Resisting Her Rebel Hero. Lucy Ryder
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hissed audibly in surprise and pain. “Holy...! Hell and damnation, woman, what the hell was that?” His fingers whitened around the edge of the bed and he looked like he wanted to wrap them around her throat.
“Sorry,” she said, and meaning it. It would have been worse if she’d taken her time removing it. “It’s better coming off fast.”
“For you maybe... Jeez...does the CIA know about you?”
“The CIA?” she asked, sending him a narrow-eyed look out the corner of her eye, fairly certain he wasn’t being complimentary.
“Yeah. Hear they’re looking for interrogators.” Definitely not complimentary. “My CO would recruit you on the spot to torture the tadpoles in BUD/S.”
“Tadpoles? Buds?” she asked, pouring disinfectant into a stainless-steel bowl and filling it with warm water.
“Wannabe SEALs in Basic Underwater Demolition SEALs,” he told her. “Have to knock the cra...I mean stuffing out of them during hell week to sort out the men from the boys. You’d be perfect for the job.”
Apparently he’d managed to survive without having the stuffing knocked out of him. She wondered how he’d managed it. Sheer stubbornness most likely.
She pulled on a pair of latex gloves then ripped off a large section of cotton wool. “I’m good, but thanks anyway.” She pressed a hand to the smooth ball of his shoulder. “Lie flat and lift your arm over your head.”
His scowl turned into a grimace when he realized he was too big and had to scoot down the bed, ending up with half his long legs draped over the end. Growling irritably about “damn midget beds”, he raised his arm and bent it behind his head. With lids lowered over his unusual eyes, he sent her a sleepy look.
“Although if you continue ripping off my clothes and making me lie down,” he drawled softly, “I’ll start thinking you have ulterior motives, Miz Honey.”
“That’s Dr. Mahoney to you,” she said absently, carefully cleaning the area around the wound before selecting another wad of gauze to clean the wound itself. It would take about a dozen stitches to close.
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was polite and subdued but a quick look caught the irreverent smirk curling his mouth. Cassidy swallowed the impulse to return that impudent grin. Or worse—kiss his battered mouth better. From all accounts he was the kind of man who wouldn’t stop at kissing. From all accounts he was only interested in quick tumbles with the nearest available woman. Probably because being a SEAL precluded any kind of stable or long-term relationship.
She shivered. If she knew what was good for her, she’d shove her libido back into hibernation and stop getting all excited every time he invaded her space.
Dr. Mahoney was back in charge, she reminded herself, and there would be no mixing her chemistry with his. On any level. She was going to patch him up, send him on his way, and hope like hell she never saw him again.
CHAPTER FOUR
SAM WATCHED DOC BOSTON work on his torso and wondered why he was so drawn to a woman who made it abundantly clear she wasn’t interested. He tried reminding himself that he’d be heading back to Coronado soon and anything more than harmless flirting was impossible. It didn’t help. Not even when he observed the competent way she wielded sharp objects.
Sure, she was beautiful but then, so were a million other women, and he’d had little problem leaving them behind. Except there was something compelling about her that told Sam she wouldn’t be easy to forget or walk away from. She was smart and mouthy and didn’t take his reputation as a badass seriously or treat him differently from other patients. And that more than anything made him like her.
Okay, he really liked the look of her—he was a guy, so sue him—but lately all the feminine adulation had begun to irritate him. All a lot of women saw was a SEAL with hard muscles and weird eyes. A guy they could brag about being with to their friends. He’d enjoyed that in his twenties, but in the decade since he’d seen and done things no one should see or do.
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