By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс

Чтение книги онлайн.

       3

      CHASE REGRETTED THE WORDS the instant they left his mouth. Their driver gave a snort of laughter which he quickly hid behind a sudden coughing fit after Chase sent him a quelling look. But it was the stricken expression on Kate Fitzgerald’s face that made him wish he’d kept his mouth shut. That, and the fact that a part of him recognized that given a different set of circumstances, she was the kind of woman he’d give his left nut to sleep with.

      He wished like hell that she wasn’t so damned pretty. The instant he’d spotted her standing in the long line of uniformed soldiers, he’d felt as if someone had kicked him in the solar plexus.

      He’d been in Afghanistan for six months, and he’d spent most of that time in the stark, forbidding mountains of the Kala Gush region, living and sleeping outside and enduring the harshest of conditions. Seeing Kate Fitzgerald had been an unexpected and potent reminder of everything he’d left behind, and for just an instant, his heart had ached with longing.

      He’d had a tough time catching his breath and had to mentally shake himself in order to stop staring at her. She stuck out like an exotic bloom among a bed of weeds in her jewel-colored shirt, and the bright sun picked out the deep red lights in her silky dark hair. Without the heavy cardigan she’d worn in the photo, he could see she definitely had curves. Nice curves. Curves that begged to be touched. And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Every guy within fifty yards had been eyeballing her and he couldn’t blame them. She looked good enough to eat.

      Then she’d turned and looked at him.

      He’d expected her to have blue or even green eyes, but hers were coffee-brown fringed with dark lashes. As he’d drawn closer, he saw the splattering of freckles across her face, as if someone had flung flecks of gold paint at her. And her mouth … Christ, he found himself conjuring up decadent images of just what she could do with that mouth. Her lips were pillowy plump and pink and had opened on a soft “oh” of surprise when he’d called her name. She’d looked achingly feminine and completely out of place among the soldiers who surrounded her.

      Now, as he saw her reaction to his words, he felt like a complete dick. He’d hurt her feelings. Her mouth opened, and for a moment she looked at him, appalled, before she snapped her jaw shut. Chase watched as a slow flush crept up her neck.

      Why had he said that he had no intention of sleeping with her? Had it been to remind himself that she was off-limits? Or to ensure she disliked him enough that she’d want nothing to do with him? Because he knew that if she gave any indication that she found him attractive, he’d be toast. Everything about her appealed to him. He’d almost forgotten how good a woman could smell, or how smooth her skin could be. Looking at Kate, he wondered how her skin would feel under his fingertips. She had turned her face toward the window and the sunlight picked out the golden freckles on her cheeks and forehead. He wanted to trace them with a fingertip.

      “Look,” he finally said, “I’m sorry. That was a poor attempt at humor. I mean, obviously I have no intention of sleeping with you—” He broke off at her expression of disbelief, as if she was amazed he was still talking. Lord, he was making a mess of it. Biting back a curse, he scrubbed a hand across his face and turned to the driver. “Step on it, Cochran.”

      “Just so that we’re clear, Major Rawlins,” Kate said in a low voice as she sat stiffly beside him, “I’m here strictly to represent my client and ensure that everything is in order for her visit.”

      Chase nodded, feeling like an idiot. “I understand, Miss Fitzgerald.”

      She rolled her eyes. “And please stop calling me that. My name is Kate.”

      He nodded. He could have told her his first name, but that would have encouraged a familiarity he wasn’t sure he was willing to move toward. This woman lived in a world so far removed from his that it might as well be in a different galaxy. She was the personal assistant to a superstar, and even if that star was on the verge of imploding, this woman—Kate—was accustomed to a world of bright lights and privilege, where her associations ensured a luxurious and pampered lifestyle. He, on the other hand, spent weeks at a time crawling through the desert and mountains, without so much as a change of clothing or a shave, in the company of men whose specialties were the stuff of nightmares. What could they possibly have in common?

      The Humvee drew to a stop in front of a row of containerized housing units, or CHUs, which were nothing more than metal shipping containers outfitted for habitation. Since arriving at Bagram, Chase had barely had time to meet with Colonel Decker and then drop his gear off at the command headquarters before he’d had to meet Kate’s flight. He was in desperate need of a shower and a clean uniform.

      “Wait here,” he said brusquely. “I just need to grab a few things.”

      Inside the housing unit, the furnishings were Spartan. A small office took up the front part of the unit, with a desk, a chair and his computer equipment. The back part was where he slept on a narrow bed, with only a small wardrobe and a bedside table for furnishings. He didn’t even have a private latrine, but instead showered in the communal bathrooms with the rest of the troops. Since there were no other empty CHUs near his own, he’d had to improvise in finding Miss Fitzgerald a place to sleep where he could be nearby in case she needed anything. She wasn’t going to like the arrangements.

      Grabbing a clean uniform and underclothes from a shelf, he shoved them into a backpack, intending to snatch a quick shower at the first opportunity. As he straightened, he caught sight of himself in the small mirror over the dresser and nearly groaned aloud. His beard was longer than he normally allowed it to grow, and his skin was burnt to a mahogany hue. He’d lost some weight while he’d been on assignment and his face was leaner and harder than usual. He looked every inch a mercenary, and it was a wonder to him that Kate Fitzgerald felt comfortable enough to follow him anywhere.

      Returning to the Humvee, he saw she was holding a cell phone out the window, fruitlessly СКАЧАТЬ