Tempestuous Eden by Heather Graham Page B

body I consider my own—hope that isn’t too macho a statement—I think I’d make those dark Latin eyes of his a bit darker!”
    Blair chuckled softly as they stopped before her tent. She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms around his neck, delighting in his height and breadth as she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, slowly, savoringly. Feeling the heat grow from her action, she stepped back. “Coming from you,” she said huskily, “I don’t mind macho statements.”
    He grinned with the arch of a brow. “Good.” He took the initiative then and pulled her back into his arms. “This will only be a few days,” he said, his voice a deep, thrilling velvet. “Just a few days …”
    But the few days stretched to a week—one that Blair often considered pure torture. It’s because I know what I’m missing! Blair thought wryly as she stayed awake nights staring at the canvas even though she was bone weary. And yet, even the torture was nice. She felt vaguely as if she were being courted—a bit backward, maybe, but courted nevertheless. Craig walked her to her tent every night and each night they shared a kiss. Each night they both knew they wanted so much more.
    Blair wasn’t enduring half the torture that plagued Craig. Slipping out of the tent for his midnight communications now that Juan was in the tent was tricky, and yet not impossible. That was actually the least of his problems. He was behaving madly, carrying on with Blair when he, unlike she, was fully aware that time was of the essence, and that in a matter of days, everything could crash in on their heads.
    Yet he couldn’t stay away from her. Couldn’t help but pray that they would have just one more chance together before …
    Before she hated him. Not knowing what was going on and not able to tell her anything, even about himself, she was surely going to think the worst. He was asking for trouble. He would have been a hell of a lot better off if this had been a simple little baby-sitting stunt for a wayward socialite.
    None of it mattered. He was committed to the end. If there was an explosion … then be it. He couldn’t willfully change things. So this was being in love, he thought miserably. What a hell of a damned time for it to happen to me ….
    The tight schedule of the new-refugee confusion was just beginning to wind down when the second new recruit the doctor had been promised appeared.
    He came in a jeep, like Craig, carrying gifts from the States. His name was Brad Shearer. He was a dark-haired Texan, a smiling country boy close in age to Blair. Instantly likeable. An enthusiastic Dr. Hardy turned him over to Blair to introduce to the others.
    Blair found Kate and Craig together at the cook pot. “Kate, Craig—Brad Shearer.”.
    “Hey, west Texas!” Kate smiled warmly. “Glad to meet you.” Blair suppressed a smile at the unabashed sincerity of Kate’s comment. But then her smile began to fade with a trace of unease, the first she had felt in quite some time. She was almost sure she had detected a flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes when she introduced him to Craig.
    The second was over too quickly. “Nice to have you, Brad,” Craig said easily, extending his hand to the other man, his nonchalant grin in place.
    And then Brad was shaking his hand, his greeting cordial, but his eyes turning back to Kate.
    The two women had some time at the stream that evening. The majority of the influx of refugees had moved back to the north with supplies, their cuts and bruises patched. Things were once again normal.
    “What do you think of him?” Kate asked enthusiastically.
    “Who, Brad?”
    “Who else?” Kate demanded with exasperation.
    “He seems nice,” Blair responded warily. “Kate—did you notice anything funny today?”
    “I haven’t noticed anything funny in a long time,” Kate replied dryly. “What do you mean?”
    “I could have sworn Brad recognized Craig and then both of them acted as if they had