Course of Action: Out of Harm's Way / Any Time, Any Place

“Take it easy eating it,” Travis warned her, pushing to his feet. He walked over and picked up his M-4 rifle, which was leaning against the wall. “I’m going to check things out and I’ll be back in about half an hour. You rest, okay?” The sunlight was making her blond hair gleam with gold, wheat and tawny highlights. How badly Travis wanted to slide his hand through her hair, feel the weight of it, smell it and allow the strands to glide through his fingers. Disgusted with himself, he left, making his way down the dark tunnel. He knew this area well and didn’t even bother turning on a penlight to show him the way.

What the hell was going on here? His mind spun with its own kind of shock. Okay, he’d been out here with his platoon for four months. There weren’t any opportunities to meet a woman at Camp Bravo, for damn sure. The women at the FOB were either Apache combat pilots or medevac pilots. Being on deployment was like turning into a monk. Until Madison dropped into his life. Hell.

Madison was sleeping when Travis returned. He entered the cave silently and saw her with her head on her arm, curled up in the fetal position against the wall. His heart twisted in his chest. He placed his weapon against the wall, took off his boonie and shed his gear. His gaze never left hers. That long, thick blond hair framed part of her face; her lashes rested against her pale cheeks. He grimaced and kicked himself for not thinking about giving her a sleeping bag. The IV was empty so he pulled on a pair of gloves and walked over to where she slept.

Feeling the pinch in her left arm, Madison dragged her eyes open. “Umm,” she managed. His fingers were on her arm, removing the IV.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said huskily. “IV’s done and I need to get your arm patched up.”

He tried to ensure his hands were tender. She closed her eyes, as if simply absorbing him. “I must have dozed off,” she said, her voice sounding wispy.

Travis dropped the IV at his side and pulled out a large Band-Aid, which he placed on the inside of her arm. “You’ll sleep a lot,” he told her. “Best way to get rid of shock is to sleep.” He watched her eyes open and God help him, he wanted to drown in that dark blue gaze. Her lips were soft, parted, and it would be so easy to brush that full lower one with his thumb. Travis thought reconnoitering for half an hour to make sure the Taliban had followed the horses would snap him back into his focus. But it hadn’t.

“I’m thirsty,” Madison whispered, watching him get up. “Is there more water?”

She noticed the frown on his face, the look in his green eyes. She swore she could feel him wanting her, man to woman. It must be the shock. Pushing up into a sitting position, she dragged the mass of hair across her shoulders. She felt so dirty, the grit rubbing inside her clothing, making her feel absolutely miserable.

Travis pulled another bottle from his ruck, opened it and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Travis busied himself, pulling out his sleeping bag and unrolling it. He shook it out and opened it up so she’d have something to sit on besides dirt. Silently, Travis gave Madison credit. She wasn’t complaining. There was determination in her face. The woman had backbone. Out here, that counted.

She’d finished off the bottle of water—now he needed to get some food into her. Grabbing the empty bottle and some purification tablets, he walked over to the dripping water in the rear of the cave. There was a small pool of icy water, snowmelt coming off the mountain above them. He dropped the tablets into the empty bottle and filled it with water.

Madison sat on the soft, thin sleeping bag, grateful to be off the dirt. She watched, curious about everything Travis did. He seemed far away or preoccupied. When he sat down, crossing his legs and hauling his MRE into his lap and giving her hers, she screwed up the courage to ask him a question.

“Why did you let our horses go? I thought they were our way to escape.”

Travis opened the spaghetti. “We’re twenty-two miles from Camp Bravo, the nearest American forward operating base. There are several Taliban groups searching for us right now. I slapped the horses and made them leave because I was hoping the Taliban would follow their tracks. They’d lead them away from where we’re hiding. I’ve checked twice since we got here, and that’s what they did. They’re following those two horses to God knows where—and I don’t care where, so long as it’s far away from us.”

Madison felt like an idiot. “Oh,” she whispered. Lifting her head, she met his warm green gaze. “I was really pissed.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed her brow, feeling the grit beneath her fingers. “I seem to be saying that a lot with you.”

“You’re in an alien environment. I don’t expect you to know what’s going down. Just trust me, though, Madison, to get you home safely. All right?” Travis pinned her with a hard look. Her expression grew apologetic and he felt bad. Being out as a sniper for weeks on end, he wasn’t used to diplomacy. He was usually alone in a dangerous place with only his wits, his knowledge and hunting skills to keep him alive. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’m a little more tired than usual.” It was as close to an apology as she was going to get.

“I’ve been a real pain in the ass.”

She had a nice butt, no doubt about it, but Travis couldn’t go there and say anything. Right now, Madison was embarrassed and trying to find a way to make up for her anger about the horses. She’d stopped eating and Travis needed her to get her energy back as soon as possible. “My master chief said your father owned a horse farm in College Station?” Maybe getting her mind off her mistakes and on to something positive would help her rally.

“Yes, my father was on the Olympic cross-country team a few decades ago. He’d always wanted to bring Trakehners to the U.S., and he and my mom made it happen.”

“I don’t know much about the breed,” he said. “Quarter horses I know.”

“Texas is quarter horse central,” Madison agreed. “Trakehners are a European breed, very tall, beautiful and intelligent. They’re often bred to Arabians, Thoroughbreds and other warm-bloods to improve them.”

“And that’s why you were with that American delegation?”

Nodding, she began to eat once again. “Yes. My father was invited to go along but he broke his ankle and he asked me to go instead.” Chewing on her lower lip, she scowled. “I’m sure he’s sorry about it now.” Madison felt terrible for disappointing her father. They had put such high hopes on this journey to Afghanistan.

“I’m sure he’s relieved you’re safe,” Travis murmured, no doubt seeing the pain in her eyes.

Madison knew her father would be dismayed. Wanting to cry, feeling horribly vulnerable, she choked it all back down inside herself. Travis had done enough for her. He was charged with her safety. He didn’t need a crybaby on his hands, to boot. “You said your parents have a cattle ranch?”

“Yeah, Rush Springs. I grew up there and was a cowboy until me and my football buddies joined the military.” Travis smiled fondly. “I had six buddies on the football team, and we called ourselves the Sidewinders. Our team took the Class A football title for Texas and we were just this Podunk town out in the middle of scrub brush, desert and cactus.”

“You guys must have been really good,” Madison said, watching his face relax. It was a secret pleasure to watch him eat, the way his lips moved, sending heat sheeting down through her like a lightning strike. And his hands... What would they feel like, moving across her body? There was gentleness in him. He might have to kill the enemy, but his touch with her was always tender. She was shocked at her own sexual hunger for him. It was wrong, and she felt torn and guilty. He was more than likely married to a beautiful woman and had a couple of kids.

“We were a force to be reckoned with,” Travis agreed amiably. “All my buddies joined different branches of the military the day after we graduated. And we all ended up in black ops.” He smiled a little. “I just saw Duke Carmichael, one of the Sidewinders, a couple of months ago. We crossed paths at Bagram. He’s a black ops Air Force CCT, communications specialist. I was deploying into Afghanistan for six months and he was just leaving on another assignment. When we do cross paths, we catch up on one another’s lives.”

“Six months over here?”

“Yeah. SEALs are on a two-year cycle. We spend eighteen months back in the States and most of the time we’re renewing our skills, taking courses in our area of expertise and learning new weapons systems. Then, the last six months is rotation over here. I’m with Seal Team 3 and we’re always deployed to the Middle East. Other Seal teams take care of different parts of the globe.”

“I didn’t realize,” Madison admitted. “How do your wife and kids handle you being gone so much?”

He raised a brow and gave her an amused look. “SEALs have a ninety percent divorce rate. I’m in that statistic because I’m a SEAL.”

Her heart pounded a little. “Well, then,” she stumbled, “your girlfriend? A significant other?”

Travis just shook his head and paid attention to eating his MRE. “I have a lousy track record,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Madison said quietly, holding his gaze. “You’re a hero in my eyes. That shouldn’t mean you have to be so alone.”

His heart squeezed unexpectedly beneath her sincere voice and expression. He could entertain having her as his woman, no problem at all. But as with all the rest of his experiences, women in his life went one way and he went the other.

“You get used to it,” Travis said, avoiding her searching blue gaze. The woman could melt rocks with those eyes of hers. Hell, she was melting him and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Did Madison know her own feminine influence over him? Oh, in his high school days, because he was part of a star football team, he hadn’t wanted for girls. Every cheerleader had set their sights on the Sidewinders. And Travis had enjoyed his high school years. “Why aren’t you hooked up with a guy?” he asked.

Blinking over the blunt question, Madison shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe too many hours of training our horses and showing them? Running a breeding facility?” She opened her hands and added, “I love what I do, Travis. There aren’t a whole lot of single guys my age that are in the horse business. Most horse farms and breeding facilities are family run.”

“What do you like to do for fun?” He had images of her jumping into a river and skinny-dipping. Madison might seem shy, but he’d seen her strength under fire. He liked her way too much. She was appealing to him. Somehow, this blond-haired beauty was turning his world upside down and making him think differently about settling down.

Shrugging, Madison said, “You’ll laugh at me.”

“No, I won’t.”

The sparkle of life came to her eyes for the first time and it damn near stole his breath. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes were so alive. An ache, a really crippling ache, grabbed hold of his lower body. Would Madison look at him like that as he made love to her? His mind and his body rocked on that heated, dangerous question. “Tell me.”

“I have two passions in my life,” she said, feeling his genuine interest, feeling warmed by that intense look that made her yearn to kiss him. “I love my horses but my hobby is sort of boring by a lot of people’s standards. My mom, who is a large-animal vet, taught me quilting when I was a teen. I love making quilts for the elderly. I belong to a local women’s quilting club and we get together once a week to work on our latest quilt to help those who have so little.”

“Are you a throwback to another era and age?” Travis wondered aloud. “My grandmother quilted. My mother never picked it up, too busy raising us kids on a cattle ranch.”

“Maybe the word old-fashioned fits me, then?” Madison felt shy and broke away from his burning gaze. God, she felt like the man had X-ray vision and could undress her with his eyes. She didn’t feel threatened, but rather, desired. Very desired. Was something going on between them, something invisible? Whatever it was, she felt shaky, needy and hungry. Granted, Travis Cooper was a man’s man. There was no strutting. No bragging. He was quiet. Confident. She’d not met many men like him. And it drew her powerfully.

Old-fashioned.