Free Midnight Rainbow by Linda Howard

folded arm as she sought a more
comfortable position. "Come on, we've got to get going," he said,
shaking her more vigorously. "Wake up!" She aimed a drowsy swat at
him, as if he were a pesky fly, brushing his hand aside. Exasperated, Grant caught
her shoulders and pulled her to a sitting position, shaking her once again.
"Damn it, would you get up? On your feet, honey; we've got some walking to
do." Her eyes finally opened, and she blinked at him groggily, but she
made no move to get up. Swearing under his breath, Grant hauled her to her
feet. "Just stand over there, out of the way," he said, turning her
around and starting her on her way with a swat on her bottom before he turned
his attention to taking down their shelter.
     

  Chapter Four
 
                  Jane stopped, her hand going to her bottom.
Awakened now, and irritated by his light, casual slap, she turned. "You
didn't have to do that!"
                  "Do what?" he asked with total
disinterest, already busy removing the tarp from the top of the lean-to and
rolling it up to replace it in his backpack.
                  "Hit me! A simple 'wake-up' would have
sufficed!"
                  Grant looked at her in disbelief. "Well,
pardon me all to hell," he drawled in a sarcastic tone that made her want
to strangle him. "Let me start over. Excuse me, Priscilla, but nappy time
is over, and we really do have to—hey! Damn it!" He ducked in time,
throwing his arm up to catch the force of her fist. Swiftly he twisted his arm
to lock his fingers around her wrist, then caught her other arm before she
could swing at him with it. She'd exploded into fury, hurling herself at him
like a cat pouncing. Her fist had hit his arm with enough strength that she
might have broken his nose if the blow had landed on target. "Woman, what
in hell is wrong with you?"
                  "I told you not to call me that!"
Jane raged at him, spitting the words out in her fury. She struggled wildly,
trying to free her arm so she could hit him again.
                  Panting, Grant wrestled her to the ground and
sat astride her, holding her hands above her head, and this time making damned
certain that her knee wouldn't come anywhere near him. She kept wriggling and
heaving, and he felt as if he were trying to hold an
octopus, but finally he had her subdued. Glaring at her, he said, "You
told me not to call you Pris ."
                  "Well, don't call me Priscilla,
either!" she fumed, glaring right back.
                  "Look, I'm not a mind reader! What am I
supposed to call you?"
                  "Jane!" she shouted at him. "My
name is Jane! Nobody has ever called me Priscilla!"
                  "All right! All
you had to do was tell me! I'm getting damned tired of you snapping at my
ankles, understand? I may hurt you before I can stop myself, so you'd better
think twice before you attack again. Now, if I let you up, are you going to
behave?"
                  Jane still glared at him, but the weight of
his knees on her bruised arms was excruciating. "All right," she said
sullenly, and he slowly got up, then surprised her by
offering his hand to help her up. She surprised herself by taking it.
                  A sudden twinkle lit the dark gold of his
eyes. "Jane, huh?" he asked reflectively, looking at the surrounding
jungle.
                  She gave him a threatening look. "No 'Me
Tarzan, you Jane' stuff," she warned. "I've heard it since grade school."
She paused, then said grudgingly, "But it's still
better than Priscilla." He grunted in agreement and turned away to finish
dismantling their shelter, and after a moment Jane began helping. He glanced at
her, but said nothing. He wasn't much of a talker, she'd noticed, and he didn't
improve any on closer acquaintance. But he'd risked his own life to help her,
and he hadn't left her behind, even though Jane knew