Chapter 11 Allegra
ALLEGRA
The other half of the sleeping bag is empty when I wake the next morning. I stretch lazily, wondering why I sleep so damn well crammed into a sleeping bag with Marcus. On second thought, that’s best left unexamined.
I press my finger to my lips, remembering the kiss last night. His lips on mine felt firm and insistent and so damn right.
I pull the sleeping bag around me and breathe in the scent that Marcus left behind.
My eyes drop close, and I indulge myself for a moment.
It’s been a long time since a man kissed me.
Most men are too scared when they find out who my father is or too intimidated.
But Marcus is neither. He kissed me like a man claiming what’s his.
He kissed me like we were just two hikers sharing a moment on the trail, which is exactly what we’re doing. He’s a soldier and I’m a scientist. In the real world, those two things don’t go together. In the real world, I’m Allegra Simpson, tech princess and heir.
I let out a long sigh and open my eyes.
It was one kiss, but it can’t happen again. Marcus knows it, and I know it. Whatever attraction we have for each other is the result of the circumstances throwing us together. My pheromones are attracted to his pheromones, and they’re heightened by sharing a sleeping bag.
It’s science. Nothing more.
I get out of the sleeping bag and find Marcus rekindling the fire. I found a jar of instant coffee at the store, and he holds it up and shakes it.
“Want a brew?”
His accent and half-smile make my stomach flutter. Damn pheromones.
There was supposed to be a bag of fresh coffee beans in my supply bag, but instant will have to do.
“Thanks.”
I pull out my laptop and sit on the other end of the log as far away from him as possible. I can’t avoid touching him when we’re sharing a sleeping bag, but during the day, I’m staying as far away from Marcus as I can.
The last thing I need interfering with my research is my body having a chemical reaction to his and my hormones getting excited about it.
But how about your heart? A voice inside me whispers.
“Hearts don’t speak,” I mutter to myself, squashing the voice.
“What’s that?” Marcus is in front of me, holding a mug of steaming coffee.
“Um, I need to speak,” I sputter.
He gives me a quizzical look.
“Into the camcorder. So if you can just…” I wave my hand in the air, and he nods his head.
“Gotcha. I’ll disappear until you’re done.”
He leaves my mug next to the log and walks into the tree line. In an instant, I can’t see him. He’ll be checking the perimeter or whatever the hell he does.
Knowing he’s there, watching and keeping me safe, does nothing to ease the fluttering in my stomach.