Her Seal Protector. Jillian Burns

clicks. Still, her breathing was labored. The humidity was a factor. And she probably hadn’t eaten much, if anything, in the last couple of days. A few feet ahead was a small clearing of sorts. “Let’s stop and rest a sec.” He sheathed his knife.

      As she gave a relieved sigh and moved to sit on a fallen tree branch, he dropped his pack and dug out a protein bar and the water bottle. “Here.”

      She took them eagerly and he unsnapped his metal flask and allowed himself a mouthful of water, watching the woman for signs of pain, fatigue or mental breakdown.

      She was short, but sturdy enough. Other than a wince of pain every so often—probably related to her bullet graze, she seemed in fairly good condition. Her torn skirt showed off her shapely legs. His gaze followed the length of her legs, imagining the rest of her thighs hidden by the skirt. Wondering if her panties matched her plain white bra. For some reason they seemed more erotic than any of that lacy underwear most women he hooked up with wore.

      He really was a hound dog.

      She tucked her legs under her and folded her arms over her chest, and he met her gaze. Damn. She must feel violated enough already and he’d gone and—but that wasn’t anger or fear he saw in her eyes. It was desire.

      Which there was no way he was going to act on.

      He put away his flask. “We’d better get— Don’t move, all right?”

      “What?”

      “I said, hold completely still.”

      Though he kept his volume low, she must’ve responded to the command in his tone because she obeyed. He slid his knife from the holster on his hip, aimed at the long red-black-and-yellow-striped coral snake next to her right foot and threw it with enough force to pin the reptile’s head to the ground.

      Gabby warily turned her head a fraction and moved just her eyes to glance at the dead snake at her feet.

      Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

      Then she started hyperventilating.

       3

      GABBY COULDN’T BREATHE. Her vision wavered. All the greens ran together around her, and then everything turned black in her peripheral vision.

      The next thing she knew, her head was cradled in the crook of Clay’s arm and he was stroking her head and murmuring soothing words.

      “Just take a deep breath in. That’s it, you’re gonna be fine.”

      Gabby opened her eyes. Clay was so close she could see a healthy growth of stubble beneath his dark green face paint. He’d taken off his helmet again, but his sheared hair could’ve been any color between dark blond to black. With a cowardly whimper she grabbed the front of his shirt and clung to him, pressing her nose into his neck.

      She felt his arms tighten around her, aware that he was careful to avoid her bandage. And he rocked her, shushing her, even though she wasn’t crying. At that moment she fell just a little bit in love. She wasn’t crazy enough to believe the feeling flooding her heart was real. It was just the situation. The shared danger. The heroism of his rescuing her. What woman could resist that? But still... Right now it felt very real.

      She reveled in his comfort while at the same time thinking any minute he would push her away and tell her they needed to keep moving. But he didn’t. He caressed her shoulder, rubbed her lower back. His shirt was wet from sweat and she wanted to unbutton it and slide her hand beneath to feel his heated skin, feel his strong heartbeat.

      Sitting here, cradled in his masculine embrace, she wanted to kiss him. And more. She wanted to make love with him. Right now. Before the next snake, or leopard or kidnapper really did kill her.

      But, of course, she wouldn’t.

      She exhaled, long and cathartic. “Clay?”

      “Yeah?” He eased his hold and she raised her head to look into his eyes.

      “You’re going to get me home, right?”

      His eyes narrowed and he smoothed a hand over her snarled hair, fingering a strand away from her face. “You have my word, darlin’.”

      Darling. She’d never been any man’s darling before. Or sweetheart, or any endearment. Of course he didn’t mean it that way. It was just a Southern thing. But she still liked him calling her “darlin’.”

      She wanted to stay like this forever, safe in his embrace, secure in the knowledge that nothing could harm her. He wouldn’t let it. But she managed a smile, pushed out of his arms and got to her feet, shaky, but steady enough. “Okay, then.” She wiped her palms on her skirt. “We need to keep going, right?”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he retrieved his knife, reached for his backpack and helmet, and rose in one fluid motion. His smile spoke to her and squeezed her heart.

      Snapping his helmet onto his backpack, he led the way, storming forward through the thick vegetation, hacking at vines with his huge serrated knife and glancing back to check on her every once in a while.

      She’d give him the thumbs-up and a smile, and concentrate on not falling behind. Her wrecked shoes chafed the backs of her heels, and what parts of her weren’t covered in mud were covered in mosquito bites. But at least they seemed to be heading downhill. Unfortunately, the farther they traveled down the mountain, the hotter it got.

      The heat was suffocating; the air so thick, each breath she drew was like drinking. She’d lived through many a blistering summer in South Texas. But none could compare to the humidity of this jungle.

      Still, they trekked on for what seemed like hours.

      “Want some more water?” Clay’s concerned tone must mean she’d started to lag behind.

      She picked up her pace. “No, I’m good.” Despite her thirst, she’d had to...go for a long time now.

      Sitting in that hole with James for all day and night, she’d quickly given up any expectations of privacy and did what she’d needed to. James had been oblivious to anything except his own fears and discomforts, anyway.

      But this was Clay.

      Plus...snakes.

      “Well, I could use a rest.” He stopped and pulled out the bottle of water from his pants pocket and handed it to her.

      He wasn’t even breathing hard, so she highly doubted he was tired, but he produced a flat, plastic canteen from another pocket, and took a small sip.

      This was horrifying and ridiculous at the same time. In a minute she’d have to cross her legs. She might as well get the humiliation over with and admit her dilemma. “Um, I have to...”

      He blinked at her. Then his eyes widened. “Oh! Yeah. Sure. Me, too.” His expression reverted to soldier-on-a-mission. “I’ll take the north, you take the south.” With a nod of his head he indicated to his right, then his left. She hadn’t seen him check a compass, so how could he possibly know which way was north?

      Even as he disappeared into the vegetation to their right, she stood frozen. The crunching of leaves beneath his feet silenced. But even in the stillness, insects buzzed and birds called. Monkeys chattered. What if he was attacked by an animal or bit by a snake? What if he didn’t come back? Irrational fear seized her. No way could she tramp off into the dense jungle forest alone, no matter how badly she needed to—

      “All done?”

      Gabby snapped her head toward Clay. “I don’t think I can.”

      His gaze drifted away and his jaw muscle ticked. The green face paint was wearing off in patches where he’d wiped at sweat. A shaft of sunlight hit his cheek as he stepped forward. “Sure you can.” He took her arm and propelled her a few feet into the undergrowth. “I’ll be right here. You go ahead, now.”