Page 21 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

“Go to sleep, Elise.”

“Okay.”

His brows slammed together. Since when did she give up so easily? She was up to something. Sure enough, the zipper zinged in a few moments and the flap opened. “Move over,” she announced.

“Why?”

“I’m coming out.”

“Forget to make a pit stop before bedtime?”

“Nope.”

He started as a wad of down-filled sleeping bag bulged through the tent opening. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Coming out to sleep with you.”

“Oh, no you don’t—” he started.

She cut him off. “If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me. I’m not sleeping in the tent unless you do.”

He cringed at the note of obstinate finality in her voice. “This is madness.”

“Actually,” she replied blithely, “it’s blackmail. If you want me to get eaten alive out here, so be it. Otherwise, we’re both going inside and getting a decent, safe night’s sleep.”

His gaze narrowed. He did not appreciate blackmail. Not from his clients and not from her.

No doubt to emphasize her point, she swatted at her arm. “I swear. The mosquitoes out here are the size of hummingbirds.”

The idea of her tender skin red and puffy with bug bites made his gut twist. Oh, she was good, all right. He scowled at her. “I didn’t know nuns were allowed to fight so dirty.”

Her chuckle was low and sexy. “You have no idea.”

Reluctantly, he capitulated, gesturing for her to get back inside the tent and take her sleeping bag with her. At least she had the good grace not to gloat as he crawled in beside her. Furious with himself for giving in and terrified at how much further he’d weaken tonight, he stretched out on top of his sleeping bag, tense.

The light scent of her body wash wafted over him and he seriously regretted caving in to her demands. He’d wait until she fell asleep, and then he’d sneak outside to spend the night.

Except she seemed to have no interest in sleeping. He lay there, board stiff, listening to her breathing not settling down into the rhythms of sleep. Finally, he broke the silence. “Something on your mind, Sister?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You should have been asleep a while ago.”

“Why are you still awake? Guilty conscience?”

Crap. Did she know he’d seen her taking that bath? “Uh, no. Why do you say that?” he asked cautiously.

“What else would keep a man awake after a long day?”

“I slept late this morning. What’s your excuse? Is your conscience bugging you, perchance?”

She sighed quietly. “Actually, it is. I’m afraid I’m not being a very good nun.”

If, by that, she meant she was too damned tempting for her own good, he had to agree. “Far be it from me to judge such a thing,” he commented. “It’s between you and God.”

She started to snort, but then the sound cut off short. Did the nun have a small problem with God at the moment? Was he tempting her? He supposed he should feel bad about that. Instead, a surge of fierce joy surged in his gut. But then, he was already going to hell. No need to feel guilty about adding to his long list of sins. Right?

He tossed and turned for a while longer, waiting for her to go to sleep. But instead, he woke abruptly some time later. The night was deep and mostly silent around him. What had woken him like that? He trusted his instincts completely. Some threat had registered on his subconscious mind.

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