Morgan's Rescue Read Online Free PDF Page B

blinding sunlight to the stable area.
          Nothing moved. As expected, the farm help were enjoying siesta. A few horses hung their heads out of their roomy box stalls and looked around, but none were snorting or appearing alarmed. One of the older dogs, a black-and-white mongrel Pilar had rescued from Lima long ago, moved with a limp down the breezeway between the stalls. Frowning, Pilar lifted her hand and touched the back of her neck. Rubbing it, she again swept her gaze along the long, rectangular barn area. She saw no one. But she felt someone watching. Watching her.
          Compressing her lips, she gathered up the reins. Perhaps if she ignored the sensation, it would go away. Maybe it was merely anticipation over having to meet Culver tonight. Her stomach had been on edge ever since Hector had dropped his bombshell. And her heart…well, her heart felt as if Culver's own massive, powerful hand was relentlessly squeezing it. After all, what was she going to say to him? That she was sorry? It seemed such a lame, weak word at this point. Blowing out a breath of air in exasperation, Pilar tried to return her focus to Honey and the remaining jumps, but the sensation of being watched refused to go away. Danger was present—and it was very near.
         
          Culver Lachlan stood just inside the breezeway of the stables, watching Pilar Martinez ride a magnificent chestnut jumper. He scowled as he eyed her, struggling to control those wild feelings that had first erupted in him when Jake had ordered him to take this mission. Pillar was like hot butter in a skillet, so effortlessly did she move in rhythm with her horse. It was obvious she loved to ride. And Culver remembered all too well seeing that same pure joy on her face a long time ago. A joy that he'd— Stop it, he ordered himself harshly. Stop remembering. It won't do any good. She left you when you were down for the count.
          But no matter how much he wanted to hate Pilar for what she'd done to him, Culver couldn't bring himself to feel it. The voice inside his head coldly announced that she had used him for her own means, gotten what she wanted and abandoned him.
          Well, what the hell had he expected, anyway? She was a woman, and the women in his life had always been as unstable as C-4 explosives. He'd never had good luck with them. Still, Pilar had seemed different. His gaze never left her as she rode at a canter around the arena, taking the jumps with ease. Even at this distance, Culver could see that the twenty-two-year-old ingenue he'd fallen hopelessly in love with eight years ago had become a woman, blooming with the full-blown beauty of a mature rose compared to the sweeter, less-complex bud—and still able to take his breath away.
          Was Pilar's ebony hair still long? He couldn't help but wonder. Were her eyes still those of the jaguar that roamed the Peruvian jungles? She had the most arresting eyes Culver had ever seen. Her Incan heritage made them almost black, but Culver had found out quickly that he could determine Pilar's emotions by watching for sparkles of real gold in their depths.
          Over the three months they'd worked together, he'd learned to love watching those huge, luminous eyes, slightly tilted, again by her Incan heritage, shift from near black to a rich, golden brown. His heart twisted in his chest. How deeply his feelings ran—even now. It was stupid, he knew. He was thirty-three years old—old enough to know better. Face it, he reminded himself cruelly, she was a young college girl out for a fling. She hadn't wanted commitment. She'd wanted the high adventure and pulse-pounding sensuality of combining passion with life-and-death work.
          Shifting his weight to his other booted foot, Culver rested his shoulder against a large, wooden support post and absorbed the sight of Pilar as she rode. Memories came flooding back—so many of them painful. Why had she run out on him in