fun. The rebel thought chased through her mind. She chased it out just as fast. What was wrong with her? She didn’t have enough problems already with all her nightmares and no backbone? Now she had to go and get sentimental about a man she had a crush on years ago? A man who had always treated her like a sister.

“I make a mean spaghetti sauce,” Hunter declared, his Southern drawl seductively sliding down her spine.

“I’ll bet you do. But-”

“I’ll be right back with all the fixings.”

Hunter was gone before she could voice a protest.

The good news was that he’d left before she’d made too big a fool of herself. The bad news was that he’d be back and shed better be ready for him. The problem was that Gaylynn had her doubts that there was any way for her to get ready for a man who represented even more danger to her already shattered peace of mind.

Hunter had only planned on doing a quick check on Gaylynn and then going on his way. He didn’t know what had made him insist on sharing his dinner with her. Maybe it had been the shadows in her big brown eyes—root-beer-colored eyes that he’d remembered as always sparkling with life. Of course, a lot of time had gone by since then.

She had to be what. nearing thirty by now. He’d just turned thirty-five himself. Hunter didn’t know where the time went. He’d meant to keep in better touch with Michael up in Chicago, but all he’d been able to manage was a Christmas card most years. He really regretted not being able to attend the wedding.

He also regretted blurting out his concern so awkwardly, telling Gaylynn she looked awful. That wasn’t like him. He didn’t blame her for almost biting his head off. But he’d seen the shuttered pain and had wanted to help.

What could have caused this change in Gaylynn? Why had she left her brother’s wedding reception last night to head for a remote cabin in the mountains? Michael, too wrapped up in his newfound happiness, hadn’t had any answers. But Hunter planned on getting answers, because he couldn’t help her until he did.

And I suppose the fact that she’s an attractive woman has nothing to do with your Good Samaritan routine, an inner voice mocked him.

“She wasn’t that attractive,” he muttered under his breath as he entered his own cabin.

Right, now you’re talking to yourself, just like Gaylynn was. And if she isn’t that attractive, then why did you feel such a zip of excitement when you looked at her?

“That was hunger,” he said as he grabbed the fixings for a great spaghetti sauce from his cupboards and fridge.

Gaylynn was just the sister of an old friend, and his reasons for wanting to make sure she was okay were strictly altruistic. That was his story and he was sticking to it, as he and Michael used to say.

Gaylynn spent the first ten minutes after Hunter had left getting cleaned up. A quick shower and change of clothing helped. There wasn’t time to wash her hair, but a vigorous brushing had improved things somewhat. Her baby-fine brown hair was straight as a board and had a definite mind of its own. The blunt-cut tips ended just past her shoulders. It was getting too long; she should have gotten it cut.

Hunter’s hair had been long, too. Like he’d been too busy to have it cut lately. She hadn’t been too busy, she’d been too freaked out.

Biting her bottom lip, she took a deep breath and reapplied her makeup. “You’re a good actress,” she told her reflection in the mirror. “So put on a good act tonight.”

Granted, she’d been able to sidestep Hunter’s questions so far, but he wasn’t liable to let her off the hook so easily next time. Like a dog with a bone, Hunter would just nag at her until he found out what was wrong. He was like her brother that way.

Luckily for Gaylynn, Michael had been distracted by events in his own life at the time of the attack on her. He’d been fighting to keep custody of little Hope, who’d been abandoned and left with Brett before she and Michael had gotten married. Yes, her brother had had his hands full, which was the only reason he hadn’t given her his customary third degree about her wanting to use his cabin. Instead, he’d just let her do her thing.

That wouldn’t be the case with Hunter. So she’d better have her story down pat by the time he came back because he could sniff out a mystery a mile away.

“Okay, I admit it, you do make a mean spaghetti sauce,” Gaylynn admitted as she licked a stray bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth.

Hunter watched her with the eyes of a hawk. She’d noticed the way he’d been watching her all evening, but she was unable to discern the thoughts going through his head. For her part, she’d been deliberately cheerful, talking about some of the people from their old neighborhood.

“I can’t believe little Joey del Greco is a priest now,” Hunter said with a rueful shake of his head.

Gaylynn grinned. “I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Last time I saw him, he was what we call down here ‘knee-high to a grasshopper’ and was stealing apples from the Jablonskis’ apple tree.”

“The apple tree is gone, and so are the Jablonskis.”

“Funny how you picture things staying the way they were when you saw them last. Like you. I pictured you with that White Sox cap on your head.”

“I still wear it on bad hair days,” she declared dryly. “How about your folks? How are they doing?”

“Fine. They’ve retired down to Florida now. Have a nice condo in Sarasota.”

“Does your dad still claim the Cubs are gonna win the World Series before the year 2000?”