Line of Fire Page 4

  Damn. His hands reached out of their own volition and wrapped around her upper arms. He watched in shock as he pulled her near. He registered vaguely that she didn't resist him at all. She was warm and supple against him. All woman. Damn.

  He sighed into her hair. "I know this is hard, Princess. But you've got to trust me."

  "Said the spider to the fly," she rumbled against his chest.

  "Honey, you have no idea," he mumbled under his breath. His head dipped lower and, somehow, her mouth rose to meet his.

  This wasn't happening. He wasn't kissing her. He knew better, and besides, she hated his guts.

  But her mouth was soft and sweet and hungry beneath his. She melted against him and he pulled her close, as desperate for more as she was. Their tongues danced and clashed in erotic battle and they devoured each other, fusing bodies and mouths together voraciously. He couldn't get enough of her, of her honey taste, of the dark, wet recesses of her mouth, of the racing electric shocks everywhere they touched.

  Her arms tightened around his neck, pulling him deeper into her, allowing for no escape. Not that the thought of escape seriously crossed his mind.

  He had no idea how much time passed before they came up for air. He only knew vaguely that, for some reason, he couldn't carry her down to the ground and make love to her right now.

  He stared at her. She looked as amazed and disoriented as he felt. There was something urgent that he had to remember. But all he could think about was the passion raging in her gaze, the burning need that matched his own.

  Eventually his subconscious grabbed him by the short hairs and yanked. A rational thought finally pierced his addled brain. They didn't have time for this. They were being chased.

  He shook his head to clear it. "Uh, we need to go," he managed to say somewhat coherently.

  He watched her eyes sluggishly focus on him. "Uh, right," she mumbled. "Up the hill."

  "Here. Take my hand. Let me help you."

  When she complied, he smiled. This flash of cooperation wouldn't last, of course. Still, he relished the feel of her soft, slender hand resting trustingly in his. Resolutely he pulled her forward, ignoring his body's primitive and powerful demand to make this woman his. Now.

  It was all he could do to fight off the urge to make love to her. His thoughts darted about in alarm. He had to think about something else! "Watch your footing," he murmured. "A misstep now could land you with a broken ankle."

  "You'd better hope not," she retorted, back to her usual piss-and-vinegar self. "If you guys hurt me in this stupid war game of yours, I'll sue you into the last century."

  He grinned to himself, but replied deadpan, "You signed a legal release before the firing demonstration yesterday clearing the military of any liability. I imagine it still applies."

  "Oooh!" She glared daggers at him.

  Man, she was sexy when she was mad. He tore his mind away from bedding all that passion and forced himself to think about where his feet went next. The last thing they needed was for him to get hurt out here.

  But his brain betrayed him, circling back to the question of what in the hell had just happened between them. No woman knocked him off his rocker like that! He never let women inside his guard. He'd learned that one the hard way years ago. Kimberly Stanton, of all people, most certainly couldn't have wormed her way past his defenses.

  Her dislike of the military was well known within the Special Forces. She'd made it clear to him from the get-go that she intended to take apart his own unit, Charlie Squad. After he'd sworn off women, his team had become his life. He couldn't imagine doing anything else but spending as many years as his health held out on the squad.

  The last thing he needed was a high-maintenance princess with attitude to spare. Especially one who couldn't hack it when the chips were down. Kimberly Stanton was so not his type. His attraction to her must come from the remnants of the drugs in his system. Lord knew, he'd been off his game from the beginning of this fiasco.

  He stopped twice on the way up the valley rim when her breathing became labored. The last bit of the climb was harsh, requiring them to scramble on their hands and knees, searching for footholds and handholds among the tangled roots of giant trees. He dropped back behind her to catch her if she fell.

  Patiently he guided her through the remaining climb. He touched her ankle when it was time to move a foot, and sometimes moved up behind her, his belly pressing against her back, to guide her hand to the next hold.

  He caught snatches of the steady stream of muttering she kept up. "…will see all you lunatics put away…make sure none of you procreate and raise any miniature psychopaths to replace yourselves…have you all neutered as a public service…"

  He hid his grin and climbed silently behind her.

  Every time he touched her, a sexy little hitch caught in her breathing. It just about drove him to do something drastic. Business first, he reminded himself sharply.

  Twice he had to put his hand under her firm, shapely tush to hoist her up over a rough patch. Even he was sucking wind by the time the ground leveled out. He glanced back at the brutal hillside they'd just scaled. Not bad for a woman. Not bad at all.

  Kimberly halted beside him, bent over at the waist, breathing hard. "If any of your imaginary bad guys want me bad enough to follow us up that hill, they can have me," she panted.

  Tex snorted. "Nobody's catching you on my watch."

  She looked him in the eye briefly before her gaze skittered away. "Thanks," she mumbled.

  What was this? Gratitude from the princess? "For what?"

  "For helping me up that hill. I can do without this whole Outward Bound experience, but if you're under orders to drag me through it, I appreciate the assistance."

  Surprise coursed through him. He'd pegged her as the kind of woman who took such things as her due. "No need to thank me," he replied gruffly. "It's my job."

  She continued to talk to his feet, refusing to look up at him. "Nonetheless, thanks for the help."

  Fair enough. He asked, "Does this mean you'll do what I tell you to from here on out?"

  She straightened until she looked directly up at him. A spark of humor lit her eyes. The sight of it made his gut clench with need. "If you ask me nicely, and you explain why I need to cooperate, I expect I'll be generally helpful."

  He grinned in genuine amusement. "A politician's answer if I ever heard one."

  "My father trained me well," she answered, her voice light and bitter.

  His eyebrows shot up at her tone. What was that all about? She said that like she hated her old man's guts.

  Tex sat down on a big root and gestured—politely—for her to sit beside him. He was pleased when she did. "Didn't Senator Stanton fight in Nam?" he asked casually.

  "Oh, yes. He had a rip-roaring good old time over there."

  Tex rolled his eyes. That was one war he didn't joke about.

  Kimberly waxed serious. "He was a big war hero. Decorated six times for bravery on the field of battle. Multiple purple hearts, presidential citations, bronze stars, a silver star, the works. Made the covers of Time and Newsweek. That's what launched his political career."

  Her rote answer sounded faintly resentful. He threw up a cautious trial balloon. "You don't sound too thrilled about being a senator's daughter."

  Wariness leapt into her gaze. "Let's just say the senator and I have agreed to disagree on certain subjects."

  The senator? Not "my father"? Tex frowned. Kimberly Stanton was famous for her clashes on Capitol Hill with her old man. But Tex had always thought they remained close outside the political arena. Certainly the press painted the Stanton family that way. But from her tone, he got the distinct impression their differences went much deeper than politics.

  He changed subjects. "Any idea why someone would want to kidnap you?"

  "You tell me. It's your stupid training scenario."

  He exhaled in frustration. "I'm not kidding. This isn't an exercise. Can you think of any reas
on why someone would want to kidnap you?"

  She glared at him. "Are you always this stubborn?"

  His eyebrows shot up. She was calling him stubborn? "Aw, come on. Play along for fun. Can you think of anything?"

  "Nope. Not a thing."

  What was so special about her or her family that made Gavronese rebels kidnap her? He asked, "Do you know much about what your father's working on politically these days?"

  Her eyes narrowed, giving them a distinctly feline look. She answered coolly, "My father doesn't scratch his nose in Congress without me knowing about it."

  He almost felt sorry for the elder Stanton. He sure as hell wouldn't want to have to face her across a Senate chamber. "Can you think of any legislation your father's involved with, any committees, any investigations, that might be of interest to the Gavronese rebels?"

  Her gaze turned thoughtful. "Is this exercise based on some threat you've received from these rebels against my father?"

  "Hello. Earth to dense blonde. Come in. This is not an exercise!"

  She just shook her head.

  He had never met anyone who could so ignore the evidence staring them right in the face. She was sitting in the middle of a jungle, for God's sake!

  She laughed without humor. "Maybe you should pretend to kidnap me for money. My parents are rolling in it. But I wish your hypothetical bad guys luck in prying any of it out of my father's tight fists."

  Wow. So much for the cheery, All-American image the Stanton family projected to the public. He sighed. "I suppose it doesn't really matter why the rebels kidnapped you at this point. The goal now is to get you home safely."

  Speaking of which, they needed to get moving. He stood up and shouldered the two rifles. He turned to head out but was forestalled when Kimberly put a hand on his forearm. Her fingers were cool against his skin, but they might as well have been branding irons the way they burned his flesh.

  "Why don't we just cut to the chase and save ourselves a lot of grief, here? You do the big, fancy, save-the-girl firing demonstration you're supposed to do. I'll act suitably impressed and then we can both get out of here. If we hurry, we can be home in time for supper."

  "Darlin', has anyone ever told you you're more stubborn than a constipated mule?"

  She laughed, her eyes sparkling merrily. "All the time, Mr. Monroe. All the time."

  "I'm a captain, not a mister. But call me Tex. I don't like titles much either way."

  "Okay, Tex. And please, call me Kimberly."

  Their gazes met candidly for a moment. The touch of her gaze upon him was nearly as tangible as a physical caress. The swirling currents between them began to build again and heaviness built low in his gut. Tex looked away hastily.

  He cleared his throat. "I'd like to follow this ridgeline for a couple more hours. But no more climbing today, I promise. An hour or so before dark, we'll stop to hunt for food and water. Then we'll set up camp for the night. Okay with you?"

  She grimaced in distaste. "Camp? Sorry. I can't stick around for a whole night of this hilarity. I've got a dinner meeting this evening with Senator Norwood. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you take me home now."

  "Sorry. No taxis run from Gavarone to Washington after 3:00 p.m." he replied.

  She fisted her hands on her hips. "Look. Enough is enough. Take me home. Now."

  "Believe me, Princess. I'm tryin'."

  "Just how far away from Washington did you guys take me while you had me knocked out?" she demanded.

  "Kimberly, you're not even on the same continent as Senator Norwood."

  She stared in disbelief. "I'd heard you guys took things to extremes, but did you actually have to fly me to Timbuktu for this little exercise of yours?"

  "Timbuktu's in Mali. Wrong continent. We're in South America. That much I am sure of."

  She huffed in exasperation. "Fine. So I have to miss my dinner meeting tonight. At least get me to a phone where I can call the senator's office and cancel. I really could use a shower and a hot meal, too, while you're at it."

  "If you know of any hotels within walking distance in this jungle, by all means let me know," he drawled. "Otherwise, camping it is."

  She stared in dawning dismay. "You're kidding."

  "Nope," he replied.

  "But I don't do camping."

  "You do now," he retorted.

  She took a step backward. "You don't understand. My idea of camping is a hotel without room service."

  He snorted in amusement. "Then you're going to be real disappointed with the accommodations tonight."

  He started to turn away, but he caught a glimpse of the genuinely frightened glint in her green eyes. And then the truth hit him. Poor kid was clinging to the whole this-is-an-exercise idea because she was scared out of her mind. "Think of this adventure as a learning experience," he offered.

  "I hate learning new things," she said vehemently.

  "Too bad. There's a lot I could've shown you," he murmured.

  Her gaze snapped to his. Damn. He hadn't meant for it to come out with quite that innuendo. He blinked in surprise when he actually felt his cheeks heating up. He couldn't remember the last time anything had made him blush. Particularly a woman.

  * * *

  Kimberly spent the next few hours more miserable than she could ever remember being in her life. This was real. It had to be. There was no other explanation for why Tex thought he could make her this miserable and not get the tar sued out of him.

  She was still having trouble wrapping her mind around the whole kidnapping idea, but this was definitely a jungle. A jungle! Complete with bugs and sweat and scary noises and God knows what crawling and creeping critters. Insidious fear almost but not quite overwhelmed her dragging exhaustion.

  Just when she was sure she couldn't take another step, couldn't withstand another jolt of fear from an unexpected noise, memory of Tex's sizzling kiss would pop into her head. Be it from irritation or titillation, thoughts of that kiss energized her, putting new life into her flagging spirits.

  Most of the men she'd dated recently—okay, pretty much most of the men she'd ever dated—fell into the same category: politically correct, self-absorbed and more interested in what she could do for their careers than they were in her. Not that she went out with men she despised—Heaven help her if she ever got that jaded.

  But Tex was definitely a departure from all other men who'd ever kissed her. His blunt honesty bordered on rude and he wasn't worth a darn at slippery maneuvering.

  Abruptly a vine snagged her foot and she pitched toward Tex. He whipped around and his hands shot out, snagging her shoulders and stopping her from falling. The display of lightning quick reflexes left her blinking. His strong hands were impossibly gentle as he steadied her.

  She frowned. No man touched a woman like that unless he was at least a little bit interested in her. Her heart fluttered.

  And then her brain kicked in. She must be suffering from jungle fever. He couldn't possibly be interested in her. Two people couldn't be more different than the two of them.

  What was it about his mere touch that sent her pulse racing like that? It was more than a little unnerving. She avoided meeting his gaze as she disentangled her foot. His touch slid away from her skin, almost like he was reluctant to let go of her. She shivered with a sharp, sexual thrill.

  "You okay?" he asked. "You haven't complained for at least two minutes."

  "No, I'm not okay," she snapped. "I don't like this escape-through-the-jungle thing, and I want you to make it go away!"

  As he resumed walking, his chuckle floated back to her. "That's more like it."

  She stared at his back through narrowed eyes. One thing was certain. Tex Monroe hadn't kissed her for political reasons. He knew she was out to take his Special Forces unit apart.

  That had to gall him. No doubt he was sure the world would fall apart without men like him running around patrolling it. The idea was well and good in theory, but save-the-world heroes were pur
ely the stuff of legends. They didn't actually exist. She knew that better than most. After all, she'd grown up with a man the whole world touted as a hero. And what a crock that was.

  Tex Monroe was no different than her father. Just like William Stanton in Vietnam, he'd burn himself out chasing after an imagined destiny of saving the world. Although she doubted the hard soldier in front of her was that deluded.

  Tex might act the gentleman and help her through this nightmare, but she had no illusions about his real motives. His fanny would be in a sling if he didn't keep her safe. Pure self-interest motivated him.

  But, as he'd promised, Tex stopped when the light finally began to fade and the relentless steam heat of the afternoon broke. She sagged down onto a moss-covered log, completely drained. "Thank God. I don't think I could take another step."

  He replied, "Rest here while I do a little scouting. Gotta be some water around here somewhere."

  Water. A long cool drink sounded like manna from heaven. She pulled out the neck of her bedraggled sweater and blew down its front as Tex disappeared into the greenery. If she knew he'd be gone for a while, she'd take the darned thing off.

  Her stockings were ruined, the French silk full of holes and runs. Her shoes were destroyed, too. The fine leather was badly scuffed and muddy. Wherever you are, Donatella Versace, please forgive me for what I've done to your lovely shoes.

  The air hung on her skin like soggy cobwebs, heavy and sticky, without even a hint of movement, as she listened to the myriad exotic sounds trilling and screeching through the jungle. The day's hothouse humidity slowly seeped out of the vibrating air and the jungle's vivid hues faded to gray.

  She jumped violently when a hand landed on her shoulder from behind. She lurched off the log and spun around.

  Tex.

  "You scared the daylights out of me!" she exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

  "Hush," he admonished her. "It's my job. I'm not exactly in the Boy Scouts, you know."

  Now that was stating the obvious. No Boy Scout kissed like he did, she was sure.

  "I found us a good spot to sleep tonight. I also found water," he announced.

  "Hallelujah," she replied fervently. But the word died on her lips a few minutes later as she stared down at a muddy pool of water. It was little more than a puddle, really.