“You … uh … don’t have any idea where we are, do you?”
“Not a clue. I expect we’re somewhere in Central America—Lonesome Fred was going to keep parallel to the coastline.” He crossed his long legs, peering at the horizon. “Think you’ll have any trouble finding where Van Zandt’s holed up?”
“Maybe. But I’ll find him sooner or later.” She stared at his averted profile for a long, suspicious moment. She’d been sitting there, feeling useless and sorry for herself, and suddenly Mack had given her back her pride. Had he done it on purpose?
She had relied on him too much in the last twenty-four hours. First, to keep the night terrors from destroying her, then to keep her afloat during that interminable afternoon. It had been different when it came to stealing the car. She was perfectly comfortable having Mack rescue them. As long as she asked him to in the first place. She hated like hell having to accept his aid when it was presented unasked.
She had been prepared for him to try to take over the expedition, and in expectation she launched an attack. “That was a great pilot you picked,” she said.
Mack shrugged, unmoved. “So I got a little overzealous,” he drawled. “I didn’t want to leave all the burden on you, Superwoman. I wouldn’t want you to think I couldn’t pull my weight.”
Did he know what she’d been going through? Quite possibly. She had yet to meet a man who’d give up control so easily and yet still remain calm and strong. Apparently Mack was a man who could do it. Maybe. Maggie searched about in her own mind for the right words, gratitude without encouragement, comradeship without losing the upper hand. If she really had the upper hand at all.
“You pull your weight, Pulaski. I know I can count on you if need be,” she said carefully. “I … I appreciate your help.”
“Sure you do, princess,” he said, much amused. “I’ll keep my place next time.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. Her honesty was her major attribute, and she wasn’t about to lie to him to assuage her own neuroses. They were in an extremely tenuous situation, and she needed to feel in control if she was going to get them safely out of it. And if Mack’s feelings were hurt, that was too damned bad.
But he didn’t look like a man suffering from wounded feelings. He lay there in the sand, entirely at ease, as if there was no place else he’d rather be. Maggie could only wish she felt the same way.
Her jumpsuit had long since dried, and she’d made an effort at brushing the sand from it. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night, and having sand ride up her backbone wouldn’t help matters. The sun had long ago withdrawn its warmth from the land, and Maggie shivered.
“Maggie.” His ruined voice floated across the night breeze. “Come here.”
She looked up at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because it’s late, we both need sleep. It’s getting chilly, and a little body warmth will come in handy, considering we don’t have anything we can use for blankets.”
“Pulaski …” she said warningly.
“For Christ’s sake, Maggie, I’m not putting the make on you,” he said, irritation finally breaking through his usual calm. “I’m tired and I’m cold and I want to go to sleep. And I’m not going to be able to sleep with you sitting there, miles away, brooding and shivering. Come here, or I’m damned well going to come over there.”
She sat utterly still, glaring at him. It made perfect sense, of course. And she was pretty sure he wasn’t about to rip off her jumpsuit and have his wicked way with her. Most of the time he barely seemed aware that she was female. Of course there were moments when an odd sort of sexual heat had flared between them, but those moments had been effectively wiped out by her cutting tongue. She’d done it before, she could do it again. And God, she was getting colder by the minute.
She pulled herself to her feet, moving around the small fire and kneeling beside him. “All right,” she muttered wryly. “I’m trusting you to control your animal passions, though I know the temptation is great. Where do you want me?”
There was a light in his hazel eyes that told her he was considering a highly improper answer. She could come up with her own reply, and it was a very inviting position. But she remained kneeling, waiting for him.
Mack restrained himself nobly. “Between me and the fire, since you’re clearly freezing to death,” he said. “I may wake you up when I put more wood on it, but I figure them’s the breaks.”
“It’s not that cold a night,” she found herself saying. “You could let the fire die down.”
“I was wrong about the moonlight, Maggie. If the fire died down, it would be dark.” His voice was gentle.
She wished she could tell him not to bother. Just when she was trying to regain control, her old, irrational fears crept out again. “All right,” she said, stretching out on the sand beside him, not touching him. “Wake me if you have to.”
He grinned down at her. “What is this, a high school dance where the partners have to stay five inches apart? We aren’t going to share much warmth this way, Maggie.” And he pulled her across the sand into the shelter of his warm body.
She automatically stiffened, wondering if she’d read him wrong. But his hands were impersonal, holding her against him as if she were a child. Slowly she began to relax. What was she being such an idiot for, anyway? What would be wrong with sharing a little more than body warmth on a deserted beach? What was wrong with making love to a man she found very attractive?
But she wasn’t about to talk herself into it. Lying in the shelter of his big, strong body, she had to admit that she wanted him, and wanted him quite badly. Maybe more than she’d ever wanted anyone before. And despite Mack’s nonthreatening, laid-back attitude, she suspected that he wanted her too.
But she didn’t dare give in. They were safe enough on this beach, but if they made love now, they’d make love again. And again and again, every night they spent together, and then it wouldn’t be as safe.
She’d had enough of failed relationships, of going into them blindly, openheartedly, only to have the men leave when they began to feel threatened or bored. It had been months since she and Peter had decided to go their separate ways, romantically, and she wasn’t eager to trade her peace of mind for another round of passion and pain.
So Mack and his considerable physical attractions were going to have to be ignored. It was a good, sensible resolution, and she released her pent-up breath, relaxing against him.