Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,8

constantly around the water and not close to medical facilities.

She rummaged through the contents, as he held the wipe over the seeping cut and tried not to be distracted by the faint scent of lemon verbena. She must still use the same body wash. He loved knowing she hadn’t changed so much, gave him hope that he might be able to reach her.

“I found them.” She tore open the package and held the strip up to him. He exchanged the wipe for the strip and, using his teeth to take the covering off the adhesive, placed one over the cut. He reached for another one that she had ready and did the same with the next.

“Neosporin.”

She handed him a gauze pad with Neosporin already on it, anticipating his needs. She could always do that, knowing what he needed before he asked. He’d never been so in tune with a woman before, or since.

That insight of hers had been amazing in bed.

He placed the bandage over the cut, reaching for the length of tape she had ready for him. Once the cut was covered, he became aware of how close he was to her. His head bent over hers, his fingers lightly stroked the strands away from her face. She glanced up at him, her eyes wide.

He was helpless not to lean in. Her breath caught, and her eyelids fluttered. Her lips parted, and her tongue nervously wet them.

He groaned.

The sound gallivanted her into motion. She jerked away, scampering back out of his one-armed reach.

Damn it. He’d been so close to tasting her again. Now she looked at him as though frightened. What reason did she have to be frightened of him?

“Wren—”

“We need to get things done before the storm hits.”

He wanted to say to hell with everything, grab her and yank her back into his arms where she never should have left. If she hadn’t—

No point in going down that road.

Time to get things battened down. Once their shelter was secure, and Jim taken care of, they had all night to become reacquainted.

He glanced out the window. “We’re going to need a flashlight.” He’d also need Wren’s help with Jim. One handed wasn’t going to get a two hundred pound-plus man, dead weight, out of this plane. “Did you see a tarp or anything back there?” Skip asked. They needed to cover Jim with something. Even though, the body was a shell, and Jim wouldn’t feel the cold, it went against everything in Skip to just lay the man out in the storm. He hoped Jim’s spirit was someplace warm and comfortable—nestled in the loving arms of his ancestors.

Skip was almost jealous of Jim as another blustery gust, this one carrying needles of rain, shook the plane.

Wren glanced at Jim, still hanging upside down in the pilot’s seat. She swallowed hard. “I’ll check.”

He had to give it to her. Most women would be squeamish over what they were about to do. But Wren didn’t show any signs of it, and he was watching her every move. This new, stronger, confident woman intrigued him more than his memories. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get caught staring.

“How about this?” She held up a Mylar blanket she pulled out of the survival kit. “There are four, enough for us and...him.”

“Okay.” Unconventional, since a survival blanket was beyond helping Jim, but then this was Alaska. The land of the unconventional.

Wren handed him the small folded silver blanket and then crawled back toward her suitcase and began systematically going through the contents.

He caught a glimpse of black underwear and a hot pink bra before she found what she was looking for.

“I knew I’d need these.” She held up a pair of Under Armour.

“Good thinking.” Question though, was she going to strip in front of him to get them on under her clothes? She wouldn’t get the full effects of the garment unless it lay next to her skin.

Man, what he wouldn’t give to lay next to her skin.

“Could you, um, turn around?” She did a cute little circle motion with her finger.

He didn’t want to turn around. He did, though it was a struggle in the small confines of the plane, and was rewarded with her image in the broken window. He really should shut his eyes. But he wasn’t that much of a gentleman. Hell, he wasn’t even close. She whipped off her sweatshirt and the sexy navy tank top underneath, her nipples hard beads against her icy blue bra. Her honeyed skin had