Up Close and Dangerous (Page 32)

Her sense of reality, however, was strong, and it had told her they were in dire circumstances. Even if he hadn’t been injured, she didn’t have time or room on her to-do list for a play session. And besides, there was always the classic reason for saying no: she had a headache—a real one, so severe that only the urgent need to fashion a shelter for the night had kept her going.

Speaking of which…Up and at ’em, girl, she told herself, pushing her physical complaints aside. “If you’re sure you don’t need to pee—”

“I’m sure,” he growled. Now he sounded definitely testy.

“Then let’s get this show on the road, Captain Justice.”

More than an hour later, she literally dragged herself into the ramshackle shelter beside him and collapsed on the pieces of foam rubber, which she’d covered with the space blanket on the theory that heat rose, so they’d be warmer lying on top of the blanket than under it. It made sense to her, so she’d gone with it.

Justice had been white with exhaustion and pain by the time she got him up the slope. Covering the short distance, their progress made in laborious inches, had been a nightmare that left them both shaking. Before that, with his help, she’d gotten him into clean clothes. She’d made trips up and down the slope, dragging the trash bags of clothing and other supplies, but at last everything was done and night had fallen.

She was shaking with cold again, but she managed to reach out and drag one of the full trash bags closer until it covered most of the opening into the shelter. They lay in the total darkness for a few seconds, the only sound the harsh gasp of her breathing; then he turned on her battery-operated book light. The small light threw harsh shadows on his strong-boned face as he struggled closer to her, his expression revealing nothing of what the movement must have cost him.

Silently he eased her into his arms again so they were lying as close together as they could get, and he arranged the piles of clothing over both of them. Then he turned the light off, to save the battery, and they lay there together until her breathing was less labored and their shivering had almost ceased.

“When you feel like it,” he said, his voice deep and soothing in the utter blackness surrounding them, “we’ll finish off that Snickers and drink the rest of the water. I think we both could use a couple of aspirin, too.”

“Uh huh.” That was all she could manage by way of an answer. She was so tired that every cell in her body ached. Yes, she was hungry, but if getting food required moving then she could do without eating. The pieces of foam were as cushiony to her battered body as any bed she’d ever slept in, and there was something deeply comforting about lying so close to him that she could feel his breath stirring in her hair, feel his chest moving as he breathed. His scent and warmth enveloped her. Resting her aching head on his shoulder, she slept.

CAM KNEW THE instant she went to sleep; the tension flowed from her muscles, her breathing evened and deepened, and she lay bonelessly against him. He rested his lips against her cold forehead for a moment, then turned his head a little so his cheek was against her’s and he could share what little warmth he had. If they lived through the night it would be because of her dogged determination—that and the mind-boggling amount of clothing she’d packed.

He’d watched her as much as possible, though moving his head made his headache almost blindingly severe. When she was in his field of vision he’d watched her stagger around, then crawl around, and it infuriated him that he couldn’t help her, that he had to lie there like a useless piece of shit while she half killed herself trying to take care of the both of them. She had pushed herself way past the point where most people would have sat down and said, “I can’t do any more,” and in taking care of him she had seriously neglected her own health.

He suspected she was dehydrated, because if she’d stopped for any nature calls during the day, he hadn’t noticed, and since regaining consciousness he’d paid very close attention to her, listening to her movements even when he couldn’t see her. She had allowed herself only a few sips of water, but at the same time she’d pushed herself physically all day long.

On the other hand, he’d tried to replenish the fluid volume he’d lost. He had drank steadily, if not a lot at any one time, from the mouthwash bottle as the snow inside it melted, replenishing the snow from what he could reach. At one point he’d painfully rolled on his side and taken a leak—careful to aim away from the area where he was getting the snow—and Bailey had been so focused on accomplishing all her tasks that she hadn’t even noticed.

She was so exhausted he’d let her sleep for a while before waking her to eat and drink. Holding her wasn’t exactly a hardship. Even with all the layers of clothing between them he could feel the firmness of her body, the resilience of her breasts. She kept herself trim, almost too slender for his tastes, but her muscle tone said she did it by exercise and not by starving herself.

Good muscle mass would help keep her warm tonight, too, but even then she’d have a tougher time dealing with the cold than he would. That was another reason why he was letting her sleep now, while she could. As the temperature kept dropping she’d get colder; they both would, even with all these clothes around and over them. Their shared body heat might be enough to keep them fairly comfortable, but he suspected that around dawn the temperature would be around zero, with a windchill about thirty below. That was damn cold by anyone’s standard. The shelter did the job of protecting them from the wind, but it wasn’t airtight. Guess he’d have to suck it up and cuddle with her all night long.