turned his focus inside, concentrating on the beat of his heart, the rhythm of his pulse, commanding himself to calm down.
After a moment, the wild feeling passed. He wasn’t attracted to Kendall—not at all—so there had been no reason for the surge of panic. Feeling better now that he was in control of the situation, Sloan leaned back, propping his head against the chair back, and tried to doze.
Kendall began singing a catchy tune, and the scent of strawberry shampoo drifted out to him. He pushed his hat back from his forehead, needing air. The chair was positioned directly across from the bath, so he was right in the line of fire.
There was a reason she was trying to get under his skin, and it had to do with control. But it wasn’t going to work. His self-control was steel forged by fire.
“Sloan?”
He hesitated. Went to the bathroom door. “Yeah?”
“I forgot a towel.”
That was as old as the trees. He wasn’t falling for it. “Drip dry.”
She laughed. “I can’t. I have to dry the plastic sleeve that covers my stitches. I can’t get them wet. My towel is on my bed.”
It was a trap, it had to be. He’d simply open the door and fling the stupid thing onto the counter. She’d have to take it from there.
He grabbed the towel and opened the door, ready to make the toss onto the granite-topped counter. But he caught a glimpse of Kendall in the shower, silhouetted through the frosted glass, her head back as she rinsed her hair, still humming that dumb song. He could see breasts outlined through the glass, and her hair falling back in a sleek sweep, nearly reaching her sexy rounded buttocks.
He threw the towel, slammed the door and staggered to the chair, falling into it with a smothered curse.
She was a goddess. That much beauty was enough to kill a lesser man. He was stuck protecting it.
It wasn’t going to kill him. He was simply going to control his mind so that he didn’t think about the beautifully rounded breasts or the—
He breathed, began the technique of self-hypnosis that never failed him. He had this.
This was his job, and he’d always been a loyal soldier. He’d always done his job.
This time would be no different.
* * *
K ENDALL CAME OUT OF the bathroom feeling like a new woman. She slipped into her bed, happily pulling the sheet up to her neck—but then she realized Sloan was sound asleep, his head tilted at an awkward angle in the wingback chair.
“Hey! Tough guy.”
He didn’t move.
Okay, he was going to have a helluva crick in his neck in the morning. “Although why I should care, I don’t know, you annoying Callahan.” She grabbed the small, fringed, tubular-shaped lumbar pillow off the bed and went over to Sloan, trying to figure out how to stick it behind his neck without waking him. He seemed to be deep in sleep, so the maneuver should be easy enough. And anyway, she didn’t care if she did wake him up. It would serve him right for being such a horse’s rear. She jammed the pillow under his neck, springing back a bit when he moved, opened one sleepy eye—before both eyes came open to glare at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, my goodness,” Kendall said, exasperated. “Trying to smother you with a lacy pillow, you freak. What does it look like?”
His gaze moved from her face to her throat, then slid down to her breasts, which he could probably see through the white cami top. His eyes shot back to hers. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You didn’t look comfortable.”
He watched as she got back into bed, his gaze hard on her as she pulled the sheet snugly up to her neck. “I don’t need a pillow.”
“I know.” Kendall sighed. “You’re a hard case. You sleep on rocks and you eat rocks and you drink water you smite from rock. Go back to sleep.”
She flounced over onto her side, thoroughly put out with him.
“Sleeping on rocks or wood is not all that uncommon in some civilizations,” Sloan said.
“That’s nice. Just sit over
After a moment, the wild feeling passed. He wasn’t attracted to Kendall—not at all—so there had been no reason for the surge of panic. Feeling better now that he was in control of the situation, Sloan leaned back, propping his head against the chair back, and tried to doze.
Kendall began singing a catchy tune, and the scent of strawberry shampoo drifted out to him. He pushed his hat back from his forehead, needing air. The chair was positioned directly across from the bath, so he was right in the line of fire.
There was a reason she was trying to get under his skin, and it had to do with control. But it wasn’t going to work. His self-control was steel forged by fire.
“Sloan?”
He hesitated. Went to the bathroom door. “Yeah?”
“I forgot a towel.”
That was as old as the trees. He wasn’t falling for it. “Drip dry.”
She laughed. “I can’t. I have to dry the plastic sleeve that covers my stitches. I can’t get them wet. My towel is on my bed.”
It was a trap, it had to be. He’d simply open the door and fling the stupid thing onto the counter. She’d have to take it from there.
He grabbed the towel and opened the door, ready to make the toss onto the granite-topped counter. But he caught a glimpse of Kendall in the shower, silhouetted through the frosted glass, her head back as she rinsed her hair, still humming that dumb song. He could see breasts outlined through the glass, and her hair falling back in a sleek sweep, nearly reaching her sexy rounded buttocks.
He threw the towel, slammed the door and staggered to the chair, falling into it with a smothered curse.
She was a goddess. That much beauty was enough to kill a lesser man. He was stuck protecting it.
It wasn’t going to kill him. He was simply going to control his mind so that he didn’t think about the beautifully rounded breasts or the—
He breathed, began the technique of self-hypnosis that never failed him. He had this.
This was his job, and he’d always been a loyal soldier. He’d always done his job.
This time would be no different.
* * *
K ENDALL CAME OUT OF the bathroom feeling like a new woman. She slipped into her bed, happily pulling the sheet up to her neck—but then she realized Sloan was sound asleep, his head tilted at an awkward angle in the wingback chair.
“Hey! Tough guy.”
He didn’t move.
Okay, he was going to have a helluva crick in his neck in the morning. “Although why I should care, I don’t know, you annoying Callahan.” She grabbed the small, fringed, tubular-shaped lumbar pillow off the bed and went over to Sloan, trying to figure out how to stick it behind his neck without waking him. He seemed to be deep in sleep, so the maneuver should be easy enough. And anyway, she didn’t care if she did wake him up. It would serve him right for being such a horse’s rear. She jammed the pillow under his neck, springing back a bit when he moved, opened one sleepy eye—before both eyes came open to glare at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, my goodness,” Kendall said, exasperated. “Trying to smother you with a lacy pillow, you freak. What does it look like?”
His gaze moved from her face to her throat, then slid down to her breasts, which he could probably see through the white cami top. His eyes shot back to hers. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You didn’t look comfortable.”
He watched as she got back into bed, his gaze hard on her as she pulled the sheet snugly up to her neck. “I don’t need a pillow.”
“I know.” Kendall sighed. “You’re a hard case. You sleep on rocks and you eat rocks and you drink water you smite from rock. Go back to sleep.”
She flounced over onto her side, thoroughly put out with him.
“Sleeping on rocks or wood is not all that uncommon in some civilizations,” Sloan said.
“That’s nice. Just sit over
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