Night Fever by Diana Palmer

he’s gung-ho to learn how to use that blowgun they hunted with. Did you know that the Cherokee were the only southeastern tribe to hunt with a blowgun?”
    â€œYes, I knew. I am Cherokee,” he pointed out.
    â€œOnly one-quarter, you said so, and the quarter you are might not have known about it.”
    â€œStop splitting hairs.”
    â€œ Au contraire, I have never whacked a rabbit in half,” she assured him haughtily.
    He did a double take. “My God.” He whistled through his teeth. “You’re quick, lady.”
    â€œQuick, but not fast, sir,” she drawled.
    He chuckled. “I had that much figured out. Tell Mack that the Cherokee didn’t use curare on their darts. Only the South American Indians knew about the poison.”
    â€œI’ll tell him.” She glanced down at the purse in her lap. “He’d like you.”
    â€œThink so?” He wanted so badly to ask her out for an evening, to meet her family. It would work to his advantage, because Clay was close to the Harrises, and it would give him a pipeline. But he didn’t want to hurt Becky, and he would if he played on her interest. It was better to let it ride, for now. “Here we are.”
    She had to fight down disappointment. He’d taken her out to lunch, after all. She should be grateful for crumbs and not resentful because he hadn’t offered her a banquet. So she gave him a brilliant smile when she wanted to cry.
    â€œThanks for the chili,” she said softly when they were standing beside the car.
    â€œMy pleasure.” His lean hand lifted to her face, and his thumb traced under her lower lip with expert deliberation. “If this weren’t such a very public place, Miss Cullen,” he said, letting his dark eyes fall to her mouth, “I’d take your mouth under mine and kiss you until your knees gave way under you.”
    She caught her breath. Those dark eyes were hypnotizing her, and she had to do something before she threw herself at his feet and begged him to do just that. “Do cheeseburgers often affect you like this?” she whispered, trying to salvage her pride.
    He lost it. He burst out laughing and dropped his hand. “Damn you, woman!” he ground out.
    She was proud of herself. She’d managed to regain her balance without denting his pride too much. She made him laugh. She wondered if it was as easy as it seemed.
    â€œFor shame, cursing a lady in public, Mr. District Attorney,” she said pertly. She smiled. “Thank you very much for lunch, and for the shoulder. I don’t often get depressed, but lately, things have been rather hectic at home.”
    â€œYou don’t have to explain anything to me,” he said gently. She made him feel protective. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to.
    â€œI’d better go in,” she said after a minute.
    â€œYes.” His dark eyes held her hazel ones, and time seemed to stand still. He vibrated with the need to pull her against him and kiss her. He wondered if she felt the need, too, and that was why she’d countered his move with one of her own.
    â€œWell…see you.”
    He nodded.
    She managed to get her feet to move, but she was sure they didn’t touch the ground all the way back into the building. She didn’t know that a curious pair of eyes had watched her leave with Kilpatrick and come back with him.
    â€œYour sister is thick with the D.A., Cullen,” Son Harris said to Clay that night. “She had lunch with him. We can’t let that situation develop. He might get to us through her.”
    â€œDon’t be stupid,” Clay said nervously. “Becky isn’t interested in Kilpatrick—I know she isn’t!”
    â€œHe and his investigator are getting too close. We may have to get rid of him,” Son said, his small eyes pinning Clay’s disbelieving ones. “We’ve got a major load coming in here in