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Authors: Lindsay McKenna

Morgan's Wife (22 page)

BOOK: Morgan's Wife
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Pepper's heart thumped once to underscore his huskily spoken words. She glanced up and nearly melted beneath his burning green gaze. Feeling suddenly shaky, she tried to concentrate on eating the unpalatable food. "Sure," she joked, "my face is streaked with that awful stuff, my hair desperately needs to be washed and I stink—some pinup poster I am, Woodward. Maybe you've been out in this jungle a little too long, huh?"

He grinned and spooned some more rehydrated fruit into his mouth. "Do you always parry a compliment, Ms. Sinclair?"

"Probably," she admitted, chewing thoughtfully. "It comes from my hitch in the army. Sexual harassment was everywhere. I got so I hated it, and most of the time I wouldn't take it."

"I don't blame you," he answered. "No one should be subjected to that kind of humiliation."

"Usually, marines are the worst harassers." She watched him laugh at her with his eyes. For the moment, Pepper felt safe, and she relaxed for the first time. Was it Jim?
His confident presence?
The fact that he'd done this before, and if he was relaxed, she could be, too?
Or was it that lazy, warm smile he gave her that automatically made her feel boneless in such a wonderful, thrilling way? Did he realize what his heated look did to her? She was sure he didn't. After all, his heart had already been given to Laura
Trayhern
. Pepper had no chance with him. Though she knew she should be relieved, a ribbon of sadness wound through her at the thought.

Jim finished his MRE, dug a hole and buried the remains. "Marines are diehards," he finally admitted. "And you're right—they are pretty macho."

"The
Tailhook
scandal proved that." And the navy and its stonewalling admirals were no less guilty, she thought to herself.

Jim nodded. He couldn't argue the point. Half the aviators at the
Tailhook
convention had been marine pilots, and word was out that one of the worst suites at the symposium had been a Marine Corps one. Glancing around, keying his hearing, he reassured himself that everything was normal. The birds were singing, a sign that all was as it should be. If they were to stop singing suddenly, he and Pepper would go on alert.

He lay down carefully, using his pack as a pillow. "Let's rest awhile. We've got three more miles to the fortress."

"Is your arm hurting you?"

"A little," he lied. It was burning, as if on fire. He saw Pepper's eyes change and grow shadowed with worry. "Are you always like this?" he asked.

"Like what?" she asked, leaning against the tree inches from Jim's shoulder.

"A mother hen."

Grinning, she said, "I get accused of that all the time by my team. I guess I am."

"Worrywart is probably closer to the truth," he said, looking up at her. He watched as Pepper removed the black knit cap. Her hair was a mass of curls from the humidity. With her slender fingers, she began to ease them into some semblance of order, and he longed to stroke the dark, wavy strands. She replaced the headset, settling the mike close to her lips, but she left the cap off. He couldn't blame her. The humidity was making him sweat like a racehorse.

Something drove him to get to know her better. He knew he wasn't going to get many chances, and he wanted to take advantage of everyone of them. "Tell me about your growing-up years. Were you a hell-raiser like your mom—a wild woman?"

Laughing softly, Pepper shared a warm look with him. This was the man she wanted to know, and it sent an ache straight to her heart. His green eyes were dark with an emotion she was afraid to define. His mouth was curved recklessly, giving him a boyish look.

"I was no ‘wild woman,' as you put it." Tipping her head back against the trunk of the rubber tree, Pepper closed her eyes, suddenly happier than she could recall being in a long time. "
Cam
, my older brother, might disagree with me, but I never saw myself that way. As I said, we lived in
Montana
, so we did grow up in the wilds, in that sense. I spent every spare minute hiking and learning about nature."

"Tell me about it?"

Embarrassed, she shrugged. "I was just a kid with a high sense of
curiosity, that
was all. I used to hunt red asparagus berries every fall, collect them and make necklaces out of them. Later, I'd dry and shellac them and give them as Christmas gifts to my friends at school. Or I'd go out with my mother with my flower book and try to identify the different wildflowers that grew around our place, then press and save them."

"So you were a wood nymph." Jim closed his eyes, imagining Pepper as a youngster. "You must have been a pretty little girl."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "No, I wasn't. In fact, I felt awful sometimes because my nose grew larger than the rest of my face, or my lips did. You know how some kids go through that awkward period? Well, I was worse than most. When I was fourteen, I looked in the mirror one day and started to cry. My mom came into my room and found me." Her voice went soft. "My mother, bless her heart, just put her arm around me. I blubbered about how ugly I was, and she said that each part of me was beautiful in its own right, and that one day soon I'd grow into all of them. She assured me I was just going through a gangly stage."

Jim opened his eyes. "Your mother is special—like you," he murmured.

Flushing
, Pepper said, "I don't know about me, but yes, my mom is special.
Cam
and I were really lucky. Hearing all the horror stories nowadays really makes me appreciate my parents. I know we weren't perfect kids, and I'm sure we caused them some anxious times, but out in
Montana
, at least we didn't have problems with drugs and gangs like the big cities do. Anaconda is a relatively small town—a silver-and copper-mining community."

"I think some of the old-fashioned Western morals and values are still alive and well up there, don't you?"

Pepper was grateful for his grasp of her world. "Yes, that's why I love living there," she said, smiling as a vision of her home flashed before her.

"Western people seem different from Eastern types," Jim offered. "I grew up in
Maryland
, in a suburb a stone's throw from
Annapolis
. It wasn't the wide open spaces, but we still learned serious values, it being an Academy community."

"You were lucky," Pepper said. She smiled at him, loving the ease of conversation now that the barriers between them were down.

"Tell me," he said, catching her dreamy gaze, "what are your dreams?"

"What?"

"Your dreams.
You've got to have some. What are they?"

Frowning, Pepper ruminated. She drew up her knees and rested her arms around them. "You'll die laughing, Woodward, if I tell you."

"No, I won't. Come on, what are they?"

She moved uncomfortably. "They're nothing special…."

"So? I'd like to hear what's in your heart."

Pepper tore her gaze from his. Her mouth was getting dry again. She wanted to blurt,
"You're
in my heart, but I know I can't have you." Bowing her head, she said instead, "I have a very common dream, Jim, but it seems to have been taken from me." She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. "Despite my choice of careers, I wanted to find a man who loved me as much as I loved him—one who'd love
Montana
's mountains and plains as I do. I dreamed of having his babies and of teaching our children, as my parents taught me. I would close my eyes and picture those kids as if they were real—and me showing them the red berries of the asparagus in the autumn, or hunting fresh-water mussel shells along a trout creek.
Little things…important things."

Jim eased into a sitting position. He saw the tears in Pepper's eyes. What remained unsaid was that John Freedman had been the man meant to fulfill those dreams. "You'd make a good mother," he said in a low voice filled with emotion. "You're like a kid yourself in some ways." He smiled a little. "That's one of the many things I've come to like about you, Pepper—you're completely adult when you have to be, but there's also a kid inside you that never grew up. I think that's great."

Shaken by the grittiness of Jim's voice, Pepper stared at him. He was so close, mere inches away, and she could feel the heat throbbing between them. The burning look in his eyes rushed through her, making her aware of herself as a woman in every way. The thought that Jim would be a wonderful father himself flashed through her head, and Pepper quickly looked away, afraid he might see a yearning in her eyes. If he did, she'd be mortified. Still, she longed to reach out and tenderly touch his face, though the shadow of his growing beard and the streaked remains of his camouflage paint made him look even more dangerous. What would it be like to kiss his firm mouth again—to feel his powerful form against her heat and need? She ached to reach out and slide her hand across his chest, to absorb his strength. His wonderful half smile tore through her, beckoning to her, and Pepper literally had to stop herself from leaning forward…to meet his mouth and melt against him.

Was she going crazy because of the pressure they were under? Pepper sighed and tried to get a handle on her escaping emotions. Sitting here talking with Jim was opening up her heart in a way she'd thought would never happen again. Clearing her throat, she said, "Fair's fair. Tell me about your dreams."

He chuckled. "They're as pedestrian as yours, Pepper. I want a woman who will love me, warts and all. I want a couple of kids, too. I dream of finding a woman who likes to laugh, who can find humor in even the worst situation. I grew up in a pretty somber family, and I'm afraid I was the joker—the guy who was always playing tricks and then catching hell for it."

Pepper's eyes rounded.
"You?"

"Yeah, sure.
Why not?"

His grin was devilish, and in that moment, Pepper caught a glimpse of the original Jim Woodward—before the Marine Corps had shaped him to meet their exacting standards. "So, you're a joker?"

"Every chance I get." With a laugh, he said, "Not that I get much chance at the Pentagon. It's one place where you have to watch your every move. There's always someone with a lot more rank watching you—ready to mark you down."

"So when you have a field command, you're different?"

"You bet I am," he exclaimed. Looking up at her he found his gaze caught by her parted lips. Damn, but he wanted to kiss her again. Jim knew she was a woman very much in touch with her needs. She lived too close to nature not to be in tune with herself on those levels. What was it he could see in her eyes?
Desire?
Longing? Or was that just wishful thinking on his part?

Hope coursed through him as his gaze continued to probe hers. She was a woman of incredible strengths and courage—the kind of woman he'd been looking for all his life, he thought suddenly. The discovery sent a sheet of heat through him, radiating from his heart. Pepper was as natural as the timeless cycles of the seasons. She had no pretenses; what you saw was what you got.

But even as those thoughts crowded into his mind and heart, reality drenched him. They were sitting in a jungle on foreign soil.
Interlopers.
The government of
Nevis
would not be informed of their mission until after Laura was rescued—if she could be rescued. And what made him think he would survive this mission? Or that Pepper would? The threat of death was strong. Jim knew Garcia's guards would kill without a second thought; they'd pull the trigger first and ask questions later. He also was positive that Garcia was on alert, knowing full well that
Perseus
would attempt to rescue Laura.

"When I was a little girl," Pepper said softly, her voice sounding as if it came from far away, "I used to sit by the trout stream on our property. I had a favorite rock that was large, round and flat. I'd sit there, shaded by the trees and brush, and watch the rainbow and cutthroat trout flash by in the water. I loved the rainbow trout, because when the sunlight caught them, they really lived up to their name. I'd just sit and watch, my legs
crossed,
my elbows on my knees and my chin cupped in my hands.

"I'd wonder what my life was going to be like after I grew up. What I'd be someday. I used to daydream for hours, trying to imagine myself as an adult and what I'd look like. Then—" her mouth curved gently "—I imagined my children. I saw the color of their hair, their faces,
the
color of their eyes. I imagined each of their personalities and how much fun I would have with them.

BOOK: Morgan's Wife
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