Raven's Prey

But he was trapped, Judd knew. He couldn’t walk away from the challenge. Even if there hadn’t been any witnesses he wouldn’t have been able to walk away with it. The need to answer Honor Knight’s saucy defiance was almost primitive. He felt a desire [_to _]assert himself over her that he [_couldn’t fully _]explain. The shirts were rapidly becoming only an excuse. What had gotten into him?
    “Oh, I’d say there are still a few differences between me and mat damned plane,” Honor said cheerfully, beginning to feel on top of the situation.
    “Name one,” be growled.
    “I can dance.”
    He nodded as if taking that fact into consideration. “Can you?”
    “Ummm. And I can broil a steak.”
    “A useful talent.”
    “Let’s see, what else? I can mix a good margarita.”
    “If you’re that skillful with your hands I’ll bet you can wash these shirts, too.”
    “I probably could. If they happened to belong to a man who preferred me to an airplane. But since they don’t…”
    But Judd, apparently, had had enough. Amid the excited squeals of the women he leaned down and yanked off his boots. Then, [_heedless _]of the fact that his jeans were getting wet around the bottom edges, he started forward into the stream.
    On a note of laughing protest, Honor turned and ran, heading for the opposite bank. A part of her delighted in having provoked him with her teasing. He wasn’t truly angry this time, merely determined to win the small confrontation. She wasn’t even sure but what, in some small way, he was actually enjoying himself, although she had the feeling he would never admit it. This kind of playfulness was new to him, she realized, and he didn’t quite know how to deal with it.
    Which didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make a damn good try, she acknowledged as he came striding across the stream toward her.
    “Judd! No, wait…!” she gasped, torn between laughter and an unexpected panic as he leaped onto the bank behind her and scooped her up in his arms. “I was only teasing.” She felt the strength in him as he carried her easily against his chest back into the stream. There was a sensuous, blatantly erotic tug on her senses as she absorbed the impact of his sun-warmed body. “What are you going to do?” she demanded, trying and failing to struggle free. Around her the other women laughed delightedly.
    “Get my shirts washed.”
    Damn it! She still couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. Was he amused? Or was he simply set on getting his shirts washed? What was it with this man? Couldn’t he give vent to any of the softer emotions like playful humor?
    “Judd?” Suddenly she started to lose her nerve. She didn’t understand this man and it was dangerous to tease wild animals. She should never have started the mischievous byplay.
    “Pick up the shirts, Honor” he ordered in a deep, dark voice as he reached the opposite bank with her in his arms. He stood in the water and lowered her just far enough so that she could reach the two shirts he had left lying on the ground.
    Feeling more uncertain than ever now, Honor did as ordered, reaching down to collect the two shirts. As soon as she had them in her hands he straightened and carried her back into the middle of the stream.
    “Judd, put me down,” she commanded quickly as a premonition told her what he planned to do. The stream became wider and deeper just a few feet away. Deep enough to toss in a recalcitrant woman together with two shirts that needed washing! “Judd, so help me, if you—”
    The rest was lost as Judd found the spot he was looking for and opened his arms. With a resounding splash Honor sank below the surface of the stream, automatically clutching the shirts that had been in her hands.
    Damn it to hell, she thought furiously as she floundered for a moment beneath the surface. You’d think a grown woman would have known better than to taunt a wild, unpredictable bird of prey.
    She came back into the air, standing waist-deep in the stream, and found her tormentor watching from a short distance away. He was only in water up to his calves.
    “Are the shirts done yet?” he asked politely in Spanish. The women shouted their laughter, vastly amused by the whole scene. The [_gringos _]were crazy, but they livened up the place.
    Honor glared at him, her hair dripping in a sleek, wet mass around her shoulders. She honestly didn’t know whether to be elated or infuriated. She certainly didn’t appreciate the