Hard to Handle by Diana Palmer Page A

them that she was uncomfortable with him. Her behavior in the desert and his reaction to it embarrassed and inhibited her. She sat with Cynthia, only half listening to the older woman’s comments about clothes and Washington society while she wondered how she was going to cope with several days of the stoic Mr. Hunter.
    They got off the plane at the airport in Washington at last, and Jennifer was momentarily left behind with Hunter while Eugene and Cynthia paused to check times for the return flight with the pilot.
    She didn’t know what to say to him. She averted her eyes and stared toward the other planes, with her purse and makeup case clutched tightly in her hand.
    Hunter was smoking a cigarette. He glanced down at her impatiently and finally stopped and just stared at her until he made her nervous enough to look up. But when he saw her embarrassment, he was sorry he’d done it.
    “Don’t make it any harder than it already is,” he said, his deep voice slow and terse. “What happened that night was just an interlude. I lost my head and so did you. Let it go.”
    She swallowed. “All right.”
    He scowled through a cloud of smoke as he searched her deep blue eyes. Involuntarily his gaze slid to her blouse and his eyes darkened with memories.
    She turned away. That look was painful, and despite his assertion that it was over, it didn’t seem as if he’d forgotten a single thing. Neither had she. The feel of his eyes on her, his mouth on her lips, haunted her night after lonely night. She didn’t even like being near him because just his proximity made her shiver with need. It was a reaction unlike anything she’d ever experienced before in her life, a mad hunger that she could never satisfy.
    Hunter was having problems of his own. God, she was lovely! Just looking at her hurt. He turned away to help get the luggage off the plane and carry it to the waiting limousine. He had to stop remembering.
    The hotel they stayed at was four-star, very plush and service-oriented. Eugene had reserved two suites of rooms. Unfortunately, Jennifer was relegated to one with Hunter, which surprised and inhibited her.
    Eugene noticed her uneasiness and averted his eyes before she could see the faint glimmer of amusement in them. “You’ll survive it, Jenny,” he said. “I want you where Hunter can watch you. You’re the most important part of this enterprise. I can’t have enemy agents trying to spirit you off under my nose, can I?”
    “We have other security people….” she began hopefully.
    “But Hunter’s the best. No more arguments. I hope you brought an evening gown. There’s an embassy ball tomorrow night.”
    “I did,” she said reluctantly. It was a year old, but still functional, and it fit her like a second skin. She frowned bitterly, thinking of the exquisite white confection and regretting that she didn’t still have the little red number she’d knocked Hunter’s eyes out witha few months back. She’d thrown it away in a temper after that one bitter date with him.
    Eugene had arranged appointments all over Washington, and he went alone, leaving Jennifer to go sightseeing with Cynthia and Hunter.
    Cynthia was enchanted with everything she saw, from the Lincoln Memorial to the reflecting pool outside it, the spire of the Washington monument and the White House and the nation’s Capital. But Jennifer was enchanted with Hunter and trying so hard not to let him see. She wore tan slacks with a colorful pink blouse and sandals for the sight-seeing tour, and Cynthia wore a similar ensemble. Hunter wore a suit.
    He escorted them around the city with quiet impatience, and Jennifer knew without being told that he hated the noise and traffic, and that he would have preferred to be doing something else. But he didn’t complain. He pointed out landmarks and hustled them in and out of cabs with singular forbearance. All the same, Jennifer noticed how relieved he looked when they were back at the hotel.
    Eugene