The Sea of Aaron by Kymberly Hunt

muscular torso, which was devoid of any flab. He didn’t have a bandage covering the surgical scar on the right side of his chest, though, which marred his otherwise near perfection.
    â€œDo I appear to be on the brink of collapse?” he asked, sitting up straight.
    â€œHardly,” Valerie admitted, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder, leaning forward to inspect his back for an exit wound.
    â€œThe bullet didn’t exit,” he explained when she found nothing. “The doctors fished it out of my lung.”
    â€œDid they get it all?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThey took X-rays…an MRI?”
    His piercing eyes met hers. “Incredible as it may seem, there really are some knowledgeable doctors in Saudi Arabia.”
    Valerie laughed now. “Okay, okay. I deserved that one.”
    She traced a finger lightly over a smaller, thinner scar where they’d inserted and removed a chest tube. It, too, was healing.
    â€œJust one more thing,” she said, taking the stethoscope out of her bag and adjusting it around her neck. She listened to his heartbeat, which was strong, then asked him to breathe while she checked his lungs. He complied, somewhat tentatively, she noticed, but his lungs were clear. The larger scar did have some reddish areas surrounding it, but nothing to get alarmed about. A temperature check had revealed no fever.
    â€œYou need to keep a bandage on that,” she told him. “It’s healed enough so the wound isn’t open, but when you’re wearing a shirt, the material constantly brushing against it could cause problems.”
    Aaron nodded noncommittally. She did the honors, taping a square gauze patch in place. On closer inspection she noted that he had another barely visible, long-healed-over scar just below his ribcage. She started to question him about it, but decided not to bother. He hadn’t volunteered any details concerning the event that had caused the current wound.
    â€œI must say your bionic reputation is solid,” she told him. “You’re pretty amazing. You’re also darn lucky.”
    â€œIf I really were so lucky, I wouldn’t have the scars to prove otherwise,” he said.
    â€œWell, what do you expect? He who plays with fire often gets burned.”
    Aaron knew her physical inspection of him was supposed to be professional only, but her close proximity was causing him to react more impulsively than he had ever done in his life. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer than she had been. He had experienced a similar impulse while in the café gazing into her large almond-shaped eyes. Now the feeling was even stronger, emboldened by her scent, which was sweeter than the oleander from the garden below. Slowly his hands stroked her back, feeling the warmth of her nubile body radiating through her thin T-shirt.
    Valerie stiffened slightly. “Um, Aaron.”
    Ignoring her voice, he fixated on her dangling silver earrings and then on her turquoise T-shirt, wondering about the taut, well-proportioned form beneath it. Engrossed in that thought, he allowed his palm to venture down the gentle slope of her backside.
    â€œLet go of me, please.”
    She didn’t sound like she meant it at all. Nevertheless, the negative words broke his spell.
    â€œWhy?” he asked, releasing her, not really wanting to know the answer.
    â€œBecause I’m a Christian…a serious Christian, and I think you already know that. I’m not here to behave as if we’re married.”
    He stifled a groan. “You don’t have to be married to be…friendly.”
    â€œWhat you were doing went beyond friendly.”
    At what specific point did I go beyond friendly? he thought sarcastically. Abruptly he stood up, grimacing slightly at the pulling sensation caused by the still-healing wounds, and reached for his shirt that was draped on the back of the chair.
    â€œMight