CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(52)

Dressed in her ranger's uniform of dark green camouflage pants with  matching bandana, short-sleeved black shirt and hiking boots, she  hurried downstairs, her mutinous mind on the man in her bed. She'd taken  her time looking him over as she and Dr. Matons changed bandages and  checked stitches. The man's wide, solid chest was sprinkled with dark  downy hair as black as the hair on her own head. And even in sleep, his  biceps were large and defined, the ridged lines of his stomach easily  visible and his thighs large and muscular. His body was that of a  bodybuilder crossed with a long-distance runner, built for strength and  endurance.

And the long, thick rod nestled between powerful thighs looked built for  endurance too. Even in slumber, the thing was formidable. She'd  shuddered, but from longing or fear, she wasn't sure. He had to be a bad  boy. Good guys just didn't come this handsome. A shadow of growth along  his jaw line enhanced his high cheekbones. His skin reminded her of  French vanilla ice cream, the color of decadence and far from plain.  She'd never wondered what a man tasted like. Until now.

Then those deep gray eyes of his drifted lazily open and she'd almost forgotten what she was doing.

She told herself it was the color of those eyes that snared her  thoughts, not the beautiful ruggedness of his face or the strong lines  of his body, which she'd seen gloriously naked while she and the doctor  tended his wounds. Even with loads of bruises and swelling, he was  gorgeous. Yep, it was the eyes-that was her story and damn it, she was  sticking to it.

Other than her twin sister, Reya had never met another person with eyes  exactly like hers. The shape was different but the color was dead on.  Not just a similar shade of silver, but so exact someone could have  taken his eyeballs, stuck them in her head, and she wouldn't have been  able to tell the difference.

Suddenly remembering the day she found Aaron. A jaguar had challenged  her, or at least that's what she thought had occurred. Her brows snapped  together over the unsettling circumstances of Mr. Aaron James landing  practically in her backyard. But she didn't have time to think about  that right now. From the hum of voices and clattering of dishes making  its way up the staircase, she had a full house waiting for their  breakfast.

The dining room was packed, her place being the only bed-and-breakfast  that catered to the park rangers and the guests who visited the  preserve. Other than her guests, most visitors stayed in the rustic  cabins or dormitories, but they all seemed to make their way to her  establishment for breakfast or to schedule a guided diving trip.

The sun had risen quickly into a clear blue sky, shining through the  tall plate-glass windows of the dining hall. She signaled to one of the  waitstaff to lower the shades on the eastern side of the large room,  then made her way through the throng. Spotting Dr. Matons conversing  with her housekeeper Bethsaida, she poured herself a cup of rich coffee  and joined them at a table close to the kitchen doors.

The second her butt hit the chair, a bowl of peeled, sliced apples and a  small dessert cup full of ground cinnamon was set in front of her.  Thanking the young woman who served her, Reya scooped up a good helping  of cinnamon with an apple slice and sighed with pleasure as the tart,  spicy treat hit her tongue.         

     



 

"So how's our patient?" Dr. Matons asked around a bite of fresh melon.

"Seems fine. I gave him a dose of pain meds. I told him I'd be back up  to check on him, bring him something to eat, but he'll probably sleep  for at least a few hours."

"So he did wake?"

"Yes, woke up in a bit of pain, but he was coherent enough to ask where he was and what happened to his plane."

The worry lines at the corners of Bethsaida's mouth deepened before she  asked, "Did you tell him what happened? I mean, does he understand how  you rescued him? And what you rescued him from?"

Reya's face remained calm and clear while her mind raced to find a  diplomatic and friendly way to say "hell no". Then again, she'd never  been good at tact anyway.

"Hell no," she responded quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of  the patrons or her fellow rangers. Bethsaida's eyebrows flew upward as a  half-grin graced her lovely features. An older woman with a striking  head of salt-and-pepper hair that hung clear down to her waist,  Bethsaida had given plenty of men a run for their money in her day. At  sixty years old, she was stunning. All that hair graced a lovely,  sun-browned face, and hard work kept her body strong and shapely.

Dr. Matons swallowed another piece of sweet melon and said, "It's  probably best he doesn't know. Let him remember on his own. Besides, it  would be better if he didn't recall the events of that night at all.  Soon he'll be well enough to travel and hopefully your secrets will  remain just that, yours."

"Sure, doc," she murmured in response, but her mind only caught one of  every three or four words, thinking back to her confrontation with the  unfamiliar, very large cat. A big, beautiful male she'd never seen  before, with large, distinct, black rosettes all over his perfect coat.  The light of the fire from Aaron's plane had cast an eerie glow about  his body, and when he challenged her for the man, Reya had been shocked.  Jaguars didn't eat people. What the hell was that about? Maybe she'd  try to find the male on her next patrol. Lord, she hoped he wasn't  feral. The last thing she needed was a fight with a large, crazy cat.

She looked up at the doctor and the woman who helped her run the place.  Their eyes were plastered on the front door, their faces drawn and taut  while trying their best to look unconcerned.

"What is it?" Reya asked, glancing back and forth between her two best  friends. When neither answered, she followed their eyes to a spot across  the room.

"Damn it, not what I need right now," she grumbled into her mug. Maybe  she could make a clean escape into the kitchen and help Cook cut up  something, anything. She could have kicked herself for not moving fast  enough when a slick, oily voice reached out to touch her from behind.  Yuck.

"Good morning, Reya." The sound rolled over her skin. She almost  cringed. Trefor Dionisio, dimwit extraordinaire, obviously thought just  because he was the new director of the preserve and a meaty hunk that  he'd move her. Hell, other than her need to survive and God, she'd never  been moved by anyone or anything. And even God was pushing it.

But then again, there was the beautiful man in her bed …

"Hey, Trefor. What can I do for you?" she replied cordially, though she  had yet to turn around to face him. She'd rather look at the bottom of  her coffee cup. Yahoo, it was empty! Great reason to leave the table.

"I brought your schedule," Trefor replied, thrusting the paper out to her, effectively cutting off her escape. Damn.

She looked down at his hand and the paper it held as if they would come  alive and eat her. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she snatched it  from his hand and read it over quickly. It took next to nothing for the  man to irritate her, but what was on the schedule was well beyond next  to nothing.

"Trefor, this can't be right," she said firmly, with more than a little  surprise in her voice. "I can't work this schedule. It's not even close  to what I agreed to when I came on board here."

"I understand that, but that agreement was with the former director."

She let a clear challenge blaze in her eyes and he appeared to back down  a bit before saying, "Look, Reya, we're two men short since the attacks  started. You're the lowest on the totem pole. Unless, of course,  there's something you'd like to trade … "

He let the word hang in the air, and so did she. Besides, it was pretty clear what he was trying to say, the bastard.

"Look, Trefor, I can't work this schedule. There's no way I can help Dr.  Matons with patients, run my B&B, take my customers scuba diving  and do patrol eight of the next ten shifts. If you don't like it, then  fire me."

Her good friend Marc stepped up and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.  "Trefor, you know this is bullshit. I'll take some of her patrols. I'll  even redo the schedule myself and have it back to you for approval by  this afternoon."

A frosty smile plastered on her face, she handed the piece of paper back  to Trefor then smiled warmly at Marc with a whispered thanks.

A deep growl rolled up from Trefor's chest, but Reya couldn't have cared  less. She snatched her mug off the table and disappeared into the  kitchen with Marc, Bethsaida and Dr. Matons all covering her back.



The next morning, after her typical routine of rising early, helping  Bethsaida with the guests and avoiding Trefor, Reya returned to her  apartments. Dr. Matons hadn't been surprised that their patient slept  through all of yesterday and clear through the night. But today, the  doctor wanted him to try to eat something.

Easing her way into her bedroom, she stood next to the handsome man in  the bed with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and a steaming bowl  of escabeche-onion broth with stewed chicken. Her breath caught in her  throat when his lids slid slowly open to reveal slate-gray,  soul-stirring eyes. Damn, she couldn't get over how much they looked  like hers though her pupils were larger because of her panthera onca  genetics.