The Rogue Hunter (Argeneau #10)

The Rogue Hunter (Argeneau #10) Page 7

"I wonder what they're looking for?"

Sam glanced at Jo with bewilderment when she murmured that comment. "Who?"

"Bricker and Decker," Jo explained. "They're checking out everyone, almost as if they're looking for someone."

"Yeah, the easy chick in the group," Sam said dryly.

Jo gave her a dirty look. "You are such a cynic. I don't think they're like that."

"Oh?" Sam said dubiously, and Jo turned back to survey the crowd, an irritated expression on her face.

"You could just use him," Alex blurted suddenly.

Sam turned a confused expression to her. "Who?"

"Mortimer," she explained.

"I should use him?" she asked with amazement.

"I don't mean use use him," Alex said quickly. "I mean just..."

"I think she means just have fun with him," Jo said helpfully. "You know, a little dancing, a little smooching, maybe some hot monkey sex to help you get over Tom."

"Hot monkey sex?" Sam choked out.

"Oh come on," Alex chided. "You're a liberated career woman. What's wrong with hot monkey sex with no strings attached? It's like riding a bike. You've fallen off, now you need to get back on and ride another one."

Sam gaped with horror. "I don't-He's not-I-"

Alex interrupted her stammerings to say, "Do not even try to tell me you don't like him. I've seen you looking at him, and you were sniffing him when he was fixing your arm. And the two of you were laughing up a storm while packing the cooler with beer and cola."

"And he's cute too," Jo inserted. "He makes me think of that soccer player from Britain."

Sam stared at her blankly, but she was thinking about what Alex had said about them laughing up a storm while packing the cooler. She and Mortimer had been assigned that task while Alex and Jo had rushed around inside the cottage gathering jackets and shoes for the girls, and Bricker and Decker had returned to their cottage to do the same. Mortimer had annoyed her by insisting on retrieving the fish baskets from the water to prevent her falling in, only to lose his balance as he leaned off the dock and nearly go in himself. Somehow the tension between them had been broken then and they'd teased and joked as they worked.

"You know who I mean," Jo said with a grimace of frustration. "He's married to that woman from that girl band."

"Oh yes! I do know who you mean!" Alex exclaimed, and then frowned. "Can't remember the name though."

Sam relaxed a little and laughed at the pair of them.

She knew exactly who they were talking about, the new player for Galaxy in America. He and his wife were making a big splash on the celebrity scene. But she had no intention of putting her sisters out of their misery. They were making her suffer enough.

Though, Sam admitted to herself slowly, Mortimer did actually look a bit like the Brit in question. Just a bit though. His features were more chiseled, and his eyes a beautiful green that appeared silvered when the light hit them. Mortimer definitely had gorgeous eyes, she admitted, and then realized what she was thinking and gave herself a mental shake.

"It doesn't matter," Jo decided. "The point is he's a hottie, a veritable McSteamy."

"Yes he is," Alex agreed. "You should use him to get over Tom. Tom couldn't hold a candle to this guy."

"I bet he's hot in bed too," Jo added.

Sam closed her eyes, shook her head, and then popped her eyes open again and said, "I cannot believe you're even suggesting this. How much beer have you had tonight?"

"Two," Jo answered promptly and held up her almost full bottle. "It'll be three after this one."

"You didn't use to be such a cheap drunk," Sam muttered.

"I've changed my mind," Alex announced suddenly. "I don't think you should have a fling with Mortimer."

Sam swiveled to peer at her in question and asked warily, "I shouldn't?"

"She shouldn't?" Jo echoed with disappointment.

"No, you definitely shouldn't," Alex said firmly.

"Why?" Jo asked.

"I don't think she can handle it. She's too much a virgin," Alex explained.

"A virgin!" Sam cried with outrage. "Tom and I had sex the first time way back in high school. God! I lived with him for eight months."

"Yes. Practically a virgin," Alex repeated and peered at her seriously. "Sam honey, you are. Tom was the first and only boy you went out with. You haven't ever dated anyone else. I don't even know if you can just have a fling. You might not have the right emotional makeup for it."

"I could fling," Sam assured her firmly and then realized what she was saying, and added, "If I wanted to." She didn't want to have a fling with Mortimer. Did she?

Before she could answer herself, the man in question returned. He paused at the cooler to collect a beer, and then moved to the log. Jo immediately scooted sideways to make room for him, and he reclaimed his position between them.

"Everything all right?" Alex leaned forward to ask around Sam.

"Oh yes, fine," he assured her, unscrewing the cap of the Alexander Keith's beer he'd selected from the cooler. "Pimms just wanted me to meet someone."

"Oh yes, fine," he assured her, unscrewing the cap of the Alexander Keith's beer he'd selected from the cooler.

"Pimms," Sam echoed. It was the first time she could recall him calling Decker by his last name, but Mortimer and Bricker seemed to go exclusively by their own last names. She and her sisters had automatically followed the men's lead in doing so, but Sam was curious about it and asked, "Why do you and Bricker go by your last names?"

Mortimer appeared surprised by the question, and then considered it briefly before shrugging. "I'm not sure. We just always have."

"It's a guy thing," Jo announced knowledgeably. "The guys at the bar tend to do that too, either using each other's last names or a nickname like Moose." She wrinkled her nose as she said the name.

"So, how did you guys get together?" Alex now leaned forward to ask Mortimer.

He hesitated and then said, "We met on a job."

"A job?" Sam asked with interest.

Mortimer shrugged. "We weren't always in a band."

"What did you do before you were in a band?" Jo asked, never shy about being nosy. When Mortimer hesitated, she grinned and said, "Come on, it can't be that bad."

When he merely shifted uncomfortably, she added, "Shall I guess?"

That made his eyebrows rise and amusement tug at his lips. "Be my guest."

"You'll tell us if I guess right?" Jo bargained.

A definite smile claiming his lips now, he nodded. "If you get it right. But you won't."

"That was a mistake," Sam told him as he raised his beer to his lips and took a swallow. "Jo loves a challenge."

"Yes I do," she agreed with a grin and then gained a more serious expression and said thoughtfully, "Hmm. Let me see. A job you were all on and that would bring together two men from California, and one from Toronto... I've got it! You were all Chippendale dancers!"

The mouthful of golden liquid he'd just taken into his mouth suddenly shot out again at the very suggestion. Wiping his mouth, Mortimer turned horrified eyes to Jo. "Chippendale dancers?"

"Sure. You're all good-looking guys, well-built, and each handsome enough in his own way." She shrugged, still grinning widely. "Am I right?"

"God, no!" he assured her. "I wouldn't even think of doing such a job."

"That's a shame," Alex murmured on Sam's other side, and despite how softly she said the words, Mortimer apparently heard because he actually blushed.

Sam bit her lip and quickly turned her head away to try to keep her composure. He was just so darned adorable when he blushed.

"Well," Jo said, "I was thinking that only something else in the entertainment industry could bring together three men who lived so far away from each other... Where exactly did you meet? L.A. or Toronto?"

Mortimer shook his head. "No hints."

"Oh, bother," Jo muttered, and then fell silent, her face screwed up with concentration. After a moment, she glanced to Sam. "Help."

Sam hesitated, her gaze slipping to Mortimer as he turned curious eyes her way. It was obvious he was interested in what she might guess. She let her gaze run over him, taking in eyes that spoke of having seen too much, and a mouth that seemed far too used to appearing solemn, and then running swiftly down over his body, which spoke of lean strength. Any one of the men could have been described thusly. While Mortimer was a blond, and Bricker and Decker both brunette, they all had the same time-weary eyes and most of the time wore grim expressions that couldn't completely be abolished by the charming smiles they occasionally flashed, or even the laughter they occasionally, almost grudgingly, gave up.

She considered that and then added the fact that each of them was a take-charge kind of guy. Mortimer had definitely taken charge when she'd burned herself, and again at the table. Since meeting the men, she'd seen hints of that character in each of them. Sam was quite sure these men were used to situations that called for action, and to being the ones who decided what that action should be. They each walked tall, with the confidence of men who could handle themselves as well as others when necessary.

"I'd have said police officers or some type of law enforcement," she said finally, and something like admiration flickered briefly in Mortimer's eyes.

"Were you police officers?" Alex asked, and it seemed obvious from her tone of voice that she was sure Sam was right.

"We were not police officers," Decker announced, drawing their attention to the fact that he and Bricker had rejoined them, but Mortimer stared at Sam another moment before turning to glance up at the other man. She noted the way his eyebrows rose in question, and that Decker gave a silent shake of the head, and then the silence died as Bricker commented on how friendly everyone was here and moved to drag the cooler around in front of the log. He retrieved a beer for each of the men, and then settled himself on the sand a few feet in front of Jo, leaving the wide cooler for Decker to use as a seat.

That was when the evening turned somewhat surreal for Sam. What followed was quite a long space of time when Bricker and Decker alternated with Jo and Alex in asking questions. The men were asking Sam questions, drawing her out about her past, her job, and her life. At the same time, her sisters were asking Mortimer the same sorts of questions. It was a rather bizarre situation and made her think of meeting Tom's family for the first time. What made it worse was that while she knew her sisters were grilling Mortimer because they were considering him as a prospective "fling" for her, she had no idea why the men were grilling her. That was just weird as far as she was concerned, and it made her incredibly uncomfortable. She felt like she was at a very long, very stressful job interview. So much so that she was actually relieved when she noticed Jo trying to smother a yawn and suggested they call it a night.

"Should we go let our host know we're leaving?" Mortimer asked as everyone stood and Bricker picked up the cooler.

Sam glanced around until she spotted Jack Anderson feeding more logs to the fire. She took half a dozen steps toward him, but paused when he suddenly glanced up, his eyes meeting hers. Smiling, she pointed toward the dock and then waved.

Getting the message, the older gentleman smiled and nodded back and then put his hand to his ear with thumb and pinky extended, indicating he'd give them a call. Sam nodded and then turned toward the dock.

"That's it?" Mortimer asked with amusement as he fell into step beside her.

"No. We'll have Jack and his wife, Gladys, over for dinner before we head back home. We always do," she explained. "They hold the parties and get stuck with cleanup and then everyone feeds them most of the summer."

"Not a bad deal," Mortimer said wryly.

"No." She laughed. "Especially since everyone is pretty good about taking their empties and garbage away with them."

Alex and the others were already on the speedboat by the time Sam and Mortimer reached their boat. The men were just finishing untying the ropes they'd used to bind the two boats together, and Alex was starting the engine.

"You may have beat us here, but I bet we beat you back," Alex called over the roar of the engine as Mortimer climbed down into the aluminum boat they'd ridden over in and turned to offer Sam his hand.

Tired after the late night the evening before and the long day and evening tonight, Sam just shook her head as she stepped down into the boat. Once on board, she moved to the back bench to prep the motor as the speedboat eased away from their side. By the time Sam had the engine going, the other boat was shooting away across the lake.

"Let me." Mortimer was there beside her, taking the starter cord the moment she'd finished prepping the engine.

Distracted by his scent and the way his arm unintentionally brushed across her breast as he pulled the cord, Sam didn't protest. Instead she found herself inhaling his scent as she had in their cottage earlier. He really smelled lovely. She was actually disappointed when the engine roared to life with the first pull and he moved away to take care of the rope at the bow.

Shaking her head, Sam reached out to untie the rope next to her. She then checked to be sure Mortimer was safely back on his bench and holding on before sending them shooting away from the dock.

She didn't make the outboard go all out on the return trip, but the weight of the extra passengers in the runabout slowed the Goldie down enough that they still caught up to her long before reaching their own dock. Sam throttled back to keep pace with the other boat, her eyes moving over the beautiful night sky and calm lake surface as they crossed the last little distance to the dock. They didn't have the huge bonfire as a beacon to direct them home, but Sam had grown up on the lake and had no trouble recognizing their own dock in the darkness.

Alex and Jo were talking quietly with the men as Mortimer helped Sam onto the dock. It sounded as if they were giving directions to an all-night coffee shop in the next town over. Mortimer stopped beside them to listen, but Sam was tired and merely murmured a goodnight and headed up to the cottage.

She'd taken several steps before she realized that Mortimer had followed. Sam paused at once and glanced at him uncomfortably.

"I thought it might be best if I walked you up," he said quietly. "It's dark and the ground is uneven, and your balance..." He let the words trail away, not saying what they both knew, that her balance was undependable at the moment.

Sam nodded and turned back toward the cottage, not protesting when he took her arm to steer her around the half-submerged boulders and tree roots in her path.

"Do you need help finding a candle or something in the cottage?" he offered as they mounted the steps.

Sam was tempted to say yes to invite him inside, and see if he might try to kiss her, or... She caught herself and quickly shook her head. She wasn't ready for that. "No. That's okay. We keep the flashlights on a shelf just inside the door. But thank you," she added, pausing by the door. Turning back, she opened her mouth to say something. What it would have been, she didn't know, because it slipped from her mind the moment she saw the way his eyes were shining in the darkness. It was as if they were soaking up the moonlight and reflecting it back at her.

Like a night predator, Sam thought, and felt a shiver run up her back under her T-shirt. They stared at each other silently, and then Mortimer's face grew larger as he leaned toward her... or perhaps she was leaning toward him, but a burst of laughter from the dock made them both straighten abruptly.

"Well," Mortimer said, and his voice was husky. He paused to clear his throat, then turned away. "Good night."

"Good night," Sam whispered as he moved down the steps and headed toward the path through the trees bordering the two cottages. She watched until his dark shape merged with the shadows under the trees and then released a little sigh, pulled the cottage door open, and slid inside.

Sam had brushed her teeth, washed her face, and followed her flashlight beam to her room. She was changing into the overlarge T-shirt she liked to sleep in when she heard the screen door of the cottage slam. The soft murmur of her sisters' voices followed, and then faded to a silence disturbed only by the soft clicks of two closing doors.

Switching off the flashlight, Sam moved blindly toward the bed, but paused as the growl of an engine reached her through the open window. She glanced toward the neighboring cottage as headlights came to life and moved up the driveway toward the road. It seemed the men weren't ready to call it a night.

Turning away from the dark cottage next door, Sam felt for the bed, slid under the sheets, and tried to go to sleep. Unfortunately, tired as she'd been on the ride back, Sam now tossed and turned in the overwarm double bed, alternately cursing the power outage that meant she couldn't turn on the ceiling fan to cool the room, and wondering what the men were doing.

The first faint fingers of dawn were creeping up in the sky before the men returned. It was only then she was able to drift off to sleep, but it was fitful, disturbed by strange dreams.

Sam was walking along the lakeshore in front of the cottage, hand in hand with Tom as he'd looked when they first started dating. But he was saying all the things he said when he broke up with her. She was too needy, too demanding, expected too much from him. He started to tug his hand away and she tightened her hold, but his skin was as slippery as a greased pig and she couldn't hold on.

As he tugged his hand free, her other hand was suddenly taken in a warm, strong grip. Turning in confusion, she found herself peering up at Mortimer. Suddenly Tom was gone and Mortimer too was releasing her hand, but only to clasp her face in his hands and tip it up so that he could meet her gaze.

"You are the one," he said solemnly.

"The one?" she whispered, not understanding.

Mortimer nodded; the silver in his eyes almost seemed to glow as he lowered his face until their lips met. Sam held her breath, almost afraid to move. He was the first man to kiss her since Tom. Only the second man to kiss her in her life, and despite knowing it was a dream, she felt uncertain and ill-equipped for the task as his lips moved gently over hers.

Tom had never been big on kissing. He'd give her pecks, brushing his lips over hers in an almost disinterested fashion as his hands reached for other parts, and then his lips would drift away to find what he apparently considered more interesting territory. She'd always regretted that he never seemed to kiss her properly, like they did in the romance novels she read as a secret pleasure. Between the covers of those books she'd read about open mouths, wrestling tongues, and exploding passion, and had always yearned to experience that. In this dream she did.

Mortimer's mouth moved over hers once, twice, and then a third time, the pressure growing with each pass until she felt his tongue slip out to nudge her lips apart.

She opened at once under the bidding and his tongue invaded, filling her with his taste.

Sam's eyes immediately blinked open, and then drifted closed as a soft "oh" of realization sounded in her throat. This then was what she'd missed out on all those years, she thought dazedly as his tongue rasped over her own and a surge of excitement rose up through her. This was... It was...

"Oh," she breathed into his mouth again, and allowed her hands to creep up around the dream Mortimer's back as he tilted her head slightly and kissed her more thoroughly than she'd ever thought possible. Where Tom's kisses had always been tepid at best, this was hot, this was wet, this was sex with your clothes on... and she never wanted it to end. Until it did and his mouth trailed across her cheek to her neck, where it followed the line of her throat down toward her collarbone, finding all sorts of delicious spots along the way. Her skin felt as if it were trying to leap from her bones where he touched it, as if eager to throw itself into his mouth.

It was overwhelmingly exciting, and Sam soon found herself catching the fingers of one hand in his hair in an effort to drag his mouth back to hers, in the hopes of soothing some of the excitement screaming through her. He answered the call, raising his head to find her lips once more, but if she'd thought the first kiss was the passion storm she'd read about, it was nothing compared to this one. Now he seemed to be trying to devour her, his mouth almost rough and his tongue filling her in a way that made her breasts ache and heat pool between her suddenly shaky legs.

Moaning into the caress, Sam clutched at him and gave him back some of that passion, uncertainly and even clumsily at first, but then with growing confidence and need. Wrapped up in the sensations he was bringing to bear with just a kiss, she didn't notice he was lowering her to the ground until she felt cool sand against the backs of her bare legs and through the thin cloth of her T-shirt. The cool lick of the breeze on her upper thighs and then her stomach was her first notification that he was pushing her T-shirt upward, but she didn't protest. Had her hands not been busy trying to pull him tighter, she might have helped him with the chore. Fortunately her dream lover didn't need the help. He managed to lift her enough to raise the T-shirt up to pool above her breasts without ever disrupting their kiss, and then the hand that wasn't under her back, supporting her, covered one sensitive breast.

Sam groaned into his mouth and immediately arched to press the small mound into his caressing hand and then groaned again as he squeezed it almost painfully. In the next moment, his mouth broke away from hers again. This time she didn't stop his downward journey as his mouth trailed kisses along her neck. He paused briefly at her collarbone to offer it special attention, making her shudder in his arms, and then his hand shifted down to splay itself over her flat stomach and his mouth dropped down to replace it. Sam went a little crazy as he latched on to one very excited nipple and drew it between his lips so that he could flick at it with his tongue.

Her eyes opened with disappointment when his mouth left her, but that soon turned to alarm when she realized he'd raised his head to peer at her in the moonlight. Embarrassed, she tried to catch him by the hair and draw him down to kiss her again so that he would stop his looking, but he ignored her.

When he breathed the word beautiful under his breath, she squirmed under his gaze, more than aware that he was lying. Tom had always said she was too scrawny and suggested she get breast implants.

"Too skinny," Sam gasped apologetically and tried to draw him down again, but he shook his head and met her gaze, eyes glowing silver-green in the dark.

"I thought so," he admitted solemnly, and then spread balm on her soul by adding, "Until now. Seeing you like this..." He let the words die away, and she saw the hunger alive in his eyes. He finally lowered his head to kiss her again and let her taste the excitement she was raising in him... and there was no doubt the man was excited. Sam could feel that excitement pressing against her hip as his chest angled over her, the cloth of his own T-shirt feeling almost abrasive against her fevered flesh.

Reminded that he was still dressed while she lay splayed beneath him, Sam found some of her usual gumption and began to rectify that. Dropping her hands to his lower back, she curled her fingers in the cotton shirt and tugged it free of the jeans it had been tucked into. The moment she had it halfway up his back, she released it to touch his bare flesh, sighing as her fingertips glided over smooth, hot skin.

Feeling bold, especially since this was a dream, she then slid her hands around between them so that she could run them over his chest. Finding his nipples, she paused to pay them special attention, smiling around his tongue when he groaned into her mouth and thrust his hips against her in response. That drew her attention lower, and she immediately slid one hand down to the front of his jeans and wormed it between them until she could run it firmly over the bulge there.

Mortimer's response this time was to growl into her mouth, the sound vibrating along his lips and tongue and then transmitting to hers, and she squeezed him again. The second caress garnered a more passionate response, and he suddenly shifted between her legs so that he could grind himself against her in an imitation of what she sincerely hoped was coming. He already had her more excited than she'd ever dreamed possible.

Alex was right, Sam realized. She was a veritable virgin... and she'd been missing out on a hell of a lot. Tom's breaking it off with her seemed like the best damned thing he'd ever done for her.

Who knew? The thought brought a small giggle from her lips that died abruptly, replaced by a deep, throaty groan as Mortimer ground against her again, this time thrusting his tongue into her mouth at the same time.

Alex was wrong, Sam realized suddenly. She could definitely have a fling with Mortimer. In fact, if this was just the opening act, there was no damned way she was missing the main event.

Reaching between them, she undid his jeans with hands that were trembling and clumsy, but also determined. Mortimer raised his hips slightly to aid her, and then a pillow hit her in the face.

"That must have been one hell of a dream you were having. We could hear you moaning and groaning from the kitchen."

Sam blinked her eyes open and stared, first at Alex's wry expression and then at Jo's grinning face. The pair were kneeling on the bed, one on either side of her. Jo was the one holding the pillow that had accosted her, she realized, her mind howling with disappointment at the interruption.

"Come on, sleepyhead. It's past noon." Alex slid off the bed and headed for the door. "The power's on and coffee's brewing. It's the second pot," she added dryly.

Pausing in the door, she turned sideways to let Jo slip past her and then announced, "We're starving, but can't start breakfast until you go next door and get the sausage."

"Me? Why me?" Sam asked. "What if they aren't up yet?"

Alex shrugged. "It's noon. They're probably up, at least one of them probably is. Now hurry up and get ready; we're starved."

"Well, why don't you go get it then?" she asked irritably.

"Because before we came in to wake you we voted about who should go, and you were the winner," she said with a grin and then added, "By the way, I've changed my mind again. I think you should have a fling with Mortimer after all."

"You have?" Sam asked with confusion. "Why?"

"Because if he makes you moan his name while awake half as much as you were doing while dreaming, it would be worth any heartache it might cause," she said dryly, and waited just long enough to see the flush of embarrassment rise up to cover Sam's face before stepping out of the room and closing the door.

Sam let her head drop back with a groan. Whether it was for the interruption to the dream, or humiliation at learning she'd been moaning and groaning and calling Mortimer's name in her sleep, even she couldn't say at that point.

"Don't fall back to sleep," Alex warned through the closed door. "If you aren't out here in five minutes we're coming back."

Sighing, Sam tossed her sheet aside and stood up, her gaze sliding to the window. Her eyes moved over the trees that acted as a curtain between the two properties. It was still early summer up here, the foliage not fully formed, so there were little gaps here and there causing a peekaboo effect that wouldn't be there in another couple of weeks. She could see enough to tell that there wasn't a sign of movement from the other cottage.

Biting her lip, she turned her attention to finding clothes to wear, spending more time than usual over the chore. She was torn over the task her sisters had "voted" she should complete. Part of her was embarrassed by her dream and wanted to avoid seeing Mortimer. The other part was eager to see him again and wanted to look her best when she did.

Sam flushed as she acknowledged that. Even looking her best, she would never be considered pretty, but in her dream Mortimer had looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and some small part of her heart was hoping he might look at her like that in real life someday too.

"Fool," Sam muttered under her breath as she grabbed up the clothes she'd chosen and headed out of the room. It seemed pretty obvious that Alex had been right last night. She was too inexperienced to handle a fling. She'd get her heart broken or humiliate herself for sure if she even tried. The best thing she could do for herself was give the man a wide berth. And she would... right after she went over and collected the sausage.