Her Seal Protector

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 a tightness to his chest. A distraction he could not afford right now. He cleared his throat. “Not a thing.” He checked his diver’s watch. Oh-nine-fifty. And they’d only traveled about two 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 (#ulink_48503b06-8282-5bb0-a5cd-45de5b0201a9)

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.