Man With A Mission. Lindsay McKenna

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Man With A Mission - Lindsay McKenna

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He sounded snarly. He felt that way.

      She smiled softly and allowed his glare to glance off her. “Yes,” she answered, shrugging the knapsack from her shoulders as she moved forward. How different Jake looked in real life! Ana felt her heart skipping beats, and she felt unreasonably elated at seeing him in person even if he didn’t want her company. Jake was dressed in tan chinos, hiking boots, a black polo shirt that outlined the massiveness of his chest and emphasized his tightly muscled arms and broad shoulders. His hair was dark brown and cut military short. There was a slight curl to it, which gave him a less rigid look. His face was square, with a stubborn, pronounced chin. His lower lip was fuller than his upper one. Most of all, she liked his thick, dark brown brows, which lay straight across his forehead, just above his glacial blue eyes.

      She sensed his uncertainty as she approached. He even tried to smile, and her heart warmed to him immediately and without good reason. She saw surprise in his eyes, anger, and something else she couldn’t quite decipher. “Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly as she sat down and placed the knapsack at her feet. His hand barely brushed her shoulder as he released the back of her chair. Instantly, her skin tingled. His hand was rough and callused. Ana watched as he took his chair and sat down next to her. When he scooted it forward, his knee accidentally grazed hers.

      “Sorry,” he muttered gruffly. Jake quickly moved the chair back so they wouldn’t make physical contact.

      “Don’t be,” Ana murmured. She turned and saw Isidro, a Que’ro waiter, coming in their direction. He had worked for Patrick for years and was more like family to India Feliz than an employee. As he approached their table, Isidro, who was unfailingly polite, but equally shy, bowed his head and murmured a heartfelt greeting to her in Quechua, but did not meet her eyes.

      Ana welcomed him warmly and ordered a mocha latte. Isidro bowed and quickly went behind the bar to the left of them to make her drink. She turned, placed her elbows on the linen tablecloth and met Jake’s eyes as he assessed her with more than a little anger and some curiosity. The dark shadow of beard on his face gave him the lethal look of a warrior, Ana decided.

      “Well? Do I meet with your approval?” she asked lightly.

      Taken aback by her bluntness, Jake sat up straight and scowled. Ana had accurately read his mind. Shaken, he muttered, “That remains to be seen. I’m not happy about any woman being on this mission.” Inwardly, he chastised himself for sounding grumpy and defensive. He saw shadows beneath her shining, smiling eyes and wondered if she was tired. She looked it.

      Ana decided not to reply to his comment directly. She felt his tension and wariness toward her. “You were staring at me, Mr. Travers. Here in Peru, it’s considered insulting to stare. Just so you know in future, because where we’re going, we’ll be talking to a lot of Quechua people in order to try and track down your sister. You might as well get steeped in our customs now, rather than later.”

      Though he was smarting beneath her gentle remonstration, Jake realized he liked her low, unruffled tone more than he should. At least Lieutenant Cortina knew how to slap a person’s hand gently instead of gigging them with anger and an undiplomatic word or two. He longed to reach out and slide his fingers through her hair. The thought caught him by complete surprise. She certainly was beautiful with that thick, ebony cloak of hair about her shoulders. He had noticed she stood at around five feet ten inches tall and she had meat on her bones, wide hips and long legs. The sense of steel and strength that surrounded her was palpable. There was nothing obvious about her being a combat helicopter pilot; indeed, she looked like a tourist except for the color of her skin, which made her look decidedly Peruvian.

      “I’ll do my best to fit in,” he mumbled.

      Chuckling, Ana lifted her head as Isidro brought her drink on a silver tray. She thanked him effusively and he waited for their food order. She turned to Jake. “Hungry?”

      He was. How did she know? Her eyes sparkled and she looked as if she knew him inside out. That bothered him. Rubbing his flat, hard stomach, he said, “Yeah, I’m like a starving bear.”

      Laughing, Ana said, “Or maybe a starving condor, down here. Do you like fresh trout? It’s the specialty of the house. Patrick sends Isidro down to the Urubamba River, just a quarter of a mile from here, to fish every morning.”

      Jake nodded. “Then it’s really fresh.” He liked the warmth that glimmered in Ana’s eyes. There was no hardness evident in her, just soft, inviting feminine energy. He began to relax a little, glad that she wasn’t going to come at him with brute force, like some women in the military might. But that same softness made an alarm go off inside him. She couldn’t possibly be up to the task ahead of them. She’d be a liability.

      “Want to risk some local food?” Ana challenged him. She liked the way he was slowly releasing that hard outer shell. She saw a bit of hope burning in his light blue eyes. His mouth was softening at the corners, too. Good. Ana felt his nervousness and tension. Maybe it was from the five-hour flight down here. Or maybe he was overwhelmed with worry about his sister. It could be all those things, and Ana was more than willing to let his gruffness and growliness slide off her shoulders.

      “Yeah. Why not?” Wincing inwardly, Jake didn’t even like himself right now. He was really being nasty toward her and she’d been the epitome of warmth and welcome. Sometimes he was a real bastard.

      “Trucha, it is,” she said, and gave Isidro their order. The waiter smiled shyly and left.

      Trucha, Jake knew, was Spanish for trout. Every time Ana looked at him, he felt a little more of his nagging worry dissolving. As she delicately sipped the mocha latte, he saw an expression of enjoyment cross her face.

      “Mmm, you have no idea how much I look forward to a little R and R here at Patrick’s restaurant. And if his bed and breakfast is full, I stay at Gringo Bill’s Hostel just across the plaza. Margarieta Kaiser is the owner and opens her arms to us. She knows how to take care of a war-weary soul.”

      “From what I understand, you’re on a wartime footing at the base you fly out of all the time.”

      Ana nodded. She set the cup down and curved her slender fingers around it. “Yes, we are.” She lifted her head and held his frank gaze. “And doing this is a very nice departure from my daily duties.” Sobering, she added quietly, “I’m very sorry to hear about your sister, Mr. Travers….”

      “Call me Jake, will you?” He wanted to keep her at arm’s length, but somehow, it wasn’t working. A less formal atmosphere might make up for his growly attitude, he hoped.

      She brightened. “Okay…you can call me Ana. All right?”

      “No problem.” And it wouldn’t be at all for Jake. She was going to do away with military formality and that was just fine with him. He was mesmerized by the graceful movements of her hands. She was like a ballet dancer, not a combat pilot. He wrestled with the two disparate images and simply could not fit them together. Picturing her in the front seat of a deadly Boeing Apache was hard to do. Still, Jake could see her warrior side in her eyes. They were alert and missed nothing. She might be able to fight in the sky, but on the ground? No, he didn’t think she was cut out for this mission at all.

      “So, tell me about your sister, Jake. Do you have a photo of her?”

      He reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. “Yeah, right here.” He pulled it out and laid it on the table for her to look at.

      “Oh, she’s very pretty,” Ana murmured as she studied the photo. Her eyes crinkled and

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