TWICE A HERO By Susan Krinard

After what had happened yesterday, he’d never considered doing otherwise.

The sharp sting of recent memory made the bitterness rise in his throat: Perry’s revelation, the knowledge that Liam’s trust in his partner had been entirely misplaced; the fight, drinking to drown the rage and loss, waking up this morning to find the bearers, mules, and nearly all the supplies gone. With Perry.

Abandoned. Betrayed by the one man he’d thought he could trust. The man who stood beside him in that damned photograph.

He’d thought the girl in far more desperate straits than himself. She was of the weaker sex, in spite of her ridiculous beliefs to the contrary. But now—now he felt a grinding suspicion in his gut, wild thoughts fully as mad as the woman’s incoherent ramblings and disjointed explanations.

Liam scowled at Miss MacKenzie’s inward stare. She wasn’t the only one with wits gone begging. A woman?

Even Perry wouldn’t sink so low. And there hadn’t been time. But since yesterday nothing seemed beyond possibility.

And their meeting had seemed more than merely coincidence.

He studied her, chin on fist, allowing himself full rein to his imagination. Perry would never assume that his erstwhile partner would be distracted by a woman like this. She was hardly beautiful. Her hair was short, her jaw too stubborn, her figure too slender. Though she’d proven she was, in fact, female enough when the rain had soaked through her shirt.

He found himself gazing at her chest. More there than he’d first noticed; come to think of it, she couldn’t pass for a boy, not unless that loose shirt were completely dry…

You’ve been without a woman too long, O’Shea. He snorted. No. At best Perry would expect him to be delayed further, getting the girl back to civilization. That would neatly fit in with his intentions.

Liam’s hand slammed into the wet stone of the temple. Perry knew too damned much about him. He knew Liam wouldn’t leave any woman alone in the jungle, no matter what his circumstances—without supplies or bearers or even a single scrawny mule…

Because you trusted him. The rage bubbled up again, and with very little effort he could imagine his fist connecting with Perry’s superior, aristocratic face.

By the saints, it wasn’t over yet. When Liam got back’ to San Francisco—

“That’s it.”

He snapped out of his grim reverie. Miss MacKenzie—”Mac,” the name she had called herself and which suited her so well—had apparently recovered her senses. Or ended her game. She was on her feet, looking out over the jungle.

“I’m going back,” she announced.

Liam rose casually. The top of her cropped head came almost to his chin; tall for a woman. He hadn’t realized that before.

“Back where—Mac?” he drawled.

Her stare was no longer unfocused. She looked at him as if she’d like to pitch him over the side of the pyramid. “Only my friends call me Mac,” she said, “and you’re not my friend. You’re a figment of my overheated imagination.”

He gave a startled bark of laughter. Whoever and whatever she was, she had the ability to make him hover between laughter and outrage. She was too damned good at keeping him off balance. Was that her purpose—and Perry’s?

To hell with that. If there was anything to his suspicions, he’d learn soon enough.

“So,” he said, “you don’t think I’m real?” He took one long step, closing the gap between them, and felt her shudder as his chest brushed hers. He could feel the little tips of her breasts, hardening through the shirt. He felt an unexpected hardening in his own body. “What proof do you need, eh?”

She tried to step back, but the temple wall was behind her. “You… uh…” She thrust out her jaw and glared. “Let me by. I’m going back to the ruins.”

“If I’m not real, Mac, you should have no difficulty walking through me.”

Suddenly she chuckled. “Great idea,” she said. With the full force of her slender weight she pushed against him. The assault drove him back a pace. She stepped to the side, strode to the rim of the temple platform, and slid her foot over the edge.

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