Man With A Mission. Lindsay McKenna

starving condor, down here. Do you like fresh trout? It’s the specialty of the house. Patrick sends Isidro down to the Urubamba River, just a quarter of a mile from here, to fish every morning.”

      Jake nodded. “Then it’s really fresh.” He liked the warmth that glimmered in Ana’s eyes. There was no hardness evident in her, just soft, inviting feminine energy. He began to relax a little, glad that she wasn’t going to come at him with brute force, like some women in the military might. But that same softness made an alarm go off inside him. She couldn’t possibly be up to the task ahead of them. She’d be a liability.

      “Want to risk some local food?” Ana challenged him. She liked the way he was slowly releasing that hard outer shell. She saw a bit of hope burning in his light blue eyes. His mouth was softening at the corners, too. Good. Ana felt his nervousness and tension. Maybe it was from the five-hour flight down here. Or maybe he was overwhelmed with worry about his sister. It could be all those things, and Ana was more than willing to let his gruffness and growliness slide off her shoulders.

      “Yeah. Why not?” Wincing inwardly, Jake didn’t even like himself right now. He was really being nasty toward her and she’d been the epitome of warmth and welcome. Sometimes he was a real bastard.

      “Trucha, it is,” she said, and gave Isidro their order. The waiter smiled shyly and left.

      Trucha, Jake knew, was Spanish for trout. Every time Ana looked at him, he felt a little more of his nagging worry dissolving. As she delicately sipped the mocha latte, he saw an expression of enjoyment cross her face.

      “Mmm, you have no idea how much I look forward to a little R and R here at Patrick’s restaurant. And if his bed and breakfast is full, I stay at Gringo Bill’s Hostel just across the plaza. Margarieta Kaiser is the owner and opens her arms to us. She knows how to take care of a war-weary soul.”

      “From what I understand, you’re on a wartime footing at the base you fly out of all the time.”

      Ana nodded. She set the cup down and curved her slender fingers around it. “Yes, we are.” She lifted her head and held his frank gaze. “And doing this is a very nice departure from my daily duties.” Sobering, she added quietly, “I’m very sorry to hear about your sister, Mr. Travers….”

      “Call me Jake, will you?” He wanted to keep her at arm’s length, but somehow, it wasn’t working. A less formal atmosphere might make up for his growly attitude, he hoped.

      She brightened. “Okay…you can call me Ana. All right?”

      “No problem.” And it wouldn’t be at all for Jake. She was going to do away with military formality and that was just fine with him. He was mesmerized by the graceful movements of her hands. She was like a ballet dancer, not a combat pilot. He wrestled with the two disparate images and simply could not fit them together. Picturing her in the front seat of a deadly Boeing Apache was hard to do. Still, Jake could see her warrior side in her eyes. They were alert and missed nothing. She might be able to fight in the sky, but on the ground? No, he didn’t think she was cut out for this mission at all.

      “So, tell me about your sister, Jake. Do you have a photo of her?”

      He reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. “Yeah, right here.” He pulled it out and laid it on the table for her to look at.

      “Oh, she’s very pretty,” Ana murmured as she studied the photo. Her eyes crinkled and she looked over at him. She saw grief burning in his eyes instead of the glowering anger she’d seen there before. “You’re a very handsome brother and sister.”

      Heat trailed up his neck. Jake was blushing. Avoiding her teasing look, he paid attention to his latte and took a huge, scalding gulp. Ana Lucia Cortina was rattling him in ways he’d never anticipated. She was beautiful. Drop-dead gorgeous, with long, fine legs, a husky, warming laugh that went through him like fine whiskey, loosening him up, relaxing his knotted gut and making his heart pound and jump in his chest whenever she shared that intimate look with him. All of that told him she would be excess baggage on this mission. A pretty bauble, nothing more—and a definite liability.

      “Tal’s the beauty. I’m more the frog in the pond compared to her,” Jake managed to reply uncomfortably.

      Ana grinned. “You’re very modest. How wonderful. In a norteamericano that is a plus.” She laughed gently so as not to offend him. His cheeks had turned a dusky red color and Ana realized he was blushing. That made her like him even more, and assured her her heart was right: she’d intuited a special sensitivity in Jake and she hadn’t been wrong. Not many military men she knew blushed. And it was comforting to her that Jake had that capacity. Maybe he wasn’t going to be hard to work with after all—even if she was his boss.