wouldn’t be dark. She had only to pull herself a few more feet and it wouldn’t be dark.
It took all her strength, and more courage than she’d known she had. Inch by inch, Whitney worked her way in until the light played over her face and the walls spread out around her. Drained, she lay for a moment, just breathing.
“So you decided to join me.” With his back to her, Doug drew out one of the clever folding pans to heat water. The thought of hot, strong coffee had kept him going the last five miles. “Dinner’s Dutch treat, sugar. Fruit, rice, and coffee. I’ll handle the coffee. Let’s see what you can do with the rice.”
Though she was still shaking, Whitney brought herself into a sitting position. It would pass, she told herself. In moments, the nausea, the light-headedness would pass. Then somehow, she’d make him pay.
“Too bad we didn’t pick up a little white wine, but…” When he turned to her, he trailed off. Was it a trick of the light, or was her face gray? Frowning, he set the water on to heat, then went to her. No trick of the light, he decided. She looked as though she’d dissolve if he touched her. Unsure of himself, Doug crouched down. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes were hot and hard when she looked at him. “Nothing.”
“Whitney.” Reaching out, he touched her hand. “Jesus, you’re like ice. Come on over to the fire.”
“I’m fine.” Furious, she snatched her hand away. “Just leave me alone.”
“Hold on.” Before she could spring to her feet, he had her by the shoulders. He could feel her tremble under his palms. She wasn’t supposed to look so young, so defenseless. Women with blue-chip stocks and watery diamonds had all the defense they needed. “I’ll get you some water,” he murmured. In silence, he reached for the canteen and opened it for her. “It’s a little warm, take it slow.”
She sipped. It was indeed warm and tasted like iron. She sipped again. “I’m all right.” Her voice was tense, fretful. He wasn’t supposed to be kind.
“Just rest a minute. If you’re sick—”
“I’m not sick.” She thrust the canteen back in his hands. “I have a little problem with closed-in places, okay? I’m in now and I’ll be just fine.”
Not a little problem, he realized as he took her hand again. It was damp, cold, and trembling. Guilt hit him, and he hated it. He hadn’t given her a break since they’d started. Hadn’t wanted to. Once she made him soften, made him care, he’d lose his edge. It had happened before. But she was trembling.
“Whitney, you should’ve told me.”
She angled her chin in a gesture he couldn’t help but admire. “I have a bigger problem with being a fool.”
“Why? It never bothers me.” Grinning, he brushed the hair away from her temples. She wasn’t going to cry. Thank Christ.
“People who’re born fools rarely notice.” But the sting had gone out of her voice. Her lips curved. “Anyway, I’m in. It might take a crane to get me back out again.” Breathing slowly, she glanced around at the wide cave with the pillars of rock he’d spoken of. In the firelight, the rocks shone, rising up or plunging down. Here and there, the cave floor was littered with dung. She saw, with a shudder, a snake skin curled against the wall. “Even if it is decorated in early Neanderthal.”
“We’ve got a rope.” He ran his knuckles quickly back and forth over her cheek. Her color was coming back. “I’ll just haul you out when the time comes.” Glancing back, he saw the water beginning to simmer. “Let’s have some coffee.”
When he turned away, Whitney touched her cheek where it was warmed from his hand. She hadn’t thought he could be so unexpectedly sweet when there wasn’t an angle.
Or was there?
With a sigh, she stripped off her pack. She still held the bankroll. “I don’t know anything about cooking rice.” Opening her bag, she took out the mesh bag of fruit. More than a few had suffered bruises and the scent was hot and ripe. No seven-course dinner had ever looked so good.
“Due to our current facilities, there’s nothing to do but boil and stir. Rice, water, fire—” He glanced over his shoulder. “You should be able to handle it.”
“Who does the dishes?” she wanted to know as she poured water into another pan.
“Cooking’s a joint effort, so’s cleaning.” He shot her a fast, appealing grin. “After all, we’re