erotic fantasy he’d ever had about her, and he’d had his share.
She stood watching him with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity in her wide eyes. The rain plastered her dark hair to her head in a sleek cap, while her clothing had taken on the appearance of wet tissue paper. Too bad she’d shifted her overnight bag around to her front. He’d really appreciated the view before she’d hidden her body from his sight.
She was taller than he remembered, and more slender, but her eyes were what really did it to him. Looking into them was like having somebody sucker punch him in the gut.
He felt winded and a little weak.
He couldn’t recall having had this reaction to her the first time he’d seen her two years earlier. Then again, he’d been too busted up and hazy from the pain meds they’d given him to feel much of anything. But his own injuries had been insignificant compared with those of the soldier in the bed next to his at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center. Devon James had been a tank gunner deployed with the 10th Marine Regiment in Iraq when an IED—an improvised explosive device—had hit his convoy. The explosion had taken his right arm and shredded his body. He’d lain in bed with wires and tubes protruding from what remained of him.
On Devon’s second day at Walter Reed, his sister had arrived at the hospital, pale but determined, reassuring her brother that he’d be okay. Devon had been conscious, but heavily sedated. Through the gap in the curtain that had separated their beds, Garrett had observed her. Even in his own foggy state, he’d thought her beautiful. Her calm demeanor had been so impressive; he’d almost believed she could be right and that her brother would survive. But when she’d left the room to confer with one of the doctors, her brother had turned his face toward Garrett.
“I’m not going to make it, man,” he’d said, his voice little more than a whisper. “She won’t accept it, though. Always was a stubborn brat.”
“Hang in there,” Garrett had croaked.
“No, man,” Devon had said, closing his eyes. “It’s no good. I worry what’s going to happen to her when I’m gone. She’ll be alone.”
“There must be someone,” he’d responded. “Some family or friend.”
“No. It was just the two of us.”
Garrett had been silent. He couldn’t make a promise to watch over some chick he didn’t even know, no matter how gorgeous she was. Besides, she appeared more than capable of taking care of herself.
“I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Devon had looked over at him, and Garrett had flinched at the hope he’d seen flare in his gaze. “You swear? She doesn’t even have to know. Just do it for me.”
“I swear.”
Less than three hours later, while his sister had looked on in dismay, Sergeant Devon James had flatlined. Nurses had hustled Ivy out of the room while medical personnel had tried to resuscitate her brother, but their efforts had been futile.
The weight of Garrett’s promise had settled heavily onto his shoulders, but it had also given him something to live for. He’d latched on to the promise with all the desperation of a drowning man clinging to a lifeline, determined to be there for the girl in the future.
Now here he was, two years later, standing in front of the woman he’d promised to keep an eye on, completely kicking himself that he’d never made contact with her before now. Back then, just the knowledge that she might someday need him had been enough of an incentive to push him to recover. Throughout the long months of rehabilitation, he’d followed her career. He’d kept tabs on her activities and had been prepared to step in and help her if necessary, but an opportunity had never arisen.
Until now.
He should say something to her, tell her about his connection to her, if you could even call it that. Instead, he stared speechlessly, wondering how she would react if she knew the truth. Ivy James had saved his soul, and she wasn’t even aware of it.
He still wasn’t sure how he felt about having his combat experiences made into an action-adventure movie, but there was one thing he’d always been certain of: he’d wanted Ivy James to play the part of the leading lady. It was just one way he could fulfill the promise he’d made to her brother.
When Garrett’s brother-in-law, Finn MacDougall, had initially approached him about the venture, he’d adamantly refused to give his consent. He still had nightmares about those last horrific days in Colombia when a covert narcoterrorism mission had come apart like a five-dollar shirt.
He’d allowed himself to be captured in order to provide the rest of his team a chance to escape. It had worked, but the three days he’d endured in the hands of the brutal Escudero cartel had just about sapped his belief in the goodness of mankind. It wasn’t so much what they’d done to his body that had nearly killed him; it was what they’d done to his spirit.
If anybody knew just how tough his recovery had been, it was Finn. After all, Garrett had spent nearly a year living in Finn’s home while recuperating from injuries that included multiple gunshot and stab wounds. His body still bore the scars from where he’d been tortured by the cartel. Despite having pushed himself to the max to regain his strength, he had to live with the knowledge that his abilities were now compromised to the point where he’d never again serve as part of a Green Beret “A-Team,” the twelve-man basic unit that could carry out any number of deadly covert operations.
Even after he’d managed to escape, two more days had passed before he’d found refuge, then another six days before he’d been airlifted out of the steaming Colombian jungle to an American hospital. His only satisfaction was knowing the information he’d brought back with him had been enough for the Colombian military to target the cartel and put an end to their reign of terror and drug smuggling.
Now, looking at the woman who would play Helena Vanderveer, the Dutch missionary responsible for rescuing his sorry ass, he wondered if he’d been wrong. There was a sensuality about Ivy James that was undeniable, yet at the same time she looked so god-damned…fragile. The real Helena might fool some with her small stature and sweet smile, but beneath it all she was as tough as Kevlar. Nobody could ever call her fragile.
Ivy was still staring at him. As he tried to formulate the right words to introduce himself, the rain suddenly stopped, and a warm burst of sunlight fell over the spot where they stood. Ivy tilted her face up toward the clearing skies and smiled.
Garrett felt something in his chest shift.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “It’s over. Just like that.”
She turned her gaze back to Garrett. Her eyes were the same rich, dark-chocolate shade he remembered, thickly fringed with spiky dark lashes. She used her fingers to wipe the moisture from her face as she again focused on the suitcase he carried.
“La maleta…la sandalia,” she said haltingly. A small frown creased her forehead as she pointed first toward the luggage, then toward the sandal he held. “Es mina.”
Her pronunciation was terrible, her grammar worse. But even if he hadn’t spoken Spanish fluently, there was no mistaking her meaning. Glancing down at the mud-covered shoe that still dangled from his hand, he swiped it against the wet fabric of his cargo pants until most of the mud was gone, then handed it to her.
“Yeah, I know they’re
