Page 51

“I’ll wait.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

How about getting naked? Just so I can look at you and think about something other than my damn leg?

“What?”

“Nothing.” His mouth had gone dry. “I mean, I see you found that brush.”

She nodded, smiled and put a hand to her hair.

“I did. I brushed so hard, I think I’m probably bald.”

Bald? Not even close.

Her hair, no longer home to burrs and bits of leaf and twigs, fell in long waves of gold, half a dozen shades of gold, from the pale glow of South Dakota wheat to the sunlit yellow of wild poppies of Afghanistan to the darker richness of jicote honey from the forests of Nicaragua.

She was beautiful.

Beyond beautiful.

She was spectacular. She was a woman who’d walk into a room and command instant attention from every man there, all of them wanting her, willing to do whatever it might take to win her.

Not him, of course.

One time, maybe, but he knew better now. Even aside from her predilection for turning animals into fashion statements, she absolutely wasn’t his type.

Unfortunately, his dick didn’t seem to agree.

They were in the middle of hostile territory. She’d been through one hell of a trauma. He was among the barely walking wounded. And yet…

And yet, he wanted her so badly, it hurt.

He had seen the body under the T-shirt and scrubs. The long legs. The slender waist. The rounded hips. He had not seen her breasts, but same as most men, he had one fine imagination. It was more than capable of filling in the details.

And that face.

The lovely bones. The deep blue eyes. The kissable mouth.

And the strength in her. The determination. It was an intriguing combination, the softly feminine exterior lai

d over that indomitable interior…

“Lieutenant?”

It was probably a damn good thing his head knew that her beauty was only skin-deep. Otherwise, being out here with her, alone, in a situation that made for forced intimacy, he could easily end up taking her to bed—and then what, after he returned her to the real world?

“Lieutenant?”

Tanner blinked, brought her into focus. Her head was tilted; she was looking at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Is something wrong? You’re staring at me.”

Idiot!

He bent to the backpack, opened it, dug through it.