Close Pursuit

Alex Peters remained a mystery to her. Why would a guy like him shift from math to medicine? Where was he from? What was his family like? Did he have any hobbies? What kind of women did he prefer? What kind of sex?

She started as his eyes opened without warning; his gaze drilled into her like a silver laser. “Is there a problem?” he rasped. His voice was husky with sleep and so sexy her toes curled in her clunky hiking boots.

“Nope,” she answered cheerfully to hide her embarrassment at being caught staring at him. She hastily opened her tablet reader and turned it on.

“You were looking at me.”

She looked up innocently. Not a chance she could lie her way out of it. He’d caught her red-handed. So instead, she took the direct route. “I wasn’t aware that’s a crime.”

He took his arms out of his sleeping bag and linked his fingers behind his head. His naked arms. The upper reaches of his bare chest peeked out of the nylon shell. A sprinkling of dark hair was visible on it. And muscles. Lots and lots of mature-man muscles that, truth be told, she found intimidating. The guys she’d dated had been college types or recent grads who still acted and looked like students. She revised her opinion of Alex from lean to deceptively muscular. The guy must wear a tuxedo like a god.

“You’re staring again,” he announced.

“It’s rude of you to point it out,” she retorted. “Ladies are allowed to look.”

“Are gentlemen allowed also?”

If she didn’t know better, she’d say the doctor geek was flirting. Would wonders never cease? She fanned the tiny flame carefully by flirting back slightly. “Hello? It’s expected that guys will check us out. Why else would we girls go to so much trouble to look so good?”

“I haven’t gotten the impression that you’re a big primper.”

“That’s because there’s no power outlet for my blow-dryer, and the wind makes my eyes water too much to keep on eye makeup long enough to make it worthwhile.”

“You brought a blow-dryer out here?” he blurted. He had the bad grace to burst into laughter.

She scowled at his amusement. “Hey, I brought power converters. In my world, primitive camping is a motel instead of a Marriott. Nobody told me there would be no electricity at all in this godforsaken place. I was under the impression there would be, oh, I don’t know, walls and a roof for us.”

“You don’t need to primp. You’re fine the way you are,” he replied.

Hark, a compliment out of the good doctor! “Apology accepted,” she replied magnanimously.

He blinked, startled, like he hadn’t meant it that way. The man might be as hot as a god, and he might be smart as a whip, but he had a lot to learn about women. He reached for his sleeping bag’s zipper, and she turned away hastily. Who knew how far down his nakedness extended? She’d already figured out that, as a doctor, he wasn’t tremendously inhibited about the human body.

She asked over her shoulder, “So, does your Spidey sense say we’re going to get a lot of business tonight?”

“No. We’ll get the night off.”

She turned in surprise— Whoops. He was just pulling jeans over spandex biker-short things. Okay, then. The deceptively muscular thing extended to his legs and ass, too. She silently dubbed him Gluteus Aleximus.

He glanced up, caught her staring and broke into a grin so hot her eyelashes singed. “Like what you see?”

“Uhhh...shrmph...wuh...hwa...sure,” she managed to get out.

His grin widened.

Jerk. He’d embarrassed her on purpose. Oh, two could play that game. She hadn’t grown up with a houseful of brothers for nothing. She could give as well as she got when it came to practical jokes.

While she pondered revenge, she busied herself heating up the little propane hot plate and scrambling the eggs someone had brought last night. She and Alex were frequently paid in bread, jugs of yak milk and these oversize eggs she hadn’t had the courage to ask the source of. Geese, maybe? Or something weirder?

Chickens. In her world, every egg came from a chicken, and she was sticking with that mental image. She’d tried to explain to the local women that Doctors Unlimited was paying the two of them, but that didn’t stop their patients from showing their gratitude.

“So, Doc. Why do you think there won’t be any babies tonight?”

He glanced up from the bucket, where he was washing his hands. “I listened to the radio while you were sleeping. A rebel force is moving into the area.”

“Again?” she complained. “I swear, it’s like they’re following us!”

“Noticed that, did you?” he asked drily.

She did a double take. Seriously? They were being tracked somehow? The thought chilled her to her bones. “Why would somebody track us?” she blurted.

“That’s a damned good question,” he bit out.

She recoiled from the tight fury in his voice. Did he think the rebels were chasing him? Why? What was the big mystery around him, anyway? The six-hundred-pound gorilla in the corner of the tent was why her intel–Special Forces brother had asked her to come out here with Alex in the first place. Surely she was not the only person in the entire United States who spoke Zaghastani. And why did Mike drop that cryptic comment as he dropped her off at the airport to keep an eye on Peters and see if she noticed anything odd about him or why he was heading out to Zaghastan to deliver babies? Only odd thing so far was that the guy seemed totally immune to her general hotness and willingness to let him jump her bones.

Alex circled back to the original conversation. “If fighting breaks out between the rebels and the locals, any women in labor tonight will stay home.”

“I dunno,” she responded. “These women are already braving pretty dangerous obstacles to get to you. I doubt a little gunfire will slow them down.”

“The rebels are well armed and violent. When they come, they’ll crush everything in their path.”

Yeah. Like the two of us. She shook her head, unconvinced, and declared, “I’ll bet you five bucks we deliver a baby tonight.”

The effect of her challenge on Alex was shocking. He went utterly still, and she thought she saw a shudder pass through him. From this angle, it looked as if he actually paled. The tension abruptly emanating from him was terrible in its intensity.

She was on the verge of asking him if he was okay when he turned abruptly. His gaze was hooded. Dark. And his entire being was suddenly sharply, dangerously alive. It was as if she’d woken a sleeping tiger. And now the beast was not only awake, but he was hungry...and on the hunt.

“Shall we make the wager a little more interesting?” he purred. The sexual energy in his voice raked across her skin like claws.

Whoa. She asked cautiously, “What did you have in mind?”

“What do you like best in all the world?” he asked.

“Ice cream,” she answered promptly. It was the first thing that came to mind.

“Better than sex?” He sounded skeptical.

She shrugged. “I stand by my answer.”

He replied huskily, “Then you haven’t had good sex.”

The promise of just that was thick in his throat. She didn’t dare let her gaze stray south to see if he was as turned on as she was, all of a sudden.

“I think we have the terms of our bet then.” Her gaze snapped to him as he prowled across the tiny space to less than arm’s length from her. “If you win, we have a date to eat ice cream together. If I win...” His mouth curved up in a smile that was pure sin.

Her jaw dropped. “No way!”

His heavy lids might hide the fire blazing in his eyes, but they in no way diminished it. “A woman daring enough to travel halfway across the world, to brave a war zone and death threats, living alone in the wilds with a stranger...” He shrugged. “I thought you were...more.”