Page 16 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Whoa. A bed? Disorientation swirled around him. Where was his camp cot? The drafty shack? The snores of the Army of Freedom insurgents? Readiness to do violence flowed through him, making his limbs feel light and fast. Every sense went on high alert.

And then the smell of the pillow under his head struck him. Light. Soft. Vaguely sweet. Like a woman. And not just any woman. A feisty, feminine firecracker of a woman. What a tragedy that she’d taken the veil. She’d have made some lucky man incredibly happy.

He sat up and groaned at how stiff and sore he was when he tried to move this morning. Assuming it was still morning. The light coming in the window was pretty bright. Aah, the joys of a stim-pill hangover. He swung his feet to the floor and stood creakily, working out the kinks as he went. A quick watch check said it was noon. He’d slept nearly eleven hours. Not bad. Guys had been known to sleep for sixteen coming off a long no-sleep mission.

He dug into a pouch on his utility belt and came up with a handful of vitamins that he swallowed dry. The bitter taste fresh in his mouth, he headed down the hall for the communal bathroom, toothbrush in hand. While he was at it, he planned to grab a hot shower and a shave that would be an unexpected treat in the middle of a mission.

He emerged a little while later feeling like a new man. Now to find the world’s most sexy and exasperating nun and make sure she didn’t try anything suicidal today.

What the hell was he thinking? He had no business involving himself with her, either professionally or personally. And Lord knew he didn’t need to have anything to do with a couple of orphaned kids. He’d been around the block plenty in this part of the world, and innocents got chewed up and spit out like bad candy. Frankly, his primary purpose in being here was much more pressing than stranded kids and the Flying Nun.

He ought to just pack up his gear and get out of here. Now that he knew where to find his targets, all he had to do was drive up into the jungle highlands and finish this arms deal. But as sure as he was standing here, he was going to collect one thoroughly annoying nun and go chasing after some snot-nosed brats. He didn’t even like kids.

Irritated out of general principle, he stomped downstairs in search of the good sister. She was curled up on a decrepit sofa, her nose buried in a book, a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her pert little nose. He noted with amusement that the lady was not reading a Bible, but rather a shoot-’em-up thriller novel.

She glanced up and smiled. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.”

She thought he was beautiful, huh? Pleasure unfolded in his gut. Oh, for crying out loud. She was a freaking nun. It was downright creepy to continue being so attracted to her. He was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with him. He’d never had any strange or perverse sexual urges before, but this woman was seriously messing with his head.

“At least you didn’t try to take off without me,” he groused.

“Need a nice, hot cup of Juan Valdez’s finest Colombian coffee to make you feel human?” she asked sympathetically.

He rolled his eyes, unwilling to be cajoled out of his rotten mood. But then she had to go around the front counter and pour him a cup of the stuff, and the rich strong scent of the steam wafting his way was too much for him. In spite of himself, he inhaled a long appreciative breath.

“How do you like it?” Elise asked over her shoulder.

His gaze raked down her back, taking in the slender curves and feminine proportions under the potato sack she called a dress. “Cream and sugar,” he replied, distracted.

“How much of each?”

“About the color of your skin,” he replied unthinkingly.

Her head whipped around and she stared over her shoulder at him, throwing him that wide-eyed look that always knocked him on his…well, that knocked him over. Her head swiveled back around and she finished preparing his coffee without comment. Cursing at himself, he watched her cautiously as she approached him and held out the chipped mug. He reached out to take the cup and his fingers brushed across hers. She drew a sharp breath and he jolted in alarm. He hadn’t scared her, had he?

He looked up quickly, assessingly. Her pupils were huge and dark and her chest was rising and falling quickly. Dammit. Not afraid. She was something else entirely in response to his touch.

“Maybe we can find a priest for you when we get to Acuna,” he murmured low.

“Why?”

“I’m betting you’ve got a whole lot of impure thoughts to confess. I can’t even begin to imagine the number of Hail Marys you’re going to have to recite.”

Her laughter was sweet and untroubled and all but made the hair on his chest curl with need. He didn’t see what was so funny, but a burning need to hear that sound again roared through him. “What’s so funny?” he asked. “I’m only trying to look out for your eternal soul, here.”

Head thrown back to reveal the soft column of her throat, she laughed again, this time hard enough that she probably wasn’t aware of the hand she placed on his upper arm. But he was. Oh, how vividly he was. He froze, savoring the physical contact she’d initiated.

He was going to hell. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Straight to hellfire and brimstone for him. He was in total lust with a nun, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

He slugged down the hot coffee, uncaring that he was scorching his tongue and couldn’t taste the fawn-colored brew.

“Need another one?” she asked, amused.

He shook his head as the caffeine did its magic in his veins, spreading alertness to his extremities and finally, hopefully, engaging his brain. “Too much caffeine after the stim pills isn’t good for you.”

“Like the stim pills are?” she retorted. She still looked on the verge of laughter at any moment.

“What’s got you so chipper this morning?” he demanded.

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