All I Want

“Are healing,” he said. “And that’s not what you were staring at.”

True story.

He smiled. “And you liked what you saw.”

Oh God. She had, she really, really had. She closed her eyes and wished for a big hole to swallow her up. “I hardly even noticed you were naked.”

“So much for honesty.”

“You don’t get honesty privileges,” she said. “Not until it goes both ways.”

“You don’t think I’m being honest with you?”

“Sightseeing?” she repeated dubiously. “Sorry, but you don’t seem like the type to spend thousands of dollars on a sightseeing trip just for the hell of it.”

“Maybe it’s not just for the hell of it.”

She shook her head. “Why do I feel like we’re playing some kind of game here, except I don’t have a copy of the rules?”

His smile went a whole lot more real. “I irritate you.”

“Yes,” she said, and smiled grimly. “How’s that for honesty?”

She didn’t expect him to laugh out loud but that was exactly what he did, tossing back his head to do so. Finally, still grinning, he shook his head, his eyes lit with . . . affection? “I like you, too, and your smart mouth,” he said.

“Are you saying I’m a smart-ass?”

He smiled. “If the shoe fits.”

She thought of the woman he’d been talking to on his phone, who’d had a sure and confident voice as she called Parker out on his shit. Zoe didn’t know what shit exactly, but there’d definitely been a tension there, one she assumed was sexual.

But he seemed to be flirting with her now, and Zoe didn’t know how to take that. “And you . . . like smart-asses?”

“Yes.”

“So you like women who are bitchy to you?” she asked.

He smiled. “Don’t have much experience with that problem.”

She could believe it. “Is that your way of saying women usually fall all over you?”

“Well, not all of them,” he said with a false modesty that made her want to laugh. She tried to hold it back but couldn’t quite manage it.

“See?” he said. “I’m irresistible.”

“You’re something,” she agreed. “But I don’t think irresistible is it.”

“Admit it. I’m growing on you.”

“That’s one thing you’re not going to do,” she said firmly, and she meant it, too. At least her brain meant it, but her body didn’t seem to be on board with the plan. After all, she’d been burned by a mysterious man before, badly, one who’d turned out to be a big, fat liar.

She wasn’t going there again. Ever. Nope, she needed transparency from a man. And Parker, for all his bad-boy, cowboy ’tude and cocky swagger, wasn’t anything close to transparent.

At all.

And that made him downright dangerous to her. He was the kind of man that messed with a woman’s heart, so it was a good thing hers wasn’t available to him.

But if she’d worried about living with him and his knowing eyes and way-too-hot bod—now she also had to work with him.

Except the oddest thing happened when they got into the air.

He wasn’t a know-it-all. He didn’t try to flirt or drive her up a wall.

None of that. He asked her questions about Idaho as they flew, as though he’d done research on the area. He mentioned some of the other places he’d been—seemingly everywhere—and knew a lot about . . . well, a lot. He asked her about the wind patterns and the different techniques required for flying out of the high-altitude Sunshine airport, and she was fascinated in spite of herself.

He was driven, focused, sharp, and . . .

“Damn,” he murmured softly beneath his breath, and pulled out a set of binoculars when they were at altitude, locking on something out the side window for a long moment.

He looked badass to the core. Who the hell was he? Because right now, focused and still, he sure as hell didn’t look like a guy on a break from work. He looked like a guy who kept secrets, dark ones.

Another wolf in sheep’s clothing . . .

At that thought, she panicked—inwardly. Because outwardly she was cool. Cool as ice.

Or so she hoped. “Rocky Falls is coming up on your right,” she said.

“What else is out here?”

“White Mountain,” she said. “And Angel Lake.”

He didn’t react, and she knew she hadn’t given him anything of interest.

“And then there’s Cat’s Paw,” she said.

He turned his head and looked at her. “That’s not on the map.”

“No,” she said. “It’s mostly just national forestland, but years and years ago the locals called that specific area Cat’s Paw and it stuck.”

“Why the nickname?”

“Because mountain cats used to be so prevalent there—before poachers and too many people nearly wiped them out,” she said.

“Can you circle around and fly over the same spot again?”

“Yes.” She slid him a look. “Is there a reason?”

“Does a paying customer have to give you one?” He asked this with a casual, teasing tone, but his body language was anything but casual or teasing.

Nope, she thought, watching him pull a camera from his duffel—an expensive one with a long-range lens—there was nothing flirty about the man at the moment, no matter what his words said.

She circled around and once again they flew over the area, nothing but forestland with the exception of an area that looked as if it had been clear-cut recently. Inside the clearing was a circle of vehicles. Hunters, she thought at first, but there were way too many cars for a usual group of hunters. “That’s new,” she said. “I was out here two weeks ago with another client and the landscape hadn’t been touched. And I’ve never seen so many hunters in one spot before.”

He took a few more shots and then slid the camera away and turned to her. “You’re sure?”

“Very.”

“You had a client who wanted to see Cat’s Paw, too?”

“No,” she said. “Well, I don’t know, he didn’t say what he was doing specifically. He was a land developer and I got the feeling he was looking to buy something out here. You, too?”

He spent a long moment zipping up his bag. “No.”

She waited for more. Nothing came. “You always a little mysterious?” she asked.

He leaned back, looking casual and at ease, but again, there was nothing casual about his sharp gaze as he took in the landscape around them with a care that was anything but sightseeing. “What is it you want to know?” he asked.

“I’m not sure exactly.” She looked at him again. “I just feel like I’m missing something about you.”

“We’re strangers,” he said. “There’s a lot you’re missing about me. No one’s an open book.”

She tried to read into that but couldn’t. He was a stone when he wanted to be. Which brought some unhappy memories to the surface. “Maybe you’re an ax murderer looking for a place to bury the bodies.”