Jeopardy. Linda Howard
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give it, but now she had this opportunity, and she wasn’t going to waste it.
A psych analyst would say this was just propinquity: the “any port in a storm” type of attraction, or the Adam and Eve syndrome. That might be part of it, for him. If she had to guess, Sunny would say that Chance was used to having sex whenever he wanted it. He had that look about him, a bone-deep sexual confidence that would draw women like flies. She was currently the only fly available.
But it wasn’t just that. He had been attracted to her before, just as she had been to him. If they had made it to Seattle without trouble, she would have been strong enough to refuse his invitation and walk away from him. She would never have allowed herself to get to know him. Maybe they had met only twenty-four hours before, but those hours had been more intense than anything else she had ever known. She imagined it was as if they had gone into battle together; the danger they had faced, and were still facing, had forged a bond between them like soldiers in a war. She had learned things about him that it would have taken her weeks to learn in a normal situation, weeks that she would never have given herself.
Of all the things she had learned about him in those twenty-four hours, there wasn’t one she didn’t like. He was a man willing to step forward and take a risk, get involved, otherwise he wouldn’t have stopped the cretin in the airport. He was calm in a crisis, self-sufficient and capable, and he was more considerate of her than anyone else she had ever known. On top of all that, he was so sexy he made her mouth water.
Most men, after hearing something like what she had told him, would have immediately gone for the sex. Chance hadn’t. Instead, he had kissed her very sweetly and said, “I’ll get the rest of the things from the plane, so I can change clothes and give you my dirty ones to wash.”
“Gee, thanks,” she had managed to say.
He had winked at her. “Any time.”
He was a man who could put off his personal pleasure in order to take care of business. So here she was, scrubbing his underwear. Not the most romantic thing in the world to be doing, yet it was an intimate chore that strengthened the link forming between them. He was working to feed her; she was working to keep their clothes clean.
So far, Chance was everything that was steadfast and reliable. So why did she keep sensing that edge of danger in him? Was it something his army training had given him that was just there no matter what he was doing? She had never met anyone else who had been a ranger, so she had no means of comparison. She was just glad of that training, if it helped keep them alive.
After his clothes were as clean as she could get them, she hesitated barely a second before stripping out of her own, down to her skin. She couldn’t tolerate her grimy clothes another minute. The hot desert air washed over her bare skin, a warm, fresh caress on the backs of her knees, the small of her back, that made her nipples pinch into erect little nubs. She had never before been outside in the nude, and she felt positively decadent.
What if Chance saw her? If he was overcome with lust by the sight of her naked body, nothing would happen that hadn’t been going to happen, anyway. Not that it was likely he would be overcome, she thought wryly, smiling to herself, her curves were a long way from voluptuous. Still, if a man was faced with a naked, available woman—it could happen.
She poured a bottle of water over herself, then scooped up a handful of sand and began scrubbing. Rinsing off the sand was a matter of refilling the bottle several times. When she was finished she felt considerably refreshed and her skin was baby smooth. Maybe the skin-care industry should stop grinding up shells and rock for body scrubs, she thought, and just go for the sand.
Naked and wet, she could feel a slight breeze stirring the hot air, cooling her until she was actually comfortable. She didn’t have a towel, so she let herself dry naturally while she washed her own clothes, then quickly dressed in the beige jeans and green T-shirt that she always carried. They were earth colors, colors that blended in well with vegetation and would make her more difficult to see if she had to disappear into the countryside. She would have opted for actual camouflage-patterned clothing, if that wouldn’t have made her more noticeable in public. Her bra was wet from its scrubbing, so she hadn’t put it back on, and the soft cotton of the T-shirt clung to her breasts, clearly revealing their shape and their soft jiggle when she walked, and the small peaks of her nipples. She wondered if Chance would notice.
“Hey,” he said from behind her, his voice low and soft.
Startled, she whirled to face him. It was as if she had conjured him from her thoughts. He stood motionless about ten yards away, his eyes narrowed, his expression focused. His whiskey-coloured gaze went straight to her breasts. Oh, he noticed all right.
Her nipples got even harder, as if he had touched them.
She swallowed, trying to control a ridiculous twinge of her nerves. After all, he had already touched her breasts, and she had given him permission to do more. “How long have you been there?”
“Awhile.” His eyelids were heavy, his voice a little rough. “I kept waiting for you to turn around, but you never did. I enjoyed the view, anyway.”
Her breath hitched. “Thank you.”
“You have the sweetest little ass I’ve ever seen.”
Liquid heat moved through her. “You sweet talker, you,” she said, not even half kidding. “When do I get a peep show?”
“Any time, honey.” His tone was dark with sensual promise. “Any time.” Then he smiled ruefully. “Any time except now. We need to move these clothes so I can set the trap up here. Since this is where the water is, this is where the game will come. I’ll set the traps now and try to catch something for supper, then wash up after I clean whatever we catch—if we catch anything at all.”
He wasn’t exactly swept away with lust, but there was that reassuring steadfastness again, the ability to keep his priorities straight. In this situation, she didn’t want Gonad the Barbarian; she wanted a man on whom she could depend to do the smart thing.
He began gathering the wet clothes off the rocks, and Sunny moved to help him. “Let me guess,” she said. “The clothes still smell like humans.”
“There’s that, plus they’re something different. Wild animals are skittish whenever something new invades their territory.”
As they walked back to the overhang she asked, “How long does it normally take to catch something in a trap?”
He shrugged. “There’s no ‘normal’ to it. I’ve caught game before within ten minutes of putting out the trap. Sometimes it takes days.”
She wasn’t exactly looking forward to eating Peter Cottontail, but neither did she want another nutrition bar. It would be nice if some big fat chicken had gotten lost in the desert and just happened to wander into their trap. She wouldn’t mind eating a chicken. After a moment of wishful thinking she resigned herself to rabbit—if they were lucky, that is. They would have to eat whatever Chance could catch.
When they reached “home,” which the overhang had become, they spread their clothes out on another assortment of hot rocks. The first items she had washed were already almost dry; the dry heat of the desert was almost as efficient as an electric clothes dryer.
When they had finished, Chance collected his two handmade traps and examined them one last time. Sunny watched him, seeing the same intensity in his eyes and body that she had noticed before. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked, only mildly surprised. This was, after all, the ultimate in primitive guy stuff.
He didn’t look at her, but a tiny smile twitched the corners of his mouth. “I guess I’m not all that upset. We’re alive. We have food, water and shelter. I’m alone with a woman I’ve wanted from the first minute I saw her.” He produced a badly crushed Baby Ruth candy bar from his hip pocket and opened the wrapper, then pinched off small pieces of it and put them in the traps.
Sunny was instantly diverted. “You’re using a candy bar as bait?” she demanded in outraged tones. “Give