The Marine & the Debutante

“Was that a laugh?” he asked, slowing his steps.

Grateful, Lisa slowed down, too, and instantly felt her calf muscles cramp. She winced, nodded and admitted, “Yes, I laughed. Maybe I’m hysterical.”

“Swell.”

She looked up at him. Darn him, anyway, he wasn’t even winded. “I’m kidding,” she said, then added, “I think.”

Releasing her hand, he gave her a long, thoughtful look, swung his pack to the ground and said, “Sit for a few minutes. Take a breather.”

“Oh, thank heaven,” she muttered, and dropped like a stone. Then she had to shift slightly to inch off the stone she’d landed on. Perfect. Well, why shouldn’t her behind ache as much as every other spot on her body?

“Here,” he said, handing her a beige, flask-shaped canteen. “Have a drink. Not much, though. I’ve only got two and they’ve got to last us.”

Lisa nodded, too tired to argue, which was saying something, she supposed. Unscrewing the cap, she lifted the canteen and took one big mouthful of warm, wet, wonderful water. Then she swallowed, letting the liquid slide down her throat like a blessing, before handing the canteen back. She hadn’t even realized just how thirsty she was. And right now, the metallic-flavored water tasted better than the finest bottle of wine.

Now that they’d stopped running, the cold night air had caught up with her. She shivered and clapped her hands to her upper arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to create some warmth. Funny how running and being terrified will keep you all toasty.

“Cold?”

She nodded.

He shrugged the small pack off his back and swung it to the ground. Then, setting his gun to one side, he quickly undid the buttons on his sand-colored uniform shirt and pulled it off, revealing a Marine-green T-shirt that looked as though it had been molded to his brawny chest.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, both grateful and embarrassed to be taking the shirt off his back.

“Just put it on, princess.”

Well, so much for gratitude. She snatched the shirt out of his hands and shoved her arms into the long sleeves. The cuffs hung well past her wrists, to flop over the edge of her fingertips. But it was warm—the fabric still held a touch of his body heat along with his scent.

He stood up again, grabbed his rifle and gave another quick look around.

She looked down to see the mammoth shirt hanging to nearly the hem of her dress. Oh, if her friends could see her now. Lisa Chambers, girl fashion plate, dressed as a miniature soldier. But she was warm and that was saying a lot.

“I, uh…” Gratitude came hard, considering that he wasn’t one of her favorite people at the moment.

“Forget it.” He cut her off, clearly not interested in thanks. “Now, you stay put,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“What?” Panic reared up inside her, and she shot a wild look around her at the surrounding darkness. Anything or anyone could be hiding out there. “You’re leaving me here? Alone?”

He shot her a grin. “Gonna miss me?”

Her stomach flip-flopped. Amazing what an effect that smile could have on an exhausted, thirsty, hungry, obviously delusional woman.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, before she could come up with a witty reply. “I’m just goin’ back to make sure I’ve covered our tracks well enough.”

“I didn’t realize you had been covering our tracks,” she said, looking back over her shoulder as if she could actually see into the darkness and the trail he’d been working to erase.

“That’s my job,” he said, already moving off into the shadows.

“Who are you, anyway?” she demanded. “Daniel Boone?”

He glanced back at her and gave her another one of those grins. “Nah, the name’s Travis Hawks, ma’am. But I appreciate the compliment.”

“Well, my name’s Lisa Chambers,” she retorted as he disappeared into the darkness. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added, “It’s not ‘ma’am.”’

What felt like hours but what was probably only a few minutes, passed, and she heard him approaching. At least, she hoped it was Travis Hawks.

It was.

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as he moved to her side. Then she noted he wasn’t even breathing heavily.

Tipping her head back, she looked up at him. “Aren’t you even tired?” she asked, disgusted that he showed no signs of the fatigue swamping her.

He spared her a quick glance, then lifted his gaze back to the wild, arid landscape. “I’ll be tired when we get where we’re goin’.”

“Well,” she said, “I had no idea I was in the company of a superhero.” Muffling a groan, Lisa pulled her right foot onto her left knee and massaged the tight knot in her calf. “And where is ‘where we’re goin’,’ exactly?” she asked, mocking his drawl.

“There,” he said, ignoring her gibe as he pointed to a low range of mountains.

She squinted into the distance and felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. “You’re kidding,” she said, “right?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Lisa,” she reminded him, “not ‘ma’am.’ And that’s probably another five miles,” she protested, already thinking about the extra aches and pains headed her way.

He reached into the inside pocket of his shirt and pulled out a fabric-covered map. He studied it for a few minutes, then shifted his gaze back to her. “More like three.”

“Well, heck,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words. “That’s different, then. What’re we waiting for?”

Folding the map and tucking it away again, he dropped to one knee beside her and reached for her leg.

“Hey!” She stiffened and tried to pull away, but let’s face it, she was so tired a snail could have overtaken her. Let alone Mr. I’ll-Get-Tired-Later.

“Relax, princess,” he said, his fingers kneading the tight flesh. “I’m just tryin’ to help.”

She muffled a yelp and told herself to stop him. She shouldn’t be letting him do this. She hated him. She hated what he was forcing her to do. Heck, she’d walked more today than she usually did in a month of treadmill exercising. And it was all his fault. If he hadn’t waved off that helicopter, she’d be winging her way toward an American Embassy somewhere, already anticipating a hot bath and a good meal and some fresh clothes. So, yeah. She hated him and she should be telling him all this while at the same time making him stop massaging her legs. And yet…it felt so good. Pain shimmered inside her, blossomed, then disappeared under the wash of warmth drawn from his fingertips.

He moved from one calf to the other, his strong fingers easing away the tightness in her muscles until she almost wanted to weep with the pleasure of it all. Okay, she thought. Maybe he’s not so bad. Maybe he’s doing the best he can. Maybe he’s sorry that he’s working her so hard. Maybe…

“Okay, that’s it,” he announced. “Let’s get movin’.” He dropped her leg as if it were a seashell; picked up, examined, then discarded as useless.

And just like that she hated him again.

“That’s your idea of a ‘rest’?” she asked. “Three whole minutes?”

Standing up, he held one hand out to her and pulled her to her feet. “Sun’ll be up in a few hours,” he said sagely, his gaze drifting across the far horizon. “I want to be tucked away nice and quiet before that happens.”

She shifted her gaze to the same horizon and realized that the sky did look just a bit brighter. They’d been walking all night. No wonder she was tired, for pity’s sake.

“And you think I’m going to be able to walk three more miles in under three hours?” If the way she was feeling at the moment was any indication, she’d be lying in a crumpled heap inside of a half hour. Her own fallen image rose up in her brain, and Lisa imagined the headlines—Billionaire’s Daughter Found Dead in Desert. And, of course, there’d be pictures. Of her mummified body wearing her once fashionable, now pitiful, designer dress.

Now there’s an epitaph.

“You’ll make it,” he said, his words shattering the thoughts in her mind with the steely ring of determination in his tone.

She looked up at him. Funny, she hadn’t noticed until just this minute how tall he was. At least six-three. At five-nine, Lisa was no munchkin, but he made her feel tiny in comparison. Maybe she could make it. With his help. He didn’t seem the kind of man to give up easily. If he had, they would have been captured hours ago.

“Okay, general,” she said, bravely swallowing the knot of fear lodged in her throat. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

“Ooh-rah,” he said, and gave her a smile that nearly knocked her over.

“Ya-hoo,” she answered, hoping she’d see that smile again really soon.

Travis wouldn’t have admitted it under torture, but he was beat, down to the ground. The cold was keeping him awake for now, but if he didn’t get some sleep soon, neither one of them was going to get out of here. Which was why he nearly shouted in joy when he spotted the cave.

If he hadn’t been looking specifically for just this, he never would have noticed it. A slight overhang of rock jutted out from the side of the mountain, looking like nothing more than an extrawide crevice. Yet, on closer inspection, he found a narrow but deep cave that would be a perfect place to hide.

Every bone in his body cried out for rest, but before he could, he had to make sure the place was safe. Leaving the princess at the mouth of the cave, he took his rifle and snatched a chem light out of his equipment belt. Cracking the hard plastic case, he then shook it until the crystals inside glowed a soft green. An ordinary flashlight or a flare would be too bright in this all-encompassing blackness. Too easy to spot from a distance. This thing would give off enough light to see by and still be hard to spot by their enemies. Carefully he inspected the shelter. The eerie green light glowed and cast soft, indistinct shadows on the rock walls. His right hand gripping the rifle, he held the light up high in his left as he squinted into the darkness.

“What do you see?”

He winced as her voice seemed to echo in the stony enclosure, and he hoped to hell the place was as empty as it seemed.

“Quiet.” His voice was hardly more than a raspy hush of sound. And still it traveled back to her with no problem.

“And what does quiet look like?” she muttered.

Travis grinned reluctantly and shook his head. This damn woman was as stubborn as he was. A moment later, though, the smile on his face faded as he concentrated on the task at hand. The walls were solid, no holes where critters could crawl or slither through from somewhere else. There was no sign of human habitation in here, but there was always the threat of snakes. Growing up in Texas had given him a healthy respect for the reptiles, and he sure as hell didn’t want any surprises while they slept.

Damn, his eyes felt heavy. Gritty. As though he hadn’t slept in a year. He blinked, shook his head again and focused. As he did, a slight movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to follow the snake’s movement. Just one, it was moving fast across the sandy ground.

“Damn it,” he whispered, knowing he couldn’t risk a gunshot to kill it. He’d been prepared to fire on a hostile human, but he’d rather not risk a rifle shot being heard for miles for the sake of killing a snake. Gritting his teeth, Travis set his rifle down, grabbed his knife and killed it, neatly slicing its head from its body.

Then he stood and gave a last look around. Everything else was secure. If the snake had had friends, they were long gone. The cave wasn’t much, but it looked damn good to him at the moment. They were safe—for now. They could get some rest and hide until he figured out the best route to get out of this country.

“What’s going on back there?” she called, and he heard the fear in her voice.

That woman could drive a saint right out of heaven, he thought. But then, a part of him couldn’t really blame her for being scared. She’d already been through more than most folks would face in a lifetime, and to give her her due, she hadn’t folded. And Travis admired grit in a person, male or female.

Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t wish she was anywhere but there. But wishes wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. They were stuck together. And the fact that she was too blasted good-looking for comfort shouldn’t come into it. She was his responsibility—nothing else. He’d best remember that. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can come in now.”

“Good,” she said, and her voice told him how quickly she was making her way down the length of the cave. “I was getting worried back there by myself. You know you could have left me one of your little Halloween pumpkin light thingies.”

“It’s a chem light. Not the kind used in pumpkins.”

“Whatever,” she said, and he watched her walk into the circle of soft-green light. “The point is, it’s really dark in here and I—”

Her voice broke off as her gaze fastened on the dead snake. She took several deep breaths, slapped one hand to her chest and said, “Oh, God.”

“It’s dead.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Eyes wide, she backed up and looked around frantically as if expecting to see a pack of snakes sneaking up on her flank.

He bent down, picked up the carcass and held it up admiringly. At least a three-footer. “You’ll think better of it once it’s cooked.”

“Cooked?”

Travis could have sworn he heard her gag.

“Waste not, want not,” he told her.

“Look before you leap,” she countered.

“He who hesitates is lost,” he said, figuring this could go on awhile.

“He who eats snake will get sick,” she told him.

“That’s not an old saying.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” she said. “As of right now.”

Travis laughed shortly and set his pack down, then laid the snake alongside it. Jamming the end of the light into the sand at his feet, he said, “Have a seat. I’m going out to gather some brush. We can make a small fire.”

“You’re leaving me here?” she asked, lifting one hand to point at the snake. “With that?”

“Trust me,” he said tightly, “you’re more dangerous than he is.”

She swung her hair back from her eyes, and in the green glow those blue eyes gleamed like sapphires. Her face pale, her features drawn with fatigue and fear, she was still pretty enough to take a man’s breath away.

And he realized he’d been right.

She was dangerous.

Three

An hour later they were crouched beside a fire so tiny it hardly qualified as flames. But still, the hiss and snap of the burning brush was…comforting, somehow. Except of course, for the snake meat sizzling on a stick.

Lisa cringed just a little and shifted her gaze from the fire to the man opposite her. She watched as he used a rag from his pack to wipe the camouflage paint off his face. With steady, long strokes, he slowly revealed more of his features. Jet-black eyebrows. And his eyes. Darned if they didn’t look like melted chocolate—rich and dark—and they had almost precisely the same effect on her. A twinge of hunger, mixed with expectation. In the weird green light, his features looked sharp. Resolute. His nose had character, she decided, and combined with that strong, square jaw, he probably could have made a fortune as a model. Instead, he made his living by dragging women across dark deserts while crazy people shot at them.

“We’ll stay here until dark,” Travis was saying. “Then I figure we’ll head for El Bahar. It’s not far and the king there is friendly to the U.S.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, and though she heard the snap in her tone, she couldn’t seem to stop it. “And how far away is this place?”

He pulled out his map, checked it for what had to be the tenth time in the past hour, then glanced at her briefly. “Not far.”

“How far?”

“A day or so,” he said, deliberately ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. “But once we’re in their territory, you’ll be safe.”

“Day or so?” She tried to keep the groan out of her voice but she was pretty sure she hadn’t succeeded. Then, rather than concentrate on the march ahead, she focused on the last word he’d said.

Safe.

For the past two weeks of captivity, that was a word she’d concentrated on often. Before being snatched from her spur-of-the-moment shopping trip, Lisa’d never realized just how much she took her own safety for granted. It wasn’t something you normally thought about. It just…was.

She doubted she’d ever be that complacent again. In fact, she’d probably be looking over her shoulder for years.

But she hadn’t let her captors know she was scared, and she refused to give in to fear now.

“Once we’re in El Bahar,” he was saying, “we’ll go directly to the American Embassy and call for a ride home.”

“My father can send his jet.”

One black eyebrow lifted, and he shook his head, chuckling wryly under his breath.

She had the distinct feeling he wasn’t laughing with her. Stiffly she asked, “What’s so funny?”

“You,” he said, reaching to rotate his stick of snake meat in the fire. “A regular plane ride’s just not good enough, huh? Have to call for a private jet.”

All right, maybe that had sounded a little snooty. “I only meant—”

“Relax, princess,” he said, interrupting her neatly. “I know just what you meant.”

“Really.”

Shifting position, Lisa folded her legs in the most ladylike manner she could manage. Wincing slightly at the movement, she tucked her torn, dirty dress down over them and shrugged out of his shirt. With the rock walls cutting off the wind, and the tiny fire, she’d finally warmed up again.

“Yes, really,” Travis said, shaking his head again and leaning back against the cool rock wall. He had her number. Had had it from the moment she’d opened her eyes and looked up at him back there at the shack. And he didn’t mind telling her so. “I’ve known women like you most of my life,” he said. “The rich girls, counting out daddy’s money and buying what they could never earn.”

“Now just a darn minute.” Her eyes flashed, outrage obvious in her tone.

“Struck a nerve, huh?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he went on. “Let’s just look at your story so far. You decide to visit an area rife with civil unrest to do some shopping and promptly get snatched.”

“The papers at home didn’t say anything about the dangers of—”

“And then,” he said, his voice easily overriding hers, “when you’re in trouble up to your pretty neck, you just expect Daddy to pay the demanded ransom.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” she asked. “I’m his only child.”

“For which he’s probably grateful,” Travis commented and took real pleasure in the murder he saw glinting in her eyes. “My point is, even if he’d paid the ransom, there was no guarantee you’d be released.”

“Of course they’d have released me. Why wouldn’t they?”

“Darlin’,” he said, “after spending most of the day with you, I’m only surprised they didn’t offer to pay your dad to take you off their hands.”

“You have no right to say such—”

He waved off her indignation. “But back to our story. See, this is where me and my friends came in. The government convinced your daddy to hold off on paying up and to send us in instead.”

“It’s your job, isn’t it?”

“My job is to help people who need it. Even spoiled little rich girls whose only job is to look gorgeous and spend cash that isn’t theirs.”

And she was gorgeous, he admitted silently, his gaze moving over her quickly, thoroughly. Even after all she’d been through, she looked damn good. Blond hair that just dusted across her shoulders was tucked behind her ears now, and a soft fringe of bangs stopped just above her finely arched eyebrows. In the firelight her eyes looked as blue as the sea at dusk, and her mouth looked delicious. Her teeth continually tugged at her bottom lip until it was all Travis could do to keep from offering to help with that little chore. Damn, this was not the time or the place or hell…the woman to be having these thoughts about.

He’d do well to remember that she was nothing more than a mission gone wrong. If she hadn’t held him up. If she hadn’t wasted so much time looking for her damn purse. If those expensive but worthless high heels had made better time in the sand…if any of those things had been different, he would already be rid of her. They’d have parted ways and he never would have had the time or opportunity to notice that her right breast was just a little fuller than her left.

Oh, man. Travis got a grip on the suddenly rampaging hormones charging through his bloodstream and reminded himself that she was no different from the girls back home. Those girls, backed by their daddies’ oil money, had run roughshod over anybody in their way. And when it came to guys like him—they were happy enough to snuggle up in the dark, but they never brought his kind home to daddy.

Travis Hawks didn’t come from money and as far as he could tell, having it hadn’t done those girls—or this one, for that matter—any good.

“I resent that.”

He blinked and drew himself back to the conversation at hand. Hell, fighting with her was one sure way to keep his mind on the job rather than on fantasies that didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of coming true. “I bet you do,” he said. “But you’re not denying it.”

“I do deny it,” she said hotly, and leaned toward him. Firelight mirrored in her eyes until it looked as though her gaze was shooting sparks at him. “I am not spoiled. And for your information, I’m on the boards of some very worthwhile charities. I do work.”

He nodded sagely, but there was amusement in his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure your telephone dialing finger gets a real workout.”

That blond eyebrow lifted again and disappeared behind her bangs.

“So you work,” he said. “Do you have to live off what you make? I don’t think so.”

“I see. Because I don’t have to worry about income, what I do is worth nothing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You most certainly did.”

All right, maybe he shouldn’t have started any of this. It was none of his business how she lived. His job was simply to return her to the lap of luxury and get the hell out of Dodge. They had another few days together, and there was no sense in being outright enemies, for Pete’s sake.

“You know what you are?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and studying him as if he were smeared on a glass slide beneath a microscope.

“I’ll bet you’re about to tell me.”

“I’d be happy to,” she said, a soft smile curving that luscious mouth of hers.

She looked like a woman with a point to make, and Travis, like any other sane man, battened down the hatches and waited for the blow.

“You’re a snob.”

A short, sharp laugh shot from his throat, ricocheting off the rock walls to echo mockingly.

“A snob?” he repeated.

“That’s right.”

“Honey,” he said, “I don’t make enough money to be a snob.”

“That’s just it,” she countered, folding her arms beneath her breasts and nodding at him. “You’re a reverse snob.”

“Oh, this should be good,” he said, intrigued in spite of himself. He watched her with interest and couldn’t help noticing again just how damn fine she looked, sitting there all smug in her dirty designer dress.

“Because you don’t have money, you’re prejudiced against those who do.”

“Darlin’,” he reminded her, “you don’t have money. Your daddy does.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he had the distinct feeling that if she could have reached him, she just might have slapped his face. But since she couldn’t, she kept talking. Which was, he thought wryly, worse than the slap would have been.

“You’re a snob, and changing the subject won’t alter that one fact.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Why else would you make assumptions about me?” she asked, drumming her fingertips against her upper arms. “You don’t know me at all.”

“Sure I do, princess,” he drawled, letting the words slide out slowly on purpose. “I’ve known you most of my life.”

She sniffed. “Trust me, if we’d ever met, I would remember.”