He turned toward her, sweaty, streaked with soot, mud. Blood. His poster-worthy face seemed more like something that graced a dark and sad war flick.
The Colonel. The battle-hardened soldier. She should have been scared.
Instead she wanted to hug him, give him somewhere soft to sleep. But their last parting had been full of hurt. Final. She waited, watched.
He closed the last five feet between them. She held her breath. Wanted. What? Everything.
Drew hitched the flashlight high, shone the beam down on her face. His knuckles skimmed her bruised cheek. "You're sure you're all right?"
She stared up into blue eyes still full of distrust. Anger. Hurt. "Ammar slapped me around a bit to see if I knew anything about your plans. He was suspicious since I had not reported in."
"You could have told him and saved yourself a lot of pain." His fingers fell away along with the blinding beam.
She blinked to adjust. "I knew I would not have to wait long."
"I appreciate your confidence."
"Thank you. Even if you would have done the same for a ninety-year-old woman with three days left to live. Thank you."
"You're welcome," he clipped, pacing around the near-empty cell like a caged tiger with his flashlight checking every corner for...what?
She stood in the center of the room and pivoted in a circle, watching him while rubbing her chapped wrists. "I am sorry."
He righted the chair he'd kicked aside when charging to unhook her. "Uh-huh."
"Do we have to be miserable in here together?"
Drew stopped, faced her, scowled. "Sorry, but I'm not much in the mood to drop my pants and keep you occupied with more scarf play."
He retrieved his radio off the ledge and dropped to sit on the floor. Back against the wall. Facing the door with his rifle resting against the wall beside him.
Hurt slapped across her harder than Ammar's hand ever could have. Hurt over Drew's careless dismissal of what they'd shared. Over the notion she might never feel the excitement of his hands on her bare skin again. "There is no need to mock me."
"Why not? You've been making a fool out of me since day one."
She shuffled across the dusty floor to him. "Is that what you think I was doing?''
"Think?" Flashlight propped beside him, he studied the radio clasped in his hands between his bent knees. "No. It's exactly what you did."
"That was not my intention." She stemmed a torrent of emotional, defensive words that would only shut him down. She needed to be logical. This could be her last chance to talk to him.
Be reasonable. So difficult when she wanted to curl up against him and forget the fear of being questioned.
Instead she lowered herself to sit beside him. He'd used the word "fool."
Ego.
Ah, how could she have forgotten the power of the male ego? This man's ego just needed to be stroked with reason rather than her hands right now. Hopefully hands later, too. "As you said, I had security in place back at your air base. Why would I have slept with you then unless I wanted to?"
"Insurance."
"You know me better than that."
"No. I don't."
That stung. She knew this man in her soul and he called her a stranger.
Or was that ego again? Defensiveness? How ironic that the biggest, bravest of men could have the most tender hearts. Not that she would dare risk mentioning that to him.