hadn’t been prepared for it. She immediately felt lost.
“I’m going to check the water,” he told her, and kept talking. “Nice little creek. Maybe six feet wide. Water is brisk. Wish there were some edible fruits around, but I don’t see any.”
He spoke to Mochi next, told the kid to look for food.
She focused on his voice and tried not to think of all the possible dangers surrounding her that she couldn’t see, like poisonous plants, bugs and snakes.
He came back in two minutes. “I’d like to wash you off.”
She would have given anything to feel cold water on her skin. “Okay.”
He tugged on her bootlaces. “I’m going to take you in up to your knees. All you have to do is hang on to me.”
She was more than ready to wash off the grime and sweat, except— “What about piranhas?” She hesitated.
“Not in a quick little creek like this.”
“Parasites?” She didn’t worry about only herself, but had to worry about her baby as well. She would put up with any amount of discomfort rather than risk something bad happening to her unborn son.
“Fast-moving water is usually safe. It’s the stagnant pools you have to worry about.” He worked her boots and socks off, then took her hand again.
She followed him timidly, especially when they reached some smallish rocks, which were wet and slippery.
Then he stopped at last when the water reached just below her knees. “Stand still. I’ll take care of everything. Your center of balance is off with that belly. I don’t want you to bend down, lose balance and pitch headfirst into the current. Okay?”
When he put it that way, how could she protest? “Did you just call me fat?” she joked to ease her awareness. The man was about to bathe her!
“More like curvaceous, in a blessed way.”
“Very smooth.”
He gave a flat laugh.
She liked the sound of it. His voice lost most of its South American flavor and sounded a lot more American now, the Texas twang more noticeable. And she realized that, before, he’d probably talked like the men in camp just to fit in. But now there was no reason for pretense.
He removed the cloth from her eyes first. She tried to open them, but couldn’t. Disappointment washed over her.
“How long am I going to be like this?”
“A couple of hours, at least. Maybe days.”
Oh, God. But she appreciated that he gave her the truth.
He washed her face first, careful with her swollen eyes, his fingers barely touching her, the cold water feeling like heaven as it ran down her skin.
Then he washed her hands, her arms, her neck—probably bringing water in his palms to pour over her. She couldn’t see, only feel. His gentle care felt comforting and intimate at the same time. All sorts of sensations skittered along her skin every time his fingers brushed against her.
*
T HE MATERIAL OF her light slacks and shirt clung to her skin, emphasizing her curves. She might as well have been naked. His body was as hard as it had ever been, but he ignored that and kept bathing her, knowing the cold water had to feel good on her burning stings.
Mochi played around in the water a short distance up the creek, ignoring what must have seemed like a strange ritual to him. Then he grew bored with that and ran ashore, searched through the undergrowth with a stick, careful to keep the puppy on a short leash.
A strange little dog, that one. Chico refused to accept his disability and darted around with enviable agility, despite his missing front leg, as in love with Mochi as Mochi was with him.
But the dog and the kid didn’t hold Jase’s attention for long, not when Melanie stood right in front of him.
He could have kept up playing in the water with her for a good long time. But he wanted her to have plenty of time to sit and rest before they had to get going again. So, after another couple of minutes, he took her hand and led her out of the water, sat her down on the flat stone at the creek’s edge, in the sunshine.
He tugged
“I’m going to check the water,” he told her, and kept talking. “Nice little creek. Maybe six feet wide. Water is brisk. Wish there were some edible fruits around, but I don’t see any.”
He spoke to Mochi next, told the kid to look for food.
She focused on his voice and tried not to think of all the possible dangers surrounding her that she couldn’t see, like poisonous plants, bugs and snakes.
He came back in two minutes. “I’d like to wash you off.”
She would have given anything to feel cold water on her skin. “Okay.”
He tugged on her bootlaces. “I’m going to take you in up to your knees. All you have to do is hang on to me.”
She was more than ready to wash off the grime and sweat, except— “What about piranhas?” She hesitated.
“Not in a quick little creek like this.”
“Parasites?” She didn’t worry about only herself, but had to worry about her baby as well. She would put up with any amount of discomfort rather than risk something bad happening to her unborn son.
“Fast-moving water is usually safe. It’s the stagnant pools you have to worry about.” He worked her boots and socks off, then took her hand again.
She followed him timidly, especially when they reached some smallish rocks, which were wet and slippery.
Then he stopped at last when the water reached just below her knees. “Stand still. I’ll take care of everything. Your center of balance is off with that belly. I don’t want you to bend down, lose balance and pitch headfirst into the current. Okay?”
When he put it that way, how could she protest? “Did you just call me fat?” she joked to ease her awareness. The man was about to bathe her!
“More like curvaceous, in a blessed way.”
“Very smooth.”
He gave a flat laugh.
She liked the sound of it. His voice lost most of its South American flavor and sounded a lot more American now, the Texas twang more noticeable. And she realized that, before, he’d probably talked like the men in camp just to fit in. But now there was no reason for pretense.
He removed the cloth from her eyes first. She tried to open them, but couldn’t. Disappointment washed over her.
“How long am I going to be like this?”
“A couple of hours, at least. Maybe days.”
Oh, God. But she appreciated that he gave her the truth.
He washed her face first, careful with her swollen eyes, his fingers barely touching her, the cold water feeling like heaven as it ran down her skin.
Then he washed her hands, her arms, her neck—probably bringing water in his palms to pour over her. She couldn’t see, only feel. His gentle care felt comforting and intimate at the same time. All sorts of sensations skittered along her skin every time his fingers brushed against her.
*
T HE MATERIAL OF her light slacks and shirt clung to her skin, emphasizing her curves. She might as well have been naked. His body was as hard as it had ever been, but he ignored that and kept bathing her, knowing the cold water had to feel good on her burning stings.
Mochi played around in the water a short distance up the creek, ignoring what must have seemed like a strange ritual to him. Then he grew bored with that and ran ashore, searched through the undergrowth with a stick, careful to keep the puppy on a short leash.
A strange little dog, that one. Chico refused to accept his disability and darted around with enviable agility, despite his missing front leg, as in love with Mochi as Mochi was with him.
But the dog and the kid didn’t hold Jase’s attention for long, not when Melanie stood right in front of him.
He could have kept up playing in the water with her for a good long time. But he wanted her to have plenty of time to sit and rest before they had to get going again. So, after another couple of minutes, he took her hand and led her out of the water, sat her down on the flat stone at the creek’s edge, in the sunshine.
He tugged
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