Stranded with the Sergeant

by Cathie Linz

  It had absolutely no effect on her. “I haven’t had a bath in four days. This is not open for discussion, Sergeant. I am taking that bath. Look, I’ve used the clothesline to string up this blanket I found to provide some privacy. I’ve been planning this all afternoon. Ever since I realized that helicopter wasn’t coming back for us today.”

  Here he’d been having a heart attack worrying about their rescue and she’d been planning her bath?

  He had to get out of there. She was driving him crazy. After discovering they’d hung out together as kids on Okinawa, they’d spent the evening in silence. Or to be more precise, after she’d tried to get him to talk about the helicopter crash he’d been silent and she’d attempted to start several conversations. But he wasn’t having any part of that. And he sure as heck wasn’t standing still for this bath idea.

  Which meant he had to move on or move out.

  Only problem was that they already had enough firewood piled up on the hearth to last them a year or two. He could go out to take a walk, but it was colder than a dead snake out there.

  He was getting soft in his old age. No, quite the opposite. He was getting hard. And it was all because of her, the woman stripping behind that sorry excuse for a blanket, the one that was so threadbare he could see her shadowy outline clearly.

  It was like some kind of kinky shadow theater, where he could only see her silhouette as she carefully bent over to test the temperature of the bath water in the old metal tub she’d found. Her breasts were high and firm, her bottom lush and round. His mouth went dry, his throat constricted as desire hit him with the force of a blow.

  She’d pinned her hair on top of her head. Her slender arms reached for the edge of the tub. Her long leg lifted, her toes pointed as she daintily stepped into the tub. She was killing him here.

  The tub wasn’t big enough for her to lie in, so she knelt, leaning over to pour the water over her shoulders.

  “You’re awfully quiet out there,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “Affirmative,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  He really should look away. She clearly had no idea the kind of show she was putting on for him. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to turn his back, to walk away, to do anything but what he was doing.

  But Joe could no more look away than he could stop breathing. In fact, he’d have better luck holding his breath, which he’d been doing since she’d first peeled off her shirt behind that screen of temptation otherwise known as a blanket.

  He’d seen and done a lot over the years, but this shadow strip dance of hers was the most incredibly erotic thing he’d ever seen.

  “Are you still there?” she called out.

  “Affirmative.” Joe’s voice was getting downright hoarse now.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” he croaked.

  “That doesn’t sound like you. You’re always doing something, never sitting still.”

  He was doing something, all right. He was acting like a Peeping Tom. He should be ashamed of himself. He snapped his eyes shut.

  What if she fell? What if she slipped in the tub and he was sitting here with his eyes closed?

  Joe’s eyes snapped open. He should keep an eye on her. Both eyes. Glued to her shapely form. She looked like a goddess. Who knew that the conservative clothes she wore hid such a gorgeous body?

  Not that it mattered. Her gorgeous body didn’t change the fact that she was still his commanding officer’s daughter. Joe’s orders were to keep her safe. Deciding how best to accomplish that goal was his duty.

  That meant watching out for her. Surely there was no harm as long as he kept his hands to himself. And his lips. And his arms. And his fingertips.

  Jeez, he had it bad. Thankfully his camouflage utility uniform was loose fitting because he’d just about be bursting his jeans right about now.

  Restraint. A Marine prided himself on his restraint. Joe silently began reciting the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Nowhere in it did it say that it was legal for her to tempt him this way. Surely there had to be some law against it. If not there should be, because her body was definitely a lethal weapon—lethal to his self-control and peace of mind.

  Prudence hadn’t had the nightmare for years. She’d learned to wake herself up before things got too bad. But this time it crept up on her. She was driving the sporty red Miata her father had given her the year before on her sixteenth birthday. It was a glorious day, the sun was shining, Sting was singing through the outstanding sound system and her mother was complaining. Complaining that the music was too loud, that Prudence was driving too fast.

  Prudence turned her head to tell her mother to lay off when it happened. So fast in real life, so slow in her nightmare. And there was nothing she could do.

  Stop it! Stop it!

  Joe heard her scream. He was beside her in an instant. She was still fighting the sleeping bag to get free and she almost socked him in the jaw with her frantic efforts.

  “It’s okay,” he soothed her. “Prudence, it’s okay. You were dreaming. It’s okay. You’re with me.”

  “Joe?”

  “That’s right.” Cupping her face with his big hands, he wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay.”

  “I was dreaming about the car crash.” Her voice was ragged, her breath coming in uneven spurts. “The one that hurt my mother.”

  “I won’t say that it was just a nightmare because I know how bad they can feel.” His voice was as soothing as his touch. He was stroking her cheek with his fingertips, slow, healing caresses.

  The nightmare had felt bad, but his touch felt incredibly good. Closing her eyes, she swayed closer.

  Lowering his hands to her shoulders, Joe drew Prudence near. She could feel his breath on her lips, could feel the thrum of his heart beneath her hands as they rested on his chest. The warmth of his body radiated through the cotton of his T-shirt.

  Time froze, cocooning them in this moment without any thought of past or future. He cupped the curve of her jaw, his fingertips resting in the hollows behind her ear. Lowering his head, Joe touched his lips to hers, barely grazing them before leaning away to read the look on her face.

  Her eyes fluttered open. He was so close yet not close enough. The sight of him filled her entire vision, leaving no room for anything else. She prayed he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t push her away. Couldn’t he see what he did to her?

  And then his lips returned to hers to consume her mouth with a frenzy of need. She rejoiced at his passion, matching it.

  Coaxing her lips to part even more, he probed the tender-veined flesh of her inner lip before coaxing her tongue to come play. His sweet boldness and pleasure-giving ways took her breath away.

  While Joe’s kiss transported her, his hands were working their own magic, sliding beneath her loose T-shirt to find her bare skin. Lowering her onto the partially opened sleeping bag, he blanketed her with his strong fully aroused male body.

  She reached upward, sliding her arms around his waist. Cradled in his embrace, he was her insulation against all the nightmares, against the guilt and the pain. She was drowning in a sea of desire, offering herself to him in wanton invitation.

  Her sensitized nerve endings vibrated with sheer pleasure as his hands moved beneath her T-shirt to cup her breasts. She’d discarded her bra before going to sleep, so there was nothing between them now. He brushed his thumb over the warm and willing peak, teasing it to attention.

  Their frantic kiss continued, only broken off long enough for him to peel the shirt from her body. She took that opportunity to hook her fingers beneath the hem of his T-shirt and yank it over his head.

  The firelight danced over them, bathing them in the heat of the flames. His eyes had never seemed so blue as he devoured her with his gaze.

  The ripe lushness of her breasts thrust temptingly against his chest. She felt her nipples tingle as his mouth approached. When his lips closed around her and tugged softly into his mouth, she
arched her back at the unbelievable burst of dark and sweet joy.

  Combing her fingers through his hair she held on to him as her world spun completely out of control.

  Just when she didn’t think she could stand the pleasure a second later without exploding, he shifted his attention to her other breast and the wild ride of excitement began again.

  Passion prevailed over caution as she explored his body with quick movements, using a butterfly-soft touch as if fearing he’d reject her advances. He did not. Instead he welcomed them, reveled in them, growling his pleasure as her fingertips brushed the coppery coins of his nipples.

  His lips returned to hers, teaching her new moves, exploring every corner of her mouth and taking her deeper into the welcoming arms of desire. She was on fire with wanting him. Her body was tight with anticipation. He knew exactly where to touch her, how to bring her the most pleasure.

  She felt her arms and limbs seeking to entangle themselves with his, silently cursing the bulky sleeping bag for coming between them.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, Joe jackknifed into a sitting position. Prudence hazily thought he was going to free her from her sleeping bag so that she could wrap herself around him as she longed to do.

  Instead he scrambled to his feet and hurriedly stepped away from her. In a blink Joe was standing several feet away, his back ramrod straight, his demeanor that of a Marine standing at attention.

  “I am not making love to my commanding officer’s daughter,” he barked, his voice bouncing off the cabin’s walls. “He’d have me court-martialed!”

  Chapter Eight

  Prudence willed her hands not to shake as she hastily reached for her discarded T-shirt and yanked it back over her head. “I don’t believe this.” The words weren’t meant to be spoken aloud but they were.

  “Believe it,” Joe stated gruffly. “And believe that what just happened between us can’t happen again.”

  “Because of my father.” Prudence laughed but there was no humor in it as she hugged her knees with a fierce determination not to cry. “Which is really ironic, considering that the last guy I was involved with was only interested in me because of my father. And now you won’t get involved with me because of my father.”

  “What do you mean, the last guy was only interested in you because of your father?”

  “He was a disgruntled Navy officer who wanted to pay back my father because my father had given him a less than glowing review during advance career developmental training. He figured seducing me and then dumping me would be a way to get to my father.”

  Joe swore, the quiet curses rough with emotion. “Did you love him?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I did.”

  “I see. When we first met back at the base you seemed to have a grudge against Marines. But this guy was Navy.”

  Her smile was bitter. “Interservice rivalry raises its head again, huh? Trust me, I’ve had my share of Marine dates gone wrong as well. I didn’t want to get involved with another military man.” Unspoken but clearly communicated were the words until now.

  “What we just shared, uh…” Joe paused, cleared his throat and started again. “You know when people share an intense experience like we’ve shared over the past few days, being snowbound up here and all. Well, it affects the emotions in an artificial way.”

  “There is absolutely nothing artificial about my aggravation with you,” Prudence shot back, anger momentarily superseding the embarrassed misery.

  Where did he get off talking to her as if she were one of her own students? Telling her that her emotions weren’t real. They were real all right. False emotions wouldn’t be this painful. The bruised roots of her self-esteem felt as if they’d been yanked out of the ground and stomped on.

  “Being aggravated with me is good.” He sounded relieved and that made her feel like crawling under a rock.

  “Being aggravated with you is good, but wanting to kiss you is bad. Got it,” she said curtly, refusing to look directly at him and addressing her words to a spot somewhere beyond his head. What an idiot she’d been. “Don’t worry, I can take the hint.”

  “No, that’s not it…”

  But she wasn’t listening any longer. The pain was becoming too intense, and the need to hide it from him was taking all her self-discipline.

  Despite the fact that Prudence confessed her own feelings of guilt about her mother’s injuries, despite the fact that she discovered he’d been the boy who’d been kind to her all those years ago in Okinawa, Joe still didn’t see her. Not for who she was. In his eyes, she was just his commanding officer’s daughter. Nothing more.

  Even now, after almost making love to her, he still didn’t see her as Prudence the woman.

  And that hurt. Immensely.

  But she had her pride. She wasn’t going to let him see what havoc he’d wrought on her emotions. She wasn’t going to let him see her period.

  “I’m going back to sleep,” she declared, slipping down into her sleeping bag and yanking it up over her shoulders before turning her back on him and closing her eyes.

  She could still see him, of course, in her mind’s eye. His blue eyes so intense he could see into her very soul. She should have recognized him from those eyes. She thought they’d reminded her of Mel Gibson’s eyes, but now she knew that the memory was actually her own, from her childhood. Flyboy. Who’d come to her rescue when she felt scared.

  Well, she didn’t need anyone coming to her rescue anymore. And even if she did, he couldn’t save her this time because what she needed rescuing from was her emotions for him. She could still taste him on her lips, lips that were still slightly swollen from the passion of his kisses.

  At least she had a partial explanation for why she’d had such an intense reaction to him. They had a past in common and secret feelings of survivor guilt that they shared. Or she’d shared and he’d reluctantly let slip on one occasion.

  They’d both grown up in Marine families, both knew the sacrifices and commitment required for that lifestyle.

  But she was his commanding officer’s daughter, not Princess Pug, not Prudence. And that made her off-limits in his book.

  Why did he have to be a Marine? Why couldn’t he have joined the Air Force or something?

  Maybe that wouldn’t have made any difference. Maybe he didn’t want a relationship with her in any case. He hadn’t said he’d wished things were different.

  Maybe he was right and this attraction between them was the result of being snowbound in the mountains with him.

  But being marooned with any other Marine wouldn’t have affected her the way being stranded with Joe did. It was the man, not the Marine, that got to her as no man ever had before. And that scared her spitless.

  Joe didn’t even bother trying to get any sleep. He knew it would be utterly useless. His brain was churning with thoughts and his body ached with the need to feel Prudence’s soft warmth against him.

  He was still grappling with the concept that she was Princess Pug, the kid in pigtails he’d known that summer so long ago. Her hair had been lighter then, streaked by the sun. They’d hung out together, this despite the fact that she was a few years younger than he was. He’d been, what, all of ten at the time.

  He was the second youngest of the Wilder brothers—with Mark aka Eagle being the next oldest, and then Justice aka Ranger. Sam aka Champ was the baby in the family, a year younger than Joe. All his brothers were Marines.

  While it was true that the Marine Corps was one large family, and that for many the Marine Corps was their family—in his case both were true. Joe had always been able to talk to his brothers if he had any problems. Sure, there was an element of sibling rivalry and competitiveness between them, but there was also a deep bond between them as well.

  And yes, it was true that in the past Joe had always made friends easily, but the kind of deep bond he shared with his brothers and with his best friend Curt did not come easily for him.

  His thoughts kept wander
ing as he watched Prudence sleep. He shared a bond with her. One that wasn’t just based on sexual chemistry, although there was plenty of that as their kiss and embraces had proved.

  She did things to him, made him feel things, made him forget his duty. A Marine prided himself on his control. He almost totally lost it with her.

  She wasn’t like the other women he’d known. Something was happening between them, something he wasn’t sure how to stop. But he had to figure it out ASAP.

  He couldn’t let her get close to him. Not just because she was his commanding officer’s daughter, but because he couldn’t let anyone get close to him. Not now. Not when he was so messed up. He knew all about first aid, but he had no idea how to fix this gaping wound inside of him.

  And that made him want to lash out, like an injured bear caught in a trap. He didn’t want to lash out at Prudence. He didn’t want her seeing him for what he really was, a man less than what he’d been—less courageous, less sure of himself, less deserving of being called a United States Marine.

  He had to earn those things back, had to recover them somehow.

  It was far better to end things before they began.

  There was no sense in thinking of how things could have been if he’d been someone else or she’d been someone else. There was no changing the facts. And the facts were that this was a no-win situation.

  No amount of maneuvering or strategy would change the bottom line. She was the last woman in the world he could afford to get involved with and he was the worst man in the world for her.

  She deserved someone who had their act together, someone who could come to her without the nightmares and baggage he was carrying.

  He tensed as she tossed restlessly in her sleeping bag. Silently moving closer, he watched over her, praying her nightmare wouldn’t return, wishing he could allow himself the brief luxury of brushing his fingers over her cheek but knowing he had to be strong.

  Being strong had never been a problem for him before. Which made his current state so foreign. He wasn’t used to feeling helpless. Yet that feeling struck him like an enemy sniper, hitting him when he least expected it.