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down. Her eyesight played one of those tricks on her, like in the movies when the camera suddenly zooms back, elongating the field of vision. Just as she was gearing up to have herself a mini panic attack, the beam of her flashlight illuminated Rock, steadily climbing below her, and she forgot all about the likelihood of her breaking every single bone in her body should she lose her grip on the ladder. In fact, all thought came to a full stop. Because the yellow beam caught the play of his muscles, the dips and mounds and planes, casting everything into harsh relief, and it was enough to have a girl’s brain turning to mush.
    All the Knights were in peek physical condition, but Rock? Rock was almost inhuman.
    Not an ounce of fat showed in his bare arms or shoulders as he hoisted himself and his heavy pack up the tree. He was a study in taut, tattooed skin, sturdy bones, and sleek, sinewy muscles. A study in the perfect male form…
    And it was a good thing she needed both hands to cling to the ladder or else she might have started fanning herself. Then, as quickly as her synapses went offline, the ol’ gray matter rebooted itself and the first thought to spring into her head was, No man should look that good in a tank top. It’s just not fair.
    Disgusted by her inability to control her libido whenever he was around, she went to resume her task of climbing the ladder when suddenly Rock looked up, his fascinating, multicolored eyes flashing in the beam of light and, just like that, she was struck dumb again.
    Most people wouldn’t consider Rock a handsome man. Save for his tattoos, there was nothing about him that really stood out. At first glance, he had a plain, somewhat forgettable face. But there was just something about him. Something more than his dark brown hair with its auburn highlights, something more than his straight, unexceptional nose and thick, dark eyebrows. Maybe it was his high cheekbones or his square jawline. Or, more likely, it was his lips.
    Holy cow, those lips were a thing of beauty. A perfect bow on top and a lush, plump pad on the bottom.
    She’d had more than her fair share of fantasies about those lips. A few of which skittered through her sluggish brain right now.
    “There a problem, chere? ” he asked, breaking into her lurid thoughts, which only worked to remind her of the effect his voice always had on her peace of mind. She supposed it was her propensity for languages, for the tonal quality of words and inflection, that made Rock’s fluid baritone, especially when it was infused with the elongated vowels of the South, sound like the most delicious thing she’d ever heard.
    She shivered and wished she could blame it on the coolness of the air after sunset. Unfortunately, the oppressive heat and humidity of the jungle hadn’t dissipated even one degree. So her shiver had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the fact that she was a goddamned lightbulb when it came to Rock; everything about him turned her on.
    And even in the darkness she could see one of his eyebrows begin a steady march up his forehead. For a minute, she worried that perhaps her expression had given away her thoughts. Then she remembered he’d asked her something. What was it again?
    Oh, yeah, he’d asked if there was a problem.
    And her answer? Hell yes, there’s a problem!
    The problem was that the one man on the entire planet she’d ever gone all goo-goo-gah-gah over also just happened to be the one man on the entire planet who would never return the sentiment. Of course, she couldn’t tell him that, so she satisfied herself with simply turning and resuming her upward trajectory. And, all the while she was climbing, she was reminding herself she’d come here to help him—to bring him back so the Knights could help him—not to jump his oh-so-delicious bones.
    ***
    Don’t look at her butt, don’t look at her butt, just don’t look—
    Dieu. He looked at her butt.
    And how he’d