Montana Wildfire (19 page)

"Supper," Jake said and tossed something onto the ground near her feet, then turned and swaggered away.

Amanda blinked hard. Her eyes were burning, and for the past half hour she'd been fighting a losing battle to keep them open. She seized on Jake's single word as a good distraction from her exhaustion. His gritty tone coursed down her spine like a drop of warm honey, awakening her senses, honing them.

That one clipped word was the first real thing he'd said to her all day—except for occasionally cursing under his breath, he hadn't spoken to her directly since that embarrassing incident this morning. Amanda hadn't realized how greedy she was for the sound of his voice... until now.

Supper. The first image to flash through her mind was of stringy jerky and tinny-tasting beans. The second was more appealing. Her stomach grumbled when she replaced the image with succulent pheasant smothered in tangy orange sauce. No, make that lobster sautéed in wine and butter, the tender white meat flaking away under the delicate application of a fork.

"Supper," Amanda repeated, her mouth watering. Her stomach growled with unladylike vehemence. "What are we having?"

"Snake."

Her eyes widened, and the extra moisture in her mouth evaporated to shock. It took two full minutes for her thought processes to kick back in. At the end of that time, Amanda had convinced herself she'd heard Jake wrong. She must have. Surely she'd only
thought
he had said... "I beg your pardon?"

Jake was kneeling beside his saddlebag, his big hands rummaging through its shadowy leather depths. He seemed to be ignoring her, but he wasn't. Jake was very much aware of the sharp edge of repugnance in Amanda's tone. It took effort to suppress his grin. "No need to beg, princess. All I'm asking is that you cook it."

Was that amusement she heard in his tone? Amanda hoped for his sake that it was not. Her green eyes narrowed, raking his chiseled profile. There were too many shadows to see details, but in the flicker of moonlight she saw enough. Perhaps too much. There wasn't even a hint of a grin on Jake's lips. His expression, half-shielded by the curtain of hair that fell forward over his shoulder, was as unreadable as stone.

Amanda's stomach twisted. Morbid curiosity, she supposed, would explain why her horrified gaze descended, seeking out the object Jake had so casually tossed to the ground in front of her. Unless her memory was faulty—oh, how she hoped it was!—the thing had made an unsavory
thunk
when it hit solid ground.

It was a good thing her heart had lodged in her throat, or she would have screamed. She could feel the shriek building in her throat the way she could feel the grass break off in her fingers when she clamped handfuls of it in tight, trembling fists. Had her cheeks gone white? They felt cold, bloodless, and chalky, so she assumed they had.

Jake straightened, and moved to stand in front of her. Amanda didn't hear his approach, but then, she hadn't expected to. She could feel his nearness, smell his earthy scent on the air. Pity none of that managed to shake her trance-like gaze from the carcass that curled over the grass near her feet.

"Problems, princess? You look a might peaked."

Jake's voice came from a point far above her head. Amanda barely heard him. The pounding in her ears was too loud and furious. "Th-that's a... a..." She sucked in a sharp breath and tried to get hold of herself. Unfortunately, that just wasn't possible. "That's a s-s-s..."

"Snake," he said, hunkering down. Reaching out, he picked up the thing that Amanda was regarding with such abhorrence. The snake was about three feet long, thick and heavy. Its body draped over his palm, the head and tail ribboning over the ground like a limp piece of rope. "A diamondback rattlesnake to be precise."

A rattlesnake, Amanda's mind echoed, dazed. Her stomach gurgled its displeasure. Hadn't she read that rattlesnakes were poisonous? Not that it mattered, she supposed, since the thing was dead as a doorknob. Poisonous or not, it wasn't going to be biting anything ever again. Not that she planned on getting close enough to have that theory proved out!

"Don't look so worried, princess. Unless you're a bigger eater than I thought, there should be enough for both of us."

She glanced up, glad for any excuse to stop looking at that... that
snake.
She was just in time to see Jake's steely gaze rake her. His eyes were hot, probing, and assessive. Unexpected heat trickled into her bloodstream, and it was just warm enough, just strong enough, to burn off a tiny bit of her repulsion.

"Nah," he said, and tossed the snake back onto the ground. It made that revolting noise again. Amanda grimaced, her stomach rolled. "You're too skinny to eat much. Probably pick at your food like a bird."

The simile was not lost on Amanda—she only
wished
it had been. Her mind filled with a gruesome image of beaks pecking at a dead snake's carcass. Her head felt suddenly light and dizzy. A bitter-tasting lump of nausea wedged in her throat. Swallowing it back took more effort than she'd ever admit to this man.

"I have a healthy appetite for...
normal
food, Mr. Chandler," she said finally. Her voice sounded humiliatingly soft and strained. But that was all right; at least now she
had
a voice!

"Nothing abnormal about eating a little snake now and again,
Miss Lennox.
Out here, you can't afford to be picky. Fresh meat is fresh meat."

"And revolting is revolting," she snapped, her gaze shifting to the snake. A chill iced down her spine, and she immediately averted her attention. Meeting his gaze, she forced her chin to lift an imperious notch.
"That
is disgusting. I won't eat it."

Jake shrugged. "Fine by me. Like I said, all I ask is that you cook it."

"I will
not!"

"Wanna bet?"

"All the tea in China, Mr. Chandler. All the tea in China."

Jake scowled. Now what the hell was she talking about? They didn't have any tea—unless she'd brought it, and if she did... hell, he didn't care to know about it. Besides, they weren't talking tea here, they were talking nice juicy snake. Supper. Couldn't the woman follow a simple conversation? He decided her swift change of topic must be her ladylike way of relenting. Whatever.

He pushed to his feet and glanced down at her. Her spine looked incredibly rigid, even for her, and her cheeks were ashen. He shrugged, thinking she'd probably just laced her corset too tight. Making a mental note to talk to her about that later, he turned away. Over his shoulder he said, "I'll get the fire started while you skin supper."

He'd taken no more than a step when he heard "Ugh," then felt something large and heavy slam into his lower back.

Years ago, self-preservation had honed Jake's reaction time to lightning speed. In a beat he'd spun on his heel; the knife slipped soundlessly from its sheath, the hilt cradled in his palm, the blade brandished threateningly, before he'd even completed the turn.

Amanda gasped. The grimace wrinkling her nose faded, and the hands she was scouring on her shirt froze. A tremor that she tried to stifle, but couldn't, racked her shoulders. "Oh, no. Not again."

If Jake heard, he gave no sign. His slitted gaze volleyed between her big, frightened green eyes, and the snake—the body of which now curled like a shadowy coil of rope in the grass near his feet. "Jesus, lady, what the hell'd you do that for?"

"You deserved it." The second she saw him sheath the knife, Amanda began to relax. Unfortunately, her trembling wasn't so easily conquered. "Don't think for a minute I'm going to... to
skin
that... that..."

"Snake," he finished for her, the word hissing from between tightly clenched teeth. "It's a
snake
, princess."

"I know what it is!"

"Then say it."

"No."

Jake had always prided himself on having an abundance of patience. He found nothing admirable about how close he was to loosing his temper with this woman now. "Fine, don't say it," he growled. His nostrils flared, and the muscle in his cheek jerked. "Hell, I don't care if you
never
say it. Just so long as you skin it."

Her chin was tipped at a haughty angle. Until that moment, Jake didn't realize just how much he hated the way she did that. Her condescending glare now had to travel the full, pert length of her nose to reach him. The glint in her green eyes made him feel low and dirty, like she found him more repulsive than the reptile that would, with any luck, be their supper. He supposed the expression was a natural gesture for her, just as he supposed it was only natural for his reaction to be an itch in his fingers that begged for the chance to throttle some of that regal disdain out of her.

He leashed the urge. Barely. "Well? You going to cook it or not?"

"Not. I refuse to touch that," she grimaced, and shivered delicately,
"thing."

His grin was cold and ruthless, gone as quickly as it had come. "You just did, princess. Or don't you remember throwing it at me?"

"I remember. And the only reason I touched it then was because I was too upset to think about what I was doing." Amanda was thinking about it now, though. Thinking about how the cold, scaly hide had felt in her palms. About how heavy it was, the way its body had twisted and moved as though it was still alive. She swallowed hard and rubbed her hands down her skirt, trying to scrub away the disgusting feel. It refused to be banished.

Jake studied her long and hard. He had to admit, at first he'd chalked up her reluctance as a childish desire to...
annoy
him—her way of getting even for what he'd done to her last night with the fire. Now he wasn't so sure. The woman looked truly horrified at the thought of touching the snake again. And when he'd mentioned eating it... well, her pale white cheeks still had that unflattering green undertone.

Jake scowled, at her as much as at himself. All right, so he'd had a momentary slip. He'd temporarily forgotten that properly bred white ladies rarely if ever saw, let alone
dined,
on snakes. So what? He'd been hungry and tired after a long day of riding and tracking. When he'd seen the snake he'd thought it would make a nice, easy-to-cook, hearty supper. He still did. God knows it would be a refreshing change from jerky and beans. He hadn't given a thought to how Little Miss Prissy Britches would react.

He wasn't going to think about it now. He was still tired, still hungry, and he'd already killed the goddamn snake. He wasn't about to go hunt up something else when they had a perfectly good meal waiting to be skinned, gutted, and cooked.

Which brought up another interesting point...

"You
do
know how to cook, don't you, princess?"

"I can fillet and broil a swordfish that would drive you to your knees, Mr. Chandler," she sniffed imperiously. His knees, Amanda thought wistfully. Yes, she would definitely like to see Jake there. Soon.

His laughter took her off guard. It was a deep, thoroughly masculine, thoroughly appealing sound. She glanced up, and found herself entranced. The whiteness of his teeth made an intriguing contrast to his rich copper skin. Laugh lines bracketed his mouth, and his eyes shimmered in a way that was mesmerizing, not to mention breathtakingly attractive. Amanda couldn't look away. Worse, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to.

One inky brow cocked. "Swordfish? Princess, I don't know how to break this to you, but we're nowhere near the ocean. A few trout is the best I could do... providing I found a stream before dark. Which I won't, because I'm not going out again."

"Pity. My swordfish is a real treat."

"No doubt," Jake said, then chuckled and shook his head. Broiled swordfish! Jesus, this pampered white woman was chock full of surprises!

Like his laugh, Jake's low, husky chuckle shot down Amanda's spine like a flash of liquid heat. It sizzled in her blood and melted her indignation. Deep down she knew she should still be feeling at least a smidgen of anger. He was laughing at her expense, after all. She had a right to be upset. So why wasn't she? Why couldn't she, no matter how hard she tried, summon up even an ounce of resentment?

She didn't know, she just couldn't. Amanda thought Jake's suddenly good mood had a lot to do with it. His laughter was infectious. She was having trouble trying to keep the corners of her mouth quirked in a stern frown; her lips begged to curl upward, eager to join in his mirth.

"Tell you what I'm gonna do," Jake said, sounding very much like a carnival vendor she'd seen once, many years ago. "Why don't we trade chores? You get the fire started while I skin our friend here." He crouched down and picked up the snake, letting it drag from his hands down to the ground. "Sound fair?"

Oh, yes. It sounded more than fair. Unless one took into account what he wanted in return for such a magnanimous gesture. And he would want something, she knew. Jake Chandler was too shrewd to offer a favor like that out of the goodness of his heart—if he had one, which she rather doubted. No, there had to be something in it for him. Amanda didn't hesitate to ask exactly what that something he would want in return was.

Jake's attention immediately, albeit unconsciously, dipped to her lips. His gaze burned and devoured—more so when he saw her catch and nibble the full pink flesh with her teeth. His jaw clenched, and he curbed an overpowering urge to replace her teeth with his. To nibble, taste, stroke with his tongue...

Remember that she's a prissy white woman. Remember what happened this morning.

Jake knew that was what he should be thinking about right now. That, and the bitter sting of years of old memories and hard-learned lessons. Surely, between the two, this urge to taste and touch and push the rules would fade. Wouldn't it? Jesus, he hoped so!

Jake hiked the snake over his shoulder and shrugged. "What do I want?" he said, his tone forcefully light. He retreated to sit with his back propped against a tree that was as far away from the sweetly forbidden temptation that was Amanda Lennox as he could get. "Supper, princess.
That's
what I want.
All
I want. I'm starving."