Free Eye of the Beholder by Ingrid Weaver Page B

extensive.
    “Rafe?”
    “Yeah?”
    “How did you…?” She hesitated.
    He licked a drop of juice from his lower lip and opened his eyes. “How did I what?”
    She was curious about how he had got his scars. More than that, she was curious about his attitude toward them. He knew they weren’t pleasant to look at—he’d even referred to them to explain why he wasn’t married or engaged—so why hadn’t he endeavored to have them repaired?
    Ordinarily, she wouldn’t ask such a personal question of someone she’d only just met. But there was nothing ordinary about this situation. And after what they’d shared in the past twenty-four hours, she couldn’t regard him as a stranger. She put her fingertips on his jaw, tracing the edge of the deepest scar. “How did these happen? Was it on a mission?”
    His kept his gaze on a tree across the clearing. “What difference does it make?”
    “None. I just want to know about you.”
    “I’m the soldier who’s going to get you to safety. That’s all you need to know.”
    She dropped her hand. “Next are you going to give me your name, rank and serial number?”
    He finished the mango and flung the pit hard toward the undergrowth. “The track we followed ends in a field about two hundred meters southwest of here. It’s over-grown, looks like it hasn’t been worked in several years, but the going shouldn’t be too bad if we stick to the perimeter. I’ll rig up a crutch for you. Even if we take it slow, we should still be able to cover some distance before nightfall.”
    “Why are you doing this?”
    “It’s my job.”
    “No, I mean why are you treating me like a stranger?”
    “We are strangers, Glenna. I think it would be best if we both remember that.”
    “You’re wrong, Rafe. After what we’ve gone through together, I know you. I can’t remember ever feeling this sense of…connection with any other man.”
    He turned his head, finally meeting her gaze. “That’s because you’ve never been shot at and held prisoner before. You’re just grateful to me for rescuing you. You’ll feel differently once we’re out of here.”
    She didn’t believe that. “Have you ever kissed a woman you rescue?”
    “No. And I shouldn’t have this time.”
    “Didn’t you like it?”
    Sudden heat flared in his eyes. “You know damn well I did. I liked kissing you and I liked every damn thing we did. Any sane red-blooded man would. But the subject’s closed. End of discussion. Eat your mango.”
    Because she was hungry, she took a bite. She continued to study him, not bothered in the least by his outburst. If anything, the outburst had reassured her that what she’d felt had been real. “You don’t like people getting close to you, do you, Rafe?”
    “Glenna…”
    “I know what that’s like because I do that, too. Or at least, I used to. Would you like to know the last time I kissed anyone?”
    “No, I would not.”
    “I had to think about it a while, but it was New Year’s Eve last year. I was overseeing the gala in the Winston grand ballroom and Abernathy Black, the executive director of the chain, had too much champagne. We had gone to the theater a few times before that, so I suppose he thought I wouldn’t mind, but he’d also had too much garlic shrimp.”
    He folded his arms across his chest and let his head thud back against the tree trunk.
    “Before that, it was a stockbroker I met at one of my mother’s dinner parties. I think his name was Clifford something. I’d gone out to the garden to get some air and he seemed to think it was expected of him. I couldn’t blame him, since that’s why my mother had invited him. She considers it her duty to set her only child up with eligible bachelors from her circle. I don’t know why.”
    “I do not want to hear about your love life.”
    “I already told you, I don’t have one. There’s no room in my day planner for that.” She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her cheek on her knee.