Page 4 of A Spark of Luck
He took a long look at her face. “No, I understand, Doc.”
She looked at the blood-and-dirt crusted pants on the back of the chair across the room and his boots on the floor. “We’ll get you a pair of crutches and find you a pair of scrubs to put on to get back to your quarters. I don’t want you putting those on.” She kept her eyes off his naked hip. Barely.
She dared to look him in the eyes. The amusement there nearly did her in. It was like he could read her mind and understood how bad she wanted to test the zing.
“I’ll get the nurse to give you an antibiotic shot and bring you the crutches, pants, and your prescription. Watch for infection. I want to know immediately if you see signs of one. Clear? See you in seven to ten days, right?”
“Copy that, Doc.”
She bolted, escaping her only defense against an unruly body and an impossible lust.
Chapter Two
Hunt shifted on his bunk, tempted to bounce his reading device off the wall. He was reading a W.E.B. Griffin book. IfThe Brotherhood of Warwasn’t one of his favorite series, he’d have closed outThe Lieutenantstwo hours ago. He’d slept a solid ten hours after falling face down in his bunk – unheard of, but a result of the local anesthetic, the loss of blood, and stress. But now it was day one, twelve hours in, and boredom scraped against his sour mood.
Out in the field, he could lie for hours in one position and never lose his focus. But in quarters, there was nothing but gray ceilings, squeaky beds, the noise of others’ working, and no threat of death. The doc said three days, and he was determined to not let her down, but it might be the biggest challenge he’d had in a good long time. He would do as she’d requested and not because violating her rules affected his performance as a SEAL. Honoring her wishes was something he had to do. He would respect her knowledge and her skill by tempering his actions. If she was in his environment, he’d expect her to honor his authority.
That part really wasn’t his problem. It might be tough, might rub against his need to be working, involved, busy. But he could do it. What he couldn’t do was keep his mind off her. Her physician presence, her smarts, her skill – all were evident in how she treated him. He closed his eyes, and it was all fresh as yesterday’s moments. Every time he thought about her, his body followed the fantasy to hot and steel hard. Privacy didn’t exist here. He couldn’t even reach down and use his hand to give himself relief. Lying in the bed with his body humming and doing nothing about it – it sucked.
“Yeah, Hunt. Use that word.” He rolled his eyes.
He’d promised her he’d follow the rules she’d set forth, and he would keep his word. It was all he had. He didn’t ever make promises unless he could keep them. Which led to the problem with this attraction. He was a lieutenant soon to be a lieutenant commander in the U.S. Navy, and she was a captain in the U.S. Army. So similar ranks and similar time in service. No fraternization problem per se, but he’d hear about it anyway.
The SEALs were operating in Afghanistan in a classified capacity. Interacting with others, even the medical staff, presented an open door for gossip. Further, the kind of interaction he had in mind was sweaty, intense, and included getting hishands into her beautiful strawberry blonde hair, his mouth on those pert pink lips, and his naked body against her naked curves.
Frustrated, he rolled again then hissed when the stitches pulled from the movement. “Dammit.” He’d promised her he’d take it easy, and he did want to get back in the field sooner rather than later, even if it meant getting shot at and confronting nasty, unprincipled people. That was part of the job.
He picked up his book, found his spot, and tried to concentrate. World War II was one of his favorite subjects. But, again, his mind wandered. Was it because he was in a long dry spell? A year to be specific. Honestly, after what his last “girlfriend” did – now nameless to him – he planned to remain a monk for the rest of his life. He had no interest in the chase, in the persuasion, or in the sex.
Doogie’s current psychological theory surmised that he was reacting to his childhood and the crap his parents had done to him, so he wasn’t in a mindset to be trusting. Honestly, he hadn’t met anyone that made it a physical and emotional imperative to get together. A body imperative for the moment wasn’t worth it.
Did that make Doc his destiny or an unruly body saying enough celibacy already? Since his body was rarely out of his mental control, this hadto be something else. He didn’t believe in destiny or fate. Life was just life. But this smacked of either lust or divine intervention; he wasn’t sure which.
The expected knock on the door stayed true to practice. His team had an unwritten rule and wouldn’t be leaving him alone if they could help it. Afghanistan was a hard place to be, and caring about each team member’s mental health stayed a priority. Slipping a pillow between his legs, he told himself it was to elevate the injury. Concealing the hard on was a side benefit. He picked up his device and hollered, “Come in.”
Doogie’s head popped through the door. “You up for company?”
He was up all right.
Stifling that bit of humor, he nodded an affirmative. “Get in here.”
“Bout ready to jump out of your skin?”
“Yes, you nailed it.”
Doogie sat on a bunk across from his, currently empty because the previous team had returned stateside. The man offered his plastic bag with the beef jerky he inhaled regularly. “Ripped into the package my mama sent. Nice care package.”
Hunt waved it off. “Your mama is too good to you.”
“That’d be God’s honest truth. You really gonna stay off your feet for three days?”
“Yes, longer if there’s pain.” God, he didn’t want to talk about Doc.
“Doc won’t know.”
Hunt tried to gauge Doogie’s expression. He looked too innocent. That meant he had something to say. Hunt didn’t want to go there. They’d been friends since they’d both gone to the SEALS at twenty-three, five years in, and they’d succeeded at everything together. “She’ll know.”
“Sixth sense?”
