by Dana Marton
Before Tessa, no woman had been more than a game to him. Tessa, too, to be honest. She’d been the one woman among the trainees no man could get, no matter how hard he had tried. Mike had been cocky enough to find a challenge like that irresistible. That’s how it had started. But something had changed. He could not forget about her like he had about the rest.
He would be smart not to push her. She was stubborn that way. If he pushed, he might push her away. And he wasn’t sure what else he could do. He was a soldier, trained to fight to achieve his objective, to take it by whatever force necessary. And this was one situation where being aggressive would never work.
Frustration rose in him swiftly. “So what, you hate me now?”
She watched the fire, thinking, and it bothered him how long she took to think.
“I used to,” she said at last in a low voice, lifting her gaze to his. “I cursed you a time or two while I was stuck in the research trailer for months on end.” She shook her head.
“And now?”
“What happened, happened. You can’t be anybody else but who you are.” She fell silent for a moment then went on. “I’m sorry I socked you at the trailer. When I saw you, all that old stuff came right back.”
“I’m not the same person anymore,” he said, hoping desperately that it was true.
“Really?” She gave him a halfhearted grin. “Going AWOL on a madcap rescue mission that has as much chance of succeeding as a snowshoe rabbit against a grizzly in a fist fight…You’re right, it’s not as crazy as some of the stuff you’ve done. It’s even crazier!”
He couldn’t help grinning back. “I changed in other ways.”
“I’m sure,” she said more soberly now. “You’re a good man, Mike. But I’m sorry, I can’t love you again. Not anymore.”
She skewered the meat on two sticks and damn if it didn’t feel like she was skewering some vital organ of his. He had hurt her, badly, worse than he had ever imagined, he saw that now on her face and hated himself for it.
“So what were you and George working on?” he asked, having had about as much of the previous topic as he could handle. Not that he was eager to bring up the man who had “tried” to be her boyfriend.
“You know I can’t tell you.”
“Developing some new biological weapon for arctic warfare?”
She turned the meat. “Hardly. Small-time lab testing.”
He took off his parka to let the clothes dry underneath, took their lunch from her so she could do the same and kicked off his boots. They sat in silence for a while, ate when the steaks were ready.
Moose meat was rich and dark, and they were both happy for it, a welcome change from the canned food they’d brought from the cabin.
Tessa picked up her head.
He looked toward the woods. The wolves were pacing around but keeping their distance. He scanned the sky as he heard the rotors of a chopper.
“Lie down.”
She did so without a moment of hesitation, without asking questions, an instinct they’d both developed during their Special Forces training when their lives had often depended on each other.
He pulled the tent from its carrying case and covered her with it, shoved in her mukluks, her snowshoes. He pulled on his parka, and by the time the chopper came over the tree line, he looked like any lone native hunter, enjoying the spoils of his kill.
He was acutely aware of several things at once: the chopper’s hesitation, the rifle within arm’s reach, the distance to the woods. He looked up and offered a friendly wave. They were far enough away not to be able to see his face.
The helicopter circled once then moved on.
“You can come out,” he said when it was safe.
“Do you think they recognized you?” She pushed back the tent canvas.
He shook his head. “I have a different parka on and I’m alone. They’re looking for a man and a woman.”
She folded up the tent and put it away. “We should go. We have less than three hours before nightfall.”
He got up and warmed his hands by the fire one last time before sliding them back into his gloves. After she’d done the same, he kicked snow over the flames.
They moved out briskly. He carried the backpack while she handled the tent—and had gotten about a hundred feet before the wolf pack took over the kill. He turned back at the sound of snapping teeth and growling, the pack leader establishing order. Blood splashed onto the snow, innards dragged between two animals that were playing tug-of-war. “That should keep them for a while,” he said as he turned back to walking.
“Hopefully by the time they get hungry again we’ll have passed out of their territory.” Tessa walked next to him, and even through the parka, he could see the shiver that ran through her body. Her face was set with determination, but he saw the aversion and twinge of fear in her eyes.
The wolves bothered her more than she let on. He would protect her with his life; she had to know that. But being the mule-headed queen of independence, Miss I-don’t-need-anyone, she would bloody consider it an insult if he reminded her. Women were a troublesome bunch on the whole. It figured that he had to go and fall for the most stubborn of them all. Penance for his misguided youth and other multitude of sins, no doubt.
She picked up speed and he pushed harder to keep up. Wolves and helicopters aside, they still had over a hundred miles to go before they reached Nome and no time to waste in getting there.
THE WIND HOWLED, but they were comfortable enough inside the small tent, snow piled high outside for insulation. Amazing the difference a single candle could make in a well-made tent. Its light was a big improvement to sitting in the dark, and it gave just enough warmth to take the bite out of the cold.
Between the flickering flame and their own body heat, they were comfortable enough to sleep. Not that she could. Tessa turned her head and found Mike watching. His cinnamon eyes looked black in the semidarkness, the strong line of his jaw covered by rough stubble, a major weakness of hers. The soft prickle on her skin as he would tease her by rubbing his face over her neck, her inner thighs, her secret sensitive spots, used to drive her crazy. It was as if each hair connected with one of her nerve endings and sent electricity zinging through her body.
She looked away. All she needed was for him to pick up on her fantasizing about him. There’d be no living with the man.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and she brought her head up sharply. “About everything.”
Sorry? Mike McNair had made a virtue of never being sorry about anything. It was his main philosophy that life was meant to be lived instead of analyzed and felt guilty over.
He had changed after all.
“It’s okay,” she said, and took a deep breath. It was okay, wasn’t it? They were teammates again, almost friends. They had a military objective, which they would have to achieve. They had to find a way to work together.
“Okay?” He raised a dark eyebrow and came up on his elbow.
The tent really was small. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep their bodies from touching. She watched his head lower as if it was happening to somebody else. His lips, warm and soft, brushed over hers and left them tingling.
Not that okay, she wanted to say, but before she could, he leaned in and nuzzled the crook of her neck, gently scraping the beginning of his beard over the second most erogenous spot on her body. Heat and need flooded her in an instant, and she cursed him for knowing her so well yet shivered in delight as he kept up the small rubbing movements.
He did not fight fair, she thought in a haze as moisture gathered between her thighs. Every cell of her body remembered him and welcomed him back, singing the Hallelujah Chorus. He knew exactly what drove her crazy and he was merciless in his pursuit of her capitulation. He went for her weakness and exploited it to full measure.
A soft sound escaped her throat, and he had the gall to chuckle against her heated skin. Then he dragged his lips back to hers and took them fully this time.
&n
bsp; A second of pleasure. It was no great sin, was it? Not when it might be the last they had with weapons smugglers waiting for them ahead and wolves and the CIA searching to take them down. Just one unreasonable moment of bliss. If there was a reason why she should deny herself that, it escaped her now.
She sank into the feel of him, floating on an invisible tide. If she had had any questions over the years whether the blinding heat between them had been just an exaggeration of her memory, she had her answer now. It was there, all there, in its full power as if not a day had passed since they’d lain in each other’s arms exhausted from passion.
There had never been another man like him for her, and damn his hide, she was pretty sure there never would be again.
She drank in his familiar taste, his familiar scent coming home to her nostrils, invading her body as his presence was invading her thoughts and his tongue was doing its best to invade her own. She was sure that’s what it was to him, too. No more—an invasion. Mike McNair liked to conquer. He’d had quite a reputation when she’d met him. And, like a fool, she’d believed that all had changed when they’d fallen in love. If he’d ever loved her at all.
The pain of it, the shame of her humiliation burned her eyes as she pushed him away. “No.” She passed the single word through her sensitized lips.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
It irritated her to see that he truly was, and that he was as shaken by the kiss as she. She reached to gather the old anger, but it slipped from her fingers. “How long are we going to torture each other like this?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head as if to shake off some spell. “I don’t think I can let you go.”
Irritation filled her again. She liked the feeling; it helped her resistance. “You had no trouble letting me go for the past three years.”
Silence stretched between them.
“At the beginning, I was sure you would come back. I was mad at you for jumping to conclusions, hurt that you didn’t trust me. I was too damn proud to go begging after someone when I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
She could see the truth of it in his eyes. Damn. Had she been so stupid?
“All the stories about you, I’d heard dozens like that.” She offered her feeble excuse.
“Not after we met.” He shook his head. “If you’d listened…”
No, she hadn’t been in a receptive state. She’d gone to him to chew him out in the first place, to yell and rage at him for carrying her out of the swamp and ending her SF career before it started. The tramps at the hotel had pushed her over the edge. There was no coming back after that, no seeing reason.
She’d been one of five women, provisional trainees, allowed in the Special Forces training because of their outstanding record in the army. The gender-requirement policy set by Congress and the secretary of defense in 1994 excluded women from combat billets in the military. There were no women in SF nor were there any female SEALs.
After 9/11, however, it became clear that the country needed these special military groups more than ever. There had been some support for inclusion of women as a way to increase numbers, and a provisional program was started by Special Forces and kept quiet. It was little more than a test. There had been no promises for inclusion even if the five women allowed into training passed the rigorous requirements. The powers that be just wanted to know if it could be done.
It couldn’t. One of the female recruits had gotten injured two months into training and had to drop out. Another left soon after, unable to stand up to the psychological strain. One got kicked out for fraternizing with a superior officer. One failed the explosives exam. Tessa had lasted the longest.
She hated to fail, and in this case it felt like she’d failed not only herself but her gender.
She’d been so stupid. She should never have trusted Mike. To carry on a clandestine relationship with him had been insane enough, considering that kind of thing was strictly forbidden. And with reason. When he’d seen her in the swamp he’d been too attached, too emotional. Two other trainees had gone by her by then. Both had understood that she did not want their help. Neither had forced it on her. Mike, however, had not taken no for an answer.
Failing the training half broke her. Walking in on Mike’s betrayal in that hotel room, after she’d gotten out of the hospital, had finished the job.
He was watching her closely now. “If I could undo that day, I would, believe me. I hadn’t realized what a big deal that was to you. To me it was a misunderstanding. I figured I would explain and we’d make jokes about Shorty’s sexual appetites. I never for a moment thought you’d up and leave.”
“You could have come after me,” she said, unwilling to fully accept blame.
“I was sure you’d come back. I was an idiot. By the time I figured out you were gone for good, I was out of the country on a mission. When I came back, you were deployed.”
“There were other things that didn’t work between us. The drinking scared me, too.”
He looked surprised for a moment, then the expression slid off his face. “Because of your father?”
She nodded.
“We weren’t alcoholics for heaven’s sake. We had some good times. We drank. That’s what guys do when they’re on leave. We were just a bunch of dumb-asses trying to outdo each other in whatever ways we could.”
He was right. She knew he was. She didn’t want to talk anymore about it, saw no sense in dredging up the past. She said nothing.
“How can you pretend it’s over? You can’t tell me you don’t feel something. Some of what we had is still there.”
Yes. Her body still hummed with the power of his kiss. “It’s not enough,” she said.
“I’m not giving up.” Determination filled his eyes.
“Fair warning.” She nodded. “But this time I’m not giving in.”
He blew out the candle, and she could hear the sleeping bags rustle as he lay on his back. “You drive me crazy.”
“See?” She seized on his words. “It shouldn’t be like that. When a relationship is meant to be, it should be—” she searched for the right words.
“Nice and easy?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a hair-color brand.” She rolled her eyes in the darkness. “But easier, yes.”
“Why?” He wouldn’t let it go. “What’s wrong with difficult, as long as it’s worth fighting for?”
“You can talk your way out of anything.” She huffed, frustrated.
“It’s just one of my many special skills,” he said in a suggestive tone.
“And you never can stay serious long enough.” But she couldn’t help a smile.
God, she had missed him.
“How is Grandpa Fergus?”
He didn’t respond at first. “Doing good now.”
“Now?”
“He had some trouble with cancer, but he beat it. We all knew he would. He’s way too stubborn to admit defeat.”
“Jeez, who does that remind me of?” she joked, but the news shook her, although she’d only met the old man once. He was a real character, that one.
Mike used to entertain her with his grandfather’s outrageous highland tales during the endless hours of guard duty they’d pulled together.
Snow fell on the tent above them, the crystals frozen enough to make a sound.
They listened to that and the wind. Her mind ran through the past as Mike lay still next to her. He was probably mulling over whatever X-rated thoughts he usually entertained himself with at bedtime.
“My back is hanging out of the cover,” he said after a while, justifying her suspicions.
“You just want to get closer.”
“If I get sick, I’m not going to be much help to you. If you have no pity in your heart for me, at least consider the importance of our mission.”
The man would not quit. Might as well give him a snuggle if he was willing to be content with it. God knew, she had little resistance should he set his mind to something m
ore.
“Come closer, then,” she said.
He did, snug against her back, his heat immediately spreading through her body. “Brings back some memories, doesn’t it?” he whispered near her ear, his hot breath playing with her hair.
A quick succession of pictures flashed into her mind of the last time they had made love. He’d made her want him until she’d lost all thought of caution. He’d been gentle and sweet, humming with barely restrained passion as he made sure she was ready, touching her body with awe and reverence that had turned her to mush inside.
“I prefer not to dwell on the past,” she said, and ignored her body, which demanded a return trip to the happy place.
Heat spread between her thighs as she remembered him parting them, the way she’d caught her breath as he’d settled over her. They’d had to be quiet. There were men sleeping in tents all around them, two to a tent. She’d reached up to link her fingers together behind his head and pulled him down for a kiss. He swallowed her moan when he entered her. He’d been infuriatingly slow, careful not to shake the tent, not to make the slightest noise.
He’d been careful but thorough. He had made her his that night, in every way possible, and if she’d had an ounce of energy left, she would have begged for more. She hadn’t realized back then just how dangerous that was, to give herself so fully, to open herself up to so much possible pain.
She cleared her mind. “I don’t remember much. I haven’t thought about us in a long time.”
Mike ran a hand down her arm. “You know what they say. Those who can’t remember history are bound to repeat it.”
“There’ll be no repeating of anything. Period.” She willed her body to cool.
He put his arm around her and pulled her tight against him, ignoring her warning, always taking more than she was prepared to give.
“That hand better be in the exact same spot when I wake up in the morning.” She had to draw the line somewhere, show him he wasn’t fooling her one bit. “Move it an inch and lose it.”
She couldn’t let him know what a pushover she really was.