* * *
THAT BIG, HARD-MUSCLED body slipped past her and, as inappropriate as the moment was, she enjoyed the way it felt. His nearness made her very aware of his size and strength. Nervous excitement pounded through her veins. She wasn’t going to die. Simply put, Daeg Ross wouldn’t let it happen.
This wasn’t personal. Daeg did the right thing. That was his motto, wasn’t it? So Others May Live. He hadn’t come here to rescue her, per se, he’d come here to rescue whoever, she reminded herself.
Touching him suddenly seemed imperative. In a shifting sea that was a floating mess, he was all that was solid and reassuring, insisting on getting them out and to safety. She wasn’t alone anymore, and until now she hadn’t realized just how much being alone out here in the storm had bothered her.
Walking away from him on the beach had been a challenge. She hadn’t looked back, afraid just the temptation of him would draw her back. Now they were on their own in the middle of a killer storm. Way to go on keeping her distance.
To make it worse, that last kiss of theirs was burned in her memory. His lips had been gentle, yet firm, and, oh, how his mouth had moved over hers... She shook her head. This was the wrong time for these kinds of feelings, but there they were. Daeg Ross was looking more and more like her reward, despite her no-more-men vow.
Daeg was reaching behind his seat, rifling through a duffel bag. He produced a thin, medium-size packet. The bag crinkled as he tore open the plastic. Seconds later, he was fixing a Mylar blanket around her before fastening her seat belt. She welcomed the immediate warmth from the material. She hadn’t realized she’d been shivering. But he had.
“That’s the best I can do for now,” he said gruffly.
“Thank you.” Even with the Mylar, she was chilled. That came with the territory when you were soaked through. The blanket was good, but part of her wanted to reach out and hold him to her.
He gave her an inscrutable look. “Sure. No problem.”
“Right,” she said uncomfortably and started the vehicle.
“Put her in low gear and angle her in.” He pointed to a spot twenty feet in front of them. “Right there.”
She did what he’d told her to, moving out slowly. Rain pounded on the roof and washed down the windshield. The wipers were working overtime to clear the slice of glass she needed to see through, but it was still difficult to see where she was headed.
She didn’t take her eyes off the water in front of them. He didn’t have to tell her that this was different from anything she’d done before. Daeg maintained a watchful gaze ahead. If the water level reached the engine, they would be wading like her sedan.
“Keep it slow and steady,” he instructed. “Not too fast.”
The first hundred yards were straightforward. The submerged ground offered plenty of traction, despite the standing water. Before long, though, she was fighting to control the steering wheel. What had been a pleasant seaside drive the other six days of the week was now a slippery, treacherous trip straight into the ocean.
“Shift to second,” he said calmly when the Jeep shimmied.
She shifted, wondering how many times he’d done this.
“I’m glad you’re here.” That sounded lame, but she had no practice in what to say to someone who was rescuing her from a watery grave. That was fine with her, because she had no intention of repeating this day. Ever.
“Did you think we’d just leave you?” He didn’t take his eyes off the road.
The Jeep crawled through the water, the headlights carving out a path in the growing darkness. Part of her liked sitting here in this car with Daeg and nothing but the sound of the motor and the rain for company.
That was the weird part.
Because she was just one more mission to him, one more time he did what he’d been trained to do. “You’re not on active duty now,” she pointed out. “You’re not 9-1-1 for the island.”
He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “You need me, I come.” There was no mistaking the forcefulness in his voice. Or the rough concern when he spoke. “That’s how this works. You’re never out here alone.”
That brought her up short. He’d always do the right thing—what he believed was the right thing—and there was every possibility she’d get run over when he did. So getting involved with him wasn’t her smartest move, even if his kiss did leave her breathless.
“Brace.” He pointed out a darker, faster patch of water and involuntarily she squeezed the steering wheel. “We’ve got a submerged tree at two o’clock and bushes at eleven o’clock.”