Prue felt something.
Something that had made her feel good. Better. Cooler. Was the A/C on in her room? She opened one eyelid-to see she was nowhere near her room or any form of A/C.
A makeshift tent, attached to the vicious cacti on both sides, shielded her from sun. The pain in her shoulder was tolerable, and she actually wasn't as dusty and dirty feeling as she'd remembered. At least not on her face. She ran a finger across her cheek. Wow. Yep. Cleaner.
Then she looked past the lean-to to see him.
Slick knelt several feet away tending to a fire.
She pushed up on her elbows, then quickly fell back in a bout of dizziness. “Drat.” She'd said it softly, but Slick swung around as if she'd yelled across the desert. And he was next to her before she could blink. Wow. PJs sure gave good service.
"Hey.” He pushed her hair back again.
Gulp. “Hey,” she managed while he pulled a canteen out of his bag and held it to her lips. This time she drank the water without question. Even from a canteen, it tasted delicious. She swallowed, then pulled back and wiped her hand across her lips. “Yum."
It dawned on her that she must look like crap. But, his eyes still held something interesting when he looked at her. Something that made her insides quiver. And why was it that she even cared how she looked? Normally not a vain person, she found herself pushing back her hair at the same time Slick did-and their fingers touched.
Oh… my.
"You cleaned my face off,” came out before she could think of how stupid that actually sounded. “Thanks."
He smiled.
"I… when is the helicopter coming back?” She almost didn't care. She almost didn't want it to come back too soon. She almost forgot it was Christmas day and now she was stranded in the New Mexico desert with one hunk of a hunky PJ-and she wanted these few minutes to last.
Snowy, white New England Christmases seemed a thing of the past.
She looked up at him, pushed up on her elbows, and with his help, managed to sit. “Thank you.” It came out softer than she'd planned. Quieter than she'd expected, and sounding almost sensual without her planning it.
Slick moved closer and supported her back. “It's my job."
When he'd said it, her heart had sunk and her face must have shown the disappointment.
He chuckled. “A job I love and risk my life for nearly every day. I've done tours in the Middle East and survived-thank goodness. But, Prue, when the call came in last night that a nurse was in a helo accident and stranded in the desert-I instinctively knew it was you.” He touched her forehead this time and ran his finger down her cheek. Wow.
She wanted to ask, “How?” but then remembered she'd told him she was on-call. Deep inside she really wanted to know that he volunteered because he felt something too. Something like the shivers she felt right about now despite the desert sun.
"Thank you again,” came out instead. And her hand touched his as his finger lingered on her face.
What pleased her most was that he didn't pull away. Maybe this Christmas wasn't going to be so bad after all.
Chapter Six
"Okay, Captain. We need to get you out of this place. The chopper will come back as soon as it can."
Please at least give us today, she thought not sure if she was more shocked at herself for not wanting to get to the ER and a long, hot shower, or if the shock came from thinking things… those kinds of things… about Slick.
Slick. “What's your name?” she whispered.
He turned with a look of surprise. “Oh, yeah, Captain. Believe it or not, ‘Slick’ isn't on my birth certificate."
"Is that so?” She chuckled. “And what is?"
"Kodyn. Kodyn Lang. My friends, and by friends I mean you, too, call me Kody."
"Kody,” she said. “Nice.” Her mouth dried. “Could I… water-"
Before she could finish, he was up in a flash and held the canteen out to her. “Go slow. Don't want you puking up anything after the morphine.” Then he smiled at her. “Okay. Okay. I know you're a nurse and know all that stuff, but it's ingrained in my medic mind, too. And sorry for the term ‘puking.’”
She laughed and winced at the same time.
"Need another shot?"
She did. But instead she said, “No,” because there was no way she wanted to lose her faculties and miss out on this very different Christmas-pain or not. From the day she'd met Slick, or rather Kody, there was that cliched chemistry, yet she'd always tried to ignore it and tell herself he annoyed her.
After all, he was jock material, and she'd had her fill of jocks in high school and college-and the relationships never worked out. Never worked out for her, thus her career goal of the military.
Then there was Daddy. The jock of all jocks and he treated their mother like some prized possession until she decided she needed a life of her own. It was then Prue and her brother started calling themselves “orphans” when their family, as it was, crumbled. And she'd vowed then, she'd never date anyone like her father. Ever.
She looked up at Kody. Darn, he even had the same dark hair, although Daddy's eyes were a pale green while Kody's were that fab blue. Oh so very blue. The kind of eyes one lost themselves in-as she was doing right now.
Great.
Kody lifted some medical stuff out of his bag. “Let me do a once over on you again."
Again? Obviously he must have done a complete assessment of her medical condition last night. “I'm fine. Really.” For a second, she thought, how sweet. He must care. Then she told herself how nutty a thought that was. He was a PJ. A medic for crying out loud. He'd treat any victim the same. “Really. Fine."
He merely had to look at her for her to say, “Okay. You're the boss-at the moment."
He laughed and aimed a penlight into her eyes to check her pupils. “Active and reactive to light, Captain."
"So, am I going to make it?” She smiled.
He leaned near. “If I have anything to do with it."
Without a thought, at least without a realistic, conscious thought, she lifted her good arm and ran her finger across his face and down to his lips where she gently, slowly let her finger remain. But only for a second because before she could speak or pull back, Kody kissed the tip-and Prue nearly melted into a dusty puddle.
"Oh. Sorry.” She pulled back. “I don't know what I was-"
Now his finger was on her lips, silencing her stammering.
Thank you, God.
"Don't think, Captain. Just go for it."
Oh… my… God!
Did he mean go for a kiss? Could she really? Was this the right place and right time? Was she nuts? Was she crazy? Was she suffering some mental condition brought on by her accident? Could post-traumatic syndrome start when you just got into a situation like this?
She should be thinking about the five basic needs of survival now. Personal protection like shelter and fire. Medical condition. Sustenance. Travel. And signal and recovery.
But she was having lusty thoughts about her rescuer. That had to be some syndrome like the Stockholm syndrome even though Slick, as she called him in her head still, hadn't abducted her.
Only her heart.
Yet she felt so safe, so secure, with him here. With a mental slap to herself, Prue pushed up all the way and stood, albeit on shaky legs.
Slick grabbed her. “Whoa girl. What are you doing?"
"I… I.” Good question. She had no good answer let alone any answer. I need to get away from you was her reason, but she said, “I need to walk. Cramps."
Oh crap. First thing she thought of was “female” cramps and felt her skin burn hotter than the desert sun. “Um. Muscle cramps. My legs."
"Walk where? You can't go traipsing around the desert in this kind of weather. Dust devils are exceedingly dangerous and for some reason, prolific these last few days. Some kind of weather phenomenon."