Tempestuous Eden Read Online Free

assured, imposing. His eyes were too knowing.
    She wasn’t sure what was being said anymore, but the stranger gave the reporter a wicked grin, one that didn’t touch his piercing eyes. Blair held back a chuckle as she saw the cool, swaggering reporter—not so cool or swaggering anymore—duck by his brawny adversary and hightail it back to his jeep. The vehicle roared into quick action, coughing and sputtering, ripped into gear, and skidded off into the direction from, whence it had come.
    Yellow eyes flicked at her briefly through the trees and once more met hers. Bemused and compelled, Blair smiled back and began to make her short return trip through the foliage.
    She came to him in the compound and for a moment they both stared at each other, smiling over the reporter’s hasty exit.
    “Ms. Morgan,” the man said with an easy grin.
    For some reason, they both broke into laughter at the same time. Blair offered her hand to him, surprised at the little constriction that circled her heart.
    He wasn’t the handsomest man she had ever come across—his features were far too severe—but he was certainly the most striking. His unusual eyes seemed to exude a fiery power; she was sure no one who had seen his gaze could have ever forgotten it.
    “I’m at the disadvantage,” Blair told him, wryly feeling the unintended double entendre. She was a medium five foot five; the man stood a good head above her. “You know who I am, but”—she grinned bluntly—“but who are you?”
    “Craig Taylor.” He smiled in return. “I was to introduce myself, but I stumbled into your little predicament. I’m one of the new recruits.”
    “Oh,” Blair murmured, shielding puzzled eyes with thick lashes that matched the dark flame of her hair. Like Dr. Hardy, she was thinking that the man simply didn’t fit, although, unlike the reporter, he did know how to dress for a mucky jungle. His jeans were worn, but made of heavy duty, work-weight denim. His shirt was breathable cotton, a standard blue work shirt. Peeking at the ragged hem of his jeans, she saw a commendable pair of sturdy boots.
    “Do I fit the bill?” he asked dryly.
    Blair flushed, and her eyes flew back to his, which were flashing a golden amusement. She had definitely been caught in the act of assessment. “Yes,” she mumbled hastily, then grimaced. “No. Actually,” she told him bluntly, “you look like a cross between Tom Selleck and a leftover from the Haight-Ashbury days.”
    He laughed easily. “I think I’m supposed to thank you for the first, and as to the second—leftover—huh!”
    “Craig!”
    The call came from the doctor’s med tent before Blair could respond.
    “I think I’m being paged. I’ll see you later and you can give me proper thanks.” He grinned with a devastating charm that made his devilish features beguiling. “I did save you from the one fate worse than death—a reporter!”
    Suddenly feeling a little on the defensive, and abruptly aware that the man could be dangerous in a way she hadn’t previously suspected, Blair crossed her arms over her chest and unconsciously adjusted her casual stance to a straighter, more dignified one. “I appreciated your timely arrival.” She frowned. “But I was fully capable of handling the situation myself.”
    “So I’ve been told.”
    Did she detect a subtle shadowing in those yellow eyes? A dry bitterness in his tone? No, he was still smiling easily.
    “Okay,” he joked, “I exaggerated. Will I see you at dinner?”
    “Around here,” she replied ruefully, “there really isn’t a tremendous choice.”
    “We all eat together, huh?”
    “More or less.”
    Craig rubbed a firm chin hinting of stubble as if he were in deep contemplation. “Save me a seat—or ground space—beside you.”
    Blair smiled, relaxing her guard slightly at the earnestness of his appeal. And admittedly he was intriguingly attractive. She couldn’t deny that her heart fluttered more quickly in his imposing