Special Forces Rendezvous. Elle Kennedy

prided himself on being a good judge of character, and it had taken only a few minutes in Julia’s company to decide that the woman didn’t have a malicious bone in her body.

      “I wish there was more we could do for these people,” she said, a wistful note entering her voice. “But it’s tough. The organization gets most of its funding from private donors, and with the recession, we’re not seeing as many donations as we used to. Less money means fewer supplies, fewer staff to hire, less everything.”

      “But it’s better than nothing,” he pointed out. “You’re doing what you can, Doc, which is more than what other people are doing.”

      “You’re doing something, too,” she said with a warm smile. “You’re shedding light on the issues, forcing the people back home to open their eyes to the conflicts and inequality and inferior health care others are struggling with.”

      An arrow of guilt pricked his chest, and for a moment he wished he was writing an article, just so he could put another one of those beautiful smiles on Julia’s face.

      This was damn perplexing. When it came to women, he didn’t have a type, per se, not unless temporary counted as a type. He didn’t do serious or long-term, and Julia Davenport had serious and long-term written all over her. She was a doctor, for chrissake. Doctors were notoriously serious.

      And why was he even thinking about this, anyway? He’d come here to interview the woman, not to sleep with her.

      His body, however, clearly hadn’t received the memo. His cock was semihard beneath the zipper of his cargo pants, and his palms tingled with the urge to undo Julia’s braid so his fingers could dive into all those silky brown tresses.

      “Sebastian?”

      Her amused voice jerked him out of his tasteless thoughts, and he nearly dropped his notebook on the linoleum floor. He made a mad grab for it, only to end up with a paper cut as the notepaper sliced into his thumb.

      “Damn,” he mumbled, lifting his thumb to his mouth and swiping his tongue over the line of blood forming there.

      Julia’s hazel eyes sparkled with amusement. “Paper cut?”

      Something about her teasing voice snapped him into flirt mode again. “Yup. Wanna patch me up?”

      She laughed, but he noticed a light flush rising on her cheeks. “Really? A big tough guy like you is worried about a measly little paper cut?”

      “Deathly worried.” He slanted his head. “So what do you say, Doc? Will you kiss it and make it better?”

       Chapter 2

      Julia’s heart actually did a somersault. She’d thought that once you turned thirty, your heart didn’t do silly schoolgirl things like somersaults, but sure enough, it was flipping around in her chest like an excited dolphin.

      Of course, how could her heart not turn into a dolphin when the sexiest man she’d ever met was flashing that gorgeous smile at her?

      Sebastian Stone was not at all what she’d expected him to be. First of all, he was much more fit than she’d pictured, his long, lean body clad in green cargo pants and a thin gray T-shirt that couldn’t hide the tight six-pack of his abdomen. He wasn’t pretty-boy attractive, but ruggedly handsome, hard lines and angles creating a stark, masculine face that was more Marlboro Man than movie star.

      Everything about him teased her senses. His playful gray eyes, the dark blond stubble coating his strong jaw, the woodsy scent of him.

      “Cat got your tongue, Doc?”

      Jeez, even his voice was sexy. Deep, with a slight rasp to it.

      Blinking out of her stupor, Julia glanced at the thumb he’d been holding to his lips. “Sorry, but kissing boo-boos is not part of my job description,” she said, making an attempt to keep her tone dry. “But I should probably clean that up for you.”

      He let out a low laugh. “That’s not necessary. It’s just a paper cut.”

      She was already heading for the small cabinet next to the door. “We’re in Valero,” she replied. “Even paper cuts get infected, and around these parts, infection can lead to some pretty nasty stuff.”

      She appreciated that Sebastian didn’t argue, not even when she rummaged in the cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of antiseptic, a piece of gauze and a bandage.

      Heading back to the desk, she hopped up on the edge and gestured at his hand. His dark blond eyebrows quirked for a moment, and then he willingly gave her his hand.

      “I know it seems extreme,” she admitted as she poured some antiseptic on the gauze and wiped the thin cut on the pad of Sebastian’s thumb. “But just suck it up and say thank you.”

      His eyes twinkled. “Thank you.”

      A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Huh, I didn’t think it would be that easy.”

      “What?”

      “You dropping the macho man protests and just accepting my authority.”

      The grin he flashed her made her heart skip a beat. “I know when to pick my battles.”

      “Meaning?”

      “Meaning you strike me as the type of woman who likes calling the shots and who gets ornery as hell when she’s challenged.”

      “I am,” she confessed with a sheepish laugh.

      “Like being in control, huh?”

      “Of course.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Who wants to feel out of control?”

      A seductive glint lit his gray eyes. “Lots of people like relinquishing control every now and then.” He arched one brow. “Especially in the bedroom …”

      Heat scorched her cheeks. God, had he really just said that?

      Averting her eyes, Julia swiped the gauze over his thumb one final time before unwrapping the bandage and sticking it on him. In an unnaturally high voice, she squeaked, “All done,” and practically vaulted off the desk like she was competing in the Olympics.

      His soft laughter tickled her back, which she kept turned as she shoved the supplies into the cabinet. Her heartbeat was going haywire again, and she had to take a moment to collect herself.

      What was up with the sexual awareness rippling over every inch of her skin? And she could swear she felt that same awareness being radiated from him. Which made no sense.

      Sebastian Stone was sexy as all get-out, and a man as blatantly sensual as him would never be attracted to someone like her. She didn’t suffer from low self-esteem—she was perfectly content with the way she looked—but she also wasn’t delusional enough to think she was a supermodel or anything. Average features, frizzy hair, small breasts. And after six months of working herself ragged in Valero, she was now officially ten pounds underweight. It was hard to find the time to eat when you worked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

      Gorgeous and glamorous she wasn’t. Nor was she overly feminine. She didn’t wear a lick of makeup, kept her hair braided most of the time, and she only donned the professional white coat for patients; the rest of the time, she wore faded jeans, tank tops and beat-up sneakers.

      So why was Sebastian looking at her like he wanted to eat her up?

      “Sorry, Doc, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

      His rueful voice stilled some of the butterflies floating around in her stomach. “You didn’t,” she assured him, finding the courage to meet his eyes.

      The second their gazes locked, that hiss of attraction coursed through the air again.

      Holy cow. What was going on? She’d never experienced this kind of instant, visceral chemistry with a man before, and though she wasn’t