AWOL with the Operative Read Online Free PDF Page A

yourself wonder if that might not be possible. Just do it.
    How? Exactly how was she supposed to manage that? There was only one way she could think of. Getting to her knees and scooping up a handful of snow, Eve leaned over him. She started to apply the snow, but her hand paused in its descent, her gaze captured by the sight of his face.
    It was a strong, compelling face beneath a thatch of dark brown hair. A seasoned face with angular features and a square jaw. There was a certain toughness about it that didn’t surprise her. What she didn’t expect was the complete lack of tautness. A tightness of expression that had clearly been there during his conscious state, hinting at some dark, inner struggle. Or was she just imagining the whole thing?
    All right, so you’re sexually attracted to this man. You’d better control your susceptibility if you don’t want to get hurt.
    It was a sensible instruction. Eve obeyed it as she briskly rubbed the snow over his face, hoping its wet cold would wake him. Praying he wasn’t in some coma she couldn’t penetrate.
    “Sam,” she called to him urgently, “can you hear me?”
    Her treatment must have worked, but not as she’d anticipated. Instead of stirring slowly, he startled her when he came to with a sudden jerk of his body, as if shocked out of a deep sleep. The next thing Eve knew she was gazing into a pair of brown eyes with amber lights in them.
    Those eyes focused on her face bent over his. There was puzzlement in them. She waited for the familiar scowl when he recognized her. She didn’t get it. There was something entirely different. A grin of pleased discovery that spread across his rugged features. It was accompanied by his deep, rich voice with a low but untroubled tone that amazed her as much as the words that came out of his mouth.
    “Whoever you are, angel, please tell me that we’re more, much more, than just casual acquaintances.”
    Eve caught her breath in disbelief. This was a man she didn’t know. She was looking into the eyes of a stranger. What on earth was happening?
    When she was able to breathe again, she uttered a hoarse “You can’t be serious. You must know I’m Eve. Eve Warren.”
    “Hello, Eve Warren,” he said, caressing her name with a slow softness that, in spite of her promise to herself, sent a warmth spreading through her whole body.
    Thoroughly confused, she sat back on her heels, afraid to ask but knowing she had to. “But you remember everything else, don’t you?”
    “Sorry. Afraid I don’t.”
    Her questions came swiftly then, one after the other. “Not what happened? Not where we are? But you know who you are, don’t you? You have to know that.”
    To all of those questions, he replied by shaking his head from side to side.
    His head injury from smacking so hard against the window, she thought. A trauma apparently sufficient to have short-circuited his memory. Maybe only temporarily. Maybe all she had to do was prompt him, and the rest would follow.
    “You’re Sam McDonough,” she told him. No response. She tried again. “You’re an FBI agent.”
    No use. He looked at her blankly. She hadn’t triggered his memory. Like it or not, she had to accept his condition. God in heaven, she realized suddenly, on top of all else, she was stuck out here with a man suffering from amnesia!
    He must have read the concern on her face. “Don’t worry, Eve. I’m running on empty now, but I’ll get it all back.”
    He was worried about her, not himself. What’s more, his reassurance had been expressed in a kind voice. Even the smile that followed it was a pleasant one. Nothing like the hard cynicism before the crash. Was it possible that someone’s attitude, perhaps his very nature as well, could change so totally like this? If so, she was ready to be thankful for it.
    “The thing is—” he started to say, then broke off, his nose wrinkling as he sniffed the air. “I smell smoke.” Before she could explain, he lifted his