Code Name: Blondie. Christina Skye
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Название: Code Name: Blondie
Автор: Christina Skye
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Her hand rose involuntarily, almost as if to soothe and comfort. The sight made Max’s stomach clench. When had a woman last touched him to comfort rather than in the heat of sex?
He cleared his throat, annoyed at the sharp image of her fingers tracing all his scars while her soft mouth offered whispers of praise and desire.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Her brow wrinkled. “Do they hurt—your scars, I mean?”
“No, they don’t hurt. They haven’t hurt for months.” He was angrier than he should have been. “Forget about it.”
“I can see how you’d be sensitive about them. I’m sorry.”
“Look, I’m not—hell, forget it.” Max jammed a hand through his hair. “They’re ancient history.”
He saw her eyes linger on his stomach and he realized there was appreciation, not distaste in her glance. Instantly his body hardened in an erection.
Talk about rotten timing, he thought irritably. Silent and controlled, he pulled a syringe from a sealed packet of the medical kit. Ryker had told him the high potency stimulant was strictly for emergencies. Max figured this fit the definition.
Kneeling beside Miki, he brushed aside the fur at Truman’s chest and broke the seal off the packet.
“Is that adrenaline? Do you think it’s his heart?” Miki’s voice was tight with concern. The name suited her, Max thought. Restless and quirky. Unusual.
Not that any of that mattered to him.
“Try to hold him. He can be very strong, I warn you.”
“Just do it,” she said tensely. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, honey?” She stroked the dog’s silky head.
Truman lay limp and cold. Max could no longer feel a pulse. He found the carotid artery and injected the stimulant. If this didn’t work, he could do CPR—even a cardiac thump, part of his advanced field training. But beyond that…
He forced away the thought. He’d never left a man behind in battle and he damned well wasn’t going to lose Truman. The injection done, he smoothed the Lab’s fur, checking for a pulse.
Nothing.
Miki watched his face, her fingers smoothing the Lab’s soft hair. Their shared worry tightened, a thread of emotion that built until it stretched between them, deep and tangible. Max could almost feel her anxious breath, the brush of her thigh, even though they weren’t touching.
Suddenly Truman wheezed. His tail banged Max’s leg weakly. With a sharp surge of relief, Max saw the dog’s eyes open. The Lab twitched hard, looked up at Miki, then lapped her face with his wet tongue.
Most women would have gasped and squirmed away. But this woman laughed in pure exuberance, brushing Truman’s nose with hers and ruffling the dog’s fur. “About time you came around, big guy. Come on, give Aunt Miki a kiss.”
Limp but eager, Truman burrowed closer against her chest, his nose shoved under her shirt directly atop her breast.
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