And apparently location had nothing to do with it.
He felt his blood pressure rising. It happened whenever he thought about that night in the jungle. It wasn’t so much that he came so close to death; that had happened more times than he could count. He knew the risks he took every time he went on a mission, and made sure he made his peace beforehand.
Most soldiers did. But she wasn’t a soldier. The fact that she almost died to save him was something he hadn’t been able to comprehend. Nor had he been able to accept that she took that pretty little ass back into danger while he was carted off to the base. If anything would have happened to her...
He couldn’t even complete that thought. It made the blood boil with irrational rage in his veins.
No matter what she had done for him, or why she had felt compelled to do so, it had been poor judgment on her part. And now, here she was again, in the midst of a natural disaster. Oh, she was safe enough now, but he’d been hearing and seeing the horror stories for himself all night. She must have risked life and limb to get here when she did. And, though she was still quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, the signs of the traumatic circumstances were obvious in the weariness of her delicate features, the dark circles under her eyes, the dirt and grime from too many hours without rest or a shower. It made a dark rage burn within him.
“Well,” she said after a few moments hung in awkward silence. He stared at her, allowing the intensity to build around him like a thunderstorm until she squirmed beneath his gaze. “I’m glad things worked out for you.”
“Yeah.” His voice was rougher than it had been only a minute ago, a direct result of the path his thoughts had taken him. “Let me ask you something. Do you have a death wish?”
Her eyes lost some of their shimmer then; her smile faltered. “I think I should get back now.”
She blew out a breath, and extended her feet toward the ledge of the window sill, clearly expecting him to get out of her way. He didn’t.
“Where are your shoes?” he asked, looking down at the tiny feet as if he’d never seen anything like them before. She’d been barefoot in the jungle, too. He’d forgotten that little fact, but it came back to him now, clear as day.
She shrugged and scooched forward a little more. He refused to budge.
She’d given her shoes to someone. He knew it. She’d had shoes on when he first saw her out in the gym. Little black things that looked like ballet shoes. Judging by the size of her feet, she’d probably given them to a child. Christ. Was she ever not doing something for someone else? Who was looking out for her?
“Have you eaten?” He switched topics without blinking. The question was gruff, his voice more like a growl each time he spoke.
“I’ve got to get back,” she repeated, ignoring his questions. She slid past him when he refused to move, brushing slightly against him in the process, though he could tell she tried very hard not to. Without physically restraining her – and the thought did cross his mind – there was nothing he could do but let her go.
“What is that?” he asked. Before he could help himself his arm shot out, barring her escape. His head dipped down and he caught the faint scent, the same scent he’d smelled that night three months earlier and had been unable to identify. Underneath everything else it was a light, soft fragrance. Clean. Simple. Fresh. It was unexpected, both in the jungle and in the makeshift shelter for hurricane and flood victims. Whatever it was, it clung to her skin, not to her clothing.
*
Well, this wasn’t going at all like it did in her late night fantasies. He didn’t pull her into his arms and kiss her passionately, or make slow, divine love to her in life-affirming gratitude. She chanced a glance at him again, saw the hard expression on his face, and something else - anger, maybe? He glared at her as if she was some kind of species he couldn’t yet identify.
Yeah, that was good for the ego. She might be a little green on the whole flirting thing, but she was pretty sure this wasn’t a good sign. Something about her obviously pissed him off, just like it had in the jungle. Except here, they were not alone and neither of them was in mortal danger. And while they might be on the tail end of a hurricane, there were no bullets raining down on them. It must have been just her, then, that riled him so much.
“Excuse me?” she finally managed. His eyes were doing that glowing thing again, his expression hard and feral. It unnerved her. She got the distinct impression he was angry with her for some reason, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that might be.
Whatever it was, it probably shouldn’t have sent those rolling waves of heat through her like it did, but she was powerless to stop it.
“Your perfume. What is it?”