“So I’ve heard. Well, a pasta-and-ice-cream-eating horse anyway.”
“Gary and Simon again, I presume.”
“They do seem to like to talk about you.” He strolled around her, paused at her back. “You have a tattoo?”
“So?” She shrugged. “It was a dare from some of the guys.”
“Do you always do what people dare you?” His fingers traced the pattern on her shoulder and a prickle ran over her skin. The tattoo was of a paw print—she’d thought it was appropriate.
“It suits you.” He came back to stand in front of her, then picked up a large white towel and handed it to her. “Here, dry off. I thought we could talk.”
“It’s too early to talk,” she muttered but took the towel and blotted her hair and body dry before sitting awkwardly on one of the striped poolside loungers.
“You woke me,” he said. “My bedroom is just there.” He pointed to a set of French windows directly above the pool.
She didn’t want to think about Zach in bed. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t sound it. I was having the most amazing dream, and you woke me right at the interesting part, so you owe me something now.”
She sniffed. “I have absolutely no intention of entertaining you.”
But she spread out the towel and lay back on the lounger. She didn’t bother to cover up; perhaps if he saw her in all her scrawny glory, scars and everything, he would lay off. She couldn’t even begin to compare to the voluptuous blonde she had first seen him with. She bent her left leg at the knee, almost displaying the scar, but he just looked down at her and grinned.
“Think a little thing like that is going to put me off?” he asked.
Yes, she had. It was almost as if he had the ability to read her mind. Damn him. “It’s hardly little.”
He took a seat on the lounge chair next to her, turning to examine her leg closely.
Strangely, she found she didn’t mind. In her experience, most people, when faced with the physical evidence of someone else’s suffering, tried their best to ignore it; it was refreshing to find honest interest.
She watched, mesmerized, as those long fingers with their blunt, manicured nails reached out and glided over the pattern of scars that twisted around her thigh. The skin burned where he touched, and she had an almost overwhelming urge to lie back and enjoy the rare contact with another human being. She had a strange inkling of what she had been missing by cutting herself off from physical contact. She’d held herself aloof for so long until it had become second nature, and now she felt the lack almost like a pain in her chest.
Then his fingers stroked smoothly, surely over the soft flesh of her inner thigh, and she closed her eyes and stopped thinking entirely. Long moments later, the movement ceased. She sighed and reluctantly raised her heavy lids to look up at him. His eyes glowed dark gold as they stared down at her. Thankfully, there was no pity reflected in their direct gaze, only some emotion she was reluctant to analyze.
“It must have hurt,” he said at last.
“I don’t remember.”
“Nothing?”
She tried to rally her thoughts. “I remember the dog going crazy, but it was too late. I saw…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I saw. I knew something was wrong and then nothing. Until I woke up in the hospital—that wasn’t nice.” She paused. “That’s all I remember when I’m awake, but sometimes when I’m asleep…”
“You must be very brave.”
She frowned. “Brave? Why? I was only doing my job.”
“What happened to the dog?”
Dani glanced across at him. It occurred to her that it was impossible to dislike someone who cared enough to ask about the dog. She smiled. “She’s fine, better than me, anyway. She was blown clear of the blast. She’s retired now though, lost her nerve.”
“And you? Have you lost your nerve?”
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “It’s hard to be traumatized by something you don’t even remember. I probably won’t know until I’m up against the same sort of situation again.”
His body tensed, and he scrutinized her through half-closed eyes. “You plan to go back?”
“If they send me.” Her brows drew together. “Why so surprised? I told you I intended to go back if they’ll have me. It’s my life.”
“I just thought that after this”—he stroked a fingertip along the scar on her leg—“you’d stay at home, do paperwork, training, I don’t know.”
She glanced away, fiddling with her hair; she wasn’t used to it long yet, and it gave her something to do with her hands. When she looked back, he was still studying her. She shivered. It was as if he were taking her to pieces, finding out what made her tick, and that was something she wasn’t sure she wanted to know herself, never mind somebody else.
“Why do you want to know all this?” she asked.
“Maybe I’m going to use you in my next book—the selfless heroine risking her life for her country.”
Dani’s lips turned down at the definite edge of sarcasm in his voice. “I’ll sue you if you do.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you six foot three with black hair. No one will recognize you, least of all you. After all, I’d probably lose all credibility if I made my heroine five foot nothing.”
“Five foot one,” she said menacingly.
He grinned with a flash of white teeth in his tanned face—utterly charming. Suddenly, she had to know why he was paying her so much attention. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know.” He paused and looked her up and down. “You’re certainly not my type,” he added, somewhat disparagingly.
“I noticed,” she said drily, and one corner of his lips quirked up with humor.
“No, you’re definitely not my usual type, but there’s something about you,” he mused. “Maybe I see you as a challenge, or maybe it’s an urge to see if I can get a rise out of you.”
“You mean you do it on purpose?” She sat up abruptly and narrowed her eyes at him. She’d been quite aware of how often he got a rise out of her—that it was totally premeditated on his part came as quite a shock. She hated the thought that he could manipulate her so easily.
“Well, you don’t think I’m this annoying normally, do you?” he asked.