Chapter Twenty
Jane regathered the loose hairs that stuck to the back of her neck, tied her hair into a ponytail once more, and then caught up to him again. She wasn’t sure how far they’d gone before the ache in her feet numbed or why he never needed to stop. “Are you worried that we’re going to die?”
He paused, waiting for her to fall in line at his side, then urged her to keep his pace. “Nah.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is what I do,” he explained.
“And you never fail?”
“Of course, but it doesn’t stop me.” He gave her a sideways glance. “I don’t think it stops you either.”
“Ha,” she muttered.
“How many times could you have died?”
Sweat trickled down her back. “In the last twenty-four hours? Or, since, I don’t know, I got into a rickety puddle jumper to come here?”
His laughter rang clear and crisp despite the shimmering heat and dusty sand. “Think you proved my point.”
She licked her dry lips. “Normally, I think of myself in a protective role. Like you, but without the desert and grenade launchers.”
He glanced over. “How so?”
“Taking care of Teddy.” Her heart tugged. “I’m not sure how many people out there have his well-being in mind. Everything’s royally screwed up.”
Sand crunched under his boots for several steps before he grumbled. “Huh.”
Emotion panged in her already parched throat. “I worry about him.”
“I bet. That kid…”
She waited, but he didn’t continue, trudging ahead. “What?”
Chance tilted his head to look at her. “You don’t want to know what I think.”
“About Teddy?” Her stomach clenched. “He’s great.”
“No. About everything that surrounds the kid.”
The idea that Chance disliked her work with Teddy bothered Jane. “Tell me anyway.”
He wiped a hand over his forehead. “I think the ‘royally screwed up’ part was just coming out here in the first place.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
They didn’t talk as the sandy ground rose into a small dune. Climbing wasn’t easy. The gentle angle still made her muscles burn as much as her sunburn, but she didn’t want to complain.
“Do the Thanes mess with everyone’s life like this?” he asked.
They crested the top of the dune, and panting, Jane stopped. She struggled to take a deep breath. Chance handed her the canteen. The top of the canteen bottle burned her lips. The hot sip of water didn’t quench her thirst.
Jane capped the canteen, still catching her breath, and nodded. “That depends on what you mean. But, they—Dax especially—have a knack for drama and chaos.”
Chance snorted, gesturing his hand toward the expansive landscape. “I hope he pays good overtime. You deserve one hell of a Christmas bonus for this shitshow.”
“Dax is… a very eccentric man.” Jane struggled to defend Dax and explain herself. “Working for him, more importantly the family, has its good and bad points.”
“I think Dax Thane sounds like a grade-A asshole.”
Jane didn’t bother hiding her laughter. “Tell me what you really think.”
“That none of you should have been over here. Whether he’s an asshole or not.”
She sighed, glad she wasn’t the only one to see the absolute folly in her employer’s antics.
“I know. His sister warned him from the get-go that we shouldn’t go.
That Teddy shouldn’t. I should’ve tried harder to stop the trip, and before I fully grasped what was happening—” She cut herself off, dangerously coming close to saying too much.
“What?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I shouldn’t say.”
“Why?”
“Everyone who works for the Thanes signs a nondisclosure agreement. It’s pretty far reaching.” She bit her lip. “Actually, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say that I’ve signed one.”
“Once again, what an asshole,” Chance quipped.
“They have an image to protect,” she explained, somewhat defensively. At least of Teddy and maybe even Gigi. “Reporters and paparazzi try to bribe me for insider stuff. Some photographers offer huge amounts of money for exclusive knowledge of their schedules.”
“Have you ever taken them up on an offer?”
Her jaw dropped. “Absolutely not!”
Chance’s mega-watt grin defied their circumstances. “I didn’t think you would.”
Jane dialed back her reaction. She wanted his respect, and for that pinprick of a second, she worried that he’d lumped her with the Thanes as though they were a tidy, attention-seeking group. “Can we change the subject?”
“Sure, tell me something that has nothing to do with the Thanes.”
Her mind blanked. Suddenly, she was struck with the awkwardness of a twelve-year-old who had a crush. Was she developing a crush on Chance? Jane had been too tired to think straight, much less flirt and fall for a guy. And yet… she was drawn to him.
Jane listened to their steps and watched him walk a stride ahead of her. He was so strong, large, and masculine. And to think, she’d slept in his arms like a baby last night. She’d probably drooled. Her cheeks heated. That would be just her luck.
He stopped and waited for her to catch up. “Is that so, Jane? Riveting.”
Jane smacked his arm.
“Tell me something.”
“My brain is fried,” she admitted. “I can’t think.”
“What’s the first thing you think of—” he snapped “right now?”
“I’ve never been camping and slept with a guy I didn’t know.” The second she said the words, she cringed. Definitely something a twelve-year-old would say. “I mean, like that. Camping and sleeping, resting, with a stranger.”
He chuckled a little. “Technically, I didn’t sleep much, so I don’t think it counts against you either way.”
She laughed for exactly one heartbeat then realized that he’d been awake all night. Holding her. Watching her. Watching her drool and probably snore. Her cheeks blazed. “I offered to trade shifts!”
He shrugged his shoulders. “You needed sleep.”
“Everyone needs to sleep.”
Chance shrugged again as if to say no big deal.
“Are you tired now?” she asked.
“More hungry than tired,” he admitted.
At the mention of hunger, her stomach growled so loud that she was surprised it didn’t cause an avalanche of sandy dunes. She gripped her stomach. “Tell me about it.”
If he noticed her crazy stomach, he didn’t say anything. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a granola bar and handed it to her. Usually, Jane wasn’t a big fan of granola, but recently, she considered herself a huge fan of anything that semi-resembled food.
“Oh, you’re my hero.” She started to tear it open. “Wait. Do you have any more?”
He shook his head but waved her off. “I’m good.”
“No, we’ll share.” She opened it, ripped the bar in two pieces, and held out half to him. “I’m not letting you starve on my account, Midas.”
He chuckled but shook his head. “Really, I’m good.”
Jane lifted her chin and tilted her head in a way that never failed to get her point across with little kids. “I’ve perfected my we-always-share speech. Would you like to waste our time and hear me recite it?”
“All right, Mary Poppins.” He grinned.
Every time his smile appeared, she floated for the second it took to absorb.
He held out his hand. “Since you insist.”
“I do.” She set half of the granola bar in his palm. He inspected his half of the bar, which was little more than a mouthful. “I don’t think this is going to make much of a difference.”
“I don’t care. It’s yours, and we share.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He popped the piece into his mouth whole.
They chewed in silence and then sipped from the canteen. Chance checked their location and his compass, nodding that he was pleased with their progress. Then, off they went as the sun rose higher and her feet felt heavier.
With no shade or cloud cover, Jane stayed close behind Chance, using his body as a shield from the sun. But as large as he loomed, it didn’t help much.
She wondered why people around here wore so much clothing. How could Chance manage, wearing a uniform and body armor? Jane was sure she would melt into the dusty ground at any moment. “How long can the human body last without water?”
“There’s a depressing question.”
“Not an answer,” she panted. “Though I appreciate you saying something.”
He snickered, then added, “I didn’t expect you to be like this.”
“Like what?” He’d thrown around a saccharine Mary Poppins enough to give her a toothache. Had he expected her to be more like a princess? Weak and pathetic?
“To be this entertaining.” He shrugged and looked in the opposite direction. “I thought someone on a billionaire’s staff would be a hoity-toity snot.”
“What?” She balked. “Why?”
“You were a little hard to read at first,” he said. “But you’ve mellowed.”
“I’m trying not to die.”
He laughed. “And doing a bang-up job. Keep it up.”
“On that note, I need a break.”
Chance stopped. “Sure.”
She leaned over and rested her hands on her knees. “Tell me what you thought I would be like.”
Chance crossed his arms and waited until she looked up before he said, “I projected the Thanes’ worst qualities onto you before I knew you. Sorry for that.”
She smiled. “That’s okay. I might’ve made assumptions about you, too.”
“Oh, yeah? Something to do with Hercules?”
“Ha.” Once again, Jane’s cheeks flushed. She prayed that her toasty sunburn would cover the way she continued to blush. “Nothing, really.”
He adjusted the length of fabric she’d laid over her shoulders to protect her skin. “Now I want to know.”
Her skin prickled under his touch. His calloused palms were painstakingly gentle over her skin. Whatever she might’ve said floated from her mind as his hands drifted over her biceps, inspecting the sunburn he tried to cover.
“What’d you assume?” he pressed.
“I would’ve guessed you were a rigid warmonger.”
He smirked. “I’m not?”
“You know what I mean.”
“A warmonger?” Chance crossed his arms, amused. “Nope. You’ll have to clue me in.”
Way to go, foot-in-mouth syndrome. “It just seems like only a specific personality type would want to work in these conditions.”
“What are you talking about?” He winked. “This place? It’s like working at the beach.”
Jane laughed, then added, “I didn’t spend a ton of time thinking about you, anyway.”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t.” She elbowed him. “Cocky.”
“Better than a rigid warmonger.” Chance reached for his pack and handed her the canteen.
She tilted it to her mouth, taking only enough to wet her lips and ease her dry throat. She handed him the canteen, and Chance capped the top and stowed it in his pack. She worried he wasn’t drinking enough.
With a tilt of his head, he signaled it was time again. They walked with their arms brushing, occasionally reassuring her that they were still alive. She couldn’t have done any of this without him. “I know it’s your job…”
He watched her for a beat, waiting, as they walked toward the never-ending sea of sand.
“But I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Chance chuckled, dropping his chin with a small shake of his head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’ve had years of training.”
“I mentioned that I’d made an assumption about you.”
“Yeah.”
“Truth is…” She mopped her forehead with a swath of fabric. “My assumptions were more about me.”
“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head. “Who doesn’t think they can handle a marathon walk in a triple-digit sandbox after escaping captivity?”
“Ha, ha.”
“What? That’s what happened.”
Jane marveled at how well Chance put the ordeal into a few tiny words. Maybe she was too tired to do anything more than live in the moment. “I assumed I was strong enough to take care of myself and Teddy.” She wiped sand off her lips. “In any situation.”
“Like a weekend in Syria,” he muttered.
“You’re missing my point.”
“I don’t think I am, Mary Poppins.”
“I’m not the person who needs a knight in shining armor to come in and save me. But I was wrong.”
Chance stepped in front of her. His brow knitted. “So, in this scenario, I’m the knight?”
Her eyes rolled. “Out of everything I just said, that’s what you heard?”
His lips curled impishly. “Yup. Chance Evans, Knight in Shining Armor. At your service.”
“Nothing about my philosophical struggle with my mortality,” she deadpanned.
“Oh, yeah. I heard that too.” He took a half-step closer until his boots were toe-to-toe with her worn-out sneakers. Chance slipped his hands under the fabric shawl she’d draped over herself and rested his palms on her sun-tender shoulders.
Jane waited for him to speak. Sand blew over their feet, and her chin dropped.
She watched the light grains slide over his dark boots.
She hadn’t meant to sound pitiful, and she hadn’t been hoping for a pep talk.
Shame nipped in her chest. They’d stalled because of her pitiful ramblings.
She tilted her head back, and damn, the way he looked at her.
A subtle red hue colored his deep tan skin. His stubble had thickened, and his blue eyes, intensely powerful, were like watching the cold, churning ocean. No one had ever looked at her the way he did now, full of belief and certainty. “What?”
His fingers curled into her skin. Tension ticked in his jaw. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he pulled a long breath—then Chance stepped away. He cupped a hand over his forehead, shielding his gaze, then just as abruptly turned back.
“Are you mad at me?”
With a sardonic laugh he shook his head. “Let’s forget for the moment that you were the one who sacrificed yourself on the ledge for Teddy with the helicopter.” Chance pressed his lips together, then added, “And, I’m not going to mention how hard you’re being on yourself.”
“So, you’re not mad at me?” she asked again.
With a quick head tilt, he started them on their never-ending journey. “I never wanted to be someone’s white knight before. But coming from you, Jane, it’s a goddamn honor.”
She faltered.
He stopped. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
“No.” Her whisper barely made it beyond her lips.
His nostrils flared, quietly snorting. “Of course not.”
Chance turned away. She grabbed his arm. “What does that mean?”
“You’re nothing like I ever imagined—” His laughter broke the tension, and he patted her hand like someone who needed to placate a toddler. “I’m just glad you’re not some clueless lady living the high-life, courtesy of some asshole who likes to see himself go viral.”
Whatever she’d felt between them a dozen yards ago was gone. Or maybe it wasn’t really there. She took an unsteady breath—and caught the way she smelled; it was miles from pleasant.
Chance led the way, unfazed. For a moment, she thought there had been a buzz of attraction, some wayward blip of chemistry.
But what was she thinking? Jane watched him truck over the sand.
Her fingers swept over her cheeks and temples, wiping the sand and sweat into her dirty hair.
Whatever she’d thought she’d felt between them, one thing was clear: This man was not attracted to her.
He turned to look over his shoulder. “You coming, MP?”
Yeah, there wasn’t a single storm darkening his eyes. No churning oceans. No cool, cobalt breezes. Her ability to differentiate fact from fiction had now been called into question. She held a thumb up, not trusting herself to talk, and then hurried to fall in line.