Airborne Emergency

“After you came back from talking to...Miguel, was it? Anyway, what I mean to say is that I am sorry. It was stupid and on the spur of the moment, and I would take it back if I could.”

Her apology brought something fierce flaring again in his distant eyes. He had every right to be angry. Was he? No anger emanated from him, just...just... Oh, she didn’t know. He was too confusing, too opaque.

A long moment later, he lowered his eyes, exhaled and fell silent.

Vidal kept his eyes on his arm, searching with every iota of concentration for the burn mark he was certain her touch had left on his flesh. He had to. Or else he’d haul her into his arms and pick up where they’d left off.

He’d been keeping his senses focused just off her, shutting out the memories.

Then she’d had to go and tell him that.

So it hadn’t been an act. Every second, every sensation, starting with their eyes colliding, connecting across the cafeteria, during saving the little boy, as he’d rushed back to her afterwards. All real. She’d recognized something in him, known they’d connected on a fundamental level. Up until the moment she’d identified him.

And then? She’d teased and taunted him, hid her identity, led him on, to toss his weakness in his face later. But her eyes, her heat, her scent, her tremors had still revealed her real response. The reactions her mind couldn’t override, her will couldn’t hide.

Dios, he didn’t need to know that.

How could he convince himself now that his helpless reaction was just a misinterpretation of his sense of recognition, too?

Yet maybe the overpowering mutual attraction had been just that, their subconscious minds telling them they knew one another, shared a long, involved history filled with turbulent emotions.

Si, ciertamente. If that was it, he should be sitting straight in his chair now. Just the memory of the wild girl who’d given Arthur, and him, nightmares as she’d been growing up should have frozen his libido solid. He shouldn’t even have a libido where she was concerned. He never should have.

Maybe he was suffering from his prolonged abstinence? But he hadn’t been abstaining voluntarily. He’d just lost interest. Until he’d wondered if he’d ever have urges again, had almost forgotten what it felt like to have them.

So, was he having a backlash of uncontrollable lust now? But why should she be the one to resurrect his desires? Resurrect? He’d never had it nearly this bad. All his life women had told him he was one cold son of a bitch, on all counts.

It had to be artificial, this new fire. It was the weirdness of the situation. Or maybe he’d caught her fire. No doubt it would soon be extinguished, as fast as it had been ignited.

It had better!

Until it did, he just had to keep it neutral, force himself to cool down, forget. Grit his teeth and walk through the hell of the next three months.

A self-deprecating sneer almost escaped at that. He’d grown soft. This hell should be a breeze compared to the one that used to be his reality, his home.

But he’d escaped his home. There was no escape this time. This was a sentence he had to serve.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Vidal took a deep breath. His lungs itched with the lingering infection that had almost killed him. A lungful of her scent didn’t help.

Get it done. Accept her apology, start afresh. Was that possible? They had to try.

“Cassandra, no apologies needed or expected. No more pranks either. Let’s just get on with our jobs. I’m determined to make this mission a success. I’m sure you are, too.”

“Why?”

What?

His focus sharpened on her face again. Damn. He’d intended to get up, end this right now. It had been a lousy idea, sitting this close to her. Dangerous. This close up, she was overwhelming. Cream and carmine and turquoise. Every line of feature and body detailed in an elegance and voluptuousness the masters had only tried to imitate, and failed. Whatever had happened to the pink-haired, black-eyed, covered-in-freckles, scrawny livewire? Though she’d stirred him even then, so much he’d... Oh, hell!

She’d asked something. Better use the distraction. “What do you mean—why?”

“Why—everything?” Her lids were half-closed, making her eyes thoughtful, curious, their luminescence undiminished by the horrible lighting of the plane. Something fizzed inside his brain. “Why are you here, doing this? Is this some sort of propaganda campaign? A grand philanthropic gesture to add to the Vidal Arro— Vidal Santiago legend?”

“Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think. That’s why I’m asking.”

“It’s clearly what you want to think. Go ahead, make yourself comfortable. Believe what you like. Just as long as it won’t interfere with our work or you taking orders.”

“Ah, we come to that. You’re going to enjoy this part, aren’t you?”

“It’ll be novel, that’s for sure. As far as I remember, you never took orders from anyone, never followed rules.”

“Gee, you make me sound like some sort of anarchist hippie, instead of a highly disciplined trauma surgeon.”

Indeed. It had been a shock when Arthur had told him she’d entered med school. A bigger shock that she’d stayed, excelled. The Cassandra he’d known had made an art of squandering her abilities, superior in everything, sticking with nothing, ending up far behind her peers. When and why had the change occurred?

He shrugged. “Touché. So, why yourself?”

“Why am I here?” Her eyes crinkled, laughed, a hundred mischievous imps rollicking there. Something very painful twisted behind his breast-bone. “I’ll be charitable and satisfy your curiosity. You’re right. Following rules isn’t for me. It has definitely gotten to me. I’ve tried the sedate path of academia ever since I entered med school, then I finished my residency and looked around. Didn’t like what I saw. I had nothing to look forward to but what I got a full taste of during my residency— endless surgery lists, patients a thousand other surgeons can help, and step after step up the hospital executive ladder. Not what I envisioned when I entered med school. So I decided to go where people were really in need, where my presence can and will make a difference. I hooked up with GAO and they sent me to Afghanistan for two weeks. And, wow. I decided there and then that this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”

“What did your parents have to say about it?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.