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  “I probably need to eat.” His answer was mild, but she definitely heard undertones of amusement in his voice. The rat.

  While she cooked up pasta and vegetables, Tom fiddled with his notebook and paper. From her vantage point, it looked like he was encoding some sort of message. He set aside the pen and paper to eat.

  Annie was dismayed when he handed her his plate still half-full of food. Her Martha Stewart street cred was failing. “You didn’t like my cooking?”

  “It was a far sight better than the grub I usually eat in the field.”

  “Once you get more active, maybe your appetite will pick up.”

  He put his hand on her forearm as she bent down to pick up his glass. Her breath hitched at the feel of his fingers on her bare skin. “The meal was great, and thanks for making it.”

  Flustered, she sidled away from his touch. She’d finished washing and drying the dishes before she calmed down enough to breathe normally. How in the hell was she going to live with this guy if every time he touched her she got the vapors?

  Tom’s voice interrupted the stern lecture she was giving herself. “Annie, would you mind helping me for a minute?”

  “Not at all.” He’d stretched out on the sofa, and as she approached, he rolled onto his side and patted the cushion in front of him. She sat carefully but still found her tush wedged against his lean, hard stomach. “What can I do for you?”

  Resting his forearm on her thigh, he showed her the sheet of paper he’d been working on. The top half was covered with what looked like random mathematical doodles. The bottom was covered with neatly printed rows of numbers. They swam in a jumble before her unfocused gaze.

  His muscular power surrounded her. His clean, male smell filled her nostrils and made her light-headed. Or maybe it was the picture that came to mind of all those brawny, bronzed muscles she felt as he spooned his body around her that made her feel faint.

  “You see here where the sequence starts with 924681?”

  She swallowed to clear the lump from her throat. “Uhh huh.”

  “Start there and read me the numbers in sets of six while I type them into my phone.”

  The procedure took a couple of minutes. Somewhere along the way she found herself relaxing back against the warm wall of his body.

  When they finished, she jerked herself upright once more. “Can you tell me what we just did?”

  “We sent a status report to my superiors.”

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Now we wait.”

  “For what?”

  “For my team to join us and for orders to arrive.”

  “Well, aren’t you just Mr. Preparedness?”

  His answering grin was sexy. Charming. Disarming. Dang it. Why did he have to be so bloody appealing? Her plan to resist him was in a shambles. At this rate, she was going to be a quivering mass of jelly in a week.

  “By the way. Do you happen to know how I’ve been getting shaved for the past seven weeks?”

  She managed to mumble, “I might.”

  His eyes glinted in amusement. He seemed a lot less bothered by their forced intimacy than she was. “Do you want me to give you a shave, Tom?”

  “What I’d really like is a bath.”

  Oh, Lord. No way was she going to get through giving him a full-body sponge bath when he was wide awake and watching her. “I can run a bath for you,” she offered. “How does a long, hot soak sound?”

  “Amazing.”

  “Great.” Relieved to have dodged that bullet, she jumped up and practically ran for the bathroom. While steaming water filled the tub, she tucked her serviceable bar of Ivory soap out of sight and laid out shaving cream, a new razor and a towel. Grinning, she set out the array of floral soaps in frilly packages she’d bought that afternoon.

  She returned to the living room. “All set. Do you want me to put a plastic bag over your cast, or can you keep your arm dry?”

  “I’ll keep it out of the tub.”

  She nodded as he swung his feet to the floor. “How do your legs feel?”

  He grimaced. “Like spaghetti. It’s damned annoying. Did the doc say how soon I can start working out?”

  “You mean like actual exercising?”

  “Yes. Actual exercising. You know, getting my strength back? Becoming mobile and self-sufficient?”

  “Tom, you’ve got broken bones all over the place that are just healing.”

  “It has been seven weeks. They’re repaired by now. Besides, I’ve had broken bones before. I feel healed.” And with that, he stood up.

  Despite his brave pronouncement, there was a distinct wobble to his steps. Quickly, she wedged her shoulder under his arm and steadied him as they walked slowly to the bathroom. “That’s just great,” she griped. “You feel healed. You have no idea how close you came to dying, do you?”

  He stopped and gazed down at her soberly. “I remember getting dragged through the jungle, slamming into tree after tree. I remember feeling each bone break, and I remember hoping the next tree would be the one that killed me. Believe me. I know exactly how bad I was hurt.”

  She felt sick to her stomach. She never dreamed he’d actually been conscious through that horrible ordeal. Dear God.

  They made their way into the bathroom in silence.

  “Tell you what, Tom. How about if I have the embassy doctor come take a look at you? Let’s see what he says before you embark on any ambitious fitness programs, okay?”

  “I don’t need a doctor.”

  “I’ll blow your cover if you don’t see him.”

  He gave her a deadly look. “I do not appreciate being blackmailed.”

  If she’d learned one thing in eight years of working with macho males, it was never to back down. Even though the look he was giving her turned her gut to Jell-O, she glared right back at him. “And I don’t appreciate seven weeks of hard work establishing a cover and caring for you going down the tubes because you’re too antsy to let yourself heal properly.”

  He replied grudgingly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll talk to the damned doctor.”

  Woot! A win for her! “Thanks. Now, let me help you with your clothes.” She eased the shirt off his shoulders, savoring the feel of his skin sliding under her fingertips. She guided the left sleeve over his cast and greedily devoured the sight of his back as the fabric fell away.

  Despite the many times she’d seen his naked torso, the sight of all that muscle never failed to impress her. And to see it moving, bending and twisting in all its supple grace, stole her breath clean away.

  She noticed belatedly that he was looking over his shoulder at her. “Uh, the cuts on your back have healed nicely. I can barely see the scars.”

  He shrugged. “Another scar or two doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

  “Speaking of scars, where did you get this one?” She touched a small round scar under his right shoulder blade with her fingertip.

  He sucked in his breath, and she jerked her finger away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  He turned to face her. In the tight confines of the bathroom, they were only inches apart. His voice was little more than a husky whisper. “You didn’t hurt me.”

  She stared up at him, startled by the intensity of his gaze. Attraction between them flared, hot and thick. Slowly, as if against his will, his arms came up and surrounded her, drawing her close.

  Ohmigod. Her hands had nowhere to go but on his narrow, hard waist. She fought not to lean into him, and most especially not to return his embrace.

  “That’s an old gunshot wound,” he murmured. “A woman gave it to me.”

  “A woman shot you?” Annie blurted. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  Tom smiled reluctantly. “Nothing. She led me into a trap, and her father’s men shot me.”

  “That’s terrible,” she murmured. No wonder he didn’t like working with women.

  His husky voice drew her back to the present. The very steamy present. “I lik
e it when you touch me. Do you like doing it?”

  “Uhh,” she cleared her throat, “sure.”

  “Good. Then here’s your first order. Do it some more.”

  She replied nervously, “I don’t think that qualifies as a lawful order under the Uniform Code of…”

  His finger stilled her lips. “Remember what I told you about following orders?” he murmured. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

  Despite herself, she smiled. “Make it a request, not an order, and I just might.”

  He smiled back, slow and smooth. “Touch me, please.”

  Her hands crept up his ribs and down the ridged muscles of his back. Pure, sexual pleasure shot through her. This was wrong. Really wrong. But cripes, he felt good.

  “You have me at a disadvantage, Annie. You’ve had your hands all over me already, but I don’t know the feel of you at all.”

  His hands began to move, roaming gently over her back. His fingers kneaded the muscles along her spine, melting her will to stand up. Only the knowledge of his injuries kept her from sagging against him.

  She mustered enough strength to murmur, “Your bath’s going to get cold.”

  He drew her closer and spoke against her temple. “Sweet Annie, there’s always more hot water. Besides, I may be needing a cold soak, anyway.”

  She buried her face against his shoulder. “We’ve got to stop this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re in the middle of a broken mission, and we’ve got to work together.”

  He sighed. “You’re right.” He set her away from him, but his hands lingered on her shoulders. “Thing is, holding you makes me feel alive. For a while there, I thought I was dead and that you were an angel.” His hands slid down her arms, and with a final caress of her fingertips, fell away from her.

  “Me an angel? Not a chance.”

  “To me you were one. You took away my pain. You let me know I wasn’t alone. You have no idea how comforting that was.”

  The extent of his suffering made her heart shrink in her chest. “I’m so sorry, Tom…” Tell him.

  “Sorry for what? It’s not your fault I got hurt.”

  His words were a knife straight through her belly Only the sink at the back of her thighs kept her from staggering at the blow.

  Tell him right now. “But—”

  “Are you all right? Annie? You look pale. It’s probably the steam making you light-headed. Why don’t you go into the other room? I can handle my bath, and I’ll give you a shout out if I need anything.”

  He guided her to the door, gave her a gentle push into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She turned to face the wooden panel, leaning her forehead against it in misery.

  She whispered, “But it is my fault, Tom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tom scowled at the bath supplies she’d left him. “Hey! Where’s some real soap, dammit?”

  The sound of snickering drifted through the closed bathroom door. Ah, hell. Who cared if he smelled like vanilla orchid sachet?

  He stood in the bathtub and carefully washed around new scars and his cast. And then he dunked his head in the sink and washed his hair. Last, he picked up the razor and went to work on the dark stubble covering his face and neck. And while he shaved, he thought.

  He had no business letting Annie get involved in his mission. It was dangerous to her, and moreover, it was dangerous to his men. Okay, so he did owe her a debt of gratitude. She’d taken care of him and given him a cover, and she’d put herself at risk to pull him out of the hospital. But what was he going to do with her?

  He knew what he’d like to do with her.

  Guilt crept into his mind like the heat creeping into his bones. Here he was, relaxing in a comfy hide with a hot woman waiting on him hand and foot, while his men were living on a razor’s edge, undercover, out of their element, one mistake away from dying. What were they going to think of him when they showed up here and saw his plush setup?

  Showed up here…

  “Annie,” he called urgently.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Could you come here for a sec?”

  She peered cautiously around the doorframe. Skittish about seeing him naked, was she? He had a towel wrapped around his hips, for crying out loud. “I don’t bite,” he snapped.

  How did she manage to scowl and smile at the same time like that? “What do you need?” she asked.

  “If any of my men show up while I’m still in here, let them into the apartment and come tell me.”

  “Got it.”

  “Move slowly around them and keep your hands in plain sight at all times.”

  Her eyes widened, but she nodded.

  “I don’t know which guys will get here first. Their nicknames are Tex, Doc, Dutch, Howdy and Mac. If somebody knocks on the door, ask them in English what their handle is. They should give you one of those.”

  “Sounds like the seven dwarves. How did they come by those?”

  He grinned. “Ask me to tell you the stories some time when I’m good and drunk.”

  She returned his smile warmly.

  “By the way, while you’re here, would you mind washing my back? I can’t see the new scars back there to take it easy on them.”

  Her shoulders visibly tensed up, but she moved toward him. “So what do you like? A hard scrub or a gentle wash?”

  “Today a scrub is in order. I feel like I haven’t had a real bath in months.”

  Her voice was wry. “You haven’t. I was only able to give you sponge baths around your wounds.”

  A washcloth touched his back, and then moved in vigorous circles that were pure heaven. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation. She wrung out the cloth and happened to glance up at him. The rich emerald color of her eyes was almost hidden behind the black of her pupils. Poor woman. She had the same effect on him, too.

  He shifted uncomfortably and accidentally bumped her chest with his arm. The springy flesh pressed against his biceps, a brain-scrambling sensation. He eyed the big old tub, calculating its volume. It would definitely hold both of them. He could already feel her naked body, soapy and slippery against his. He’d lower her down upon him, easing himself inside her heat. He’d thrust up into her—

  Annie cleared her throat, and he blinked away the image. He realized with a start that he was starting at her chest, watching it rise and fall in quick, short breaths under her damp T-shirt.

  She grabbed a towel and began dabbing at his back.

  “Uhh, is there anything else you need?” she asked.

  He racked his brain but couldn’t come up with a single excuse to keep her with him any longer. Reluctantly he answered, “No.”

  She turned to leave, and he savored the slender length of her legs in the skimpy little shorts favored by the local girls. “You might want to put on another shirt before my guys arrive.”

  She looked down at the wet spot over her right breast, and so did he. The white cotton clung to her, outlining the red lace beneath and the bump of her nipple. It was sexy as hell.

  She blushed fiery red and raced out of the bathroom.

  You idiot.

  He should have kept his mouth shut and enjoyed the view. She might be off-limits, but he wasn’t dead, yet. But then the idea of sharing that view with his team nixed any regrets.

  He willed his thoughts to the revolution at hand and to escaping St. George. Anything to calm his body down. He certainly couldn’t leave the bathroom in this state.

  ANNIE LEANED against the bedroom door, panting. Sexual vibes had been pouring off Tom like the steam from his bath. It had been all she could do not to run her hands all over his bare skin to see if he would react to her the same way she was reacting to him.

  This was nuts. She had to get control of herself. And in the meantime, she had to get out of her wet shirt. She stripped it and her bra off quickly, eyeing the closed bathroom door. With her luck Tom would pop out of there right now. A naughty corner of her he
art wished he would do just that. She could fling herself into his arms and they could have wild sex, just like she’d been imagining while she washed him.

  Stop that!

  She yanked dry clothes from the scarred armoire in the corner and scrambled into them.

  Restless, she moved out into the living room and straightened up. She carried Tom’s pack into the bedroom. It was so much like the man. Efficient, densely packed, innocuous on the outside but full of lethal weapons. She set it on the chair beside the bed. Maybe tomorrow she’d have better luck keeping him in that bed where he belonged.

  Her breath hitched and her body tingled all of a sudden. Tomorrow Tom might kiss her again in exchange for another day of bed rest. She craved the taste of him. Her palms itched to feel him, and her breasts ached for the weight of his body upon her--

  She jumped as a sound intruded upon her fantasy. A knock on the front door.

  Her heart beat double time as she moved over to it. She spoke softly through the flimsy wood. “What’s your handle?”

  A drawl she could cut with a knife came from exactly opposite her ear. “Tex, ma’am.”

  She opened the door and stepped back.

  He edged into the room fast, his back to the wall beside the door. Lean and darkly tanned, he closed it with a soft click and took a hard, assessing look around the apartment. Remembering Tom’s advice to move slowly, she eased away from the dangerous looking man.

  “Hey, aren’t you the lady from the hospital?”

  “That’s right. I’m Annie—Tom’s cover. He’s in the bathroom at the moment. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

  “No need,” Tom said from behind her.

  Startled, Annie looked up. She hadn’t heard him come into the room. Her breath caught at the sight of him. Tom lurked in the doorway, naked but for a towel wrapped around his hips and a nasty-looking pistol held low in front of him. He looked every bit as dangerous as Tex. With lethal grace, he waited, poised to do violence.

  “Hey, boss, am I glad to see you!”

  Tom’s posture relaxed and he stepped forward. “Ditto, Tex. Any trouble finding this place?”

  “Are you kidding? I know every inch of this miserable shithole—excuse me, ma’am—of this town.”