Morgan's Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

he wasn't the type of man to be chatty, so it must be Pepper's presence drawing him out.
    Whatever Jim was prepared to see, it wasn't the physical reality of Pepper Sinclair as she followed Harding into the room. She was tall—probably close to six feet—medium-boned, with dark walnut-colored hair softly brushing her proudly held shoulders. More surprising, she was wearing a long red-and-yellow calico skirt that touched the tops of her comfortable, brown leather shoes. Her white blouse, with touches of lace around the throat, was partly hidden by a pale golden deerskin vest adorned with conchs. Long beaded earrings nearly touched her shoulders, giving her a somewhat Native American look, except for her pale, almost-translucent skin with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.
    Pepper's face was oval. Her nose had a slight bump and fine nostrils. Jim looked downward to lips curved in an impish smile, then his gaze moved back up—and into eyes as blue and clear as a Montana sky. His heart gave a hard thump, underscoring the impact of those eyes—the pupils edged in breathtaking turquoise, the frame of thick, dark lashes. Her dark brows were arched and full, offering a second frame for the magnificent eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, their rosy pink enhancing her classic bone structure.
    But more than her striking and unexpectedly feminine looks, it was Pepper's direct, fearless gaze that caught Jim completely off guard. The look combined maturity with a woman's confidence—yet glinted with a girlish aspect that somehow strengthened its impact. Jim was chagrined to feel his palms growing damp. Meanwhile, his errant heart refused to slow its pounding beat.
    Jim tried to suppress his reaction to Pepper. It didn't help that he'd expected a sturdy, mannish sort of woman with a tough, no-nonsense attitude—a hardened outer shell for this female smoke jumper who damn near walked on water, according to Harding. Jim's gaze ranged from her long, narrow hands to the graceful way she walked toward him, to those mesmerizing blue eyes….
    "Colonel Woodward? I'm Pepper Sinclair. Glad to meet you."
    Her grip as she took his hand told Jim instantly that she wasn't as weak as she looked. Her firm, confident handshake, warm and dry, conveyed strength and capability. If it had been a man's handshake, he'd have been impressed. In a woman, he didn't know how to react.
    "Ms. Sinclair," he said, hating the clipped abruptness in his tone as he stared challengingly at her.
    "I'll leave you two to get acquainted," Wolf said dryly. He pointed to the counter on the left. "Pepper, if you want coffee, help yourself."
    "You saved my life again, Wolf." Pepper laughed and waved to her friend as he stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. She shifted the strap of her deerskin purse off her shoulder and laid the bag on the oak table, then moved toward the coffee machine. The tension in the room was palpable, and she knew full well it was emanating from the marine standing rigidly next to the table, watching her every move like a predator ready to strike.
    "I don't know about you, but four hours on the red-eye makes me thirsty as a horse." She glanced back over her shoulder at the officer, who was scowling heavily. "Coffee, Colonel?" she asked pleasantly. "Or would you prefer to take out your weapon of choice right now, shoot me and put yourself out of your misery?"
    Shocked, Jim opened his mouth, then closed it. Her eyes were serious, but her voice dripped with honey and her mouth curved in a rueful smile. "I see Harding has been talking behind my back," he said finally.
    "On the contrary," Pepper said smoothly, finding a clean white mug and pouring the fresh coffee into it, "Wolf was merely honest with me about potential problems and dangers. He did inform me that you were against using a woman on this mission."
    Jim moved to the table, hating himself more as he snapped, "Ms. Sinclair, when it comes to life-and-death matters, all the