Jim grimaced, fighting a hot awareness of her closeness—of her care. Her touch was galvanizing, and his skin tightened when she grazed him. Frantic to get himself back under control, he rasped, “I’m too hardheaded to break a leg. I should have had my head examined, though.”
Surprised, Pepper looked up into his darkened eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You saved my neck despite my stupidity. Thanks.” He held out his hand to her.
Stunned, Pepper slowly raised her own hand. Should she touch him again? Last time they’d ended in a torrid embrace. Shyly, she slid her fingers into his. There was nothing weak about his grip, and she gloried in its secure warmth. “You’re welcome, Colonel Woodward,” she said in a strained tone.
Jim didn’t want to release her hand. He was entranced by the length and grace of her fingers, almost at odds with Pepper’s obvious tough strength—both physically and mentally. If she hadn’t had the presence of mind, as well as the experience and skill, to rescue his sorry butt from that situation, he wouldn’t be here shaking her hand in a symbolic gesture of peace.
“Call me Jim,” he said gruffly, reluctantly releasing her. The surprise that flared in her eyes astounded him. It was at that moment that he realized just how much of a bastard he’d been to her. Shame wound through him, and he forced himself to check out his left ankle instead of staring into Pepper’s beautiful, vulnerable eyes.
Pepper watched him pull away the bloused material around his jump boot. Call me Jim. The husky inference in his voice had gone through her like hot sunlight on a cold winter’s day. And the look in his eyes had stunned her—as if she were seeing his tough military facade melt before her eyes. The change was arresting, filled with promise. His mouth had lost its usual hard line, and his eyes had lost that icy glitter that warned her to back off. Most of all, Pepper was drawn to the tenor of his voice—strong yet decidedly gentle.
Shaken, she sat back, resting her hands tensely on her thighs as she tried to digest his change toward her. Finally, she forced herself to look around. “I have no idea where we are…Jim,” she admitted hesitantly.
He glanced up as he freed his ankle from the trouser material. “Let’s worry about that later. Can you help me unlace this boot? I think I’ve sprained my ankle.”
“Sure…” He was asking for her help. Pepper didn’t quite know how to take this sudden attempt at teamwork. Was he feeling grateful because she’d saved his life? Would it last? Did it have anything to do with the sudden intimacy he’d established? Her hands trembled as she tried to untie the double knot on the boot.
“I’m still shaky.” She laughed with sudden shyness.
“I’m shaking inside,” he admitted, watching her slim fingers work out the tightly bound knots. Her hair fell in soft waves, and he had the maddening urge to reach out and thrust his fingers through that mass again. As he remembered its softness, his hand lifted slightly, as if by its own accord. Jim jerked it back. It was an idiotic urge. An insane one, he realized, chastising himself. Pepper’s mouth was slightly open, revealing her full lower lip. The color was high in her cheeks, and he could see she was shaken by the ordeal they’d survived. Or was it by his unjustified embrace—his need to feel her strong, feminine body against him and prove he really was alive?
“I could have died,” he croaked, the realization starting to fully sink in.
Pepper glanced up at him. Jim’s eyes were dark with the harsh reality of his words. “I know….” Her voice broke, and she avoided his sudden, sharpened gaze.
Jim’s heart began an erratic pounding in his chest. Suddenly, he felt a trembling that seemed to start deep inside him and spread outward. He had a wild urge to blather almost hysterically. Fighting the feeling, he rasped, “I saw my whole life flash before my eyes.” He shook his head as Pepper began unlacing the now-unknotted jump boot. “I’ve heard of guys seeing it, like a movie in full living color, when they thought they were going to die. But it’s never happened to me….”
Swallowing against a dry throat, Pepper nodded, her heart still pounding wildly in her breast. Where Jim had gripped her shoulder, her skin still tingled in memory. “We were lucky. Hold on, I’m going to try to get this off you.” She rose and positioned herself at his feet, then carefully eased the boot off his left foot. Pulling off his heavy cotton sock, she grimaced. “You’re right,” she said, glancing up at him, “you’ve got a dilly of a sprain.” The skin around his ankle was already turning bluish purple and swelling. Prodding the region gently with her fingers, she felt a lot of heat coming from it.
Jim was fervently aware of Pepper’s long, thin fingers moving over his swollen ankle. Miraculously, wherever she touched him, the pain momentarily ceased. “You look like you’ve done this kind of thing before,” he observed.
Pepper gave him a slight, one-cornered smile as she finally managed to get some control over her rampant emotions. “Too many times.” Placing his foot on the ground beside her, she slowly stood. “On myself and other members of my team. Sprains are pretty common in our business.”
Jim held her narrowed gaze. He was seeing the professional side of Pepper now, and he admired her coolness and common sense. “If I’d worn that ankle brace as you suggested, I might not have a sprain right now,” he groused.
Pepper realized what it took Jim to admit his mistake and was grateful he’d abandoned his combative attitude. “It’s a learning curve,” she offered hoarsely, not wanting him to feel any worse than he did already. She wasn’t one to rub salt in anyone’s wounds. Good leaders didn’t berate their people. Instead, she would try to support his decision to wear it next time. “I’m going back up the hill for my pack. I’ve got a first-aid kit with me. Just lie still” was all she said.
Jim lay back on the rough ground, feeling pretty damn humbled by Pepper and her forgiving attitude. She had every right to nail him with the fact that he’d not only refused to wear the joint and ankle braces but had openly challenged her idea. Angrily, he rubbed his face. What was the matter with him? He didn’t normally act like such a jerk. Never with anyone under his command in a military situation. And why had he reached out and grabbed her? Held her in a hot, powerful embrace that had driven him to the edge of his control? He’d come so close to molding her parted, tear-stained lips against his mouth. So close. What the hell was happening to him? Looking up, he scowled at the horizon. The sun was rising, the sky turning a pale, translucent pink and yellow.
Pepper, he decided, was her own woman—and he wasn’t used to dealing with a woman with such a high confidence level. He had some thinking to do about women, he conceded. He was just beginning to grasp the full weight of their potential. Pepper was a role model, a stunning example of what could be. Perhaps that was what made her different in his eyes, and explained his unexpected attraction to her. He had no direct experience with a woman like her—at once feminine and vulnerable, yet shored up by an incredible confidence that radiated from deep within her, translating into every action she took or decision she made.
Jim knew men like that. Hell, he was like that himself. A sour smile pulled at his mouth as he made the realization. If Pepper had been a man, he would never have questioned her experience. And he would have instantly reached out for help as he plummeted from the sky. With a shake of his head, he decided that once they got out of this mess and back to Perseus, he needed to sit down and have a long talk with her. First he would apologize for being such a jerk, as well as for his intimate behavior toward her, which was completely out of line—as sexist in its own way as his initial lack of trust had been.
Touching his ankle, which had quickly swollen to the size of a ripe cantaloupe, he wondered how he would be able to make the jump two days from now. He’d screwed himself up by rejecting Pepper’s advice. Damn. He had a lot of ground to cover with her on their return to civilization.
“We’re in luck,” Pepper said as she approached Jim. She held out two small kits. “I not only brought my first-aid kit, but I packed my homeo
pathic kit, too.” She saw him look up, felt his green gaze lock onto hers. For a moment she was speechless. The undiluted warmth in his eyes caught her off guard again. Slowly kneeling at his left side, Pepper fumbled with the first-aid kit, even as she fought the clamoring desire still burning within her. Heat stabbed at her cheeks, and she knew she was blushing.
“I’m in luck you were along,” Jim stated. He saw Pepper’s face flame red. The blush made her even more becoming, if that was possible. Her fingers worked the lock on the kit, as an ache built inside Jim’s chest, and he fought another totally inappropriate urge to reach out and kiss her. The slightly curled length of her hair, now in disarray from the dampness of the cold November morning, enhanced her natural beauty.
Pepper made an effort to smile while avoiding his gaze. His eyes were like magnets, drawing hers, she decided as she opened the second kit. “We shared a close call. Stupid reactions always happen afterward,” she stammered.
Jim nodded. “Yeah—stupid things…” Like grabbing her and wanting to kiss her until they breathed the same air. Stupid things like that. “I’m just glad we’re alive,” he told her unevenly. “Maybe that’s why I grabbed you…. I don’t know….”
Pepper felt the heat in her face intensify at his muttered apology. She refused to look up at him as she dug into her kit. “That’s all it was,” she agreed breathlessly, “a close shave with death. Nothing more…” Wasn’t it? Pepper was unsure. Her even, stable world seemed to be fragmenting before her very eyes. Hadn’t she made decisions in the past to commit herself to her job, to her friends and her family— not to a personal relationship? Yes, absolutely. And in the six years since that decision, she’d made it stick. Ever since John’s death. Until now. Pepper felt wary and shaken in a way she hadn’t experienced before.
Jim frowned. Though his unexplained actions toward her were far from all right, she was kindly trying to provide a way out for him—despite her own discomfort. Now was not the time to examine his actions.
He watched as she drew out a small green tube and squeezed the clear, thick contents onto her fingers. “What’s that?” he asked, making an effort to get their conversation onto something safe and impersonal.
“Arnica. It’s a homeopathic remedy that I use for any kind of muscle sprains or strains.” Pepper took in a ragged breath, relieved to be talking about anything other than their embrace. She gently slathered the ointment across his swollen skin and amended her earlier concerns: Jim was in tremendous shape—for an office type. “You must jog or something,” she murmured, concentrating on covering the entire sprained area, “because if you didn’t work out, you’d have broken something in that fall.”
Jim glanced up at the thick trees on the hill above them. “Yeah…it was a hell of a fall, wasn’t it?”
Her laughter was strained as she set the ointment tube aside and expertly wrapped his foot and ankle in an Ace bandage. “A hell of a fall,” she agreed.
“How are you?” Jim realized he’d been remiss in asking after her condition. Had she sustained any injuries?
Panicked over his sudden interest, Pepper stammered, “A lot of bruises, but otherwise I’m okay.” She looked up and brushed her hair aside. The concern on Jim’s face tugged at her, and she felt her breath jam in her throat. Her heart pounded briefly, underscoring the look of care radiating from him. Again heat prickled her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, her fingers trembling as she continued to wrap his ankle.
“You’re blushing,” he muttered, unwilling to acknowledge his blame in her response.
“I haven’t done that in years,” Pepper said, frowning. Six years, to be exact.
“It’s becoming,” he admitted gruffly. Shocked at the intimacy that seemed to continue to insinuate itself at the least opportunity, Jim snapped his mouth shut.
“It’s an embarrassing disease.”
He cast desperately around for some impersonal comment, but words he didn’t intend to say tumbled out of his mouth. “You’re a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve.” When Pepper raised her chin and looked at him, he realized she was so self-sufficient that few people probably ever considered she might need a little care or a tender touch herself. He could give her that, he realized suddenly. To cover up his error, he said, “Recons take care of their own. You’re no less important than I am.” He noticed a number of bloody scratches on the backs of her hands. Without thinking, he reached down and captured her right hand. Gently, he laid his palm over it. “You’re hurt, too.”
Stunned by his gesture, Pepper jerked away. “Oh…it’s nothing. Scratches are nothing….” Her heart was pounding. She felt curiously exhilarated and at the same time wary. “I guess I’m not used to my team making a big deal over something like this,” she muttered. “During a fire there isn’t time to pay attention to minor injuries. We’re always getting bruised, scratched and cut. It’s no big deal.”
With a shake of his head, Jim said, “I guess I really didn’t realize the kind of danger you and your team jump into.”
“Most people don’t. Why should they? As far as I’m concerned, there are a lot of unsung heroines and heroes doing my kind of work. We’re rarely given media coverage, but our work is intense and very dangerous.” Pepper closed the first-aid kit. “Of course, people in the military aren’t acknowledged much, either.”
Jim nodded in agreement as Pepper took a small, amber vial from the other kit and opened it. “Here, take these,” she said.
Jim stared at the small, white pellets she placed in his open hand. “What are these?”
“They’re sugar pellets that have been medicated with a high dose of Arnica. Just put them in your mouth and let them melt away.” She smiled a little and closed the lid on the vial. “You’ll see a miracle happen with that ankle of yours—the swelling should go down within the hour. Otherwise it will never be in good enough shape for a jump one day from now.”
Jim wasn’t about to argue with Pepper. He put the pellets in his mouth. They tasted like sugar, not medicine. Pepper rose, carried the kits back up the hill, then returned to Jim’s side. In the meantime, he shrugged out of his pack.
She handed him the radio. “I think we need to call for backup. You’re in no shape to walk ten miles.”
“Roger that,” he agreed sheepishly. He took the radio from her and made the call. He no longer questioned Pepper’s abilities. She’d saved his life. She’d dealt with his injury with grace and without recriminations. Soon the helicopter would be hovering over the hill above them and they would be winched up on a cable, one at a time, since there was no appropriate landing area. But first Jim silently promised himself one thing. Tonight, at his condo, he and Pepper would have a long, serious talk. It was time.
Chapter Four
Pepper was unprepared for the flurry of activity that met them back at Perseus. The helicopter pilot had called in, alerting the team of their near disaster. As she entered the office, she was met by a number of people, some of whom she didn’t know. Wolf and Killian guided Jim to another room, where Dr. Ann Parsons, the ex-Air Force flight surgeon who worked for Perseus, was waiting.
“Pepper,” Wolf said as he came back out, “I want you to meet Morgan’s brother, Commander Noah Trayhern, and his wife, Kit.”
“Glad to meet you,” Pepper said, extending her hand to a tall, spare officer with gray eyes. Noah Trayhern was dressed in his winter Coast Guard uniform, the dark blue wool a contrast to his tanned features and penetrating gaze. She liked his firm grip.
“Same here,” Noah said with a tight smile.
Pepper extended her hand to the woman at his side. Kit Trayhern, tall as well, smiled warmly at her, offering an equally firm handshake. Her long, dark brown hair, alive with red highlights, was tied back with a red ribbon that matched the tasteful red suit she wore with a lacy white blouse.
Marie approached Pepper. “You look worn out. Are you all right, dear?”
“I’m okay.” She looked down at her camouflage uniform and ga
ve a slightly embarrassed laugh. “Dirty, bruised, but no worse for wear.” She was acutely aware of Noah’s assessing look, sure he was measuring her against what had happened and determining whether she had what it took to successfully complete the coming mission.
“Let me get you some coffee,” Kit Trayhern offered. “You look like you could use a cup. Actually, from what we’ve heard, maybe you’d rather have a stiff drink.”
Smiling sheepishly, Pepper nodded. “No thanks. If I drank alcohol, I’d probably ask for whiskey, straight up. Thanks, Mrs. Trayhern.”
“Call me Kit. Come on, let’s go into the War Room. Marie made a fresh pot when she heard you were coming in.”
Pepper wondered how Jim was doing and wanted to find out, then thought better of it. She followed Kit into the Conference Room and gratefully sank onto a chair Noah pulled out for her. He closed the door, and he and Kit joined her at the table, coffee cups in hand.
“Can you tell us exactly what happened out there this morning?” Noah asked.
Without preamble, Pepper told them the story, leaving out only the fact that Jim had refused her help in the air and that he hadn’t worn the safety bandages. She had no desire to embarrass him. On the flight in, she had sat next to him and had felt him withdrawing deep into himself. She’d wondered what he was thinking about, but then, the fact that they’d nearly died was enough to turn anyone inward for a while.
Kit sighed and smiled softly at Pepper. “We feel lucky to have you on this mission, Pepper. You’ve got the right stuff.”
“Bruised but right,” Pepper answered tiredly. She glanced at Noah. Did he feel the same way? The officer was somber, worry showing in his gray eyes.
“Have you heard the latest?” he asked.
“No. What?” Pepper sipped the hot coffee with relish.
“Wolf said still no communiqués have been intercepted to suggest where Jason or Morgan might be held. No more transmissions from Garcia, either. It’s as if they know….”
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