She hung in his arms like a rag doll devoid of bones. He remembered that level of exhaustion from his own initial training. A frisson of shared sympathy passed through him. But he shoved it aside. He had no time for sympathy for this woman. Not if he was going to prove Gunnar Torsten wrong.
She mumbled, First a public humiliation, and now this. Im so sorry.
She was right about the public part. His orders were to make sure everyone in the program saw him haul Wilkes out. There had to have been at least a hundred witnesses to her departure, all silently gleeful. But she was wrong about the humiliation part. Torsten had other plans for her altogether. If the other trainees and instructors knew what the boss was up to, they wouldnt be so smug to see Wilkes go.
He commented, Youre closer to the truth than you know.
She looked up at him quizzically, but he offered no explanation. All would become clear to her soon. And frankly, he was too ticked off at what came next to get all talkative with her about it.
He shifted his weight onto his bum leg, and a bolt of white-hot agony shot through him. He sucked in a sharp breath and froze, terrified hed done something to wreck his knee even worse than it already was. He swore colorfully to himself.
When hed leaped forward and caught her under the armpits, his right knee had given a mighty shout of protest, shooting daggers up and down his leg in retaliation for the stunt. He tuned in to that pain now, breathing through it until it gradually subsided.
Wilkes made no move to stand on her own. Probably couldnt. He knew all too well the agony of the human body transforming into one giant cramp.
His pain lessened until he was able to register once more the galvanizing sensation of a womans body snuggled up close to his. She was curvy. And springy in the right places. Sex in a bottle.
Aww, hell, he muttered. You really are a girl, arent you?
She glanced down at her chest mashed against his. The display of cleavage above the neck of her olive drab tank top was impressive, to say the least. Last time I checked, Im still a girl, she declared.
An unwilling crack of laughter slipped out of him before he was able to bite it back.
She felt soft and feminine in his arms. Which went against everything he knew about her. Hed seen her PFT scores and run times. She was a beast by female standards. Best theyd seen in a long time. All the more reason to ignore the blood surging into his loins. She was a job, not a date. But day-umm, she was hot.
The light green in her eyes was overtaken by black as her pupils dilated. She must have registered his wholly male reaction to her. Not much he could do about that. But then her gaze, peeking up through long, dark lashes, went a little languorous and a whole lot sensual.
Uh-oh. One of them had to be responsible here and do the right thing. At the moment it was going to have to be her because his pulse was pounding through an erection hard enough to hammer nails with.
Instead, she didnt do a blessed thing to stop every sexual part of her from pressing against every sexually corresponding part of him. Worse, she looked ready to have hot, sweaty sex with him this very second. All he had to do was say the word. And the word was hovering right on the tip of his tongue.
It took every ounce of discipline he had to force his feet to take a cautious step back. His knee held. Praise the Lord and pass the potatoes.
He continued to grasp her upper arms until her legs steadied. Or maybe it was his leg he was waiting on to settle down and accept his weight. Or maybe he was waiting for his hard-on to calm down enough that he wasnt on the verge of doubling over in pain around it. Either way, something primal and hungry roared through him as she stared up at him, her huge, green eyes more huge and more green than usual.
You good? he asked gruffly.
Im great, she breathed back. Lord, she sounded like Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday to JFK.
He would bet she was great in bed. Out of bed. Against a wall. In a shower. In the back of a car. On the back of a car...
Stop.
Reluctantly, he set all of those smoking-hot curves and smooth muscles away from him. He had to get control of himself, and fast, or this assignment was going to go to hell in a handbasket of his own weaving.
His hands fell away from her, and something possessive inside him growled at the absence of her heated skin. As for her, she abruptly looked too tongue-tied and, truthfully, too obstinate to thank him. He couldnt help but be amused at her stubbornness. It was a quintessential Special Forces quality. Pigheaded was a term that got applied to him frequently, in fact.
He reached past her into the back of the vehicle for her pack. He slung it over his shoulder and led her over to the airplane as she stumbled along after him. He trotted up the unfolded steps and turned around, reaching a hand down to her.
I can do this myself, she stated.
You didnt leave everything you had out on the course earlier? he asked in disappointment. Hell, her run time had been respectable even for a guy. Surely, she hadnt run that far, that fast, carrying that much weight, casually.
She stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment. Long enough that he wasnt sure she would accept help from him. Of course, that had been the big ding against her in her training file. She didnt trust men. Had trouble working in a group with others. Tended to be a loner.
But then her palm touched his, and just like that, lightning zinged through his hand and up his arm. It had nothing to do with resentment and everything to do with something else altogether. Man. All she needed was a crack of thunder to go with all that sexual lightning.
Her gaze lifted to his. They stared at each other for a second that stretched out to infinity. Whoa. The moment snapped back into real time sharply, like a rubber band, with the same painful slap against his skin.
He tugged and all but launched her airborne into the plane.
Crud, youre strong, she breathed under her breath.
He didnt think shed meant for him to hear it, but he replied, nonetheless. All special operators have to be.
Im the first to admit that no woman will ever be as strong as a guy at the top of his fitness game. Not even someone like me whos ridiculously strong relative to most other women.
Then why put yourself through the misery?
Just because I wont ever be as strong as a man doesnt mean Im not strong enough to do the job. Strength comes in many forms.
She was right, of course, but he wasnt about to give her the satisfaction of saying so. Take a seat, he ordered.
No other passengers? This bird is just for me? she asked.
He moved forward to a small cabinet behind the copilots seat. He dug out several bottles of water and tossed them one by one to Wilkes. She caught each easily. Good reflexes. That was something, at least.
Major Torsten is in a hurry to get you out of here, he replied as he moved back toward her.
She finished chugging a bottle of water, coming up for air and muttering, Yeah, I got that memo.
She sounded a shade bitter. Like it was dawning on her that she really was not going to be a Special Forces operator. He knew the feeling. And he was definitely bitter about it, too. He wasnt about to accept the doctors final word that his knee would never be strong enough for him to operate on the teams again.
Hed transformed from a scrawny, picked-on kid into a hard-core warrior, hadnt he? He could transform one lousy, busted knee into a joint strong enough to do the job. No way was he walking away from his brothers in arms. They were his family. His life. What would he do if he couldnt be a special operator?
He dropped into the seat across the aisle from her, and Wilkes stopped slugging the second bottle of water to squeak, What are you doing?
You heard the major. He told me to see to it you get where youre going.
He realized he was massaging his right leg, just above the knee, and jerked his hand away. No weakness. No pain. His knee was fine.
She snapped, Im not going AWOL just because Torsten tossed me out. Im going to be pissed off for the next several decades, but Im not going to throw some giant, career-destroying tantrum over it.
He shrugged. Ive got my orders. As the engines cranked up outside, he leaned his seat back, closed his eyes and settled in for a nap. If she knew what was good for her, she would do the same.
Nope. She was feeling chatty apparently, for she said, Just how crappy an assignment is Torsten sending me to? Is this punishment for my daring to try for the Special Forces?
The plane started to taxi. Without opening he eyes, he said shortly, Operations 101eat and sleep whenever you get a chance to do either. Surely, shed already learned that one. Didnt she know anything? God almighty, this mission was going to suck worse than hed thought. And he already thought it was going to suck pretty damned hard.
The plane accelerated down the runway, and he caught her surreptitiously wiping tears away from her cheeks as she stared out the window, her face averted from him. Aww, hell. Now he felt bad for her. And that was the one emotion he couldnt afford where she was concerned.
Thankfully, she had no more inclination to talk. She reclined her seat and went unconscious in a matter of seconds. She had to be beat. He recalled his training as if it was yesterday, and saying it had been hell on earth would not be an exaggeration.
Of course, the real misery for her had just begun. Not that it was going to be any better for him. Someday, somehow, he would find a way to get even with Torsten for this.
Chapter 2
Tessa jolted awake as the plane bumped onto a runway. It was dark outside the small window at her elbow. She was disoriented. Groggy. Airplane. Kicked out of the Special Forces pipeline. Orders from Torsten. A god sent along to deliver her to Phoenix.
She peered out the windows and saw the tall, black silhouettes of trees crowding an unlit runway. Trees? In Phoenix?
Shed been to Arizona before. It had been a thousand degrees outside, and all that grew in the sandy desert were rocks and cacti. She peered out her window again. Not only were those trees, they also looked like a mix of moisture-loving deciduous species and conifers. Totally not trees that would survive the hellish heat of summer in Arizona. And the air in the plane was muggy. Humidity in Phoenix often ran in the single digits. It was warm wherever they had landed, though. And the air smelled strongly of...plant decay.
She glanced over at Lambert. Do you know where we are?
Yup.
The man had the conversational skills of a caveman.
She waited for him to share, but nada. He just stared out his own window, jaw set and a grim expression on his face. Well? she demanded. Where are we? This is obviously not Phoenix.
Are you always this impatient? he asked laconically.
Guess I am. I have this funny thing about liking to know, oh, what state Im in. One thing she knew for sure. This was not Arizona.
His lips twitched, but he didnt deign to enlighten her. Apparently, he was as stubborn as his boss. Jackasses, both of em. Yeah, well, she could play that game, too. Shed be darned if she asked him any more questions.
The jet came to a full stop. Deep silence fell as the engines shut down. The copilot came back to open the clamshell hatch and lower the steps. She smiled flirtatiously at the young Air Force officer and asked him, Could you please tell me where we are?
He glanced up at her in surprise. Louisiana.
What on earth was there for her?
At least shed caught what felt like a couple hourslong nap. If only she felt better after it. Not that anyone in the history of aviation had ever napped comfortably in an airplane seat. She hoisted herself out of the chair, every bit as stiff and agonized as she expected. Bent over in the low-ceilinged cabin, she hobbled to the exit.
She eyed the stairs warily. There were only four steps, yet that was enough to be problematic in her current state of pain. But no way was she going to ask Lambert, waiting impatiently at the bottom of the steps, for help. She made it down the first couple of steps, but her entire right leg cramped on the third step and collapsed out from under her. She pitched forward, straight into the arms of her SEAL babysitter. Again.
Dad gum it.
He growled in her ear, low and sexy, Do you always throw yourself at men like this?
His low voice sent a thrill rippling down her spine and vibrating deliciously through her lower abdomen before she remembered he was a jerk and she hated his guts.
His chest was hard, slabbed in resilient bulges of muscle, warm under the soft cotton of his black T-shirt. And he still smelled good. Which ticked her off to no end. She smelled like a landfill on a hot day, but there wasnt a thing she could do about it until she crossed paths with water and a bar of soap.
It never failed. She always ran into the sexy guys when she was a total mess or being a complete dork. She was not one of those girls who managed to be pulled together, poised and make positive first impressions on men. Ever.
Are you done trying to face-plant? he asked.
Crud. She was still plastered against him. She yanked free of his strong, supporting arms and forced her legs to bear her weight no matter how much they protested. The copilot passed her rucksack down to Lambert, and she didnt have the strength or give-a-crap factor to take it from him. She was already kicked out of training. She didnt have to try to impress anyone with how tough and self-sufficient she was anymore.
Which scared the bejeebers out of her. Her entire life had been devoted to convincing herself and everyone around her that she was the real deal. That she could hang with the big boys. That she was tough. Invulnerable. Safe from harm or abuse.
What was she supposed to do now? Trade in her combat boots for flowered dresses and aprons? Who was she supposed to be? She had no idea how to be a regular woman. Knowing Major Torsten, hed seen to it she would be stuck in some secretarial job fit only for a June Cleaver wannabe, in his misogynistic estimation.
If she had to make coffee for anyone, she swore she was going to poison the stuff.
Waterworks threatened again, and she breathed deeply, repeating over and over to herself, I will not cry. I will not cry. But hopelessness washed over her, anyway. What had all the years of work and sacrifice been for in the end? God, the time shed wasted on a hopeless dream.