Hunter by Diana Palmer Page A

he was someone out of her experience, and he’d better remember that. He’d already had a taste of being used for his uniqueness. Jennifer was beautiful enough to choose her own man. He couldn’t believe that she’d keep him for long, once her desire was satisfied. Hilarious, really. It was usually the man who pressed the woman for physical satisfaction. Now he was the hunted, and Jennifer the predator. Other men might take what she offered. He couldn’t. There was more to it than physical desire. He respected her, as a woman, as a scientist, as a person. He couldn’t use her, even without the cultural barriers separating them. But it didn’t make the night any easier for him. When he finally gave in to sleep, it was almost dawn.
    * * *
    Jennifer forced herself to work the next two days without thinking back. Hunter himself managed to keep his mind on his job, scouting the periphery, watching for signs of interest as they moved camp twice more. He hadn’t been unkind, either. But his attitude toward her was suddenly impersonal. Employee to employee, with no personal comments of any kind. Only once, when she caught him staring at the stream where he’d seen her bathing, did any emotion show in his lean, hard face. She pretended not to see, because her own control was precarious. She wanted him still, now more than ever.
    Because of that, she pushed herself, working at breakneck speed to do the samples of the outcrops and decide where seismic tests would have to be made by the geological technicians. Sound technology was the oilman’s best friend, because it could save him millions by telling him where to drill. It was of the same benefit to the miner. Modern technology was invaluable when it came to determining underground mineral locations.
    In no time, Jennifer had her fieldwork done and was ready to go back to Tulsa, back to sanity. It was almost a relief to have temptation out of the way, not to be alone with Hunter anymore, even if her heart was breaking at the thought of never having the experience again.
    Hunter had registered her silence, her withdrawal. He’d thanked God for it during the past few days, because his desire for her had grown beyond bearing. Lying beside her in the tent at night had kept him sleepless. All he could think about was the way she’d looked in the firelight, the sweet vulnerability in her eyes when she’d offered herself to him, the ardent sweetness of her mouth under his. He wished he could forget. He had a feeling the memory was going to haunt him until he died. But if she even remembered what had happened, she gave no indication of it. She wouldn’t look him in the eye anymore, as if her behavior had shamed her. He hated doing that to her, making her ashamed of such glorious abandon. But he couldn’t give in. He’d fought his own need and won. But it was a hollow victory.
    â€œGlad to be going home?” he asked when they were on the plane.
    It was the first remark he’d made in two days that wasn’t related to the job.
    â€œYes,” she said without looking at him. “I’m glad.”
    â€œThat makes two of us,” he said with a rough sigh. “Thank God we can get back to normal now.”
    Normal, she thought, as if her life would ever be that again. Now that she knew his ardor, she knew the touch and feel and taste of him, she was going to starve to death without him. But he seemed completely unaffected by what had happened. And why not? He was experienced. Probably these interludes were part of his work background, and the encounter they’d had was a fairly innocent one. She shivered, thinking what might have happened if he’d wanted her back, if he’d been prepared. She’d never have gotten over him if they’d gone that far. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. They’d be back in Tulsa soon, and they wouldn’t be doing any more traveling together, thank God.
    *