what about the jaguars and snakes and all those other things you mentioned?”
“Want me to stand guard?” he offered, to which she scowled. He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, just trying to help.”
She climbed past him, then after gazing unhappily at the rain, climbed from the plane and disappeared. He chuckled at how ridiculous girls could be about that stuff, but remained mindful of how long she was gone. He might joke, but there were serious dangers lurking in the brush.
Hope reappeared quickly and climbed back inside, her blouse sticking to her skin in all the right places as she shook the water from her hair, and groaned as she sank into the seat.
“I can’t sit in this plane for another ten hours. I’m going insane. I’m used to working fourteen-hour days with barely enough time to shove something down my throat before heading back to my lab. This is torture.”
No, that smoking hot body is torture. It would be his bad karma to be holed up with a sexy scientist. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he’d realized.
During his tours with the Air Force, J.T. had learned how to shut off his brain for long stints, taking the opportunity to doze and conserve energy, which, once you got the hang of it, was rather Zen. Or, well, it was the closest he’d ever get to a Zen state of mind, that was for sure.
“Try to relax. We can’t go anywhere, so we might as well save our energy,” he said, closing his eyes.
“It’s not in my personality to sit idle.”
“There’s always a first time for everything.”
She huffed in annoyance. “Is there nothing that creates a sense of urgency for you?”
He opened his eyes to regard her thoughtfully, then answered, “Sure. A hot meatball sub, which, I might add, is chilling in my fridge as we speak. It was supposed to be my lunch.”
“I’ll add it to my tab,” she quipped.
“You do that,” he murmured. After a moment of strained silence, he reopened his eyes and asked out of sheer curiosity, “So...I take it there’s no Mr. Doc Larsen waiting at home while you traipse around the country?”
Hope laughed awkwardly. “No, no husband at home. But if I did have a husband, he would be fully supportive of my work and my need to traipse about the country, as you put it. Most evolved men are supportive of their wives’ career goals. Please don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who think women should be in the kitchen.”
“Of course not. I support women picking up the tab at dinner. More power to them. Better for my cash flow, too.”
She made a face. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
“Oh, you mean you still want the guy to pick up the tab for dinner, but heaven help a man who holds a door open for you, right?”
“That’s ridiculous. There’s a difference between chivalry and being a male chauvinist.”
“Look, I’m all for equality for men and women. Some of the best pilots I flew with were women. I’m just saying, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying certain traditional gender roles. Such as...a woman cooking a nice meal for her man. You know what they say—the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
“Then I’m out of luck. I can’t cook to save my life.”
“No?”
“Not a thing. I mean, I can heat up TV dinners, but for the most part I eat at the office cafeteria. They make a mean mac and cheese. It almost tastes like real cheese.”
He grimaced. “That sounds disgusting.”
She shrugged. “Food is fuel.”
“No, food is more than fuel. Good food is like an orgasm for your mouth.”
Hope gasped and blushed, immediately flustered. “Well, I don’t look at it that way. Besides, I don’t have time for...orgasmic food experiences.”
J.T. liked seeing Hope blush. The sudden pinkening of her cheeks softened her face and made him think of other things that might make her blush.
He sighed dramatically. “That’s a pity. You’re missing out.” And he left it at that with a slightly crooked grin.
The rain lightened to a steady drizzle as night fell. The jungle sounds seemed to amplify, and a sudden howling and screeching nearly startled Hope out of her chair.
“Probably howler monkey,” he supplied to calm her nerves. “Harmless, but loud.” But to be on the safe side, J.T. pulled in the water canister, closed the pocket door and latched it for the evening.
He took a swig and offered Hope the canister, which she accepted. After they’d drunk about half, he screwed the top back on and placed it in a safe spot, away from their feet, then closed his eyes.
“Are you going to sleep?” she asked.
“Sounded like a good idea.”
“Okay.”
He shot a quick glance at Hope as she tried to get comfortable in the leather chair. The plane wasn’t in bad shape considering it’d dropped out of the sky and skidded to a stop on the jungle floor. They were lucky the cabin hadn’t been ripped to pieces.
Again, there was that luck factor.
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a bitch.”
“That sounds promising,” she grumbled.
He smiled grimly and closed his eyes.
Darling, you have no idea.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Hope awoke ravenous with a full to bursting bladder. She maneuvered around J.T., who was still sleeping, mouth open slightly and gently snoring, to relieve herself and prayed fervently as she squatted that a snake would not think her derriere was a good place to sink its fangs.
Finished, she returned to the plane to find J.T. doing the same, only he hadn’t felt the need to hide behind a tree.
She shouldn’t stare.
But J.T. had the kind of body that females noticed—even if they were doing their best to ignore every muscled inch.
Hand bracing himself against the plane, pants slung low on his hips, he groaned with relief as he pissed on the ground.
Hope had just enough time to whirl around before J.T. turned and saw her gawking at his body.
“Oh, hey, sorry, I thought I could finish before you returned.” He zipped and said, “All clear. No worries about seeing anything that might frighten you. I remember what you said about snakes.”
Hope turned and faked a smile at his joke. “Very funny. As long as your snake doesn’t bite, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
J.T.
