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to Costa Brava—and thank heaven he did. They were the only books we had other than his medical journals and my textbooks.” She indicated Chase’s hat and shotgun with a nod of her head. “Are you going somewhere?”
    Chase shrugged. “I’ve been on a four-day stakeout, I’m fresh out of supplies, and you look like you could use some food. I was thinking about going into town to stock up, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what to do with you.”
    “Take me with you?”
    She looked so hopeful. Chase almost wished he could. “Nope, that won’t work.” He’d purposely kept a low profile on his visits to town because he didn’t want to give the locals reason to get curious about him. A female stranger riding shotgun in his Jeep was sure to draw attention.
    “Why don’t you get some rest,” he suggested. “There’s a shower if you want to take one.”
    “Oh, yes!” she said, an imploring quiver in her voice. “A shower? That would be heaven.”
    Chase had an involuntary flash of Annie Wells stripping and stepping into his makeshift shower. After their close encounter moments before, he knew better than to let his imagination take off in the direction of her shedding clothes. She was incredibly responsive, and he was no saint, especially where willing women were concerned. And yet, despite his concerted effort to banish it, the forbidden mental glimpse of her lithe, naked body created a hot spot in the pit of his stomach and raised goose bumps on his arms. It also gave him an idea.
    “Take off your clothes, Annie.”
    “What?”
    He tipped the shotgun barrel toward the ripped-out knee of her jeans. “Those dungarees, your sweater and shoes—take them off.”
    “Why?”
    “You won’t be needing them in the shower.”
    She brought a hand to her chest protectively. “Yes, I will,” she insisted. “In the convent we always bathed in our clothing—at the very least, our shifts. Nudity wasn’t considered proper.”
    Chase didn’t know whether to chuckle or groan. She really was one for the record books. Not ten minutes ago she’d been ready to make babies with him. Now she wouldn’t even take off her tennis shoes.
    “Okay, then,” he said, demonstrating what he thought was remarkable patience. “Take off everything but your shift, whatever that is.”
    “What are you going to do?” she demanded, backing away from him as though he were some kind of psycho or rapist.
    “Nothing like what you’re thinking,” he assured her. “I only want to make sure you stick around until I get back.”
    “I won’t go anywhere, I promise.”
    In Chase’s line of work promises were about as useful as rats in a bunkhouse. And unlike Bad Luck Jack, Annie Wells had proved to be totally unpredictable. No, until he’d had an opportunity to check out her story and find out exactly who she was, he didn’t want her going anywhere or talking to anyone. He could just see the tabloid headlines if those sharks got hold of her. FORMER PENTAGON HERO STASHES AWAY CHILD BRIDE . Even the local papers would have a field day with that.
    Back in their glory days, when Chase and his former partners were rescuing POWs and terrorists’ hostages, they’d been made celebrities by the press. The media dubbed them “the Stealth Commandos” for their unorthodox methods of liberating American citizens, and the public’s response promptly made heroes out of them.
    Since the three men were single and eligible, the paparazzi stalked them, hungry for news of their personal lives. Chase himself had been relatively free of the limelight since he’d retired to the wilds of Wyoming, but his former partners were still big news. Johnny Starhawk was a brilliant and controversial civil-rights lawyer, and Geoff Dias continued to run recovery missions.
    No, Chase couldn’t take the risk of letting Annie out of his sight until he knew what she was up to. He had the feeling she was an undetonated minefield, just waiting for someone to