Page 28 of Booker's Mission

He frowned. “One.”

She inhaled, squinting a bit more before giving him a shove. “No way. There’s definitely two.”

“But the fact you questioned my reply means you guessed.” He tilted her head. “That cut really should have stitches, or at least some skin adhesive, but the med kit is trashed.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Booker. It just means I’ll have a matching set of scars, now.”

“Not funny.” He muttered something under his breath, still turning her head to each side. “The only good thing about that trip down the river is that it kept the swelling down — stopped the bleeding.”

“Yeah, slipping down that mudslide was a real lucky break.”

“You’re alive. I’d say that’s as lucky as we can get.” He leaned forward, getting dangerously close. “Donotscare me like that, again. And here I thought you confronting Keith was as bad as it was going to get.”

“We didn’t have many options, and I knew the bastard wouldn’t outright shoot me.”

“Youhopedhe wouldn’t.”

“It worked, didn’t it? You were scary awesome, by the way. Throwing that smoke grenade. I swear Keith shit his pants thinking it was a flash bang.”

Booker simply shrugged. “I didn’t have many options with that guy standing in the shadows with his gun at the ready.”

“Too bad Keith dove for cover, or we could have taken the bastard out of the equation for good. Because we both know it won’t be truly over until he’s either dead or in custody.”

Booker stopped scanning her head for more injuries and stared at her. Eyes narrowed. Mouth pinched tight. “I couldn’t risk that the asshole at the door wouldn’t kill you if I tried to cap Rogers, first. If I’d thought I could have hit them both…”

“Mission isn’t over, so you might still get your chance.”

“Just like we got to swim.”

“I aim to please. Sorry I didn’t have a bikini handy.”

God, the way Booker smiled. All sexy lips and dark stormy eyes. It made the rest of the shack tilt, and not because of how hard she’d hit her head.

He got impossibly closer, his warm breath mixing with hers. “Trust me, that shirt leaves very little to the imagination. Speaking of which… we really should strip out of the big stuff before exposure sets in.”

“And how will being basically naked stop us from freezing our asses off?”

“I’ve got one of those survival blankets in my pack. They don’t really stay wet, and we can share it and body heat.”

Christ, he was serious. He wanted them to strip down and huddle together wearing only the essentials. Not that she didn’t want to feel every strong inch of his skin against hers. She just wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep things professional. That, the moment he took her in his arms to share body heat along with the blanket, she wouldn’t jump him.

Booker chuckled, the bastard, as if he’d followed her train of thought. Knew exactly how close to the edge she was where he was concerned. Knowing she owed him her life didn’t help stem the instant punch of lust when he stood, offering her his hand.

She swallowed, damn near choked when he smiled, again, then placed her palm in his. Smacking into his chest when he yanked a bit too enthusiastically only increased the jumpy feeling in her gut —made it harder to breathe the closer he moved.

Booker leaned down, not quite touching her. “Easy, sweetheart. I promise to be a complete gentleman… If you want me to.”

God, his voice. The hint of southern drawl in it. How it sounded deeper than usual. Lower. Like well-aged whiskey on ice. Hot and cold all at the same time. It sent goosebumps racing across her skin. Had her primed with nothing more than the suggestion of more.

The concussion. Surely that was why she’d lost her mind. Why she wanted to tiptoe up — taste that cocky mouth when they were hiding in the middle of the jungle in a damn cartel drug shack.

Booker laughed, the deep, raspy sound igniting all her nerve endings, just like the lightning had when it had struck the chopper. “You really must have hit your head if you’re this tied-in-knots at the thought of me seeing you naked.” He dipped down. “Ihaveseen you naked before, you know.”

She smiled, brushing her mouth across his without actually kissing him. “It’s not you seeing me that’s got me tied-in-knots.”

Had he inhaled because of what she’d said or because he was having a hard time breathing, too? Like in the Jeep when she’d sworn the broken window was sucking out all the available oxygen.

He stayed close, inhaling deeply as if scenting her, before reaching for his jacket. “I’ll leave on the sexy boxers, if that makes it easier for you to… concentrate.”

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