something in his eyes. He had a few contingency plans of his own, but since his life would be the only one at risk, Colonel Cullen had nothing to worry about.
Chapter 7
Drew was worried.
Clanking down the side hatch steps of the C-17 mobile command unit, he blinked back the glare of the sun and gnawing frustration. There were too many agendas running on this airfield for his comfort level. And still, even without those outside elements, he would have chosen exactly this joint team for the mission.
If only they could keep personal issues clear of the battlefield.
He would have to trust what twenty years of service hammered into him. Training assumed control of a soldier in combat. It had to.
M-16 on his shoulder weighing with welcome familiarity, Drew cleared the last step onto the heated tarmac, the gritty breeze barely broken by the smattering of palm trees. Only April and the place was already roasting like the inside of an oven. The stretch of cracked cement sizzled with activity. A few feet away, a loadmaster supervised the tie-down of food and medical supplies into a C-17 scheduled to land in a rural community. A contingent of Rangers would meet up with the IFB aid workers to disperse the rations—his men wearing different patches on their uniforms to keep their other mission covert.
Would Yasmine Halibiz notice the overabundance of troops?
God knows the woman seemed to be all over everywhere. Everywhere being right under his feet. His nose. Right in front of his eyes with that tempting smile of hers every time he turned around.
Like now.
She waited across the tarmac under a palm tree beside the empty hangar where he'd received his inoculations. Her military escort shuffled impatiently a few yards away, eyeing her, eyeing the planes. But she kept her distance from the flight line as ordered.
She wore her customary black dress, today with a yellow scarf. The tail over her shoulder fluttered like a kite in the wind.
Damned if he hadn't been anticipating finding out what ridiculous scarf she would choose from the minute he announced a chow break. And double damned if her haughty little ways and dry sense of humor weren't starting to wear him down like sand in his boots on a hundred-mile trek when there was nothing he could do.
Apparently he needed to listen to his own lecture about conflict of interest since this woman was also a sister to one of those hostages.
He marched past her.
"Colonel Cullen?"
"Good morning, ma'am." He nodded and kept right on marching.
"Colonel Cullen." She fell into step behind him, her sandals whispering faster along the asphalt while her words carried on the dry wind. "If I could just have a moment of your time. There is something we really need to discuss."
"You'll have to check with my sergeant about my schedule."
"I have noticed you are reluctant to speak with me," she said louder as the space increased between his long strides and her shorter ones. "Could it be because you are attracted to me?''
Drew stopped. Pulled an about-face. Choked on a cough and wondered if the sun was baking his brain. "Good God, woman, would you keep it down?"
Ignoring her wasn't working. But no way did he intend to have this conversation out in the open when God only knew what she might say next. He searched, found, allocated an empty hangar for a more secluded locale to stop this train wreck in the making. He gave her guard a high sign, relinquishing him from duty for a few moments.
Drew gripped Yasmine's arm and jerked her into the dim sanctuary of the abandoned hangar. "Why in the hell would you think I'm—" he longed for a LifeSaver "—attracted to you?"
She stared at him. Just stared through an extended silence broken only by a bird flapping around the webbing of metal beams overhead. In her eyes he could read the memory of him flattening her to the floor during the shooting. Before that, of her backing into him and smack-dab on the erection he'd been fighting to will away.
Damn it all, even the memory of her tight little bottom nestled against him had him throbbing back into a world of want. He'd never been more grateful for his DCUs that kept him well covered. "I thought women over here were sheltered."
"We are. That doesn't mean we are ignorant. And of course I had an American mother who wanted to be certain her daughter made—what do you call them?—informed decisions."
She hesitated, tipping her head to the side. How the hell anyone could look regal in a yellow scarf with goddamned daisies on it boggled his mind. "Well, there's no decision to be made here. You need to stop following me."
"I understand that this physical reaction of yours makes you uncomfortable around me. Of course women are lucky that when they experience such a physical reaction it is not as obvious."
Physical reaction? She couldn't be flat-out referring to his...
Shit. She was. He did not intend to stand here and discuss hard-ons with this woman. "I have work to do."