Morgan's Hunter Read Online Free

pull her under, but she had too much to do.
    Her father would be expecting her to check in and fax her initial reports for the Environmental Protection Agency, even though she had little to share. They hadn’t found anything yet. Hopefully the Yellowstone crew had stumbled into more luck than she, Dave, and Jim.
    But faxes would have to wait—her date with hot water and soap came first. Morgan stood and walked to the bathroom, casting a wistful glance over her shoulder. One more hour of work, she promised herself, and she’d be snuggled under the covers of her temporary bed.
    Facing the vanity-style mirror, Morgan grimaced at her dimly lit reflection. “Yikes. You’ve seen better days, Taylor.” She flicked on the light. “Definitely worse than I thought.”
    She pulled the elastic from her messy ponytail, chuckled. Claude was going to freak when she stepped into his spa fourteen days from now—he always did after she returned from an assignment.
    The city’s top stylist would cluck his tongue and scold her in fluent French while he pulled her to a salon chair as if her life hung in the balance. A flute of champagne would be thrust into her hand as a team of hair and skincare specialists descended on her like doctors and nurses responding to a ‘stat’ call.
    While a cosmetologist brushed green goop over her face and a stylist fussed and cooed over her neglected mane, Claude would continue, outraged. “Beautiful skin should be treasured, no?” or “How can Morgan Taylor of the D.C. Taylors allow herself to fall apart like this every time she leaves town? Disgraceful!” And let’s not forget: “What would your grandmother , the former senator , think if she happened to pass you on the street— like this —looking as though you just crawled out of the gutter? Scandalous!”
    Morgan shook her head, rolling her eyes, and brushed a hand through dull hair, admitting a good douse of Claude’s special hydrating treatment couldn’t hurt. Her silky brown locks hid among the tangled mess hanging at her shoulders—somewhere.
    Morgan swiped at the purple smudges under her dark green eyes, noted her broken fingernails, shrugged. Vanity and the wilderness just didn’t mix. But as soon as she got home, she and Shelly were spending the day with Claude. The appointments were already booked. God knew they deserved it—a month of trouncing through backcountry definitely warranted six hours of pampering, fun, and catching up.
    While two masseurs kneaded away knots of tension, Shelly would finally fill her in on the details of their last hurried conversation as they parted ways at Reagan International.
    “Morgan, I know this isn’t a good time—that we’re leaving—but I need to tell you something.”
    “Okay.”
    “Ian came to my place last night. We got into an argument—”
    “Wait. What were you and Ian doing together? Weren’t you both getting ready for the trip?”
    “It’s a long story. I’ll explain everything when we get back, but he kissed me, Morgan. I mean, really kissed me. He said we’re going to have a serious conversation in Montana—that he thinks he loves me and has a lot to say before I just get up and walk out of his life.”
    “Wow. I—”
    “What am I supposed to do? I leave for L.A. in five weeks. What should I do?”
    “I-I…Jesus, Shell, I’m still trying to catch up here. I had no idea anything was going on between the two of you. Do you love him?”
    “I don’t know. I… Damn. That’s my boarding call.”
    “We’ll talk when you get back.”
    Oh, they would talk all right. Being left to dangle with small tidbits of a surprising turn of events was its own form of torture. Not knowing what had gone on between her best friend and Ian was…unbearable.
    If she hurried with her shower and phone call to her father, she might catch Shelly alone in her hotel room—if they weren’t out in backcountry.
    With a shrug, Morgan snapped the shower curtain open, turned the lever to