The Marine & the Debutante

“Come on,” he urged quietly. “Just keep moving and everything’ll work out.”

“Like it has so far?” she wondered aloud.

He threw one look at the star-studded sky and silently asked, Why me? And more important, Why her? This would have been a helluva lot easier if he’d just been asked to rescue a reasonable person. But this woman had been trouble from the get-go, and he suspected that it wasn’t going to get much better.

They walked for hours, until Lisa was ready to throw dignity to the wind and beg the guy in charge of this little forced march for a rest. But she doubted he would even hear her. Long accustomed to the darkness, she had no trouble seeing him clearly. Tall and rangy, he moved effortlessly across the rocky ground. He never seemed to get tired. He never let go of her hand, and his gaze continually scanned their surroundings, constantly on alert. His profile was sharp, dangerous looking, without an ounce of softness in it. The camouflage paint only made him look scarier—more remote. His jaw was hard and square and his nose had obviously been broken at least once…. Her sympathies were entirely with the breaker not the breakee. She hadn’t had a good look at his eyes yet, but she had the distinct feeling they’d be all business, no matter the color.

Well, if she had to be stranded in the middle of nothing, she told herself, it was better to be with a man so clearly equipped to handle it. A stray notion shot through her mind and she laughed shortly at the thought of her last fiancé trying to survive out here. James hadn’t been able to hail a cab in Manhattan successfully.

“Was that a laugh?” he asked, slowing his steps.

Grateful, Lisa slowed down, too, and instantly felt her calf muscles cramp. She winced, nodded and admitted, “Yes, I laughed. Maybe I’m hysterical.”

“Swell.”

She looked up at him. Darn him, anyway, he wasn’t even winded. “I’m kidding,” she said, then added, “I think.”

Releasing her hand, he gave her a long, thoughtful look, swung his pack to the ground and said, “Sit for a few minutes. Take a breather.”

“Oh, thank heaven,” she muttered, and dropped like a stone. Then she had to shift slightly to inch off the stone she’d landed on. Perfect. Well, why shouldn’t her behind ache as much as every other spot on her body?

“Here,” he said, handing her a beige, flask-shaped canteen. “Have a drink. Not much, though. I’ve only got two and they’ve got to last us.”

Lisa nodded, too tired to argue, which was saying something, she supposed. Unscrewing the cap, she lifted the canteen and took one big mouthful of warm, wet, wonderful water. Then she swallowed, letting the liquid slide down her throat like a blessing, before handing the canteen back. She hadn’t even realized just how thirsty she was. And right now, the metallic-flavored water tasted better than the finest bottle of wine.

Now that they’d stopped running, the cold night air had caught up with her. She shivered and clapped her hands to her upper arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to create some warmth. Funny how running and being terrified will keep you all toasty.

“Cold?”

She nodded.

He shrugged the small pack off his back and swung it to the ground. Then, setting his gun to one side, he quickly undid the buttons on his sand-colored uniform shirt and pulled it off, revealing a Marine-green T-shirt that looked as though it had been molded to his brawny chest.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, both grateful and embarrassed to be taking the shirt off his back.

“Just put it on, princess.”

Well, so much for gratitude. She snatched the shirt out of his hands and shoved her arms into the long sleeves. The cuffs hung well past her wrists, to flop over the edge of her fingertips. But it was warm—the fabric still held a touch of his body heat along with his scent.

He stood up again, grabbed his rifle and gave another quick look around.

She looked down to see the mammoth shirt hanging to nearly the hem of her dress. Oh, if her friends could see her now. Lisa Chambers, girl fashion plate, dressed as a miniature soldier. But she was warm and that was saying a lot.

“I, uh…” Gratitude came hard, considering that he wasn’t one of her favorite people at the moment.

“Forget it.” He cut her off, clearly not interested in thanks. “Now, you stay put,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“What?” Panic reared up inside her, and she shot a wild look around her at the surrounding darkness. Anything or anyone could be hiding out there. “You’re leaving me here? Alone?”

He shot her a grin. “Gonna miss me?”

Her stomach flip-flopped. Amazing what an effect that smile could have on an exhausted, thirsty, hungry, obviously delusional woman.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, before she could come up with a witty reply. “I’m just goin’ back to make sure I’ve covered our tracks well enough.”

“I didn’t realize you had been covering our tracks,” she said, looking back over her shoulder as if she could actually see into the darkness and the trail he’d been working to erase.

“That’s my job,” he said, already moving off into the shadows.

“Who are you, anyway?” she demanded. “Daniel Boone?”

He glanced back at her and gave her another one of those grins. “Nah, the name’s Travis Hawks, ma’am. But I appreciate the compliment.”

“Well, my name’s Lisa Chambers,” she retorted as he disappeared into the darkness. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added, “It’s not ‘ma’am.”’

What felt like hours but what was probably only a few minutes, passed, and she heard him approaching. At least, she hoped it was Travis Hawks.

It was.

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as he moved to her side. Then she noted he wasn’t even breathing heavily.

Tipping her head back, she looked up at him. “Aren’t you even tired?” she asked, disgusted that he showed no signs of the fatigue swamping her.

He spared her a quick glance, then lifted his gaze back to the wild, arid landscape. “I’ll be tired when we get where we’re goin’.”

“Well,” she said, “I had no idea I was in the company of a superhero.” Muffling a groan, Lisa pulled her right foot onto her left knee and massaged the tight knot in her calf. “And where is ‘where we’re goin’,’ exactly?” she asked, mocking his drawl.

“There,” he said, ignoring her gibe as he pointed to a low range of mountains.

She squinted into the distance and felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. “You’re kidding,” she said, “right?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Lisa,” she reminded him, “not ‘ma’am.’ And that’s probably another five miles,” she protested, already thinking about the extra aches and pains headed her way.

He reached into the inside pocket of his shirt and pulled out a fabric-covered map. He studied it for a few minutes, then shifted his gaze back to her. “More like three.”

“Well, heck,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words. “That’s different, then. What’re we waiting for?”

Folding the map and tucking it away again, he dropped to one knee beside her and reached for her leg.

“Hey!” She stiffened and tried to pull away, but let’s face it, she was so tired a snail could have overtaken her. Let alone Mr. I’ll-Get-Tired-Later.

“Relax, princess,” he said, his fingers kneading the tight flesh. “I’m just tryin’ to help.”

She muffled a yelp and told herself to stop him. She shouldn’t be letting him do this. She hated him. She hated what he was forcing her to do. Heck, she’d walked more today than she usually did in a month of treadmill exercising. And it was all his fault. If he hadn’t waved off that helicopter, she’d be winging her way toward an American Embassy somewhere, already anticipating a hot bath and a good meal and some fresh clothes. So, yeah. She hated him and she should be telling him all this while at the same time making him stop massaging her legs. And yet…it felt so good. Pain shimmered inside her, blossomed, then disappeared under the wash of warmth drawn from his fingertips.

He moved from one calf to the other, his strong fingers easing away the tightness in her muscles until she almost wanted to weep with the pleasure of it all. Okay, she thought. Maybe he’s not so bad. Maybe he’s doing the best he can. Maybe he’s sorry that he’s working her so hard. Maybe…