Under Fire: The Admiral Read Online Free PDF Page B

Gulfstream looking like she owned the damn jet she’d confused
the hell out of him. She paused at the top of the stairs and gave
him an up-and-down, side-to-side look that he returned. She looked
spec–tac–ular. The pilot uniform was a definite turn-on. At the
bottom of the steps she stopped, raised her sunglasses, looked
straight at him with laser-sharp eyes and a look that said it was
on. He pushed off the truck he leaned against and stood straight to
give her a better look. All the mutual interest came to a
screeching halt when he put a hand out to shake and introduced
himself. Every bit of spark left her eyes. When the medical
supplies were off-loaded from the plane he’d asked her to have
dinner with him. “I don’t do clients,” she’d said very seriously,
then blushed when she realized the double entendre. He pressed,
asking to see her when they were back in the States. He’d fly
anyplace to meet her. She’d blinked and paled. The answer was an
adamant no. And damned if he knew why. There wasn’t a doubt in his
mind she’d been as attracted to him as he was to her. There was
more than the client-employee aspect. In the plane he was on the
verge of flat-out asking her but was rudely interrupted by the
blood-freezing sound of bullets tattooing the plane. Now this weird
feeling of déjà vu had him thinking they’d met before. He was damn
sure if he’d seen her before he’d remember.
    He felt it first. The fine hair on his arms
stood on end. His heart felt like it was being pulled from his
chest, the air from his lungs. The brilliant light and deafening
crash were followed by a gut-wrenching crack like a
thirty-aught-six shotgun unloading next to his head. He tried to
sit up but Gemma tackled him. “What the fuck?”
    “Trees breaking,” she yelled and he
understood. Above them branches popped like gunfire at the O.K.
Corral. His man DNA took over and shoved Gemma over, rolling on top
of her. She struggled but her I-am-in-charge survivor-woman routine
wasn’t going to work. “No,” he shouted, holding her down with his
full weight. He was hit in the head and back and for a moment
thought the shelter was collapsing until he realized Gemma had
slung the packs on his back for protection. She coiled her arms
around them and wrapped her legs around his body. He braced for the
worst as limbs crashed and bounced until a ground-shaking thud
vibrated through their bodies. Several long moments later the only
sounds were shrieking wind, pelting rain and the ringing in his
ears.
    Gemma released the pack, running her hands
frantically over his head and back. “You okay?”
    “Yeah.” He rose up enough to look into her
face. “You?”
    “I will be once you stop crushing me,” she
said, wiggling under him.
    “Give it a few more seconds,” he swallowed
hard, “for everything to settle. More shit could fall.” He didn’t
move, enjoying the feel of her way too much.
    She arched under him and with one hand
reached up and snapped one of the glow lights she’d attached to the
hammock cord. She rolled her head side to side, presumably looking
for damage. All he could think about was how fine her body felt
under him and how his legs were between hers and . . . how he was turning into an idiot.
    “Doc.”
    Her voice was soft and familiar.
    “ Walsh!”
    Where had he met her? He pulled his head back
and stared.
    She braced her palms on his shoulders and
shoved. “For crap’s sake, get off me.”
    Reluctantly he rolled away and got to his
knees, offering her a hand up, which she didn’t accept. She
snatched a light stick and before he realized what she was doing
crawled into the storm. “Are you fucking crazy?” He curled his
fingers inside her waistband and hung on. She reached around and
swatted his hand.
    “Let go.” She moved farther into the
storm.
    “Get in here.” He yanked, pulling her pants
half off her ass.
    “Okay. Okay.” She came in and knelt, wiggling
her hips and hiking her pants back