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“Hey, Sierra?”
She turned, twisting toward the entrance. It was Nate leaning in.
“Yeah?”
“Did you bring a poncho liner? Rains a lot around here. Thunderstorms nearly every night.”
“Yes, I think I have everything.” And then she shrugged. “I hope I did.”
“Well, no worries,” Nate assured her. “Between the three of us, if you’re missing some gear or whatever, I’m sure we’ll have some kind of backup to share with you.”
Sierra felt warm inside. Despite all of Kilmer’s gruffness and dislike for her, the other two soldiers seemed sincerely welcoming. “Thanks. I tried to think of everything, but most of my missions were in the Middle East or Africa. So, I may not have some jungle gear. If I don’t, I’ll come to you?”
Nate gave her a grin. “Sure. You know where to find me.”
Some of her worry melted away. Cale and Nate were good men. Professionals. They didn’t knee jerk like Kilmer. They simply accepted her. But Sierra also knew she had to pull her fair share of the weight, too. She quickly got her poncho liner down in case rain came in and wet her lightweight sleeping bag. Much of what was in her ruck were items she’d need, such as rifle and pistol cleaning kits, matches, MREs and some of her favorite junk foods. She had brought along several large bottles of Tabasco sauce. MRE food was so damned bland that it needed some heavy spicing-up until her tastebuds felt satisfied.
By the time she was done, long rays of sunlight were slanting through the triple canopy of the jungle. Sierra crawled outside through the door of her hut, pulled down the plastic tarp over the entrance behind her, and stood up. She wore her drop holster with her SIG sauer pistol in it. On her other hip, she carried, as always, a SEAL SOG seven-inch knife in a black nylon sheath. She’d taken off her jacket, paring herself down to a clean, dry, muscle shirt because it was just that hot and humid. Her boots were waterproofed so at least her feet were dry. Her cammy trousers remained damp from the run and Sierra doubted that they would be dry ever again in this climate, and figured she’d just have to get used to it.
She spotted Kilmer sitting out near the fire pit area. There were three long logs in a triangle around it. He had his ruck open at his side and had some gear from it in his hands. She wandered over.
“Can I help with anything?” she asked him, hands on her hips, standing before him.
Kilmer looked up. “Sit down.”
Man of few words. Okay… Sierra headed for the next log over from his.
“No. Here,” and he jabbed his long index finger down at the same side of the log where he sat.
Swallowing, her mouth going a little dry, Sierra hesitated. There was just such animal, primal energy around the man. It excited her. It made her yearn for sex when she hadn’t even thought about it over the last two years. Sierra gently shut the door on her past. On her love of Jeb. For whatever reason, and she wasn’t sure what was happening or why, Kilmer turned her on, made her salivate. He made her remember what good sex, good loving, could be all about. As she slowly turned and walked toward him, she focused on his large, square hands. Beautiful hands with long fingers. She saw so many scars across them. His hands worked, gracefully for a man, as he untangled some black, plastic cords between them.
Sierra chose the far end of the log, where a good six feet stood between them.
His head snapped up. Eyes narrowing on her, he said, “I don’t bite. Get over here.”
Coulda fooled her. Was this his pleasant side? Sierra reluctantly stood up and moved three feet closer. She saw the exasperation in his eyes. Okay, then… She moved within two feet of him. And she could smell the sweat on him, his unique male odor that sent her into a gnawing ache and felt his power as a man. She was in such trouble. Thank goodness, he couldn’t read minds, and she primly folded her hands on her lap, keeping her thighs pressed together.
“Turn toward me.”
Her eyes widened as she blinked at him. “Why?”
Kilmer gave her an impatient look. “Jesus. You act like I’m gonna haul off and hit you.”
She raised her brows. “Well, that wouldn’t happen. I’d react. You wouldn’t get near me,” and she held his measured gaze.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to be social?”
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you women are EQUALS to any man and to quit treating me like a second-class citizen?”
“Obviously not. Now hold still. I’ve got this headband put together. I need to see if it fits you or not. We wear headbands with radio mic near our lips. The radio itself stays up on your shoulder, protected in a waterproof bag.”
Sierra wasn’t expecting him to touch her. Her breath hitched and she froze for a moment as his huge hands seem to encapsulate her entire head. She saw something… an unknown emotion… fleetingly, in his eyes. Maybe a thawing as he worked the elastic headband over her head and then got his fingers tangled in her long hair. She usually had straight hair but, in this humidity, it curled here and there.
“Hold on,” she murmured, her hands flying up to his, untangling the strands of hair that had gotten trapped among his fingers. The utter pleasure of touching this man, his skin tough but warm, strong and yet surprisingly gentle, caught her completely off guard. Sierra felt like her fingers were burning from where they’d made brief contact with his. The strands released. She instantly jerked her hands away, gripping them in her lap. Her heart was doing funny things inside her chest. Racing. Heat was stabbing down from her breasts all the way to her lower body, and she felt like the downstairs staff were whining and wanting far more attention than they had gotten in a long, long time. Gulping, she closed her eyes, refusing to look up into Mace’s face. If he was shaken by their contact, he didn’t show it. In fact, his face had drawn into a grimace as if she was the last person on Earth he’d ever want to touch.
Her heart sank a little. but her skin skittered with heat and pleasure wherever his fingers brushed against her scalp. Her heart wouldn’t settle. She inhaled his scent like it was some wonderful fragrance. Was she finally awakening from the grief and loss of Jeb? It had been a long, hard two-year slog. Suddenly, Sierra was shaky inwardly, feeling horny as hell. If anyone had told her she’d feel like this out on an op, she’d have had a damn good uproarious laugh over it. She’d been out on dozens of ops and, with the exceptions of the ones she’d been on with Jeb, had never felt any kind of sexual magnetism between herself and her partner. Until now. Until sourpuss Kilmer.Geeze.Was she drawing in patriarchal men like him to her now? That thought made her eyes open wider. Terrible thought, really. Kilmer was the exact opposite of Jeb. He was a snarly Type-A leader who couldn’t even be nice if he tried. Jeb had been so kind and forgiving of others. He had been easy to live with and be around, unlike Kilmer. While Jeb was like a beautiful, polished diamond, Kilmer reminded her of an ugly, rough-cut lump of coal.
He stopped fiddling with the headband. “How’s that feel?”
