She couldn’t imagine he would give up his watch even though he should snag a couple of hours of shut-eye.
“Uh, I’m going to put my clothes back on first, in case we need to leave quickly.” She would simply suffer through damp underwear.
She sprinted for the bathroom and slid back into her clothes, minus the panty hose and high heels. If she’d been alone, she could have slept in the camisole and tap pants…She couldn’t resist the grin that thinking of how that would surely make Hank stop in his tracks brought to her face.
“Ginger,” his voice called through the wall. “We’ve got an e-mail.”
Chapter 4
Hank jostled the weight of the BlackBerry in his hands as well as the weight of the message in his mind. Could he trust the simple text on a day when shots appeared to have come at him and Ginger from allies? Maybe even from within their own camp?
Ginger sat beside him on the edge of the bed, her fresh-washed hair damp and tousled and tempting right beneath his nose. “Do we trust the all clear to come in?”
“It’s not as if we can leave yet with the snowstorm. Once the weather does cooperate, we really don’t have a choice but to take this one cautious step at a time.”
“Basically, then, the e-mail changes nothing tonight.” Her bare toes curled into the carpet, a sexy temptation, a woman’s bare feet and a stretch of n**ed leg leading into the red skirt.
“Afraid not.” He pulled his attention back onto the BlackBerry, a much safer place to look at the moment. “We’re still captives of the weather.”
She scratched the top of one n**ed foot with the toes of her other foot. Damn, he was developing a foot fetish.
Hank rose from the edge of the bed, dimming the lights one after the other on his way. “I’ll sit over here and see what other information I can milk out of this BlackBerry. You should try to sleep while you can.”
“All right. I know it’s senseless to insist you need sleep as well.”
“I’ll rest, catch catnaps. I’m used to pulling long shifts.”
Pivoting on her heels, she snorted, mumbling something he could have sworn sounded like “pigheaded men.”
He turned away and tried not to listen to the sound of rustling sheets. Good God, how long would it take the woman to find a comfortable spot? A second before his sanity snapped, the sounds quieted.
“Good night, Hank.”
Her voice carried across the room with an unmistakable intimacy.
He cleared his throat and forced words free. “G’night, Ginger.”
He tapped keys on his BlackBerry and lucked into a solid Internet connection. At least he could do some research on the two terrorist groups that had made the death threats. Was there a significance in the date, this season of unity and hope?
Or was he chasing shadows? He’d been so certain there had been gunshots coming at them from within the protective detail. Everything had happened so quickly, he hadn’t recognized each of the faces well enough to know if the shooters were from local forces or their own. He could have sworn at least two of the people who should have been protecting Ginger had been aiming at her.
Hank kept tapping through his Internet search, fruitless though it might be, but at least he was doing something. Inaction wasn’t an option.
Especially once those sheets started rustling again. And again.
He glanced over his shoulder. Ginger thrashed in her sleep. Her feet kicked at the covers as a low moan slipped from her lips.
Hell. No question, this day was the stuff nightmares were made of.
Hank holstered his BlackBerry and shoved to his feet. Four long strides took to him to her side.
“Ginger,” he said softly, cupping her shoulder in a careful hand, not wanting to startle her awake. “Ginger, honey, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
Her eyes stayed tightly shut, another moan slipping free. Apparently the nightmare had deep talons. He knew the sort well from years of combat.
Waking her wouldn’t help. She would only remember the horrors all the more vividly. If he could soothe her back into a deep and peaceful sleep, with luck she wouldn’t remember the terror come morning.
He hadn’t been able to take her to safety yet, but he would give her a serene night’s rest. He could help her ease the tight grip of her manicured hands on the sheets. Hank couldn’t help but stare at her bare ring finger where Benjamin’s family diamond set had once rested. Now she only wore a simple band on her right hand, a ring with her children’s birthstones.