That'd been the hardest part of her job. Covering the ER after a crash. With a shudder despite the heat, she plowed forward and made it to the door of the commissary with record speed-and sweat. Whoever said sweat evaporated because of the dry heat probably never lived in New Mexico. Sure it did in some fashion, but whenever she went for her daily jog, after she stopped, her Yankee blood cooled itself with the grossness of soaked clothing.
Now, combined with the dust, she was certainly a sight for sore eyes as her mother used to say. But this time it was true. Cold, damp, and dirty. Hopefully she wouldn't run into the Witch Colonel or one of her patients, which could cause her to lose a lot of credibility where her nursing skills were concerned with these looks.
And right now, the dampness was pretty damn uncomfortable when the automatic door opened and a wave of cold struck her. But what was worse-make that who was worse-stood behind her, his reflection clearly visible in the glass doors.
"Crap!"
Chapter Two
"Hmm. I see someone's working on their fantastic body despite the dust devil warnings tonight."
Oh, Lord. Prue swung around to chest level with Slick, still wearing his camouflage uniform, including the much-earned cranberry beret of the PJs. She'd never heard about the dust devil warnings for tonight but they were pretty unpredictable at times anyway. Then again, weather reports weren't as much a part of a nurse's duties as they were a paratrooper's. Patients came in rain, sleet, snow, or dust.
She took a step back. Then another. Not that she cared about her personal space all that much, but the guy was annoying and she needed her Lady Right Guard. No, she needed a hose-down like one of the cargo planes with about as much water as it took to clean those babies. With a quick look to prevent herself from staring-after all, Slick was a looker-she stepped back once again. Cocky as hell, but nevertheless, with dark black hair, Newman blue eyes and teeth she convinced herself were Da Vinci porcelain because no one was born with such a perfect smile, he was a damn looker.
And if nothing else, Prue had learned to look and not touch in the many fights she'd had over taking her brother's toys as a kid. “Ha. Good one and goodnight.” She swung around, but his hand caught her arm. While she turned, or maybe he turned her, she found herself staring into those Newman's.
Drat.
"Let go, Slick, or I'll deck you."
His laugh vibrated in the doorway of the commissary. It vibrated inside her too. Eek. She had to get out of here sans chocolate and beer. And what made her think, not to mention say, she could deck him?
She looked down at her watch. “Oops. Time to go. Duty calls.” Then realized she wasn't wearing one. When she eased free and looked up, his freaking, hypnotic grin made her nearly crumble.
And Prudence Hamlin was not a crumbling kind of gal. She'd been first in her nursing school class-and why not since she worked her rear-end off-aced all the officer's training classes, and was a heck of a nurse if she had to say so herself. After all, most of her patients always lived.
Yet, she was crumbling.
"Duty? At this time of night? I thought you worked the first shift?” He leaned closer as if he knew it would get to her.
It got to her.
She stumbled over her words-and that was in her head. Lord knows how they'd come out of her dust-encrusted lips. So, she took a long slow breath, watched his gaze travel down to her chest as it lifted in and out and the blasted gaze hung there a bit too long.
Yet, she didn't budge.
Crap again.
"I have to go, Slick. Really. I'm on call for ambulance and helicopter runs."
The helo word didn't seem to faze him. Of course someone who jumped out of planes and helos for a living wouldn't have a reaction to that other than maybe, “Hot damn!"
Well it wasn't hot anything for her.
He still held her. Funny, she thought she'd pulled free. Hmm.
"I'm sure you came here for something. Let me help you since you've been ‘dusted’ tonight."
It sounded sexy. Dusted. The way it rolled off his tongue. Tongue? Wow again. She'd been covered in something akin to dirt yet grittier, and he'd made it sound sexy as if she were one of those nude models whose clothes were painted on. Oh, boy. “I… chocolate and beer. Coors. Not the light stuff,” came rolling off her tongue as if she had a mental shopping list.
He looked at her. “Yum."
"Only the chocolate is for me."
One of his oh so very dark eyebrows raised. He probably thinks the beer is for a guy. Despite his running into her so often around the base, he never asked if she was dating anyone. And why would he? He wouldn't. Didn't care. He was just the typical PJ busting her-teasing her.
She'd let him think that.
"Milk or dark?” he asked, with a gentle hold on her arm.
Had he taken her down the candy aisle while still making contact and was her arm so numb from shock she couldn't feel it?
Pull yourself together, she ordered in her head, yet being the most ‘non-military’ captain in the Air Force, one who never gave a direct order to the airmen, but merely asked them to do things and they did, she had to mentally laugh at that one.
But, she did pull herself together, and peeled his fingers from her arm. Or at least that was how it felt because she wasn't going to allow herself the thought that it actually felt like little shocks when she came in contact with his skin. His fingers. Parts of his body.
"Good Lord."
"Excuse me?"
"Hmm?” Crap. She'd said that out loud. “Look, I really have to go to bed… er… get some bed… some sleep. Get some sleep since I'm on call. Bye."
When she spun around to make a hasty exit, something metal hit her arm and she turned to see a shelf taking a dive-a shelf she'd bumped.
All over their feet were green leaves with white berries.
Mistletoe.
He stood there grinning.
She started to pick them up, dropped each one like a rattler from the desert, and decided to melt into a Wicked Witch puddle at Slick's feet. So there, Colonel Queen of the Witches. Well, it seemed as if she were in a puddle since his six feet plus towered above her five three-okay, that was pushing it a bit.
With the cockiest of grins, he looked down and merely said, “According to the druids, mistletoe was traditionally considered to be the essence of the gods."
Gulp.
Chapter Three
Essence of the gods. Essence. Oh, Lord. Prue shut her eyes so tightly, they hurt, but how else could she get any sleep? It wasn't bad enough that she had one ear to the phone to wait to be called out on a run, but now each time she closed her eyelids, Slick appeared as if in a movie, mouthing the words, “Essence of the gods. Essence of the…"
Drat!
She grabbed her pillow, stuck it over her head and after a few minutes attempting to fall asleep with her eyes open, she gave up. Turning to look at the bedside clock, which she'd forbidden herself to look at fifteen times earlier, she looked.
0245 hours. Two forty-five am.
Three hours left to get some sleep before the alarm from hell sounded, and she had to get up to work the day shift. Okay, this was going to end. How foolish to be thinking of Slick, essence, white berries, or the phone ringing.
When she tossed to the other side of the bed for the gazillionth time, she saw the candy bar on the dresser. Shamed into buying it so as not to embarrass herself any further in front of Slick at the store, she'd decided not to eat it lest it keep her awake.