Chapter 7

CALLIE SAT ON THE couch, not concentrating on her textbook. Instead, she studied Hunter. He was absorbed in her textbook on François-Marie Arouet, better known under his nom de plume, Voltaire.

Hunter was full of surprises. He was deeper than she’d believed, more knowledgeable, his interests broad. Despite being conversationally challenged, in the little he’d said he revealed a sharp mind. He was educated, articulate, and intelligent. He was a health nut, too, careful of what he ate, rarely consuming alcohol. She knew he left the apartment late at night to run for exercise. She’d heard him.

For the past fourteen days she’d grown comfortable with him. And, jeez, when he smiled! When he smiled, her chest felt tight. She liked him, a lot. Actually, she admitted to herself, she had a small crush on him. He was kinda dashing and mysterious and ruggedly cute.

Callie studied his face, his brows drawn in concentration. He was all angles and planes, his nose perfectly straight, mouth broad. His chin was angular, cheeks high. She could see his American Indian heritage, his hair so dark, almost glossy.

She knew he was of Cheyenne descent from his comment on languages, but how had he ended up in government service?

Dad had told her to trust him, and she did, implicitly, although she didn’t understand why. Was it because she felt so comfortable around him? In fact, it was proving to be fun to tease him. He’d become as stiff as a board when she hugged him, making her laugh every time. She no longer dashed from the bathroom to her bedroom after her shower, instead wandering around with a bath towel wrapped around her just to see him spot her, become uncomfortable, and turn his head away.

In dance classes, she noticed him watching her through the door window and she enjoyed his attention. She was absolutely fascinated by his eyes; obsidian, mysterious, unreadable, and so observant. His eyes challenged her. She wanted to know what he was thinking, know more about him.

Setting her textbook aside, pulling the ear buds out, Callie asked him, “How did you end up working for the government? Did you grow up on a reservation?” Smiling, she continued, “What university did you go to? Are your parents proud of you? Do you have a girlfriend back in the States? How does a long-distance relationship work? How often do you see her?”

When the corner of his mouth ticked up in amusement, she continued, “How long have you two been together? What does she do? What does she look like? Is she blonde? Does she worry about you? Do you miss her?”