She shook off the prickly sensation. "Of course. What about the fact that we're married?"
"What about it?" He fished into his survival vest and pulled out a water bottle, passing it to her.
She sipped to clear her throat more than to rehydrate her weary body. "Do you want to dissolve the marriage?"
"We may have slept together, but we never consummated the vows."
"Oh. Of course." She recapped the bottle, wondering why she was pushing this now when they had days, weeks, a lifetime to sort through the mess they'd made. "You only married me because you had to."
"I think you've got that backward."
She passed the bottle to him. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for the way I played with your heart."
"I said you brought me to my knees, but I never said I had a heart for anyone to play with." Hooking an arm back under Lucia's bottom, he used his free hand to tip the bottle and drink, his throat moving. His mouth placed right where hers had been seemed somehow intimate, even though it surely had more to do with survival than sex.
"What a clean shot at my presumptuous ego, Lucas. I was young and silly, totally caught up in the romanticism of everything. I should have been more up-front with you about—"
"Sara." He swiped his wrist over his mouth to dry a trickling drop of water.
"What?"
He tapped her shoulder with the bottle they'd shared. "We were both so hot for each other, neither of us was particularly concerned with talking."
"We certainly were." She could see her desire echoed in his eyes, the urge to kiss, connect again. "We still are."
"You're right."
"But we shouldn't do anything about it."
"Right again."
"We have so much more to talk about." Was that her voice going all breathy? "Things to settle, become reacquainted. We moved too fast before."
Dios, had she just admitted that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to try again? Exhaustion must be running deeper than she'd thought for her to make such a foolish confession.
She straightened. "Thank you for the break. I'm ready to go."
So much for being a more levelheaded woman, because any further encouragement and she would throw herself at Lucas all over again.
Something was wrong with Sara.
Lucas couldn't avoid the obvious any longer.
She'd almost drifted off to sleep walking. He'd stopped early for the night by a waterfall, and she had gone to sleep sitting up, halfway through brushing her teeth. She looked so damn cute with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.
He'd tugged the toothbrush out and gently lowered her onto her side. Luckily, two bananas later, Lucia curled up against her mother, content to rest quietly rather than talk to him.
Fair enough. He had plenty to do setting up camp— which gave him more time to think and worry about Sara.
A trek through the jungle was tiring, no question, but her exhaustion went beyond that. His job as a commander honed his instincts in watching others for signs of nearing the end of their reserves.
She'd been a dynamo of energy before. Not just in the bedroom, but she'd loved to dance at embassy functions until the band shut down. Or after working late into the evening, corral him into a midnight meal in downtown Cartina.
She'd mentioned a difficult pregnancy and slow recovery from her injuries. But it had been five years. An itchy sensation prickled along the back of his neck. Like a niggling thought?
Or the sense of eyes watching him.
Scanning the perimeter of their small camp, he reached for his gun strapped to his waist. Using the weapon would be a last resort since the sound would announce their location to Chavez—or worse yet, Padilla. But he didn't plan to wrestle a jaguar.