Heat of the Moment Read Online Free

they were in a military helicopter, and Holly could smell fumes from the aviation fuel. What she’d dreamed was the soft whir of a ceiling fan was, in reality, the rhythmic thwap-thwap of the rotor blades. All around her, male voices barked orders while others were raised in urgent discussion. None of those voices belonged to Shane.
    “Stay with me, Lieutenant,” the first soldier commanded, his eyes flicking to hers. “You’re going to be fine.”
    Her entire body ached, but her left arm burned with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe. Holly shifted her gaze to where the soldier probed at her shoulder. There was so much blood soaking her clothing and covering his hands that at first, she couldn’t tell where it came from. Then, as he pulled away a bloodied gauze pad, she saw the gaping wound high on her upper arm. She had a hole the size of a half-dollar and bone fragments protruded through ragged flesh around it. Blood pumped in a slow, steady flow from the injury even as the medic tried to staunch it. Immediately, her head felt woozy and a wave of nausea washed over her. She turned her face away and struggled to draw in air.
    “What happened?” Her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.
    “Your supply convoy drove into an ambush,” the first soldier said curtly. “You were shot, but you’re going to be fine.”
    She’d been shot?
    She struggled to remember, and images drifted through her mind, as hazy and insubstantial as smoke. Sifting through them, she winced as she recalled the attack.
    As she turned her face away from where the medic was working on her arm, she realized there was an injured soldier on a gurney next to her, and two medics were frantically working over his prone body. The medics blocked her view of his face, but she recognized the black tribal tattoo that encircled his bicep. Shane.
    Holly tried to raise herself on her good elbow to get a better look at him. They had stripped him of his protective body armor and camo jacket and…oh, God, there was so much blood covering his muscled torso. The medics bent over him, while another barked into a radio. All she heard was “men down, one urgent.” She knew what urgent meant—loss of life was imminent without immediate medical intervention, and not the kind that they could provide on the battlefield.
    Shane was going to die.
    Another wave of dizziness swept over her.
    “Shane.” Her voice was no more than a gasp.
    “Lieutenant, I’m going to sedate you,” said the medic who crouched over her. He pushed her back down and the second soldier deftly inserted an intravenous drip into her uninjured arm. Almost instantly, the agonizing pain in her shoulder subsided and Holly had the oddest sensation that she was floating.
    She could see Shane’s face now, it was covered in dust and blood, but there was no mistaking the strong line of his jaw, the proud nose and thrusting cheekbones, the dark shadow of his lashes against his cheeks. A thin trickle of blood ran from his ear and nose. The sight made Holly feel light-headed, or maybe that was the effect of the morphine they had given her. She could no longer tell.
    Closing her eyes, she drifted in a strange euphoria. The sounds of the helicopter and the men’s voices faded to a distant hum. She was back in the boathouse, and Shane was there with her. He smiled down at her and she raised her arms to welcome him into her embrace, stroking her hands over the hot silk of his skin and knowing this would be the last time they would ever be together. In the morning, he would be gone. She determinedly pushed aside the sadness that filled her. They were together now, and that was all that mattered.
    With a soft sigh, she melted into his arms.

2
    T HE LAST PERSON S HANE Rafferty expected to see walk through the door of his hospital room was his father. A pang of guilt swept through him. He’d been back in the States for nearly a month while the staff at the U.S. Naval Hospital patched him