Read Online The Rogue Hunter by Lynsay Sands - Free Book Online Page A

see. Bricker will handle them. Now sit down and let me look at your arm."
    "You already looked at it," she said with a scowl.
    "Well, I want to look at it again in better light."
    Sam opened her mouth and then closed it again. The table was by the window, and there was better light here. She hadn't noticed how dim it was getting as the day waned, but now glanced out the window to see that the sun was well down in the sky. It had taken them longer than expected to transfer the food they wouldn't be using to the refrigerator in the cottage next door and then to do all the prep work for the barbecue.
    "Here. This should help." Alex reappeared with a tube of cream, which she handed to Mortimer rather than Sam. Her concerned gaze moved over the burn on Sam's arm and then she said reluctantly, "I have to go out and check the stuff on the barbecue. Most of it was nearly done. I was just coming in to see if the potato salad would be much longer."
    "I'll finish it up as soon as I put some cream on my arm," Sam assured her, and tried to take the salve from Mortimer, only to have him hold it out of her reach.
    "Bricker will tend to the potato salad while I put cream on her arm," the irritating man corrected, brushing her still-reaching hand aside. "We'll be out in a minute."
    Alex's eyebrows rose at the authoritative tone the man used, and then she turned away to head back out of the cottage, but not before Sam saw the slow grin beginning to pluck at her lips. Alex was obviously finding this amusing. Sam was not. She was a strong, independent, career woman and wasn't at all used to being treated like a naughty child.
    "I can take care of my own arm," Sam growled, a bit rudely she supposed, since the man was just trying to help her.
    "I'm sure you can, but I'm going to do it," Mortimer announced, and ignored her stony glare as he opened the tube of cream. Since it seemed obvious she wasn't going to be allowed to do anything else, Sam glanced around to see that Jo had finished mopping up the water and was now busy at the sink helping Bricker with the potatoes. Her gaze jerked back to her arm, however, when Mortimer took it in hand again. She saw with relief that it didn't appear to be blistering.
    Her attention shifted to Mortimer's fingers as they gently spread the cool cream over her injured skin. He was being incredibly gentle, his touch feather-soft, and Sam noted that he had very nice hands; smooth and unblemished by calluses or any roughness. Whatever he did for a living, it obviously wasn't hard labor.
    "Why didn't you see a specialist when your sister suggested it?" Mortimer asked, distracting her.
    Sam shrugged, embarrassed to admit she hadn't been taking proper care of herself. "The infections started about the same time I graduated and started my job. It's been crazy busy while I learned the ropes and…" She shrugged uncomfortably and admitted, "I just kept hoping my body would fight it off."
    When he didn't comment, her gaze shifted from the injury he was tending to him, to find that he was looking at her face rather than her arm. His expression was rather odd. It seemed to her that the man had avoided looking at her when she'd first met the men at their cottage, and when he had looked at her, she'd seen traces of what had seemed almost to be resentment or anger. Now, however, he was eyeing her almost speculatively. That made her extremely uncomfortable.
    "You take your job seriously," he said slowly.
    Sam glanced away and shrugged. "Doesn't everyone?"
    "No, I don't think they do," Mortimer said quietly.
    The slap of the screen door made both of them glance that way as Alex rushed back in.
    "The meat's done. How are we doing in here?" she asked, her anxious gaze moving from Sam and Mortimer to Bricker and Jo.
    "All set," Jo said cheerfully as Bricker picked up the bowl of potato salad that they'd finished putting together.
    "Done here too, I think," Mortimer murmured, releasing Sam's arm and straightening to stand beside her.