Her Hard to Resist Husband

by Tina Beckett

  “They’ve got medical civilians in one house and military personnel in another. They post guards out front of both of them, though.”

  Ben’s four-wheel drive pulled up beside them and the soldier poked his head out of the open window. “I’m taking your vehicle to the research center we’ve set up. Do you want a ride?”

  “We’ll follow on foot,” Ben said. Tracy got the idea, he wanted to continue their conversation in private. “And if you could put Dr. Hinton in the same house as me, I’d appreciate it. I haven’t seen my wife in quite a while and would like some alone time with her if possible.” He quirked an eyebrow at the man, while reaching over and taking her hand in his and giving it a warning squeeze. The presumption of his move made the rising pressure in her head grow to dangerous levels.

  Her poor assistant squirmed visibly.

  If Pedro hadn’t been beside them, she’d have made it plain how little contact—of any sort—she wanted with him. But she knew Ben well enough to know he didn’t say or do anything without a good reason.

  The driver grinned and promised to see what he could do.

  But, oh, she was going to let Ben know she was not happy with that arrangement. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know what their relationship was, and now everyone in town would be snickering behind their backs.

  “Nice work,” she hissed.

  Pedro shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you were… I just assumed you were…”

  “Single?” Ben supplied, an edge to his voice.

  Wow, was he actually doing this? He’d never expressed any hint of jealousy when they’d been together. And she didn’t appreciate it now.

  “No, not exactly. I just knew she didn’t have anyone living with her.”

  Ben’s brows lifted. “You knew that for a fact, did you?”

  “Well, yes. W-we had staff meetings at her house on a regular basis.”

  Tracy took a closer look at her assistant’s face. There was discomfiture and something else lurking in his brown eyes. Oh God. Surely he wasn’t interested in her. She’d never given him any reason to think she might be remotely attracted to him.

  At least, she hoped she hadn’t. And yet Ben had automatically assumed Pedro might have his eye on her. Why would he even care?

  She touched Pedro’s arm. “Ben and I…well, it’s complicated.”

  Complicated. It was. At least for her. And Ben had probably never forgiven her for walking away from their marriage without a word. But what could she have said, really?

  Not only do I not want to get pregnant again, I might choose to have my non-cancerous breasts removed.

  She could still explain, if she wanted to. But after the way he’d run roughshod over her four years ago, going behind her back and manipulating her into coming home, he’d pretty much snuffed out any feelings of guilt on her part.

  Ben had been part of the reason she’d struggled with making a final decision about what to do about her test results. But now that he and the baby were no longer part of the equation, she’d put things on hold, choosing to make a difference in the lives of others instead.

  Dragging her attention back to Pedro, she tried her best to finish her earlier statement. Putting more emphasis on the words than was strictly necessary, she wanted to make sure she got her point across to both of them.

  “Ben and I are separated. We have been for quite some time. So anything that happens between us will be strictly business.”

  Now, if she could just convince herself of that, she should be good to go.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THERE WAS A reason it was called the Black Death.

  There was nothing pretty or romantic about the plague. And the pneumonic form of the disease was the most dangerous, rapidly killing those it touched.

  Ben stepped into the tiny house where the patients were being housed, and he fought a wave of pure desolation as he looked over the place. Tracy seemed just as shocked, standing motionless in the doorway beside her assistant.

  Simple green cots were packed into what used to be a living room, laid out in two rows with barely enough space between beds for doctors to work.

  Ben counted silently. Fourteen patients. And not all of them had IVs started. In fact, when he looked closer, he saw that the wall over some of the cots had a crude “X” penned in black ink.

  A chill went over him. Deathbeds.

  His gaze moved further and he spotted two men he assumed were doctors, still wearing that hazard gear he’d spotted earlier. The pair stood on either side of a bed, assessing a woman who was wailing, the sound coming in fits and starts that were interrupted by coughing spasms. One of the men leaned past the patient and slashed a mark over the bed.

  Just like that. Bile pumped into his stomach in a flood.

  Tracy’s gaze met his, her eyes reflecting pure horror. She reached out and gripped Pedro’s sleeve. “So many.”

  The man nodded. “I know.”

  None of the trio had on the protective clothing worn by the other doctors, other than masks and latex gloves, but as Tracy was on antibiotics and Pedro had just been given his first dose, there was no need. He assumed the heavy gear worn by the other men would be done away with pretty soon.

  Besides, it was stifling in the room, the number of bodies cranking up the temperatures to unbearable levels. There wasn’t even a fan to move the air around, probably out of fear of microbes being carried outside the room. But none of these patients—even the ones without the fatal mark on the wall—would last long if they couldn’t cool it down.

  Ben decided that one of his first orders of business would be to set up some kind of misting system.

  Tracy moved towards him and touched his arm, pointing to the left at a nearby patient. It was a boy who Ben assumed was the one she’d been so worried about. There was a black squiggle over his bed but it was incomplete, as if someone had started to cross him off the list of the living and had then changed his mind.

  “I’m going to check on Daniel and Cleo.”

  Pedro made a move to follow then noticed Ben’s frown and evidently thought better of it, shifting his attention to a patient on the other side of the room instead.

  Why did he care if the man had a thing for Tracy? Unlike him, the assistant seemed to have no problem with her job. He probably traveled with her every chance he got.

  A steady pain thumped on either side of his head, and he squeezed the bridge of his nose in an effort to interrupt the nerve impulses.

  While Tracy checked on the boy, he made his way to the suited pair across the room. He identified himself and flashed his ID card, causing one of the men’s brows to lift. “You’re the epidemiologista General Gutierrez sent for?”

  Ben nodded. “Are you marking these beds on his orders?”

  “Well, no. He won’t be here until tomorrow.” They glanced quickly at each other. “But we can’t take care of fourteen patients on our own, so we’ve been…” The words trailed away, but Ben understood. They were deciding who was worth their care and who was beyond saving.

  “Well, Dr. Hinton and myself will be joining you, so let’s set up a rotating schedule. Between all of us I’m sure we can make an effort to see all the patients.” He let his emphasis hang in the air.

  “But some of them won’t last a day.”

  “And some of them might,” he countered. “Why don’t you explain to me who you’ve assessed, and we’ll divide the room into critical care and non-critical, just like you would for field triage. It’ll help us divide our efforts.”

  Neither man looked happy to be challenged, but they didn’t contradict him either. If he knew General Gutierrez, the man had told them to follow his recommendations. The doctors gave him a quick rundown and Ben made a list, marking “TI”—for tratamento intensivo—next to those patients who were in critical condition and needed extra care. Not one “X” went next to anyone’s name.

  Ben moved over to the older woman who’d cried out as the men had marked
her bed and found she was indeed critical, with red staining around her mouth that signaled she was producing bloody sputum. He laid a gloved hand on her forehead and spoke softly to her, her glassy eyes coming up to meet his, even as her breath rasped in and out, breathing labored. “We’re going to take good care of you, okay?”

  She blinked at him, not even making an effort to speak.

  Ben called out to Tracy. “I want IVs started on all the patients who don’t currently have one. We’re going to push antibiotics into them. All of them.” Then he turned to one of the men and nodded towards the radio on his hip. “Can you get me General Gutierrez? He and I need to have a little chat.”

  * * *

  She didn’t know what he’d done, but Ben had obviously spoken to someone in authority and asked for some changes. The cots—with the help of other soldiers—had been rearranged according to how ill each patient was. Daniel and Cleo had ended up on opposite sides of the room.

  Heart aching, she moved from the boy to another patient, trying not to think about his prospects as she quickly filled a syringe from a vial of antibiotics and inserted it into the injection port of the IV line, marking the time and amounts in a small spiral-bound notebook they’d made up for each patient.

  She caught Pedro’s eye from across the room and smiled.

  “You doing okay?” she mouthed, receiving a thumbs-up in return. Although not a doctor, Pedro had accompanied her on many of her forays into villages and had helped enough that she knew he could hold his own in an emergency. She also trusted him enough to know he’d ask for help if something was beyond his capabilities.

  Her shirt was soaked with sweat and she’d gone through masks at an alarming rate. She hoped Ben had brought a big supply. He’d mentioned setting up a rudimentary misting system to help cool off the room.

  Right now, though, he was seeing to the unloading of his car, and she refused to think about where they were going to sleep tonight. Ben had said the same “house”…not the same “room” when he’d made his request. But he’d also made it plain that they were married, so she had no doubt they’d be placed together. What was he thinking? Surely he had no more desire to be with her than she had to be with him?

  Okay, maybe “desire” was the wrong word to use. Because put them in a room alone together and they tended to combust at frightening speed. She remembered her fury as she’d walked into that village to confront him on their first meeting. She’d heard there was an epidemiologist heading her way down the river but that he was taking his sweet time.

  Unwilling to wait for him to stop at every village and sample the local cuisine, she’d powered back upriver and stomped her way to the heart of the village. He’d been standing in the middle of a group of men, a big smile on his face. She’d opened her mouth to throw a vile accusation his way, only to have the words stop in her throat the second their eyes had met.

  He’d stared at her for several long seconds then one eyebrow had quirked upwards. “Are you here for me?”

  “I…I…” Realizing she’d looked like a fool, she’d drawn herself up to her full height and let him have it.

  She’d let him have it again two days later. In an entirely different way.

  Oh, God. She could not be in a room alone with the man if she could help it. So what was she going to do?

  Stay with her patients as much as possible, that’s what. She’d already been here for almost eight hours. And it was now a few minutes past the end of her shift. If she knew Ben, he would make them all stick to the schedule he’d drawn up—whether they wanted to or not.

  Even as she thought it, she reached Cleo’s bed and leaned over her. The girl gave her a tremulous smile, which she returned.

  “Hey, how are you doing?”

  “Sleepy, and my head hurts.” Cleo’s voice was a thread of sound.

  “I know.” Headaches were one of the symptoms of the plague, but Cleo’s episode didn’t seem to be progressing as rapidly as Daniel’s had. “You need to rest. I’m sure—”

  Something cool and moist hit her left ankle and swept up the back of her leg until it reached the bottom of her shorts. Stifling a scream, she straightened and spun around to find empty air. She lowered her gaze and spied Ben, on his haunches, about a foot away, a spray bottle in his hand. Half-thought words bubbled on her tongue but didn’t find an exit.

  He got two more squirts in before she found her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Holding the pump bottle up, he said. “We have a room full of sick people. All we need is to have a dengue outbreak on top of everything.”

  Repellant. Ah. She got it.

  But why was he the one spraying it on her? He could have just handed her the bottle and ordered her to put it on.

  “You were busy,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “And sometimes with you it’s easier to act than to argue.”

  Like their first kiss? When he’d dragged her to him and planted his lips on hers without so much as a “May I?”

  She swallowed, hoping he couldn’t read the direction of her thoughts. Or the fact that seeing him kneeling in front of her reminded her of other times when he’d done just that.

  Before she could grab the bottle out of his hand he went back to work and sprayed the front of her legs. “Turn around.”

  “Are you going to personally spray Pedro and the other workers, too? Or just me?”

  “They’re not wearing shorts.” His brows went up. “Didn’t think it was as urgent.”

  She couldn’t stop the smile or the roll of her eyes, but she obediently turned around. In reality the chill of the spray against her super-heated skin was heavenly as he slowly misted the back of her right leg. Looking down, she found Cleo looking up at her.

  “He’s bossy,” the little girl said. Her voice was weak but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.

  Tracy couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out, her heart lightening at Cleo’s ability to joke. “Oh, honey, you have no idea.”

  Ben’s bossiness had a tendency to come out in all kinds of ways. Some of those she was better off not thinking about right now.

  The spraying stopped and Tracy glanced behind her to find Ben staring up at her. Standing abruptly, he shoved the repellant bottle into her hands. “I’ll let you finish up the rest. Give it to the other workers after you’re done. And make sure you stay protected while you’re here.”

  With that he walked away without a backward glance.

  Stay protected? With him in the immediate vicinity?

  She gave a huge sigh.

  It would take a whole lot more than a bottle of repellent to do that.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE WAS A masochist.

  Ben stared at the figure sleeping in the hammock—her back to him—and wondered what on earth he’d been thinking by demanding they sleep in the same room. He obviously hadn’t been thinking at all, but the sight of Tracy standing next to Pedro had sent a shaft of what could only be described as jealousy through him.

  Why?

  She could have been sleeping with twenty men a day after she’d left, and he’d have been none the wiser.

  Yeah, but he hadn’t had to stand there and witness it.

  Even as he tried to convince himself that was the reason, he knew it went deeper than that. Deeper than the desire that churned to life as he stared at the sexy curve of hip flowing into a narrow waist. A waist that hadn’t even had time to expand much before their baby had been lost.

  She’d gotten off work two hours ahead of him, just as his schedule had dictated, which was a relief because she’d obviously come right back to the room and gone straight to sleep.

  Which was exactly what he should be doing.

  Tomorrow was going to be just as difficult as today.

  Having Tracy here brought up all the tangled emotions he thought he’d already unraveled and put to bed. Sighing, he toed off his shoes, glad he’d donned a pair of athletic shorts to sleep in, because there was no
way he was sleeping in just his boxers.

  He slid into his hammock, trying to keep the creaking of the ropes to a minimum as he settled into place.

  Someone like Pedro would have been ideal husband material for Tracy. He obviously didn’t mind her vagabond spirit. In fact, he traveled with her on a regular basis, if appearances were anything to go by.

  But then again, Pedro wasn’t married to her. He hadn’t had to sit at home wondering why she wanted to be anywhere else but with him. Wondering if, once their child was born, the baby would be dumped in the care of his housekeeper, just as he’d been when he’d been little.

  Anger churned in his chest at the thought.

  So why had seeing her bending over that little girl’s bed, shapely bottom facing him, made the saliva pool in his mouth? And when she’d leaned further over, the long, lean muscles in her calves bunching as she’d gone on tiptoe to adjust the sheet on the far side of the cot, his body had roared to life. There hadn’t been a drop of anger in sight.

  He’d wanted her. Just as much as he always had.

  He’d meant to hand her the bottle of repellent with a brusque order to put some on, but he’d been desperate to erase the images cascading through his mind. Squirting a healthy dose of cold liquid on her had seemed like the ideal way to shock her into moving—and shock his own body back to normal. Like a virtual defibrillator, halting a deadly spiral of electrical impulses before they’d overwhelmed his system.

  His actions had backfired, though.

  She’d turned around, just like he’d hoped, only his senses hadn’t righted themselves, they’d gone berserk. And when he’d heard that low, throaty laugh at something her young patient had said, his stomach had turned inside out, drilling him with the reality of how stupid his move had been.

  Besides, he’d had other things he needed to attend to.

  Like going out and dunking his head in a bucket of water.

  Which he’d done. Literally.

  When he’d gone back inside, Tracy had already finished spraying herself down, the shine from the repellant glinting off the tip of her upturned nose, making his gut twist all over again.