Her cell phone!
Somehow she'd managed to push her feet against one of the ‘arms’ of the Saguaro below to balance herself no matter how precariously and no matter the pain. Vomit worked its way up her throat, so she spit to the side several times, but wouldn't allow herself to even think about it. With a deep breath, she turned her head to look down.
Gulp.
Had to be about fifteen feet below.
Oh… my… God.
Speaking of Him, she said a few silent prayers, then looked up to the sky. “If you get me out of this, I'll… well, you know I'm a good person. But I'll give it all I've got to be better."
Now, Prue, let's think about the Saguaro itself. Shallow root system. Spikes that now held her captive. Wait a minute. How could this guy have yanked her out of the chopper?
Shielding her arm against the dust and sun, she saw the real cause. Forty to fifty feet cacti surrounded the area amid all other sizes. The chopper might have bumped into one of the taller ones and she got caught by that varmint, but then had to have fallen down to the lower ones.
Thank you very much. No wonder she hurt!
Prue pushed her feet to stand, hoping she could un-attach herself and fall to the ground. Or, better yet, jump and land on her feet.
Wishful thinking. Wasn't she the eternal optimist?
So, she started to push with her feet, kick as much as she could and, relying on the shallow root systems and the aged look of this captor, she continued until she caused a rocking motion.
As the cacti started to give way or at least give her freedom, she heard it.
A helo.
A helo in the distance! She had to get down and send some kind of signal. But with what and how?
Before the noise got any closer, her vision blurred into the brownish dirt of the Dust Devil himself. And she couldn't even see her hands in front of her eyes as she shielded her face and kept up the rocking, not giving a darn where she landed as long as it wasn't on another cactus.
"Prue! Captain Hamlin!” The disembodied voice filled her ears amid the horrendous sound of a helicopter, the winds and her heart pounding.
Great. She was hallucinating a hot, sexy, and familiar sounding voice. Yum crossed her mind despite the insanity. But it sure sounded as if the noisy machine was close. Then she looked up-and remembered it was Christmas day and her savior dangled from a rope several feet above her.
Whoa boy. So this is what dying was like?
Chapter Five
Prue felt strong arms around her. She couldn't open her eyes because pain had paralyzed her, along with fear.
No white light. Only the wind and dust and someone yelling at her from a distance. Was it really the distance?
Sounded closer.
The arms pulled a bit and suddenly she felt freed from her captor, although no lessening of the pain. Then, a thud.
"Oh,” she heard herself mumble along with several groans.
"First the shelf of mistletoe takes a nosedive cause of you and now you've taken out one of the hundred-or-so-year-old Saguaro, Captain Hamlin. I can see I'm gonna have to watch my step with you."
She opened her eyes to see a foggy, dusty, dirty Slick above her. Slick? Slick? Wow. What a hallucination this was.
Then it dawned on her. She wasn't having her usual lusty reaction to him. Actually, she felt odd. Weird. That was when she realized silence filled the air.
"Where's the helicopter? Or did you just fall out of the sky?” She looked down and he'd torn her uniform sleeve and was doing all sorts of things to her arm, including pouring something cold and stinging onto it, and then stuck a needle into her thigh.
"Ouch!"
"Bad news is the chopper couldn't land, and with these blasted winds I barely made it down without following you onto one of the Saguaros. Whole base is out looking for you, but by land would have taken too long.” He wrapped something tight around her shoulder and arm. “Good news is, I've just given you something for the pain, and the even better news, Captain, is that I'm here now."
She opened her eyes and glared at him.
"What? Aren't you glad to have a PJ fall out of the sky to rescue a damsel in distress?” He'd fiddled around in his bag and held something to her lips. “Drink."
"What it is? I don't want anything. I'm…” Oops. Her words had sounded a bit “too many glasses of wine” slurred.
"Look, Captain, I'm a trained medic. I've risked my life to come rescue you-"
"It's your… your job… duty.” In her head it sounded as if she said “dwuty."
He leaned near.
She could see his face. His Newman eyes. A slight smile.
"I volunteered."
Prue watched Slick remove his helmet, although her vision now matched the blurriness of her speech. “You… vowuntweered?"
"Get some sleep. That morphine is kicking in now by the sound of your speaking and the size of your pupils.” He pushed her hair from her face.
Gulp.
Could morphine cause a rush inside her like this?
Or, admittedly, it was his touch on her skin. Warm fingers, male fingers, strong male fingers doing something as simple as pushing damp, dusty hair from her eyes. Great. Even knocking on the door of death, she had sensual feelings for this cocky, gorgeous, out of her league, PJ.
Sometimes life sucked.
Prue felt something.
Something that had made her feel good. Better. Cooler. Was the A/C on in her room? She opened one eyelid-to see she was nowhere near her room or any form of A/C.
A makeshift tent, attached to the vicious cacti on both sides, shielded her from sun. The pain in her shoulder was tolerable, and she actually wasn't as dusty and dirty feeling as she'd remembered. At least not on her face. She ran a finger across her cheek. Wow. Yep. Cleaner.
Then she looked past the lean-to to see him.
Slick knelt several feet away tending to a fire.
She pushed up on her elbows, then quickly fell back in a bout of dizziness. “Drat.” She'd said it softly, but Slick swung around as if she'd yelled across the desert. And he was next to her before she could blink. Wow. PJs sure gave good service.
"Hey.” He pushed her hair back again.
Gulp. “Hey,” she managed while he pulled a canteen out of his bag and held it to her lips. This time she drank the water without question. Even from a canteen, it tasted delicious. She swallowed, then pulled back and wiped her hand across her lips. “Yum."
It dawned on her that she must look like crap. But, his eyes still held something interesting when he looked at her. Something that made her insides quiver. And why was it that she even cared how she looked? Normally not a vain person, she found herself pushing back her hair at the same time Slick did-and their fingers touched.
Oh… my.
"You cleaned my face off,” came out before she could think of how stupid that actually sounded. “Thanks."
He smiled.
"I… when is the helicopter coming back?” She almost didn't care. She almost didn't want it to come back too soon. She almost forgot it was Christmas day and now she was stranded in the New Mexico desert with one hunk of a hunky PJ-and she wanted these few minutes to last.
Snowy, white New England Christmases seemed a thing of the past.
She looked up at him, pushed up on her elbows, and with his help, managed to sit. “Thank you.” It came out softer than she'd planned. Quieter than she'd expected, and sounding almost sensual without her planning it.
Slick moved closer and supported her back. “It's my job."