“Where in the hell were you?”

Annie jumped. She managed not to drop the bags of groceries in her arms, but her keys clattered to the floor. She stepped inside the apartment and closed the door. “Gee, hello. Nice to see you too, Tom. What are you doing out of bed? You agreed to stay there today.”

He glared at her from his reclining position on the ancient, overstuffed sofa that had come with the apartment. “I was worried sick when I woke up and you were gone. I couldn’t stay in bed.”

A warm feeling crept into Annie’s irritation. “I went shopping. I picked up more food, and I had to get you mountain climbing supplies.” She plunked one of the bags on the scarred coffee table beside Tom. It rattled metallically. “I managed to find some used gear, so you won’t have to make it look broken in.”

“Good thinking.”

Tom’s grudging approval made her afternoon of foraging through dark, dusty, cobweb-ridden pawnshops worth the hassle. “I’ve got one more load to bring in from the car. Back in a minute.”

She hauled her best find of the day out of the trunk of her car and heaved one of its black nylon straps over her shoulder. Although she exercised daily, she was huffing by the time she reached the apartment. How Tom managed to sneak all over the jungle carrying this bag full of rocks was beyond her.

Triumphantly she set his backpack on the coffee table. “Merry Christmas a little early.”

“My pack!” He reached out eagerly. His hand stopped abruptly in midair. He grunted and collapsed back on to the sofa, holding his rib cage. His eyes closed tightly as he waged a struggle against pain.

Annie jumped forward. All her best intentions to keep her distance from him went right out the window. She bent over him in concern. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you? I picked up some painkillers from the embassy, today. Shall I get you one?”

“No. Just leave me alone. I’ll be okay.” His voice sounded thin, not the rich tones of his usual speaking voice. It took all the punch out of his attempt to be stoic and macho.

She sat down on the edge of the sofa beside him. His eyes flew open and the expression in them shifted from annoyed to startled. She kept forgetting he’d been unconscious most of the time she’d been getting so intimately familiar with him. He looked away. She spoke quietly to his averted face. “You must hate having anyone see you like this.”

He didn’t respond. But then she didn’t really expect him to. She continued, “I can only imagine how frustrating it is to be accustomed to perfect health and then find yourself in this situation. Give it a little time. You’ll be back to your old self soon.”

He turned his head and gazed bleakly at her. “Will I?”

His words cut like a knife. She was responsible for potentially ending his career and causing him all this anguish. She reached out to smooth away the frown from his forehead. To her surprise he closed his eyes and accepted the comforting touch. And as usual her fingers couldn’t resist straying into his dark, silky hair.

As much as she savored touching his vital warmth, she had to stop this. He’d made it crystal clear earlier that he wanted nothing personal to do with her. She’d pegged him correctly. He was one of those men to whom the mission was everything. Reluctantly, Annie removed her hand and asked, “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

He sighed. “Actually, you can. In the top pocket on the right side of my pack, there’s a burner phone.”

She fished around and found the small black phone. She handed it over, watching while he punched in a series of numbers. “Who are you calling?” she asked.

“Voice mail. Seeing if my team left a message for me.”

“They probably don’t know you’re out of the hospital.”

“They will momentarily. I just sent each of them a text message to make their way here.” He set aside the phone. “In the big section of my pack, near the top, there’s a little vinyl notebook. Could you get it for me?”

“Yes, sir.” Annie found it and gave it to him. Interested, she watched him flip to several pages covered with a jumble of numbers.

“Paper and a pen, please.”

Annie fetched a yellow legal pad and a pen for him.

He tore off a single sheet of paper. “Never write on a pad of paper. The impression goes through to the pad and can be lifted for someone else to read.”

“I’ll remember that, Major.”

Tom stopped and looked up at her. “What’s all this sir and Major stuff?”

“Well, you do outrank me, and apparently I’m your lackey, now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Look. I can be a jerk. I get tunnel vision on problems I’m working on. I swear, it’s nothing personal.”

Annie resisted the self-deprecating charm in his voice. “What was all that stuff about me following your orders without question?”

His voice went dead serious. “I don’t give orders often, but when I do, it’s because people are going to die if something doesn’t happen fast. If I ever do give you an order, I expect you to hop to it, not because of my rank but because of my experience.”

“Fair enough.”

“One of my team’s missions is to rescue civilians. That’s essentially how we’ll treat you, even though you’re military. It’ll be less confusing for everyone if we treat you as a non-combatant evacuee. Can you live with that?”

Annie considered him. She knew full well he was splitting semantic hairs with her, but he had made several good points. They were going to be living together in pretty intimate circumstances. And he was still going to need care and assistance.

She didn’t for a minute believe the ridiculously hopeful expression he was throwing at her was sincere. He was a smart enough operator to try charming her into agreeing with him. But damned if that boyish smile wasn’t hard to resist.

“You’re just saying this stuff because you want another one of my massages.”

He accepted her surrender gracefully. “Guilty as charged. In fact, I may even have to order you give me one on a daily basis.”

“Oh, yeah? Who’s going to die if I don’t do it?”

He arched a dark brow at her. “My, my, we have led a sheltered life haven’t we?”

“And just when I thought you might be a nice guy.” She fussed with putting away the groceries. “Are you hungry?”

“I probably need to eat.” His answer was mild, but she definitely heard undertones of amusement in his voice. The rat.

While she cooked up pasta and vegetables, Tom fiddled with his notebook and paper. From her vantage point, it looked like he was encoding some sort of message. He set aside the pen and paper to eat.

Annie was dismayed when he handed her his plate still half-full of food. Her Martha Stewart street cred was failing. “You didn’t like my cooking?”

“It was a far sight better than the grub I usually eat in the field.”

“Once you get more active, maybe your appetite will pick up.”

He put his hand on her forearm as she bent down to pick up his glass. Her breath hitched at the feel of his fingers on her bare skin. “The meal was great, and thanks for making it.”

Flustered, she sidled away from his touch. She’d finished washing and drying the dishes before she calmed down enough to breathe normally. How in the hell was she going to live with this guy if every time he touched her she got the vapors?

Tom’s voice interrupted the stern lecture she was giving herself. “Annie, would you mind helping me for a minute?”

“Not at all.” He’d stretched out on the sofa, and as she approached, he rolled onto his side and patted the cushion in front of him. She sat carefully but still found her tush wedged against his lean, hard stomach. “What can I do for you?”

Resting his forearm on her thigh, he showed her the sheet of paper he’d been working on. The top half was covered with what looked like random mathematical doodles. The bottom was covered with neatly printed rows of numbers. They swam in a jumble before her unfocused gaze.

His muscular power surrounded her. His clean, male smell filled her nostrils and made her light-headed. Or maybe it was the picture that came to mind of all those brawny, bronzed muscles she felt as he spooned his body around her that made her feel faint.

“You see here where the sequence starts with 924681?”

She swallowed to clear the lump from her throat. “Uhh huh.”

“Start there and read me the numbers in sets of six while I type them into my phone.”

The procedure took a couple of minutes. Somewhere along the way she found herself relaxing back against the warm wall of his body.

When they finished, she jerked herself upright once more. “Can you tell me what we just did?”

“We sent a status report to my superiors.”

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now we wait.”

“For what?”

“For my team to join us and for orders to arrive.”

“Well, aren’t you just Mr. Preparedness?”

His answering grin was sexy. Charming. Disarming. Dang it. Why did he have to be so bloody appealing? Her plan to resist him was in a shambles. At this rate, she was going to be a quivering mass of jelly in a week.

“By the way. Do you happen to know how I’ve been getting shaved for the past seven weeks?”

She managed to mumble, “I might.”

His eyes glinted in amusement. He seemed a lot less bothered by their forced intimacy than she was. “Do you want me to give you a shave, Tom?”

“What I’d really like is a bath.”

Oh, Lord. No way was she going to get through giving him a full-body sponge bath when he was wide awake and watching her. “I can run a bath for you,” she offered. “How does a long, hot soak sound?”

“Amazing.”

“Great.” Relieved to have dodged that bullet, she jumped up and practically ran for the bathroom. While steaming water filled the tub, she tucked her serviceable bar of Ivory soap out of sight and laid out shaving cream, a new razor and a towel. Grinning, she set out the array of floral soaps in frilly packages she’d bought that afternoon.

She returned to the living room. “All set. Do you want me to put a plastic bag over your cast, or can you keep your arm dry?”

“I’ll keep it out of the tub.”

She nodded as he swung his feet to the floor. “How do your legs feel?”

He grimaced. “Like spaghetti. It’s damned annoying. Did the doc say how soon I can start working out?”

“You mean like actual exercising?”

“Yes. Actual exercising. You know, getting my strength back? Becoming mobile and self-sufficient?”

“Tom, you’ve got broken bones all over the place that are just healing.”

“It has been seven weeks. They’re repaired by now. Besides, I’ve had broken bones before. I feel healed.” And with that, he stood up.

Despite his brave pronouncement, there was a distinct wobble to his steps. Quickly, she wedged her shoulder under his arm and steadied him as they walked slowly to the bathroom. “That’s just great,” she griped. “You feel healed. You have no idea how close you came to dying, do you?”

He stopped and gazed down at her soberly. “I remember getting dragged through the jungle, slamming into tree after tree. I remember feeling each bone break, and I remember hoping the next tree would be the one that killed me. Believe me. I know exactly how bad I was hurt.”

She felt sick to her stomach. She never dreamed he’d actually been conscious through that horrible ordeal. Dear God.

They made their way into the bathroom in silence.

“Tell you what, Tom. How about if I have the embassy doctor come take a look at you? Let’s see what he says before you embark on any ambitious fitness programs, okay?”

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“I’ll blow your cover if you don’t see him.”

He gave her a deadly look. “I do not appreciate being blackmailed.”

If she’d learned one thing in eight years of working with macho males, it was never to back down. Even though the look he was giving her turned her gut to Jell-O, she glared right back at him. “And I don’t appreciate seven weeks of hard work establishing a cover and caring for you going down the tubes because you’re too antsy to let yourself heal properly.”

He replied grudgingly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll talk to the damned doctor.”

Woot! A win for her! “Thanks. Now, let me help you with your clothes.” She eased the shirt off his shoulders, savoring the feel of his skin sliding under her fingertips. She guided the left sleeve over his cast and greedily devoured the sight of his back as the fabric fell away.

Despite the many times she’d seen his naked torso, the sight of all that muscle never failed to impress her. And to see it moving, bending and twisting in all its supple grace, stole her breath clean away.

She noticed belatedly that he was looking over his shoulder at her. “Uh, the cuts on your back have healed nicely. I can barely see the scars.”

He shrugged. “Another scar or two doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

“Speaking of scars, where did you get this one?” She touched a small round scar under his right shoulder blade with her fingertip.

He sucked in his breath, and she jerked her finger away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He turned to face her. In the tight confines of the bathroom, they were only inches apart. His voice was little more than a husky whisper. “You didn’t hurt me.”

She stared up at him, startled by the intensity of his gaze. Attraction between them flared, hot and thick. Slowly, as if against his will, his arms came up and surrounded her, drawing her close.

Ohmigod. Her hands had nowhere to go but on his narrow, hard waist. She fought not to lean into him, and most especially not to return his embrace.

“That’s an old gunshot wound,” he murmured. “A woman gave it to me.”

“A woman shot you?” Annie blurted. “What the hell did you do to her?”

Tom smiled reluctantly. “Nothing. She led me into a trap, and her father’s men shot me.”

“That’s terrible,” she murmured. No wonder he didn’t like working with women.

His husky voice drew her back to the present. The very steamy present. “I like it when you touch me. Do you like doing it?”

“Uhh,” she cleared her throat, “sure.”

“Good. Then here’s your first order. Do it some more.”

She replied nervously, “I don’t think that qualifies as a lawful order under the Uniform Code of…”

His finger stilled her lips. “Remember what I told you about following orders?” he murmured. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Make it a request, not an order, and I just might.”

He smiled back, slow and smooth. “Touch me, please.”

Her hands crept up his ribs and down the ridged muscles of his back. Pure, sexual pleasure shot through her. This was wrong. Really wrong. But cripes, he felt good.

“You have me at a disadvantage, Annie. You’ve had your hands all over me already, but I don’t know the feel of you at all.”

His hands began to move, roaming gently over her back. His fingers kneaded the muscles along her spine, melting her will to stand up. Only the knowledge of his injuries kept her from sagging against him.

She mustered enough strength to murmur, “Your bath’s going to get cold.”

He drew her closer and spoke against her temple. “Sweet Annie, there’s always more hot water. Besides, I may be needing a cold soak, anyway.”

She buried her face against his shoulder. “We’ve got to stop this.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re in the middle of a broken mission, and we’ve got to work together.”

He sighed. “You’re right.” He set her away from him, but his hands lingered on her shoulders. “Thing is, holding you makes me feel alive. For a while there, I thought I was dead and that you were an angel.” His hands slid down her arms, and with a final caress of her fingertips, fell away from her.

“Me an angel? Not a chance.”

“To me you were one. You took away my pain. You let me know I wasn’t alone. You have no idea how comforting that was.”

The extent of his suffering made her heart shrink in her chest. “I’m so sorry, Tom…” Tell him.

“Sorry for what? It’s not your fault I got hurt.”

His words were a knife straight through her belly Only the sink at the back of her thighs kept her from staggering at the blow.

Tell him right now. “But—”

“Are you all right? Annie? You look pale. It’s probably the steam making you light-headed. Why don’t you go into the other room? I can handle my bath, and I’ll give you a shout out if I need anything.”

He guided her to the door, gave her a gentle push into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She turned to face the wooden panel, leaning her forehead against it in misery.

She whispered, “But it is my fault, Tom.