Her Seal Protector. Jillian Burns

his helmet without snapping the chin straps and stood. He drew in a breath before finally looking at her. “Are you ambulatory?”

      She nodded, but before she could straighten, a deep, menacing feline growl echoed somewhere close to them and Gabby froze. She’d grown accustomed to the constant background noises of the jungle. The chirp and buzz of insects, the weird shrieks of birds, the clicks of beetles, even the screeching monkeys, but this—this panther, or leopard, or whatever it was that lived in this jungle, sounded ominous.

      Large hands grasped her under the shoulders and lifted her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. She stood face-to-hard-chest with the soldier, so close she could smell a subtle—and pleasant—masculine musk. She became hyper-aware of his hands cupping the sides of her chest. His thumbs rested just above the slope of her breasts. If he slid them down a few inches he could rub the tips of her hardening nipples. Her breathing hitched and she looked up into his eyes.

      His Adam’s apple moved as his tongue came out to lick his lips. “We gotta go.” He removed his hands and stepped back.

      Reality intruded on her thoughts. The griminess of her skin. The rough texture of her mud-caked clothes. The ragged tear in the side of her best pencil skirt. And the absurdity of wearing pumps with one heel broken off.

      How could she even be thinking about anything sexual right now?

      Besides, he hadn’t answered her question. “There is a Jeep or a helicopter coming for us, right?” she asked.

      “Affirmative.” Confident. No hesitation. That was good.

      He reached into a Velcro-sealed pocket on his pant leg, pulled out a tube of ointment and handed it to her. “This will help with the mosquitoes.”

      A little late. Bites covered her arms and legs. As she smeared the ointment on exposed skin, he took the bottle of water from her, screwed the lid back on and stuck it in another large pants pocket low on his thigh. “We need to ration this.”

      Okay, that was less good. “Um...how long—”

      “Let’s go.” He put words into action, sticking his other arm through the backpack strap and hitching it over his shoulder as he strode off.

      Tamping down a niggle of dread, Gabby followed. “Look, I realize I kind of lost it back there, but I promise I won’t get all hysterical if you tell me the truth. Whatever it is, I can handle knowing bad news better than not knowing.”

      He stopped and twisted to meet her gaze. “We need to travel about ten clicks—roughly about six miles—by nightfall. I’d rather not travel in the dark.”

      Panic almost swamped her again, but she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d promised not to get hysterical. “Nightfall? We’re not...leaving today?”

      “The helo will meet us at the extraction location at dawn.”

      She blinked away irritating tears.

      “Look, we need to be moving.”

      “Right.” She nodded.

      Facing forward again, he strode away. “If you can’t keep up, just let me know, okay?”

      “Yes, sir.” She hurried to catch up.

      “Clay.”

      Gabby studied the ground but didn’t see any. “Where?”

      “What?”

      “Where’s the clay?

      “No, that’s my name. Call me Clay, Ms. Diaz.”

      “Oh!” Even in the heat of this forsaken—no, not forsaken, Abuelita’s voice corrected her, God was even in this jungle—Gabby felt her face grow warmer. The soldier must think she was slow-witted. As she had constantly for the past two days, she gripped the medallion on the chain around her neck and asked for faith that they would make it home alive. Abuelita had given her the silver medal for her First Communion and it always comforted her.

      “Ms. Diaz?”

      The soldier’s face came into focus. His concerned face. Because she’d halted.

      “We have to keep moving.”

      “Right.” She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile. “Call me Gabby.”

      * * *

      CLAY COULDN’T DECIDE if this woman was the bravest civilian he’d ever encountered, or the craziest. Maybe she was both.

      For instance, that smile she’d just flashed. After what he’d just told her she should be complaining about something by now. They’d missed the rescue helo. They weren’t going to make it to the secondary extraction. And surviving overnight in this jungle was going to prove challenging. But knowing all this, she’d...smiled? And that smile had hit him right in the gut. She’d been held captive, shot at, bitten and scratched up, and wasn’t smelling too sweet.

      But that hadn’t stopped him checking her out. He wasn’t called Hounddog for nothing.

      Her thin, used-to-be-white shirt was damp and clinging to her, showing through to her very practical, plain white bra. Her dark brown eyes were fringed with thick lashes and didn’t miss a thing. And those lips. Made to be thoroughly kissed. Plus she had the kind of figure he loved on a woman. Full and lush in all the right places. He’d had to muster up an extra ounce of discipline wrapping that gauze around her waist.

      But he had a job to do.

      He heard an abbreviated shriek behind him and spun to check on her.

      With a flinch she whisked off a beetle that had landed on her chest. Her lips trembled, but she pinched them together. They’d been traveling about an hour and she was keeping up pretty well, but she looked done in.

      Keep her distracted. “So, Gabby.” He resumed heading west, hacking through twisting vines and thick fronds with his knife, holding a tangle of ferns out of the way for her. “Where you from?”

      “Texas. In the Rio Grande Valley. A little town just outside of Corpus Christi called San Juan.”

      “And how’d you get into banking?” He glanced back at her.

      After seeming confused by his curiosity, she drew in a deep breath. “What can I say, I’m a mathlete. A nerd. Yeah, my Twitter sign is even at symbol nerdy bank analyst. How nerdy is that?”

      As he slashed through the dense undergrowth, he listened while she chattered. He could hear the pride in her voice when she talked about going to college. She’d won a scholarship to the University of Corpus Christi, earned a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and Statistics. Then got her Master of Science in Finance at the U of Texas, San Antonio. Geez, a master’s? He’d barely graduated high school. If he hadn’t crammed for the ASVAB like a son of a gun, he’d have never passed the Armed Services exam. Book smarts were not his strong suit.

      “What about you?” She sounded out of breath.

      “What about me?” She wanted to know if the guy who was saving her butt had a degree?

      “Where are you from? Somewhere in the South, right?”

      Defensive much, Bellamy? “Yes, ma’am. Talladega, Alabama. Home of the Superspeedway and the Peach Jam Jubilee.” Would she catch the edge of bitterness to his tone?

      “Jubilee? That sounds fun.”

      Fun? Nothing associated with home sounded fun to him. Except, now that she mentioned it, he guessed maybe he did have a recollection of sitting on his stepdad’s shoulders and watching some floats go by. Catching a piece of candy the beautiful Peach Queen threw. Giving the candy to his little sister and her grinning up at him like he was her hero.

      And he’d end up playing that role for her over and over again.

      “Clay? Is something wrong?”

      Wow, that flash of memory brought