Книга - The Marine & the Debutante

The Marine & the Debutante
Maureen Child


When a marine rescue mission went awry, Staff Sergeant Travis Hawks realized he was in for the fight of his life. He and Lisa Chambers–the uppity heiress he was trying to save–were stranded and forced to race across the Arabian desert to stay alive.Despite their bickering throughout the blazing hot days, one sultry night Travis and Lisa ignited a scorching passion that neither could forget. But when they reached safety, would the bonds they forged disappear like a desert mirage…or endure to the altar and beyond?









“This Would Be A Big Mistake,” Travis Said, His Gaze Shifting From Her Eyes To Her Mouth And Back Again.


“It doesn’t feel that way,” Lisa told him.

“It will tomorrow.” And if he had one active brain cell, he’d break this off and walk away now. While he could.

She turned her face into his palm, then looked at him again. “All my life I’ve worried about and planned for tomorrow. For once I’d just like to claim today and let tomorrow take care of itself.”

An invitation? It was one he couldn’t refuse, even if he wanted to.

Pulling her closer, Travis bent his head. His gaze locked with hers, he moved in slowly, deliberately, giving her time to change her mind. Praying she wouldn’t…




Dear Reader,

Summer vacation is simply a state of mind…so create your dream getaway by reading six new love stories from Silhouette Desire!

Begin your romantic holiday with A Cowboy’s Pursuit by Anne McAllister. This MAN OF THE MONTH title is the author’s 50th book and part of her CODE OF THE WEST miniseries. Then learn how a Connelly bachelor mixes business with pleasure in And the Winner Gets…Married! by Metsy Hingle, the sixth installment of our exciting DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS continuity series.

An unlikely couple swaps insults and passion in Maureen Child’s The Marine & the Debutante—the latest of her popular BACHELOR BATTALION books. And a night of passion ignites old flames in The Bachelor Takes a Wife by Jackie Merritt, the final offering in TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE LAST BACHELOR continuity series.

In Single Father Seeks… by Amy J. Fetzer, a businessman and his baby captivate a CIA agent working under cover as their nanny. And in Linda Conrad’s The Cowboy’s Baby Surprise, an amnesiac FBI agent finds an undreamed-of happily-ever-after when he’s reunited with his former partner and lover.

Read these passionate, powerful and provocative new Silhouette Desire romances and enjoy a sensuous summer vacation!






Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire




The Marine & The Debutante

Maureen Child





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




MAUREEN CHILD


is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. The author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a golden retriever who has delusions of grandeur.

Visit her Web site at www.maureenchild.com (http://www.maureenchild.com).


This book is dedicated to the men and women of the United States Marine Corps. Their courage and devotion to duty allow the rest of us to enjoy the freedom of living in the best country in the world. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Semper Fi




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve




One


“If I get shot saving some spoiled little rich girl,” Travis Hawks muttered, “finish the job and kill me.”

“Deal,” J.T. whispered.

Travis sent the other man a quick look. In the darkness, all he could see of his friend’s face were the whites of his eyes—and his grin. Camouflage paint disguised his features, just like the other two men on the recon team.

“You agreed to that mighty damn fast,” Travis said with a wry smile as he checked the load in his rifle for the third time.

“What’re friends for?” he asked. “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

A slight rustle from the bushes had them both spinning around, alert and ready. Deke poked his head through, whispered, “Travis, go get the girl and let’s get the hell outa here.”

“Right.”

“Your charges set?”

“You need to ask?” he asked, already dropping to his belly for the crawl to the squat, stone house just fifty feet from them. Hell, Travis was the best damn explosives man in the Corps and everybody here knew it. Most days, he was even better than Jeff Hunter, the Gunnery Sergeant who led their team, though Travis wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud. And when it came right down to it, his expertise was probably what had gotten them roped into this mission.

Which just went to show that pride in your work could get you into all kinds of trouble. But it wasn’t time to think of things like that now. Instead he focused his concentration on the job. Flattening out on the dirt, rifle cradled in his arms, he used his elbows to drag his body across the open ground between the team and their target.

Voices drifted to him on the still night air. And though he didn’t exactly speak the language, the tone told him the men guarding the woman were relaxed. Good. He hoped they stayed that way.

Sweat pooled at the base of his neck despite the near-freezing temperature. It got damn cold in the desert at night. His knees and elbows propelled him quickly to the stone house, and as he slowly came to his feet alongside the blacked-out window, he quietly released the breath he’d been holding. So far, so good.

Just as he’d expected, there were no guards posted on the perimeter. Apparently, these guys felt pretty secure. Bad for them, Travis thought, good for us.

He lifted the window sash and prayed that the intel they’d received before starting this mission had been completely accurate. If there were guards in the room with her, then all hell was about to break loose. Travis paused for a heartbeat or two, to listen. When he was convinced that it was still safe, he slipped into the darkened room, moving as quietly as combat boots allowed.

His vision already adjusted to the blackness, Travis had no problem locating the woman. She was lying on her back upon the only piece of furniture in the room—a narrow cot. Her deep, even breathing told him she was asleep. In a few steps he was beside her. Clamping one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, he waited for her to wake up.

Instantly she did just that.

And he almost wished she hadn’t.

She fought against his hold on her like a tiger coming out of her cage looking for dinner. Arms, legs, teeth joined the fight, and Travis was hard-pressed to contain her. Keeping his hand over her mouth, despite the teeth digging into his palm, he pinned her to the cot beneath his own body and muttered, “U.S. Marines. Knock it off, lady. I’m here to get you out.”

She stopped fighting just as quickly as she’d started.

He stared down at the whites of her eyes and watched them narrow dangerously. Then very deliberately she reached for his wrist and yanked his hand from her mouth.

Finally, he thought. A little gratitude.

“It’s about time,” she snapped, and shattered his little hero fantasy.

A flash of anger shot through him, followed by a blast of sheer fear. He threw a glance at the door across the room, then looked back at the woman who was about to blow this whole damn thing.

Keeping his voice no more than a whispered threat, he ordered, “Lady, shut up and get moving.”

“Fine,” she said softly, already swinging her legs off the cot and standing up. “But for heaven’s sake, you people took your own sweet time about getting here.”

“Oh, for the love of—” He didn’t even finish the oath. Didn’t have time. Had to get moving before her captors took it into their heads to check on their little pot of gold. “Follow me,” he said, and headed for the window and escape.

“I need my purse.”

“Forget it,” he muttered, peering out into the darkness before turning to help her across the sill. Stunned, he saw she hadn’t followed him at all. Instead she was flat on her belly, reaching under the damn cot for her damn purse.

He stalked back across the room and grabbed her elbow. “There’s no mall here. You don’t need daddy’s credit cards. And there’s no time for this, princess,” he muttered.

She yanked free of his grip, then, meeting hostility with pure venom, she said, “I’ve waited two weeks for you. You can wait another minute for me.”

Short of hitting her over the head and dragging her ass out of there, he didn’t have much choice. Through his headset, he heard a whispered question come through loud and clear. “Where the hell are you?”

Scowling, Travis touched the black band at the base of his neck, pressed the sensitive throat mike to his larynx and muttered, “Waitin’ on princess. Comin’ right out.” He kept one eye on the closed door and mentally ticked off the seconds as they passed. There were too many of them. They were asking for trouble, he told himself. This couldn’t be good. “Move it, lady.”

“Got it,” she said, and stood up, holding a white leather saddle bag dangling from what was probably a real gold chain. She slipped it over her head so that the chain lay across her chest and the purse settled at her hip. Then she nodded at him, and Travis grabbed her and propelled her toward the window—and freedom.

“Come on, now,” he prodded. “Climb out and let’s get gone.”

She sat on the window ledge, gathered up her skirt and started to swing her legs through. Then she stopped. “You know,” she said softly, “you could be a little nicer, here. I am the victim, remember?”

Travis sucked in a gulp of air. He was seriously beginning to doubt that. In fact, another few minutes of this and he was going to start feeling some real sympathy for her abductors.

He bent down, put his face just a breath away from hers and whispered, “Listen up, princess. We got about a minute and a half to get clear of this place and still have time to make the chopper pickup. Now, you want to move that pretty ass of yours before I kick it into gear?”

Her eyes widened and for a second, there, it looked as though she might argue. Then apparently she changed her mind. Swinging her legs over the window ledge, she dropped onto the desert floor and waited for him to follow.

There was just no time to throw her to the ground and try to slink out the way he’d come in, Travis told himself. Instead he took a tight grip on her upper arm and dragged her along behind him as he made a run for cover.

Stumbling and muttering under her breath, she managed to keep up. Barely. And as soon as he hit the low clump of bushes where the others were waiting, he dropped into a crouch, pulling her down beside him, then released her.

Deke glanced at her before fastening his gaze on Travis. “Jeff’s at the rendezvous point. Let’s move.”

“Move where?” the woman asked.

“Right behind ya,” Travis muttered, ignoring her and her question.

In seconds Deke and J.T. had melted into the low-lying bushes, and Travis pushed the woman after them. “Get going,” he said, then added, “and keep low.”

Thankfully, she kept quiet and did as she was told. Travis threw one last look at the stone hut behind them, then moved silently off after her, guarding their escape. His mind blanked out as it always did at times like this. He did what he had to, when he had to. He didn’t think. Didn’t question. Just moved on instinct.

His gaze swept the landscape, back and forth, but kept drifting back to the woman in front of him. Her stupid full skirt snagged on every bush she passed. He shook his head and clenched his teeth together to keep from shouting at her to hurry up. Already the others were too far ahead of them. She was slowing everything down.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t you move any faster?”



Lisa Chambers stopped dead and glared at him over her shoulder. She’d had just about enough. Two weeks of sitting in that cramped little hot box, surrounded by men who wore bandoliers of ammunition with the aplomb her father’s friends wore cummerbunds; and now this. She was hot, tired, hungry, cranky and she’d gone way too long without a bath. She for darn sure wasn’t going to stand for some Southern-fried Marine cursing her for walking too slowly.

Cold night air crawled over her skin, sending bone-deep shivers to every inch of her body. The gold chain across her chest chafed her neck and the solid slap of her purse against her hip was beginning to throb.

Hard to believe that in the span of a few minutes a person could experience so many different sorts of emotions. When she’d first awakened to the feel of a man’s hand across her mouth, her first reaction had been sheer terror—followed, naturally, by the instinct to defend herself. For one brief, horrifying moment, she’d thought her captors had finally decided to do more than keep her isolated and afraid.

Then the very next instant, relief had crashed down on her as she’d heard that purely American voice drawl the words, “U.S. Marines.” The “cavalry” had been so long in coming, she’d about given up hope.

Tears she didn’t have time to shed stung her eyes, and she blinked them back with practiced ease. She hadn’t shown her captors any weaknesses, and she wouldn’t let her rescuer see any, either.

“You know,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words, “a little sensitivity wouldn’t be out of line here.”

He didn’t even look at her. Well, she was pretty sure he didn’t. In the moonless dark, he was almost indistinguishable from the night, so it was hard to be sure. Unlike her. In her sunny-yellow dress, she probably stood out like a spotlight on an empty stage. And that thought gave her a cold chill deep enough to have Lisa give the surrounding darkness a quick, wary look. When she turned back toward him, she saw the whites of his eyes narrow dangerously at her.

“Lady,” he said and his slow, menacing Southern drawl drifted in the air, “you want sensitivity, call the Navy. You want help, call the Marines.” Then he dropped to one knee and pulled something from under the closest bush. Flicking her another quick glance, he ordered, “Get a move on, darlin’.”

“Darlin’?” she repeated, but her voice was lost in the blast of a nearby explosive.

Lisa gasped and staggered back a step or two. Her gaze locked on a fireball that roared up as if thrown from the bowels of hell by a demon bent on destruction. Light showered down on them and the area, but before she could do much more than notice that the Marine was running at her, he had hold of her arm and she was moving, too.

His hand made one warm spot on her body, but his grip was anything but tender. The fabric of her skirt caught, then ripped free as he half dragged, half pushed her along the path. Her high heels sank into the sand as if the desert itself was trying to hold her back. The delicate pumps were perfect for a day of shopping or even a night of dancing. But they weren’t exactly prime jogging equipment. Her feet ached, her head was pounding, and she wondered absently if she would survive her rescue. Her “hero” stayed just a step behind her, obviously guarding her back, but she almost wished he was in front of her so she’d know where to go. She had no idea. Only knew that she wanted out of this place. Now.

She wanted to be back in the States. Back at her father’s house. In that glorious, sky-blue bathtub that dominated the bathroom in her suite of rooms. She wanted freshly fluffed towels, lit candles sputtering on the sea-foam colored tiles and a chilled glass of wine at her elbow. She wanted running water, hair dryers and toilet paper. Oh, God, please help her to get out of this mess, she prayed frantically.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and she heard that curse with a sinking sigh.

“What now?” she demanded, still moving, due to his hand shoving at the small of her back. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“What isn’t?” he grumbled, and stopped dead.

Lisa stopped, too, waiting for him. He might be irritating, but as far as she was concerned, he was the rescuer and she was going to stick to him like glue.

“Keep going,” he shouted, the need for silence apparently lost with the first blast.

“Where?” she demanded, not moving another step.

“Son of a—” His voice broke off and he pulled another something out from yet another bush, and this time she was close enough to watch him. His fingers moved surely, efficiently. He flipped up a small, clear-plastic dome, flicked a silver switch and then moved his thumb to a bright-green glowing button. He punched it, and another blast rocked the desert night.

This one was closer and Lisa stared at it, awestruck by the fierce beauty of it. But beneath the roar of the explosion, she heard shouts. Angry shouts.

And she knew her captors were chasing them.

“This can’t be good.”

“Darlin’, none of this is good,” he muttered, jumping to his feet and grabbing her hand. “Let’s get the lead out, huh?”

They ran.

And ran.

And when she thought she’d drop, when she was wishing she could take her aching legs off and throw them away, they ran some more.

“Runnin’ late. Not gonna make it,” he said, more to himself than to her.

She swallowed hard, fought for breath and still managed to ask, “You mean the helicopter?”

“Damn straight.”

“We have to make it.”

He threw her a worried look. “The extraction point’s up ahead.”

Extraction? Sounded like a dental visit, which would have been more fun than this.

From far off she heard the dull slap of a helicopter’s blades whipping the air. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest. Close, she thought. So close. They’d make it. They had to make it.

Every step was a trial.

Every breath a victory.

Behind them she heard voices. Shouts. And the occasional gunshot. Lisa winced and instinctively ducked her head as they ran forward. The wash from the chopper blades pushed at them. In the indistinct light she saw other men—two, then three—sprinting for the helicopter. A Marine stood in the open door, an automatic weapon in his hand, spitting gunfire, covering their escape.

Then that Marine crumpled as if he’d been a puppet and someone had cut his strings. A moment later she heard a rifle shot, followed by several more in quick succession.

“Get down, damn it!” the man behind her said, crouching and pulling her down with him.

“Why are we waiting?” she demanded, looking up at him, trying to read his expression through the camouflage war paint he wore.

“We won’t make it,” he said tightly. “Too much open ground. They’ll pick us off.”

“We—we have to make it,” she said, shifting her gaze back to the helicopter where another Marine had taken the place of the first one. He fired quick, staccato bursts from his weapon, and flashes of fire erupted from the barrel of his gun.

“Can’t.”

“No.” She couldn’t go back to that place. To being a prisoner. She wouldn’t. Lisa half stood, determined to make a run for the only way out.

But she didn’t get a step.

He yanked her back down with such force, her butt slammed into the ground. His grip on her upper arm tightened and he pulled her around to face him.

“We can’t make it. And if they sit here much longer waitin’ on us, they won’t get out, either.”

Panic reared its ugly head. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. “What are you saying?”

He didn’t bother to explain. Instead he stood up briefly, hitched his rifle high over his head and waved it in some sort of silent signal.

“No,” she said, hoping he hadn’t done what she thought he had. “Don’t do that!”

“Come on,” he said tightly, dragging her off to the right, deeper into the shadows.

Lisa looked back as the helicopter lifted off, taking her only means of escape with it.




Two


Travis kept a tight hold on the woman’s hand and ran for it. He could only hope that their pursuers were still far enough away that some fast running and clever hiding would do the trick. If they could get gone quick enough, the men still firing rifles at a now-disappearing chopper, would assume that their prey had escaped in that helicopter. If he could get the woman stumbling along behind him to shut up and move. As he’d already learned, that was no easy task.

“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded.

He had to give her credit. Even in her fury, she kept her voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry across the desert.

“It’s been said,” he agreed, darting a quick look back over his shoulder. No pursuit yet. Good. Keep moving, he told himself.

“You waved them off,” she continued, stunned disbelief coloring her voice. “I saw you. The helicopter was there. They were waiting for us. Our only escape and you waved them off!”

He shot her a glare that would have terrified a lesser woman. Naturally, it didn’t have the slightest effect on the one woman he wanted it to.

“You’re insane,” she muttered.

“I’m startin’ to agree with you,” he snapped. Who else but a crazy man would volunteer for such a mission? He could have been on leave back home. Of course, then his sisters would have been ragging on him. But at least they were family. “Now shut the hell up and follow me.”

“Like I have a choice,” she managed to say breathlessly.

They kept going, and one part of Travis’s mind gave quiet thanks for the terrain. This wasn’t the kind of desert that you found out in the middle of the Mojave. The real desert was farther out. This area was more like the landscape that he grew up with back in Texas. Sand, sure, but more rocky. With clumps of bushes and a few sparse but hardy trees. A ring of low-lying hills, which probably passed for mountains around here, surrounded them, and he was hoping to find refuge there.

The darkness was their friend.

They could lose themselves in the night and hopefully, before dawn, they’d be huddled in a cave somewhere and he’d have a chance to think of alternate escape plans. While he ran, making sure the princess was keeping up with him, his mind worked the problem. He had water. And rations. And a radio and weapons. He could do this. They could do this.

It was just going to take some creativity. Adapting and overcoming. Hell, he’d been trained for just this sort of thing. And damned if he wasn’t going to pull it off.

“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…

“Okay, that’s it,” he announced. “Let’s get movin’.” He dropped her leg as if it were a seashell; picked up, examined, then discarded as useless.

And just like that she hated him again.

“That’s your idea of a ‘rest’?” she asked. “Three whole minutes?”

Standing up, he held one hand out to her and pulled her to her feet. “Sun’ll be up in a few hours,” he said sagely, his gaze drifting across the far horizon. “I want to be tucked away nice and quiet before that happens.”

She shifted her gaze to the same horizon and realized that the sky did look just a bit brighter. They’d been walking all night. No wonder she was tired, for pity’s sake.

“And you think I’m going to be able to walk three more miles in under three hours?” If the way she was feeling at the moment was any indication, she’d be lying in a crumpled heap inside of a half hour. Her own fallen image rose up in her brain, and Lisa imagined the headlines—Billionaire’s Daughter Found Dead in Desert. And, of course, there’d be pictures. Of her mummified body wearing her once fashionable, now pitiful, designer dress.

Now there’s an epitaph.

“You’ll make it,” he said, his words shattering the thoughts in her mind with the steely ring of determination in his tone.

She looked up at him. Funny, she hadn’t noticed until just this minute how tall he was. At least six-three. At five-nine, Lisa was no munchkin, but he made her feel tiny in comparison. Maybe she could make it. With his help. He didn’t seem the kind of man to give up easily. If he had, they would have been captured hours ago.

“Okay, general,” she said, bravely swallowing the knot of fear lodged in her throat. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

“Ooh-rah,” he said, and gave her a smile that nearly knocked her over.

“Ya-hoo,” she answered, hoping she’d see that smile again really soon.



Travis wouldn’t have admitted it under torture, but he was beat, down to the ground. The cold was keeping him awake for now, but if he didn’t get some sleep soon, neither one of them was going to get out of here. Which was why he nearly shouted in joy when he spotted the cave.

If he hadn’t been looking specifically for just this, he never would have noticed it. A slight overhang of rock jutted out from the side of the mountain, looking like nothing more than an extrawide crevice. Yet, on closer inspection, he found a narrow but deep cave that would be a perfect place to hide.

Every bone in his body cried out for rest, but before he could, he had to make sure the place was safe. Leaving the princess at the mouth of the cave, he took his rifle and snatched a chem light out of his equipment belt. Cracking the hard plastic case, he then shook it until the crystals inside glowed a soft green. An ordinary flashlight or a flare would be too bright in this all-encompassing blackness. Too easy to spot from a distance. This thing would give off enough light to see by and still be hard to spot by their enemies. Carefully he inspected the shelter. The eerie green light glowed and cast soft, indistinct shadows on the rock walls. His right hand gripping the rifle, he held the light up high in his left as he squinted into the darkness.

“What do you see?”

He winced as her voice seemed to echo in the stony enclosure, and he hoped to hell the place was as empty as it seemed.

“Quiet.” His voice was hardly more than a raspy hush of sound. And still it traveled back to her with no problem.

“And what does quiet look like?” she muttered.

Travis grinned reluctantly and shook his head. This damn woman was as stubborn as he was. A moment later, though, the smile on his face faded as he concentrated on the task at hand. The walls were solid, no holes where critters could crawl or slither through from somewhere else. There was no sign of human habitation in here, but there was always the threat of snakes. Growing up in Texas had given him a healthy respect for the reptiles, and he sure as hell didn’t want any surprises while they slept.

Damn, his eyes felt heavy. Gritty. As though he hadn’t slept in a year. He blinked, shook his head again and focused. As he did, a slight movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to follow the snake’s movement. Just one, it was moving fast across the sandy ground.

“Damn it,” he whispered, knowing he couldn’t risk a gunshot to kill it. He’d been prepared to fire on a hostile human, but he’d rather not risk a rifle shot being heard for miles for the sake of killing a snake. Gritting his teeth, Travis set his rifle down, grabbed his knife and killed it, neatly slicing its head from its body.

Then he stood and gave a last look around. Everything else was secure. If the snake had had friends, they were long gone. The cave wasn’t much, but it looked damn good to him at the moment. They were safe—for now. They could get some rest and hide until he figured out the best route to get out of this country.

“What’s going on back there?” she called, and he heard the fear in her voice.

That woman could drive a saint right out of heaven, he thought. But then, a part of him couldn’t really blame her for being scared. She’d already been through more than most folks would face in a lifetime, and to give her her due, she hadn’t folded. And Travis admired grit in a person, male or female.

Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t wish she was anywhere but there. But wishes wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. They were stuck together. And the fact that she was too blasted good-looking for comfort shouldn’t come into it. She was his responsibility—nothing else. He’d best remember that. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can come in now.”

“Good,” she said, and her voice told him how quickly she was making her way down the length of the cave. “I was getting worried back there by myself. You know you could have left me one of your little Halloween pumpkin light thingies.”

“It’s a chem light. Not the kind used in pumpkins.”

“Whatever,” she said, and he watched her walk into the circle of soft-green light. “The point is, it’s really dark in here and I—”

Her voice broke off as her gaze fastened on the dead snake. She took several deep breaths, slapped one hand to her chest and said, “Oh, God.”

“It’s dead.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Eyes wide, she backed up and looked around frantically as if expecting to see a pack of snakes sneaking up on her flank.

He bent down, picked up the carcass and held it up admiringly. At least a three-footer. “You’ll think better of it once it’s cooked.”

“Cooked?”

Travis could have sworn he heard her gag.

“Waste not, want not,” he told her.

“Look before you leap,” she countered.

“He who hesitates is lost,” he said, figuring this could go on awhile.

“He who eats snake will get sick,” she told him.

“That’s not an old saying.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” she said. “As of right now.”

Travis laughed shortly and set his pack down, then laid the snake alongside it. Jamming the end of the light into the sand at his feet, he said, “Have a seat. I’m going out to gather some brush. We can make a small fire.”

“You’re leaving me here?” she asked, lifting one hand to point at the snake. “With that?”

“Trust me,” he said tightly, “you’re more dangerous than he is.”

She swung her hair back from her eyes, and in the green glow those blue eyes gleamed like sapphires. Her face pale, her features drawn with fatigue and fear, she was still pretty enough to take a man’s breath away.

And he realized he’d been right.

She was dangerous.




Three


An hour later they were crouched beside a fire so tiny it hardly qualified as flames. But still, the hiss and snap of the burning brush was…comforting, somehow. Except of course, for the snake meat sizzling on a stick.

Lisa cringed just a little and shifted her gaze from the fire to the man opposite her. She watched as he used a rag from his pack to wipe the camouflage paint off his face. With steady, long strokes, he slowly revealed more of his features. Jet-black eyebrows. And his eyes. Darned if they didn’t look like melted chocolate—rich and dark—and they had almost precisely the same effect on her. A twinge of hunger, mixed with expectation. In the weird green light, his features looked sharp. Resolute. His nose had character, she decided, and combined with that strong, square jaw, he probably could have made a fortune as a model. Instead, he made his living by dragging women across dark deserts while crazy people shot at them.

“We’ll stay here until dark,” Travis was saying. “Then I figure we’ll head for El Bahar. It’s not far and the king there is friendly to the U.S.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, and though she heard the snap in her tone, she couldn’t seem to stop it. “And how far away is this place?”

He pulled out his map, checked it for what had to be the tenth time in the past hour, then glanced at her briefly. “Not far.”

“How far?”

“A day or so,” he said, deliberately ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. “But once we’re in their territory, you’ll be safe.”

“Day or so?” She tried to keep the groan out of her voice but she was pretty sure she hadn’t succeeded. Then, rather than concentrate on the march ahead, she focused on the last word he’d said.

Safe.

For the past two weeks of captivity, that was a word she’d concentrated on often. Before being snatched from her spur-of-the-moment shopping trip, Lisa’d never realized just how much she took her own safety for granted. It wasn’t something you normally thought about. It just…was.

She doubted she’d ever be that complacent again. In fact, she’d probably be looking over her shoulder for years.

But she hadn’t let her captors know she was scared, and she refused to give in to fear now.

“Once we’re in El Bahar,” he was saying, “we’ll go directly to the American Embassy and call for a ride home.”

“My father can send his jet.”

One black eyebrow lifted, and he shook his head, chuckling wryly under his breath.

She had the distinct feeling he wasn’t laughing with her. Stiffly she asked, “What’s so funny?”

“You,” he said, reaching to rotate his stick of snake meat in the fire. “A regular plane ride’s just not good enough, huh? Have to call for a private jet.”

All right, maybe that had sounded a little snooty. “I only meant—”

“Relax, princess,” he said, interrupting her neatly. “I know just what you meant.”

“Really.”

Shifting position, Lisa folded her legs in the most ladylike manner she could manage. Wincing slightly at the movement, she tucked her torn, dirty dress down over them and shrugged out of his shirt. With the rock walls cutting off the wind, and the tiny fire, she’d finally warmed up again.

“Yes, really,” Travis said, shaking his head again and leaning back against the cool rock wall. He had her number. Had had it from the moment she’d opened her eyes and looked up at him back there at the shack. And he didn’t mind telling her so. “I’ve known women like you most of my life,” he said. “The rich girls, counting out daddy’s money and buying what they could never earn.”

“Now just a darn minute.” Her eyes flashed, outrage obvious in her tone.

“Struck a nerve, huh?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he went on. “Let’s just look at your story so far. You decide to visit an area rife with civil unrest to do some shopping and promptly get snatched.”

“The papers at home didn’t say anything about the dangers of—”

“And then,” he said, his voice easily overriding hers, “when you’re in trouble up to your pretty neck, you just expect Daddy to pay the demanded ransom.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” she asked. “I’m his only child.”

“For which he’s probably grateful,” Travis commented and took real pleasure in the murder he saw glinting in her eyes. “My point is, even if he’d paid the ransom, there was no guarantee you’d be released.”

“Of course they’d have released me. Why wouldn’t they?”

“Darlin’,” he said, “after spending most of the day with you, I’m only surprised they didn’t offer to pay your dad to take you off their hands.”

“You have no right to say such—”

He waved off her indignation. “But back to our story. See, this is where me and my friends came in. The government convinced your daddy to hold off on paying up and to send us in instead.”

“It’s your job, isn’t it?”

“My job is to help people who need it. Even spoiled little rich girls whose only job is to look gorgeous and spend cash that isn’t theirs.”

And she was gorgeous, he admitted silently, his gaze moving over her quickly, thoroughly. Even after all she’d been through, she looked damn good. Blond hair that just dusted across her shoulders was tucked behind her ears now, and a soft fringe of bangs stopped just above her finely arched eyebrows. In the firelight her eyes looked as blue as the sea at dusk, and her mouth looked delicious. Her teeth continually tugged at her bottom lip until it was all Travis could do to keep from offering to help with that little chore. Damn, this was not the time or the place or hell…the woman to be having these thoughts about.

He’d do well to remember that she was nothing more than a mission gone wrong. If she hadn’t held him up. If she hadn’t wasted so much time looking for her damn purse. If those expensive but worthless high heels had made better time in the sand…if any of those things had been different, he would already be rid of her. They’d have parted ways and he never would have had the time or opportunity to notice that her right breast was just a little fuller than her left.

Oh, man. Travis got a grip on the suddenly rampaging hormones charging through his bloodstream and reminded himself that she was no different from the girls back home. Those girls, backed by their daddies’ oil money, had run roughshod over anybody in their way. And when it came to guys like him—they were happy enough to snuggle up in the dark, but they never brought his kind home to daddy.

Travis Hawks didn’t come from money and as far as he could tell, having it hadn’t done those girls—or this one, for that matter—any good.

“I resent that.”

He blinked and drew himself back to the conversation at hand. Hell, fighting with her was one sure way to keep his mind on the job rather than on fantasies that didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of coming true. “I bet you do,” he said. “But you’re not denying it.”

“I do deny it,” she said hotly, and leaned toward him. Firelight mirrored in her eyes until it looked as though her gaze was shooting sparks at him. “I am not spoiled. And for your information, I’m on the boards of some very worthwhile charities. I do work.”

He nodded sagely, but there was amusement in his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure your telephone dialing finger gets a real workout.”

That blond eyebrow lifted again and disappeared behind her bangs.

“So you work,” he said. “Do you have to live off what you make? I don’t think so.”

“I see. Because I don’t have to worry about income, what I do is worth nothing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You most certainly did.”

All right, maybe he shouldn’t have started any of this. It was none of his business how she lived. His job was simply to return her to the lap of luxury and get the hell out of Dodge. They had another few days together, and there was no sense in being outright enemies, for Pete’s sake.

“You know what you are?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and studying him as if he were smeared on a glass slide beneath a microscope.

“I’ll bet you’re about to tell me.”

“I’d be happy to,” she said, a soft smile curving that luscious mouth of hers.

She looked like a woman with a point to make, and Travis, like any other sane man, battened down the hatches and waited for the blow.

“You’re a snob.”

A short, sharp laugh shot from his throat, ricocheting off the rock walls to echo mockingly.

“A snob?” he repeated.

“That’s right.”

“Honey,” he said, “I don’t make enough money to be a snob.”

“That’s just it,” she countered, folding her arms beneath her breasts and nodding at him. “You’re a reverse snob.”

“Oh, this should be good,” he said, intrigued in spite of himself. He watched her with interest and couldn’t help noticing again just how damn fine she looked, sitting there all smug in her dirty designer dress.

“Because you don’t have money, you’re prejudiced against those who do.”

“Darlin’,” he reminded her, “you don’t have money. Your daddy does.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he had the distinct feeling that if she could have reached him, she just might have slapped his face. But since she couldn’t, she kept talking. Which was, he thought wryly, worse than the slap would have been.

“You’re a snob, and changing the subject won’t alter that one fact.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Why else would you make assumptions about me?” she asked, drumming her fingertips against her upper arms. “You don’t know me at all.”

“Sure I do, princess,” he drawled, letting the words slide out slowly on purpose. “I’ve known you most of my life.”

She sniffed. “Trust me, if we’d ever met, I would remember.”

“Okay, not you specifically,” he continued. “But your kind.”

“My kind?”

“Yep.” His mother would be shamed to know it, but he was beginning to enjoy himself here. Nothing quite like a good argument to get your mind off your worries. And he pretty much figured that, by now, the “princess” was so mad at him, she wasn’t thinking about her captors or about how small their chances of getting out of here were—or anything else for that matter except maybe taking his head off.

Oh, not that he’d started all of this because of the kindness of his heart. No, she irritated him beyond measure. With her stylish clothes and her whining about having to run for her own life. But now that she was giving as good as she got…now that he saw that fire of temper in her eyes…damned if he wasn’t having a good time.

“Oh yes,” she said nodding, “that’s a very cogent argument.”

“Ah,” he replied with a chuckle, “fifty-cent words. Trying to confuse the ‘help’?”

“You’re really a pain in the—”

“Now, that’s not very ladylike, is it?” he asked, cutting her off just in time.

Inhaling sharply, she drew a long, deep breath into her lungs and held it. That did amazing things for her bustline, though Travis knew that if she realized he was noticing, she’d cut it out.





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