She didn't know how to deal with having those feelings directed at her, so she looked away from him and scanned the area with a quick visual sweep.
He had brought her out beside the old road, its cheap macadam falling apart in the desert sun. The crumbling gas station featured a bubble-shaped sign from the 1950s or 1960s and a small building of stucco and concrete. The old gas pumps had been pulled, and everything of value had been carted away. Now there was only the building's shell and the sign, which the fierce sun and the dust had left illegible and faded to shades of tan.
Her knees were slightly wobbly, not just from the unnerving trip but also from having Gio hold her so close. She took a couple of steps away from him to get her balance back, and looked back just in time to see Gio put a hand to his head and abruptly sit down on a rock.
"Gio!"
She was back by his side in a moment, putting a hand on his shoulder and crouching to see his face. The pallor she had noticed earlier was more pronounced now, and he had his palm pressed to his temple.
"Sorry," he said weakly, lowering his hand. "It caught up with me all at once."
"Are you all right? Does it hurt you to do that?"
"No, it's just exhausting. I've now done it three times rapidly, and I forgot how much it takes out of me."
The road stretched alongside them, blank and empty; the sky was a vast blue bowl overhead. Max had the sudden intense awareness that she was completely dependent on Gio to get her back to her gear. They had the rifle with them, but nothing other than that, not even water. No vehicle. No way to call for help; there was no cell service here, either.
But she could now relate to his fear of being stranded underground.
"Do you want to rest for a while before we go back?" she asked. "You could lie down in the old store. There's nothing much in there except beer bottles and graffiti, but the walls are solid."
Gio shook his head. He stood up with a determined effort. "No, let me take us back. If I don't do it now, it won't be any easier later."
Max wasn't entirely sure about that. When she took his hand, she could feel it trembling slightly.
"You can manage?" she asked.
"Yes," Gio said firmly.
She found that she believed him. He wouldn't try if he didn't think he could do it; she doubted this man would endanger them through stupid bravado.
Marveling to herself at how quickly she had come to trust him, she stepped into the circle of his arms. Gio took hold of her carefully. Not willing to accept that, Max wrapped her arms firmly around his rib cage, trying not to focus on how good it felt to hold him like this.
"I ended up holding on tighter last time once we got underground," she explained, turning her head to the side so she wasn't speaking directly into his chest. "May as well start out that way, right?"
Gio gave a soft, sudden laugh, which she felt vibrate in his chest, sending a spark of heat through her core. "Yeah," he said, and his grip on her tightened. "May as well."
She took a deep breath without being prompted, and the world lapped away into darkness again.
It wasn't so bad when she was prepared for it, not too different—now that she thought about it—from the kind of disorientation that you got from diving into a deep swimming pool. It was like that first moment of total immersion, when the world went away and "up" and "down" lost their meaning. The feeling went on and on, but she could hold on, as long as she had something—someone—to hold on to.
They burst out into the light. Max gasped deeply, and then had to tighten her grasp on Gio when he swayed sideways.
"Gio?"
He was still conscious enough that, taking most of his weight, she managed to guide him to the cabin, where she lowered him to the floor. His eyelids fluttered and he groaned.
"Stay still," Max told him. She covered him with a blanket, then got a canteen, grabbed the first item of clothing that she found when she reached into her pack, and dampened it. She dabbed at his forehead and wrists until he stirred and blinked.
"Never figured you for a pink lace girl," he murmured.
This was the point when Max realized she was mopping his forehead with a pair of her panties. At least they were clean ones.
She sat back on her heels, feeling her cheeks heat. "I'm glad you're well enough to make jokes. Will you be all right if I take a quick look around to make sure we haven't had company while we're gone?"
Gio nodded and propped himself up on his elbow. He was sipping from the canteen when Max left hastily, clutching her damp panties in one hand and feeling the blush climbing all the way to her hairline.
She draped the panties on the arm of the camp chair to dry and blew out a breath. How very professional. But she was increasingly realizing thatprofessionalwas rapidly headed out the window. The longer they stayed together, the more she was going to find herself breaking her own rules. She couldn't remember the last time she'd hugged a client, or mopped the face of one—let alone kissed one. Twice.
