And as much as he knew it had all been a mistake, he still couldn't find it in himself to regret it. But what now? Walk away as though nothing had happened? Hell, yes. That was really his only choice. He didn't fit into her world any more than she would fit into his.
Lisa clung to what was left of her pride and wrapped it tightly around her slightly bruised heart. Well, this was just what a girl wanted to hear the minute her lover put his clothes on. She'd waited years for this moment only to have the one man who turned her blood into fire tell her he was sorry it had happened. Perfect.
Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Through sheer will and determination, she held them back. It was bad enough knowing that he thought of their time together as a mistake. She wouldn't make her humiliation any worse by turning into a teary female.
Instead, she fell back into comfortable, familiar territory and shut off the emotions clamoring to get out. Over the years, she'd had plenty of practice at hiding what she was feeling. Her father had never approved of "scenes."
"Why don't we just pretend none of this happened?" she offered, though her body still hummed from his touch.
"That won't solve anything."
"There's nothing to solve."
"And if there's a baby?" he demanded. "Will you ignore that, too?"
She flushed at the direct hit and supposed she'd deserved it. But wasn't this what he wanted? Wasn't he looking for a way to distance himself? Well, there it was … being handed to him on one of her father's silver platters. You'd think he'd take the opportunity and run with it.
"If there's a baby, and that's a big if…" There wouldn't be, she told herself firmly. The gods simply weren't that cruel. "…I'll take care of it."
Now it was his turn to flush. In anger. She watched color race up to fill his cheeks and spark like fire from his eyes. His hands fisted at his sides, and she had the distinct feeling that he wanted to punch something. Badly.
"Just like that," he said through gritted teeth. "You'll take care of it."
"Yes." Oh, she knew what he was thinking—and it showed how little he really knew her. He'd assumed that she would hustle herself off for an abortion. But Lisa would never be able to do that. Not that she didn't sympathize with women who were forced to make such a heartrending decision. She did. But for herself, she simply wasn't capable of ending a life just to make her own more comfortable.
No, if she was pregnant, then she would be a mother. The word slammed into her mind and made her knees quake just a bit. She'd always wanted children. Although she had to admit that her fantasy of a family had always included a husband. Still, as she'd so recently discovered, not everything turned out the way you wanted it to.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he muttered darkly and took a step closer.
That stung, but she didn't let him know it. Lifting her chin, she met him glare for glare. "Then it's lucky for you that you're almost rid of me, isn't it?"
"Princess," he said, his gaze flicking over her, "you have no idea."
Her breath hitched, and a small twinge of pain shimmered inside. But she didn't have to worry about him seeing it reflected in her expression. He'd already turned his back on her. She watched him stalk across the grass and climb the sand hill that surrounded this little valley. At the crest he sat down, pulled his weapon across his lap and stared out into the distance.
Her lover was gone.
Her guard dog was back.
And inside, Lisa wept.
* * *
The desert patrol spotted them an hour later.
Travis was all business as he briefed the king's men on the situation, then climbed into the back of the Jeep, putting himself as far away from her as possible. Lisa smiled and said all the right things, but her mind was working independently of her speech. Every thought was of Travis and what would happen now. Would he disappear the moment they hit the American Embassy? Would he even remember her a month from now? Would he want to?
The Jeep hit a rut in the road, and her back teeth jarred together. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the edge of the windshield and braced herself. Too late, of course. Just as she'd been too late to protect her heart from Travis Hawks.
The marble foyer of the embassy felt cool and the sleek elegance of the building brought home the fact that they were back in civilization. The El Baharian soldiers had called ahead, letting the embassy know they were coming in.
Travis stood back as the Ambassador himself scuttled forward to greet Lisa. The man barely spared Travis a glance as he said, "Miss Chambers, I'm delighted to see that you're well and safe."
"Thank you, Mr. Ambassador," she murmured, but her soft voice echoed in the vastness of the place.
How sophisticated she sounded, Travis thought, remembering how she'd screeched at him out in the desert. But then, that was a different Lisa from this one. And damned if he didn't already miss that other woman. The one he'd come to know. To … care for.
He shook his head and told himself he'd had too much sun. It wasn't affection he felt for her. It was just the kind of camaraderie that developed between people when they shared a tense situation. They'd survived together. But they sure as hell didn't belong together.
"Sergeant…" the Ambassador tacked a question mark onto that single word.
"Hawks, sir," he answered. "Travis Hawks."
"Of course," the little man said. "The other members of your team are waiting for you. If you'll follow my secretary…" He waved one hand to indicate a tall man in his forties.
"Thank you, sir," Travis said and started after the secretary, already heading down a long hallway. He didn't look back at Lisa. He'd learned long ago that looking back only made things worse. Better to keep his gaze fixed straight ahead. On the future that wouldn't include Lisa Chambers.
"Gunnery Sergeant Hunter thought you'd be hungry first," the man in front of him said. "If you go through that door there, you'll find the kitchen."
Food. Drink. Sounded good. The only thing that would make it better was if Lisa was with him. But she'd probably have servants trotting a meal up to her in no time. "Thanks," he said with a nod, then pushed through the door.
"Well speak of the devil and in he walks," Deke shouted with a wild laugh.
"He sure looks like he's been to hell and back," J.T. agreed as he hurried over to slap Travis's back with a solid thump of welcome.
"Never thought I'd be glad to see your ugly faces again," Travis told them, shaking hands with the best friends he'd ever had.
"Hawks," Jeff Hunter said from across the room. Travis snapped the other man a quick look. A Gunnery Sergeant, Jeff was the Senior NCO and the man in charge of their recon team.
The man's stern features dissolved into a grin. "We're damn glad to see you, Travis."
"Likewise, Gunny." He dropped his pack unceremoniously to the floor, tossed his weapon to Deke and headed for the other man. Shaking the hand he offered, Travis asked the question that had been haunting him for a few days now. "The Marine who got hit on the chopper? How is he?"
"Don't worry about him," Jeff said with a smile. "Took one in the shoulder and he may even get some liberty to recuperate. He wanted me to thank you for getting him a trip home."
"That's good news, Gunny," Travis said, feeling a rush of relief push through him.
"Could have been worse if you hadn't waved us off," Jeff told him, meeting his gaze and holding it for a long minute. "You made the right call."
"Thanks. Just glad it worked out." Sort of, he added silently.
"Man," J.T. was saying, "it must have been pure torture putting up with little miss rich—"
One hot look from Travis cut that phrase off before it could be finished. "She did all right," he said, shifting his gaze from one to the other of the Marines standing around him. "She stood up to it. She really came through."
"So did you," Jeff said, and gave him another slap on the back strong enough to stagger a slighter man. "And now tha
t that's all taken care of, you hungry?"
"Gunny," Travis said with feeling, "I could eat one of those camels we passed on the way in. Hide, hump, hooves and all."
"Not necessary," Jeff told him. "We may be in El Bahar, but the embassy is American territory. Take a look at what the chef cooked up for you and Miss Chambers."
Travis looked over at a gleaming stainless-steel countertop that was piled high with enough food to make a fair-size banquet. His mouth watered as he muttered, "Fried chicken, potato salad, watermelon, strawberry shortcake and chocolate chip cookies." He glanced at Jeff. "Is Lisa—Miss Chambers being fed now, too?"
"As we speak."
"All right, then." He sighed heavily, pushed his friends out of the way and said, "I've died and gone to heaven, fellas. If this is a dream, don't wake me up."
* * *
Chapter 8
«^»
Everyone was asleep.
The muted roar of the jet's engines pulsed just below the chorus of snores reverberating from the front few seats. Travis pushed himself from the plush leather chair and walked down the length of the richly appointed plane toward the galley.
His worn, dirty boots sank into the thick, sky-blue carpet, and his gaze flicked over his surroundings with interest. Lisa hadn't even had to request her father's private jet. Mr. Chambers, on hearing that his only child was safe, had dispatched his plane to carry her, and the recon team that had saved her, home. And Travis had never seen such accommodations.
Charcoal-gray leather captain's chairs were scattered around the front of the plane and three of them were fully reclined, allowing the Marines to snooze on their way home. An overstuffed couch hugged one wall of the plane. On the other wall a desk was outfitted with a fax machine, computer and printer. A mahogany bar took up most of the wall at the front of the jet, and he'd been told that the door in the rear led to a bedroom complete with queen-size bed and master bath.
He shook his head, hardly able to believe that people actually lived like this. And at that thought, a flash of himself, traveling in military transport planes rushed up in his mind, and he almost laughed aloud at the comparison. But the urge to laugh died as quickly as it came when he realized that the plane was a tangible example of just how little he and the princess had in common.
Travis's back teeth ground together, and he told himself it didn't matter. What they'd shared was over. As it should be. The fact that he wished it wasn't didn't mean a damn thing.
He quickened his step, headed for the galley, just past the desk. He didn't feel like sleeping. He'd done plenty of that at the embassy. And since Lisa was back in the bedroom, and his friends were snoring loudly enough to wake the dead, coffee seemed like just the right ticket.
As he came around the corner, Travis stopped short and felt every nerve ending in his body go on full alert.
Lisa stood there, looking as different from the woman he'd come to know as night was from day. Gone was the torn, dirty dress and the tangled mass of blond curls. She wore the clothes her father had sent to her. Some sort of filmy, light-blue dress with a skirt tight enough to drive a man crazy, thinking of ways to peel it off her. The pale-blue spike heels she wore brought her much closer to his own height than she had been the past few days and did absolutely amazing things for her legs. Her shining blond hair was pulled back from her face with a diamond clip that glittered like chips of ice in the overhead lights. There was no spark of irritation shining in those blue eyes anymore—now there was only a cool sophistication that he simply had no idea how to relate to.
But even as that last thought registered, the expression in her eyes shifted, changing, and just for an instant she was his princess. The woman he'd known so intimately in a setting that should have killed them both. In a heartbeat, though, that change was gone and she was a beautiful stranger again.
"I, uh," he said, trying to find a way to cover his own reaction to her, "I didn't know you were back here. Just came for some coffee."
Nodding, she picked up a delicate china cup, set it on its matching saucer and filled it from the nearby glass carafe. Steam rose from the surface of the coffee cup as she handed it to him. But that heat was nothing compared to what sizzled between them as her hand brushed his.
She jerked back quickly, sloshing some of the inky black liquid over the cup's lip. "Sorry," she murmured, picking up a linen napkin and handing it to him.
"No problem," he said. After blotting up the mess he tossed the napkin aside. He allowed his gaze to sweep her up and down, and he felt the sharp jolt of need slam home in his gut. Well, he'd just have to get used to ignoring that, he told himself. There was no help for it now. They were on their way home. Back where she lived a life of luxury on Park Avenue and he … didn't.
And just to drive himself totally insane, an image of her naked, lying on the banks of the oasis, leaped into his mind. The memory was so clear he could almost feel the silky softness of her skin. A sudden tension crashed through him, and Travis immediately let that vision go. No peace there, he reminded himself.
It was stupid of him to feel so uncomfortable around her. When two people had gone through what they had, side by side, they should be able to talk to each other civilly, for Pete's sake. Determined to prove to both himself and to her that it was possible, he leaned one hip against the tiled counter, took a sip of coffee and watched her as he commented, "Quite a plane."
Oh, yeah, Hawks. That was brilliant.
"My father likes it," she said, picking up her own coffee.
"So do the guys," he said wryly.
The other men's combined snores drifted toward them, and Lisa smiled briefly. "It is comfortable for long trips."
"It's got military transport beat down to the ground, I'll give you that."
"Bad, huh?"
He shrugged. "War's hell, but it still beats transport."
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips and set up an answering tug deep inside him. Damn, she got to him like no other woman ever had. And he'd been a fool to let it go as far as it had. Now he'd be paying the price for letting down his guard.
Yep, when she got back home and resumed her life, partying, going to lunch and forgetting all about him, Travis had the distinct feeling that he was going to be haunted by dreams of her. By thoughts of what might have been. He could wish it were different, but as his grandfather used to say, "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."
"So," he said, his voice overly loud in an effort to quiet the voices in his mind, "how's it feel to get back to reality?"
Lisa lifted her chin, took a deep breath and looked up at him. He felt the solid punch of her gaze right down to the soles of his feet.
"The desert felt more real."
Lisa meant it. Looking into those chocolate eyes of his, she realized just how much she'd missed seeing them in the past twenty-four hours. Since entering the city of El Bahar, she and Travis had been kept separate, through accident or design. She wasn't sure which.
All she was sure of was that she'd missed him. Missed arguing with him. Missed the way he smiled. The way he seemed to stand so much taller than any other man she'd ever met. Missed knowing that he was there. By her side. Ready to protect and defend.
The men in her world wore three-piece suits, showed up at the "right" parties and bought and sold Fortune 500 companies before breakfast. Yet none of them carried themselves with the kind of self-confidence Travis did. None of them would even have risked lunch for her sake, let alone their lives.
And, she thought with an inward groan, none of them were capable of starting a flash fire in her bloodstream, either.
He'd touched her in so many ways. In a few short days Travis Hawks had managed to march into her life, her heart and her soul. And she was pretty sure there'd be no getting him out again.
Which was going to make for a very lonely life.
"You did great out there," he was saying, and she pushed away her thoughts to concentrate on what little time she had left with him
. "In the desert, I mean," he finished.
Pride swelled inside her briefly, but she pushed it back down again. It was only through his and God's efforts that she'd ever made it out of the desert alive. Even now the memory of fear was fading, along with the sense of accomplishment she'd experienced in keeping up with her rescuer.
Here, in the safety of her father's jet, surrounded by the luxury she'd grown up in, all of it seemed so far away. So unreachable. Even Travis. He was right here in front of her. And yet she knew that the moment he'd seen this stupid plane, he'd distanced himself further from her. She'd watched the Marines' reactions to the jet. Seen the awe in their faces. And she'd seen cold, hard realization come into Travis's eyes and knew that she'd lost him. For good.
Better now to pretend she'd never had him. She laughed shortly and shook her head. "Thanks, but I think we both know that without you it would have been a different story."
"Yeah, but you weren't trained how to survive that kind of thing."
"True enough," she agreed, and plastered a wide, phony smile on her face. "But you should see me at a designer's show. I'm known as the fastest draw of a credit card on the eastern seaboard."
"Cut it out."
The snap in his voice had her blinking in surprise. "What?"
He set his coffee cup down with a clatter, then reached out and grabbed her upper arms. Lisa felt the hot, hard strength of him pouring down into her bones, and she wanted to sway against him. To bring back the memories of their time together. To relive it. To experience the magic again. But his features were just as tight as his grip, so she swallowed those feelings back.
"Don't start pretending again."
"Pretending?"
"Yeah," he said, and loomed over her, his face just a breath—or a kiss—away. "Don't start trying to play the dimwit rich girl. Not with me. Don't pretend to be less than you are."
"Who's pretending?" she asked, and pulled free of his grasp. The sudden lack of warmth from his hands chilled her and made her just a little bit lonelier than she had been. But she knew she'd better get used to that. "You called it from almost the moment we met. You said I was a spoiled princess. You said all I had going for me was daddy's money."
THE MARINE & THE DEBUTANTE Page 7
