whose primary extravagance was mosquito netting. Not exactly living the fairy tale. His sole claim to chivalry was gallantly balling up a towel for her to use as a pillow.
Suave. Real suave.
And yet it had just seemed right. Holding her hand. Touching her cheek. Kissing her lips.
Not that there was any future in it, of course. He’d sworn that he would never again put his happiness above anyone else’s. His crusade to fix the world would consume every waking hour for the rest of his life. That’s how it had to be. No one could be expected to willingly join him in such an undertaking. And falling for a woman would make her both a liability to and a distraction from his cause, neither of which he could afford.
But, man. He sure wished he was still kissing her.
No, not even that. At least, not necessarily that. He’d be happy just curling up beside her, one arm around her waist and the other going slowly numb, trapped beneath her. Snuggled tight. The pins and needles would be worth it, just to have held her in his arms.
He rubbed his face and groaned. At this rate, he was never going to fall asleep.
He gave in to one of his desires and rolled onto his side, facing her. He didn’t sling an arm over her hips or touch her in any way—it wouldn’t be fair to either of them to start something doomed to go nowhere—but at least, from this angle, he could smell her hair. She always smelled freshly-showered, no matter what they’d been doing. It wasn’t a flowery scent or a citrusy scent or any other scent he could put into words. She just smelled like Sarah. Perfect.
He fell asleep smiling.
In his dream, he floated out of the tent. He was still with Sarah, but not on the hard ground in the mountains. They were somewhere soft, somewhere heavenly, suspended in a luxurious feather bed overlooking the sea.
He opened his eyes. It was morning. He was still on his side, still in the tent, still on the ground. Although he was awake, the sensation of reclining on a feather bed still remained.
Sarah was awake, too.
He smiled at her. She grimaced back at him. His smile widened. Maybe she wasn’t a morning person. He used to think he wasn’t, either, but his dad had forced him out of bed every morning at dawn until habit kicked in, and now to do otherwise would be unthinkable. Maybe she just needed some practice.
“You can get up first,” he murmured. “I’ll let you have first dibs on the bathroom.”
“I can’t,” she said quietly. “You go ahead.”
He grinned, a flash of stubbornness goading him to keep teasing her. “Oh no, I insist. Ladies first.”
“I can’t, ” she said through gritted teeth. She turned her face away, but it sounded almost as though she’d muttered something like, “You’re on my wing.”
He’d reflexively rolled away before his mind processed her words. “I’m on your what?”
“Nothing.” She sprang to her feet far too energetically, even for a morning person. “I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine.”
He shook his head, certain he was right. “Did you say I was on your wing ? Why would you say I was on your wing?”
She glared at him, clearly exasperated, and then let out a low sigh. “Fine. I’ll tell you. They’ll wipe your memory anyway after the end-of-month debriefing. I’m your guardian angel and you were lying on one of my wings. I don’t think we should sleep together anymore. And probably no more kissing.”
“The who what?” he stammered, certain he’d misheard her after all. He bolted upright as the fog cleared. “I’m sorry, did you just claim to be an angel ?”
Her shoulders slumped resignedly. “I don’t know why I thought I could fool you for more than a few hours in the first place. It’s too much work to be human. I’m tired of pretending to eat and sleep. And as cute as you are, it was no picnic having my wing pinned to the ground all night. I’m going to be sore for days.”
Um, wow.
Jack stared at her wordlessly. To say
Suave. Real suave.
And yet it had just seemed right. Holding her hand. Touching her cheek. Kissing her lips.
Not that there was any future in it, of course. He’d sworn that he would never again put his happiness above anyone else’s. His crusade to fix the world would consume every waking hour for the rest of his life. That’s how it had to be. No one could be expected to willingly join him in such an undertaking. And falling for a woman would make her both a liability to and a distraction from his cause, neither of which he could afford.
But, man. He sure wished he was still kissing her.
No, not even that. At least, not necessarily that. He’d be happy just curling up beside her, one arm around her waist and the other going slowly numb, trapped beneath her. Snuggled tight. The pins and needles would be worth it, just to have held her in his arms.
He rubbed his face and groaned. At this rate, he was never going to fall asleep.
He gave in to one of his desires and rolled onto his side, facing her. He didn’t sling an arm over her hips or touch her in any way—it wouldn’t be fair to either of them to start something doomed to go nowhere—but at least, from this angle, he could smell her hair. She always smelled freshly-showered, no matter what they’d been doing. It wasn’t a flowery scent or a citrusy scent or any other scent he could put into words. She just smelled like Sarah. Perfect.
He fell asleep smiling.
In his dream, he floated out of the tent. He was still with Sarah, but not on the hard ground in the mountains. They were somewhere soft, somewhere heavenly, suspended in a luxurious feather bed overlooking the sea.
He opened his eyes. It was morning. He was still on his side, still in the tent, still on the ground. Although he was awake, the sensation of reclining on a feather bed still remained.
Sarah was awake, too.
He smiled at her. She grimaced back at him. His smile widened. Maybe she wasn’t a morning person. He used to think he wasn’t, either, but his dad had forced him out of bed every morning at dawn until habit kicked in, and now to do otherwise would be unthinkable. Maybe she just needed some practice.
“You can get up first,” he murmured. “I’ll let you have first dibs on the bathroom.”
“I can’t,” she said quietly. “You go ahead.”
He grinned, a flash of stubbornness goading him to keep teasing her. “Oh no, I insist. Ladies first.”
“I can’t, ” she said through gritted teeth. She turned her face away, but it sounded almost as though she’d muttered something like, “You’re on my wing.”
He’d reflexively rolled away before his mind processed her words. “I’m on your what?”
“Nothing.” She sprang to her feet far too energetically, even for a morning person. “I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine.”
He shook his head, certain he was right. “Did you say I was on your wing ? Why would you say I was on your wing?”
She glared at him, clearly exasperated, and then let out a low sigh. “Fine. I’ll tell you. They’ll wipe your memory anyway after the end-of-month debriefing. I’m your guardian angel and you were lying on one of my wings. I don’t think we should sleep together anymore. And probably no more kissing.”
“The who what?” he stammered, certain he’d misheard her after all. He bolted upright as the fog cleared. “I’m sorry, did you just claim to be an angel ?”
Her shoulders slumped resignedly. “I don’t know why I thought I could fool you for more than a few hours in the first place. It’s too much work to be human. I’m tired of pretending to eat and sleep. And as cute as you are, it was no picnic having my wing pinned to the ground all night. I’m going to be sore for days.”
Um, wow.
Jack stared at her wordlessly. To say
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