when she asked him a question. He was still angry with her, despite the fact that he seemed to have cooled down considerably after his outburst in front of Morgan. He’d even apologized to her later as they were packing to leave the ranch. She’d stiffly accepted his apology, but she’d seen the sadness in his eyes, and had fought the tears in her own.
Ann didn’t want to hurt Mike, but she knew she had. She could barely stand herself as a result. He was a man of incredible courage, an officer and a gentleman. The kind of man she could fall in love with, if she allowed herself. That’s why going to a foreign country and being under Houston’s protection was unnerving. She would have to rely on him because she was unfamiliar with Peruvian culture. Her rational mind didn’t like being out of control like that. Ann had always relied upon herself, all her life. If she got into a scrape, she managed to get herself out—alone, without help.
Yes, she’d dreamed of Mike, of their kisses, of being with him completely. Her emotions unraveled when she was around him, and she felt needy, hungry in a way that she’d never felt before. The thought of six more weeks in his powerful and persuasive presence scared her more than bullets or bombs exploding around her.
Manipulation was something Ann despised. It brought out every conceivable dark emotion within her. But then, she’d been manipulated once, by a master similar to Houston, so why shouldn’t she be wary of him? She’d fallen for an Air Force pilot after the one love of her life had died in a plane crash. Robert Crane had said every word, given her every look and done everything she’d ever dreamed that a man might do for the woman he was falling in love with—and she’d fallen hopelessly for him. Now she knew that what she felt for Robert had not grown out of love, but out of the grief and loss of her one true love. At the time, Ann hadn’t realized that, of course.
The realization came soon after Crane had lured her into bed. Once he’d “caught” her, he’d up and left. When Ann confronted him about it a week later, he’d laughed at her and told her the awful truth: he was a hunter, she was the hunted. His quarry. She’d been prey to be taken, used and then thrown away. The humiliation and shame of that disastrous time in her life had branded her forever. Never did Ann want to be manipulated like that again. Yet somehow Houston had gotten beneath her considerable armor. It must be his South American blood, his passion for life, that had breathed hot, molten desire into her heart. Daily, she fought her feelings for him. Daily, she tried to shrug off his heated looks, his gentle teasing, and yes, those wonderful kisses that opened her up inside and made her bare her vulnerability.
Ann closed her eyes and sighed raggedly. What was Houston’s real intent? At thirty-two years old, she wasn’t stupid or naive. She’d seen the looks he’d given her. She wasn’t a young thing who didn’t recognize in his dark blue, assessing eyes the smoldering hunger of a man who wanted a woman. He wanted her. She felt his longing for her, his unqualified interest. The raw, painful truth was Ann wanted Mike as much as he wanted her. And she was too much of a coward to even try to disentangle herself from the past and reach out to him. She was simply too scarred and too scared. What little emotion she had left was deeply hidden and protected within her. She just didn’t have what it took to freely love Houston.
Sighing, Ann wrapped her arms across her chest, closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It was gloomy in the plane now, the lights very low. Most of the people around them in the first-class cabin were already asleep—except for her and Houston. Part of her just couldn’t believe that he hadn’t dropped several hints to Laura about his struggling clinic to get Ann down here in Lima with him. She knew enough about his dangerous job as an army liaison between the U.S. and Peruvian military resources to realize he had learned how to be very adroit in touchy political situations. She knew Houston had hobnobbed with the rich and powerful at fashionable dinners and society events in Lima. He was a smooth talker. Too smooth, she decided with a frown. Like Robert Crane, a little voice warned her stridently.
As an advisor and the commanding officer representing the U.S. Army, Houston had to have a lot of skills in place. He had to have the ability to employ U.S. policy and get it to jibe with Peru’s political philosophy at the same time. While working out in the field, which was obviously what he loved the most, he coordinated well-planned attacks against the cocaine lords in the jungle highlands. After a successful battle or raid, he’d work his way through the chain of command all the way up to the president of Peru, letting the government know what went down and how many millions of dollars of cocaine wouldn’t flow north as a result. Houston handled a big budget and was responsible for keeping ten helicopters flying around the clock, chopping away at the cocaine warlords’ domain.
Exhaling forcefully, Ann wondered why a man with such skills would have to manipulate her into coming down to his clinic. The thought made her open her eyes and sit up. She moved across the aisle to the empty seat next to him. Houston lifted his massive head, his dark blue gaze settling warily on hers.
“I just want to know one thing,” Ann whispered fiercely. “Why the hell didn’t you ask me, face-to-face, for my help? If you wanted me to come down here and help out, why didn’t you come to me instead of pulling strings with Laura and Morgan to maneuver me into this corner?”
She saw the hand lying on the armrest slowly flex. She studied the many scars across it and knew every one was a story in itself. The scars were like mini badges of courage in her mind. Then she saw a flinty, cold look come in to his eyes. She felt iciness around him, aimed directly at her.
“Don’t you think,” Houston growled, leaning forward and nailing her with a glare, “that I would have if I thought you might do it? Sure, the thought crossed my mind, but that was after I’d told Laura a little about the clinic.”
Ann gripped the seat, her fingers digging into the fabric. “You’re saying you’re innocent?” She tried to contain the hysteria she was feeling. Mike was so close, so very, very male, and her heart cried out for him, for his embrace. She hated herself for attacking him. He looked completely stunned by the force of her verbal assault. Once again she was hurting him. But she had to protect herself from Mike somehow, keep him from melting her down, little by little. Especially now that they would be working together at the clinic. He’d broken her resistance at the ranch. He would do so again down there, and Ann felt trapped and desperate. She just couldn’t give in to her heart. If she did… No, it was too scary to even contemplate.
“For once,” Houston rasped, “I am innocent.” Reeling from her unexpected attack, he felt his anger explode. “Don’t you think I know you don’t trust me? You’ve made that pretty damn obvious, Ann.” He set his empty glass down on the table in front of him and leaned slowly toward her, his eyes becoming slits. “Have you ever asked yourself why in the hell I would want to drag someone unwilling down to Lima and spend six weeks with her? That’s kinda like throwing two male jaguars into the same pen. You sure as hell know they’re territorial—that a male jaguar won’t put up with another being in his territory. And they’re sure as hell gonna fight each other to the death because each one can’t stand the fact that the other is invading his turf.”
He exhaled and growled, “One thing I’m not, Ann, is a victim. If you think for one second that I’m looking forward to your sulking, pouting demeanor while I’m working with those two little nuns, whom I love like grandmothers, you’re very mistaken. As far as I’m concerned, you can get off this plane at the airport, execute an about face and climb right back on for a return flight to the States.”
Stung, Ann glared at him, her heart beating hard in her breast. She saw the raw hurt in Mike’s eyes, heard it in the rasp of his voice. Oh, why was she doing this? It was as if all the desperation she felt was being fueled by her underlying fear and turning her into this woman she’d never met before. Helpless to stop her response to him, she whispered harshly, “You’re very good at twisting words, Major. But then, that’s your job, isn’t it? Get the dishonest politicians to play ball with you, fund you and your men, your activities. Cross
