Resisting Her Commander Hero

“It means no woman is an island. It means that you should accept help once in a while. Now would be good...while we’re both still standing.” Paige huffed out a laugh when Frankie rolled her eyes. She reached out to peel the jumpsuit off Frankie’s shoulders and had barely got it halfway down her arms before sucking in a sharp breath.

“Ooh, that’s nasty.”

“What?” Frankie demanded, craning her neck at the tone in Paige’s voice. “What?”

“You really should have had this seen to ages ago,” Paige scolded, and gently pulled Frankie’s wet undershirt away from her back. Frankie must have made a sound because Paige cursed. “Did this happen before or after your Fearless Frankie stunt?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do, since everyone else knows about it,” Paige groused. “And how come I have to hear via the grapevine that you made a superhero save, anyway? I thought best friends told each other everything?”

Not everything...because there were some things a person didn’t share. With anyone. Especially things that made Frankie cringe with shame whenever she thought about them.

Paige huffed and eased Frankie’s bloodied tank top over her head, leaving her in a black sports bra, jumpsuit pooled at her waist. She made a sound of exasperation at what she’d uncovered. “I know we joke about it but, Frankie, really, taking a flying leap off a ledge? What the heck were you thinking?”

Wincing as Paige gently probed a particularly tender spot, Frankie demanded, “Who told you about that?”

“So it’s true?”

She sighed irritably. “It’s complicated... Ouch. That hurts.”

“Not as much as it’s going to,” Paige said shortly. “But seriously? It’s like you have a death wish or something.” Frankie opened her mouth to object but Paige beat her to it with a snapped-out “I’m busy here.” But after a couple of beats she said almost absently, “There’s bruising, a couple of lacerations and some bad grazing. What really happened?”

Frankie gave a negligent shrug. “I got caught between a rock and a hard place.” Paige sighed and began cleaning Frankie’s injuries. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” Frankie said.

At the same time a deep voice drawled from the door, “Yes, Francis, let’s hear all about it.”

She closed her eyes wearily and thought, Not now. Not ever. Or at least not while she was feeling exhausted and raw and couldn’t think of a snappy comeback.

She’d hoped to avoid the lecture she knew was coming but she should have known he would eventually hunt her down. He’d hunted terrorists for a living, for God’s sake. What had made her think she could continue to evade him?

She’d only managed to avoid him since the night of her eighteenth birthday because he’d wanted it that way. She’d wanted it too, she reminded herself, mostly to forget that the boy she’d idolized had called her a selfish willful brat who didn’t think about how her actions affected others. He’d also called her reckless and told her to grow up.

Then he’d left town. Getting as far away from her as possible.

Well, she was cool with that. Really cool, she thought fiercely. She just wished he’d stayed away.

Turning, she eyed him with what she hoped was cool disinterest, ignoring the fact that even after the long night, he looked bigger, badder and hotter than ever.

While she looked like a complete mess.

Go figure.

“This is a medical examination room,” she said flatly. “Only medics allowed.”

One dark brow rose in silent challenge. “Want to call Security, Francis?” he drawled with a hint of amusement that did nothing but raise her blood pressure. And not in a good way.

“No,” she snapped, because he had awesome SEAL skills no security team could match. “I don’t want any witnesses when I use a scalpel.” Her unspoken, on you, hung in the air between them.

It had genuine amusement lighting his eyes and curling his mouth in a smile that had her gritting her teeth in aggravation. Arrogant BAB, she snarled inwardly, using the acronym she and Paige had thought of one night when they’d been a little tipsy. But “badass boy” fitted Nate like a pair of snug boxer briefs. Except seeing him now, it was clear he was no longer a boy.

“You thinking of taking me on, Francis?” he drawled smoothly, his gaze hot and intense one moment, dark and unreadable the next. The lightning-fast changes left her confused and more than a little irritated.

“You think I can’t?” she challenged, furious with the shiver crawling up her spine that had nothing to do with Paige using alcohol swabs on her scrapes and cuts.

Besides, taking him on while she was tired and hurting wouldn’t be smart. Not to her pride and certainly not to her heart.

She glared at him. Why couldn’t he take his sexy self off and leave her alone?

“You can try.” He smirked with typical male arrogance that had Frankie barely restraining herself from snarling.

Casually propping his shoulder against the door frame as though he had every right to be there, Nate locked his dark brooding eyes on his hapless target—her—his sensual mouth an uncompromising and disapproving line. All humor had gone.

Frankie shivered. Yeesh. She’d forgotten that about him, about his ability to focus so intently on a person they felt like the most important person in the world. Like they were under a microscope.

She turned away to stare at a wall chart without seeing a thing. But her body, the traitor, was locked like a tractor beam on him. And then...and then her nipples tightened and tingles spread across her skin like a heat rash that she blamed on the fact that she was cold and wet.

“Excuse me, Doctor,” she drawled, ignoring the hunk in the doorway. “But isn’t there a rule that says only family members are allowed in an ER room?”

Paige sent Nate a quick look and muttered something that sounded like, “Don’t pull me into whatever is between you two.”

Frankie felt guilty for about two seconds. She didn’t want to involve Paige but she wasn’t above using her friend as a buffer either. Especially when it came to Commander Cool.

“There isn’t anything to get between,” she said smoothly, ignoring Nate and mentally celebrating the complete disinterest in her tone.

“Frankie.” Paige protested her rudeness, but Frankie ignored the rebuke, watching Nate out of the corners of her eyes while pretending to ignore him too. For long moments he studied her until she was ready to start squirming.

Finally, with a casual roll of his shoulder, he pushed away from the door frame.

“It’s all right, Doc. I’ll go.” A big hand landed palm flat against the door in preparation of pushing it open. He paused and with a hard look at Frankie said to Paige, “For you.”

Meaning he’d never do it for Frankie. The notion stung, and before she could stop it, hurt sliced through her. Quickly squelching it with the full force of her will, she reminded herself that getting her feelings hurt by Nate’s attitude would not only be stupid but self-defeating. Besides, she was over her silly adolescent infatuation and the last thing she needed or wanted was someone with a hero complex.

She turned and locked gazes with him just as he pushed open the door. His mouth twisted with faint irony and the next instant he was gone.

Heavy silence descended on the room but Frankie could literally feel her friend vibrating with questions and maybe a bit of exasperation. She slid a sidelong look at her and caught Paige chewing on her lip. She could practically see the wheels spinning away in the brunette’s head and counted the seconds until the other woman cracked.

She reached nine.

“Seriously, Frankie?” Paige finally burst out. “You blew him off? Are you sick, dumb or just insane? And what the heck is going on between you two anyway?” she continued, without waiting for a reply.

“Nothing.” Frankie sighed, tension draining abruptly and leaving her beyond exhausted. “Nothing I want to talk about anyway. But I am confused about why everyone keeps referring to Nathan as Sammy.”

Paige was silent for a couple of beats as she studied Frankie. She must have decided not to probe because all she said was, “It’s his coastie handle.”

“Handle?”