An easy tug pulled her closer to the cot. "Humility, Mac? That does surprise me."

"I don't imagine it would be a trait you're familiar with."

"Touch." His thumb moved in an arc over the palm of her hand, and she flinched in surprise. The caress reversed itself, repeated. Sharp tingles shot from her hand straight to suddenly sensitive parts of her body. "But I owe you. I always pay my debts."

"Forget it."

"I don't forget." His thumb made another circuit of her palm. "But I wondera why you did it."

Like a snake with its prey, Liam held her captive. Her mind couldn't come up with anything even remotely intelligent in response. "I would have done the same thing for anyone."

"Brave Mac." No ridicule, only a solemn gravity. Then he chuckled, a deep vibration she felt through her hand. "And so soon after you gave me that gentle little tap."

"I should have knocked you out."

"Ah, yes. Ia had it coming."

Mac jerked. Those had been her words, spoken when he'd supposedly been asleep. If he'd heard that, if he'd heard the things she'd saida She worked her fingers in his grip. "Maybe there's hope for you yet."

"And what othera lessons do I need to learn, darlin'?"

d.a.m.n. He had heard. He'd been faking sleep the whole time, and she'd been too stupid to realize it. "Okay," she said. "You've had your fun. Let me go."

"Or you'll hit me again?" He tugged on her hand, and she was hard-pressed not to fall right on top of him. "Is that how women in your timea persuade their men?"

"You're not mya"" She bit off the sentence. "O'Sheaa""

"Call me Liam. We've braved death together, haven't we?"

This wasn't possible. She couldn't be feeling what she was feeling, letting herself be affected by the things he said and his gaze and touch. She wasn't a total idiot. Her hormones weren't supposed to control her mind.

But down by the lake it hadn't been her mind that responded to his kiss, that made her lash out. Her mind hadn't even been remotely involved.

This was desire. Reckless, crazy desire. Something she'd only felt glimmers of in her own time.

His fingers had worked their way up past her wrist and under the rolled-up sleeve of her borrowed shirt. "Maybe you need a lesson or two, Mac. We made a good start by the lake this morning."

"You'vea got to be kidding."

"One lesson for another." Feather touches dipped into the soft hollow of her elbow. "Fair trade."

"You'd be a lousy student."

Gradually he was pushing up from the cot, revealing no signs of pain. "Are you afraid?"

"Of what? You? I thought we'd been througha""

"That a woman has nothing to teach me."

She grabbed his wrist and detached his hand from her arm. "I'm not your idea of a woman, thank G.o.d."

He propped himself on his elbows without so much as a wince. "You're right. I've never met a woman like you."

His straight face and steady stare made it seem almost like a compliment. He was d.a.m.ned good at that, making you trust him. Making you forget you'd ever had any common sense whatsoever.

The tent's exit was only a few feet behind her. She had the pendant. All she had to do was walk out. He wouldn't try to stop her. It wouldn't be worth his effort to continue the game. Not to a man like him.

She turned quickly, before she could change her mind.

"A woman," he drawled behind her, "who isn't afraid of bullets but hides her body in men's clothes. Who claims equality with men and runs away when they come within spitting distance. Do I have that righta Miss MacKenzie?"

She came to a dead stop. "It's just possible that a woman might not be interested."

The cot creaked. In self-defense she turned to face him again. He was on his feet, legs apart, unexpectedly steady.

"No," he said. "Not you. You have too much pa.s.sion in you."

"Uh, I have toa get back to my own time," she said, fumbling over the non sequitur. "I don't belong here."

"You've discovered how to return?"

There had to be something certain, something she could hang on to. She pushed her hand into the pocket of her borrowed pants, clutching the pendant. "Ia think so."

"Then I'll escort youa"to make certain you reach your destination."

"I think it would be better if we just said good-bye here." She thrust out her hand. "It wasa nice to have met you."

"Nice?" He ignored her hand. "That isn't the way I'd describe either one of us, Mac."

There must be a way to end this conversation and distract him from his dangerousa"yes, that was the terma"focus on her.

Of course. The watch she found at the site of the attack; she'd meant to show it to him anyway. She fished the chain from her pocket, careful not to pull out the Maya pendant along with it.

"I picked this up off a bush right after you were shot at," she said. "One of the guerrillas, or whatever they were, must have lost it. I thought maybea""

He'd s.n.a.t.c.hed the watch from her hand before she could complete her sentence. "You found this where we were attacked?"

"Yes. It must have snaggeda""

But he wasn't listening. He backed away and sat down on the cot, hard, his knuckles white as he gripped the watch.

"Perry," he said. "Was this what you wanted?"

Mac crossed the tent and knelt beside Liam. He looked strickena"tormented in a way that scared her, that drained him of his potency and life more surely than any injury.

"What is it? Liam, what's wrong?"

"This is Perry's watch," he rasped. "The one I gave to him five years ago." He opened the cover that protected the crystal.

The inscription inside was fine and small but readable. Faithful are the wounds of a friend.

Words of friendship. Words of trust, of grat.i.tude. Words Liam had given to a man he'd considered a close and loyal companion.

A companion who'd abandoned him in the jungle, and thena"

"Oh, G.o.d," Mac said. "One of the guerrillas had it."

"As payment, perhaps?" The shock was gone from Liam's voice, and his eyes held only a blank acceptancea"a silver shield erected between him and the rest of the world.

Mac didn't have to ask him what he thought. She'd seen Perry's letter, his guilta and then a d.a.m.ning piece of evidence left on the scene of the crime.

"No," she said aloud. "Maybe he lost it, or it was stolen."

Liam stood and grabbed a bottle on the desk. The watch and its chain fell with a dull rattle and thump to the earthen floor.

Mac stared at the abandoned timepiece. "What happened between the two of you?"

He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank. Mac caught the whiff of potent liquor and shot to her feet.

"Hey, you shouldn't mix alcohol with those pillsa""

"No?" He drank again, long and deliberately. "Could it kill me?"

"Stop it!" She grabbed his arm and hung on, trying to pull the bottle out of his fingers. "Whatever you may think about your friend, I saved your life, and I'm not going to see my efforts go to waste!"

He laughed. There was a chilling indifference in the sound. "Like Perry's did?"

He let go of the bottle. Mac glanced around the tent, trying to decide what she should do with it. Pour it out somewherea A large, warm hand drifted across her cheek, wiping all thought from her mind.

"You did save my life, Mac. And you brought me the watch."

"I guess thata sort of proves I wasn't working for Perry, doesn't it?"

"It must prove something." Callused fingers cupped her chin. His touch was turning her legs into something out of a Jell-O mold.

She met his gaze. The cold metal barrier had begun to give way, soften, become molten again. Was it possible to drown in liquid silver, or would you burn to death first?

"Uha if those guerrillas are still around, maybe you should set up a guard or somethinga"don't you think?"

"I'm not worried." His thumb hooked her lip, moved on. "You wouldn't betray me, would you, Mac?"

Betray him? She couldn't even move, not when his knuckles were making a survey of her jawline with such tenderness.

"We hardly know each other," she said. "Don't you have to know someone well to, um, betray them?"

His hand slipped to the nape of her neck. "We could know each other much better, darlin'."

That crazy endearment again. "I was on my way out of here."

"And you were going to leave without saying goodbye."

"I did saya""

"When I was sleeping." He caressed the short hairs behind her ear. "You were going to leave then. But you talked to me, didn't you? And you touched me."

Mac was certain any reply would come out as an undignified squeak. Or a moan.

"Admit it. You were touching me. When you thought I was asleep."

"I was just making sure you werea""

"a"and you want to touch me again."

Her mouth went dry. "No."

"There's no need to fight it."

"I'm not fighting anything."

He chuckled, low and quiet. "You're a fighter by nature, darlin'."

Somehow or other she'd gotten very close to him. Somewhere along the line the liquor bottle had fallen from her hand. She could smell the spilled alcohol. Liam's gaze was locked on hers, pulling her in, sucking her into a whirlpool of desire.

Panic shot through her. She jerked away. Liam tried to keep his hold and failed. She retreated and he followed, his boots sliding in newly-formed mud. As the back of Mac's knees. .h.i.t the cot, Liam lost his balance, careening forward.

She barely caught him in time, pushed backward by his solid bulk. The cot's thin mattress sank under their combined weights. Mac worked her body sideways to avoid being crushed and found herself entangled with hima"limb with limb, chest to chest.

She came to rest on top of a warm, hard-contoured, breathing male body. Every inch of him burned through her thin clothing, fever-hot. Hooded gray eyes made a study of her face. His lips curled in something like triumph.

Heat pooled between her legs, in her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, filling up the s.p.a.ce where her brain ought to be. She planted her hands on the cot and pushed up. "Your shouldera""

"No pain," he said. He worked his arm between their bodies, brushing her oversensitive b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I think I've found the cure."

Where's your snappy comeback now? Mac asked herself. But it wouldn't come. Her mind had detached itself from her body.

"Mac," he said, caressing her name. "You know what it's like to be close to deatha"feel it brush by you and leave you untouched."

"Yes," she whispered.

"Something always happens then, darlin'. It's when you know you're most alive."

Yes. The admission hummed through her, a first inevitable surrender. She felt more alive now than she had in years.

His mouth was so close, his body so unapologetically masculine. Right down to the unmistakable thrust of his pelvis under hers. She felta womanly. Soft. Almost beautiful, all the things she'd never been and never could be. Didn't want to be. Except he made her want it.

He made her want him.

He cupped her cheeks in his hands. "We're alive, Mac. Now more than ever. Life calls to life. It demands repayment."