Green Beret Bodyguard. Carol Ericson

to her bedroom, pulling the elastic band from her ponytail. She had no desire to step into the shower now. She dropped the ponytail holder onto the dresser and ran her hands through her hair.

       Studying her face in the mirror, she flattened out the crease between her eyebrows with the pad of her thumb. Did Jack Coburn expect her to help him recover his memories? Or would he be off following another path once he spoke to Emilio?

       The gaping emptiness she felt at that last thought made her sink to the foot of her bed. How had the man insinuated himself into her mind so quickly and so easily? She’d always been a sucker for a lost cause. And the vulnerability of Jack’s situation, combined with his tough-as-nails exterior, was a potent mix for her addled brain.

       She peeled off her clothes for the second time that night and slipped a nightgown over her head. She crawled between the covers and hugged a pillow to her chest.

       Groaning, she rolled to her side and punched the pillow. She’d given Jack a blanket but no pillow. The poor guy already faced a night of discomfort on that short couch. She scrambled out of bed and flicked on the hall light. A low light glowed from the living room, and Lola peeked around the corner.

       Jack, a pair of boxers hanging low on his hips, stood at the window gazing into the street below. As Lola tiptoed forward, a floorboard creaked, and Jack jerked his head up, a lock of black hair falling over one eye.

       “Thought you might need this.” She held up the pillow, willing her gaze to stay pinned to Jack’s face instead of wandering down the length of his hard, lean body.

       If Jack felt embarrassed about being caught in nothing but his underwear, his dark eyes burning into her very soul didn’t show it. He held her captive with that gaze, and she froze in the middle of the room, the pillow clutched in her hand.

       A current ran between them, strong and vibrant. If she went to him now, fell against his bare chest, it would be more natural than taking her next breath. Everything about him called out to her, demanded a response. Quick. Hot. Sure.