Hard to Handle Read Online Free PDF

used to sharing a room with a man, that’s all.”
    No way could he believe that she’d never spent a night with a man. More than likely she was nervous of him. “We’re supposed to be honeymooners,” he said with faint sarcasm. “It would look rather odd to spend the night in separate rooms.”
    “Of course.” She just wanted to drop the whole subject. “Could we get lunch? I’m starving.”
    “I want to check with my people first,” he told her. “I’ve got a couple of operatives down here doing some investigative work on another project. I won’t be long.”
    She’d thought he meant to phone, but he went out of the room.
    Jenny sprawled on her bed, cursing her impulsive tongue. Now he’d think she was a simpleminded prude as well as a pain in the neck. Great going, Jenny, she told herself. What a super way to get off on the right foot, asking your reluctant roommate about his night wear. Fortunately he hadn’t pursued the subject.
    He was back an hour later. She’d put on her reading glasses, the ones she used for close work because she was hopelessly farsighted, and was plugging away on her laptop computer, going over detailed graphic topo maps of the area, sprawled across the bed with her back against the headboard and the computer on her lap. Not the best way to use the thing, and against the manufacturer’s specs, but it was much more comfortable than trying to use the motel’s table and chairs.
    “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he remarked, watching her.
    “You didn’t?” she asked with mock astonishment. “Why, Mr. Hunter, I was sure you’d know more about me than I know myself—don’t you have a file on all the staff in your office?”
    “Don’t be sarcastic. It doesn’t suit you.” He stretched out on theother bed, powerful muscles rippling in his lean body, and she had to fight not to stare. He was beautifully made from head to toe, an old maid’s dream.
    She punched in more codes and concentrated on her maps.
    “What kind of mineral are you and Eugene looking for?” he asked curiously.
    She pursed her lips and glanced at him with gleeful malice. “Make a guess,” she invited.
    She realized her mistake immediately and could have bitten her lip through. He sat up and threw his long legs off the bed, moving to her side with threatening grace. He took the laptop out of her hands and put it on the table before he got her by the wrists and pulled her up against his body. The proximity made her knees go weak. He smelled of spicy cologne and soap, and his breath had a coffee scent, as if he’d been meeting his operatives in a café. His grip was strong and exciting, and she loved the feel of his body so close to hers. Perhaps, subconsciously, this was what she’d expected when she antagonized him…
    “Little girls throw rocks at boys they like,” he said at her forehead. “Is that what you’re doing, figuratively speaking? Because if it is,” he added, and his grip on her wrists tightened even as his voice grew deeper, slower, “I’m not in the market for a torrid interlude on the job, cover girl.”
    She could have gone through the floor with shame. The worst of it was that she didn’t even have a comeback. He saw right through her. With his advantage in age and experience, that wasn’t really surprising. She knew, too, from gossip that he disliked white women. Probably they saw him as a unique experience more than a man. She didn’t feel that way, but she couldn’t admit it.
    “I’m not trying to get your attention. I’m tired and when I’mtired, I get silly,” she said too quickly, talking to his shirt as she stiffened with fear of giving herself away. Odd, the jerky way he was breathing, and the fabric was moving as if his heartbeat was very heavy. Her body was melting, this close to his. “You don’t have to warn me off. I know better than to make a play for you.”
    The remark diverted him. “Do you? Why?” he asked curtly.
    “They say you hate