Montana Wildfire by Rebecca Sinclair Read Free Book Online

hinted at the quiet fury simmering inside of him.
    For Roger's sake, as well as her own, Amanda refused to let his anger affect her. For once in her life she was going to be brave and stand up to someone—even if that someone was the rudest, most arrogant, most dangerous man she'd ever met.
    Her chin tipped haughtily. "You'll have to excuse me," she said with exaggerated politeness. "Given the circumstances, I'm not feeling like much of a lady at the moment."
    "Understandable, seeing how your kid's just been—"
    "Roger is not my son. Good heavens, no!"
    "Didn't think he was." Jake angled his head to the side, his steely gaze drilling into her.
    "No? Then why did you...?" She shook her head and released an aggravated sigh. "It doesn't matter." Her gaze swept over the skirt that fell in damp, limp folds around her legs. "Mr. Chandler, please. It kills me to say it, but I need your help. For obvious reasons, I can't go after the boy alone."
    "Why's that, princess? Your ankle's bruised, not broken. You can ride." Her inquisitively raised brows made him add, with a sly wink, "I checked you out while we were in the water."
    A blush heated her cheeks. The memory of his fingers—thick and calloused and warm, caressing her naked thigh and calf-blasted through Amanda's mind. Oh, yes, he'd "checked her out" all right. Most thoroughly! "That isn't the point," she snapped, angry at her thoughts, angry at the man who'd made her think them— now of all times.
    "Isn't it?"
    "No!"
    A skeptical grin tugged one corner of Jake's lips, and her palm itched to slap it off. This wasn't funny, dammit! Roger was out there, somewhere, and God only knew what had happened to the poor child by now! Amanda brought herself up short. Poor child? Oh no, she was thinking nice things about the little monster again. That wasn't a good sign. It proved she was more distressed than she'd thought.
    When Jake didn't say anything, instead just stood there grinning at her, she said, "Roger and I... well, to be perfectly blunt, we've been lost out here for a while now."
    "Lost? Lady, you can't get lost out here."
    "Maybe you couldn't, but I assure you, I can. I could get lost in my own backyard with little difficulty."
    "Then you have no right being out here in the first place."
    Amanda ignored that, and continued with what she'd planned to say next. She wouldn't let him distract her from her purpose. "What I'm trying to say is that even without my bruised ankle I would never be able to find Roger by myself."
    Jake's lips pursed. He knew exactly how much that admission cost her in the way of dignity. He also enjoyed watching her pay the price. "And you want my help, in other words?"
    Amanda fumed. He wasn't making this easy for her. Couldn't he see that she wasn't used to begging people for help? Couldn't he see that they were wasting time? If they hurried, there was a chance they could catch up with whoever had taken Roger today. They might even get the boy back by sunset. If they hurried. She nodded impatiently. "If you'd be so kind as to give it, then yes, I want your help."
    Jake sucked in a slow breath, his expression thoughtful. Just when she thought he was about to agree, he shook his head. "Uh-uh. People like me learn early on not to poke their nose into other people's business. This problem is your business, princess, not mine."
    People like him? And what, pray tell, did he mean by that? Amanda didn't have a clue, nor did she have time to waste trying to figure it out. Crossing her arms over her chest—to stifle the urge to strangle him on the spot—she said coldly, "I see. And how much will it cost me to make it your business?" Her fingers curled inward, her nails digging past her sleeves and into her skin. "I'll pay you generously for your time. State your price, and I guarantee I'll meet it."
    A flash of something—outrage, skepticism?—lit his eyes. Whatever it was, the emotion was gone before Amanda had time to decipher it. His features relaxed as