WHEN SHE WAS stressed Holly sometimes had nightmares about the accident that had changed her life. She didn’t often think about it but the following week she assisted a senior surgeon in repairing the face and torso of a maintenance worker who’d been caught in a gas explosion.
It had brought back memories of waking to a world of eerie silence filled with dust; the realization that she’d been unable to move and blinding pain when she’d tried.
She’d later learned that her face and right arm had been lacerated by flying glass as she’d been flung twenty feet from the exploding elevator car. The worst had been when she’d turned her head and seen the lifeless stare of a kid about her own age lying nearby. The sight of that empty eye socket where his merry brown eye had once been still haunted her dreams. One minute he’d been laughing and chatting with his friends, the next he’d been an unrecognizable bloodied mess.
Other than laceration injuries, she’d broken both arms and a collar bone and the ragged edges of her tibia had torn through the flesh of her right leg.
What she remembered most about the incident was the moaning and screaming.
Spooked by memories she hadn’t thought of in years, Holly left the hospital and headed for the gym not far from West Manhattan.
Where other people enjoyed sweating and grunting through their workouts, Holly preferred the cool solitude of the pool. Besides, there was plenty of scientific evidence proving that submersion in water lowered blood pressure as well as stress levels. Besides relaxation, Holly liked the full-body workout swimming gave her. After the accident, it had been one of the physical therapy sessions she’d looked forward to and she’d eventually become a good swimmer.
And, boy, after the day she’d just had, she needed relaxation as much as she needed some alone time. Although she wouldn’t have minded a little screaming to go with it, that wasn’t on the cards. And until she landed the fellowship, the plan took precedence. Over everything.
She needed to do research for a paper she was writing on micro-surgical techniques but she was too wired to concentrate on anything and knew sleep would remain elusive if she went home. And recalling that what little sleep she’d managed lately had been filled with dreams of sun-warmed beaches, cool seas and…and hot surfers, Holly rolled her eyes because she was thinking of a certain hot celebrity surgeon. Again.
She dodged a couple necking on the stairs and entered the gym. Smiling a greeting at the girl manning Reception, she headed for the women’s change room.
Within minutes she’d changed out of her street clothes and into her swimsuit. Scooping up her towel, she headed for the pool, hoping she would be alone. Alone meant she could get into her zone faster without having to dodge other swimmers. Alone meant she could get her workout done in record time and head home to food and her bed.
Okay, so she was also a little self-conscious about her scars, which were a lot more noticeable when she wore a swimsuit. Granted, they’d mostly faded but she knew they were there and in her mind’s eye they were still livid and ugly.
Her heart sank a little when she saw the pool was already occupied but after a few indecisive moments the need for the soothing feel of water closing over her head drove her onto the pool deck.
After a quick glance around, she realized that since the lone occupant appeared oblivious that he was about to have company, she could slip unnoticed into the water and pretend she was alone.
Dropping her towel over a nearby rail, she turned to face the clear blue water and wrestle with her hair. She twisted the heavy mass into a tight bun at the top of her head and secured it with a couple of holders as she approached the edge of the pool, taking a moment to admire the man’s efficient, deceptively lazy style. He moved with the kind of fluid effortless grace only found in professional swimmers.
Pausing to stretch her tight muscles, she watched his long, tanned body power easily through the water toward her. Nearing the wall, he executed a languid racing turn as though it was as natural to him as walking. Fascinated, Holly followed the path his body made underwater until he surfaced some ten meters away, turning his head just enough to take advantage of his body’s streamlining to breathe.
Darn, she thought with admiration as water glistened off his wide tanned shoulders and long powerful arms, she wished she could look half as good breathing, let alone swimming laps.
She spent another minute practically hypnotized by the dip and rise of wide shoulders and the shifting of muscles in a long tanned back until he abruptly disappeared in yet another turn at the opposite wall. Realizing she was standing transfixed by the sight of some guy doing nothing more interesting than swim up and down, Holly blinked as heat rose into her face.
What the heck are you doing, Holly? You came here to de-stress and get some exercise, not get all hot and bothered by some hunk out for his evening swim.
Feeling guilty for her somewhat racy thoughts, Holly took a deep breath and dived. Her foot slipped at the exact instant she realized she’d forgotten her goggles and instead of her usual graceful dive, she belly-flopped with a strangled shriek and sank like a stone.
The water was colder than she’d expected, closing over her head and rushing in on the heels of her startled gasp. For a few ragged heartbeats she panicked and flailed around like she’d forgotten how to swim, confused about which way was up. Just when she thought she’d run out of air, large hands clamped around her arms and hauled her upward.
Instinctively fighting the firm grip, Holly nearly lost what was left of the breath in her lungs when she was yanked roughly against a big hard body. They broke the surface in a tangle of limbs, gasping breath and gushing water.
“Jeez, lady,” a deep familiar voice growled near her ear, and Holly’s belly clenched before sinking as gracelessly as she had. “Are you trying to drown yourself?”
Gabe held the woman and waited while she spluttered and coughed, wondering if she’d pretended to drown, hoping to attract his attention. He’d had women do that and more, trying to get him to notice them.
It was only when she lifted her head and blinked huge dark blue eyes that he realized he was holding Holly Buchanan and she was staring at him like she’d suddenly found herself in the jaws of…well, Jaws.
“You?” she gasped.
He felt his mouth curl up at one corner and made no effort to release her. In fact, he drew her closer. “Well, well,” he drawled softly, enjoying the feel of her body, still warm and incredibly smooth and soft, against his. The skin across his belly tightened in reaction. “What a…surprise. Are you by any chance stalking me?”
“Me?” she squeaked, her mouth round with outrage. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“I was here first. Unless…” His eyes narrowed on her in mock suspicion. “Unless that was you hiding behind the pillar when I arrived earlier,” he drawled, referring to the way he’d caught her ducking around corners or through the closest doorway when she’d seen him coming at the hospital.
Heat rushed into her face but she ignored his comment, her lips parting on a stuttered “I—I… Th-that was you? In the water, I mean?”
A frown tugged at Gabe’s mouth at her incredulous tone. He wasn’t sure she’d meant it as a compliment, which also meant she hadn’t followed hoping to run into him. He ignored the odd feeling in his gut that couldn’t possibly be disappointment.
“You sound surprised.”
For a couple of beats she blinked myopically at him. It was fascinating to watch the conflicting expressions race over her features as if she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed, impressed or embarrassed. It made him wonder what the heck was going through her mind to make her frown and blush.
“Not at all. It’s just…She suddenly blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. The idea that she’d been watching him was oddly satisfying, considering how much time he’d spent either thinking about her lately or watching her run for cover every time she saw him coming. Especially today, when evaluating her technique hadn’t been the sole purpose of his presence in observation room six.
She licked her lips and he instantly forgot what he was thinking. “I…um… I didn’t know you swam… At this gym, I mean.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth and his skin tightened as heat gathered low in his gut. “And a good thing too or you might have drowned yourself.”
“Don’t be silly,” she wheezed, lifting a hand to wipe moisture off her face. “I slipped, that’s all. I’m an excellent swimmer.”
He felt a chuckle rise in his throat. “Yeah? Then what was that incredibly graceful dive called? Because I can tell you I’ve seen preschoolers with more style than that.”
She rolled her eyes. “The tiles are slippery,” she muttered, dropping her gaze to his mouth. She sucked in a shuddery breath that pressed her breasts against his chest and made his eyes cross. It also made her realize she was plastered up against him like wet silk—okay, and maybe she’d discovered what the feel of her smooth warm skin was doing to him. She squeaked and tried to shove away but they were both slick and her hands kept slipping until she finally growled something that sounded like “Damn it, this is a nightmare” and managed to knee him in the thigh. He wasn’t so sure that was an accident.
He muttered, “Wet dream is more like it.”
She gasped and gaped at him. Her furious “Ohmigod, I can’t believe you just said that” ended on a hacking cough, and Gabe shook his head as he slid his hands from her waist to lift her arms above her head even as she tried to take a swing at him.
“Come on, who didn’t see that one coming?”
She choked and spluttered a bit more and he got kicked in the shin this time. He chuckled. “Breathe, Doc, before you hack up another lung or maybe knee me in the nuts.”
“You…you deserve it,” she croaked, when she could talk without spluttering.
He pulled back and dipped his head to peer into her face. “Is that any way to talk to the guy who just saved your life? For the fourth time, I might add.”
“What are you doing here, Dr. Alexander?” she demanded in a husky voice that heated him up on the inside and gave him a few indecent thoughts. Thoughts he shouldn’t be having about someone he was going to be working with. Thoughts about pushing her up against the side of the pool and practicing mouth-to-mouth.
“You mean, other than saving your sexy ass?”
Wild color rose beneath her creamy skin and Gabe was seriously tempted to lean forward and lick her pink mouth—see if she tasted as delicious as she looked.
“I’m perfectly capable of saving myself,” she snapped, and shoved at hands that had ended up very close to her breasts—which were full and firm and incredibly enticing in that skin-tight black sheath. Did she know their hard points were practically begging for attention that he was all too willing to give? “And let me go, damn it.”
His blood heated in his veins at the thought of getting his hands on her bounty and his grin turned mocking, as much at himself than anything. He was mostly a leg and butt man, probably because of all the boob jobs he’d performed. But despite the number of breasts he had his hands on, none of them had made a fraction of an impact on him compared to Holly Buchanan’s shrink-wrapped curves.
And he’d just this instant become a breast man too.
“Aww,” he drawled, his voice a rough rasp filling the inch separating them. “Do I have to?”
“No…Yes… I mean… Damn it.” Confusion chased annoyance and desire across her face as Holly put a couple of inches between them. Despite the move making him chuckle, the distance gave him an even better view. She saw the direction of his gaze, looked down and with an outraged squeak slapped her arms across her chest, glaring at him like he was a pervert for enjoying the view. “They’re…they’re all me,” she snapped. “In case you were wondering.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I can tell.”
His gaze drifted up her throat, past her stubborn little chin to her mouth, where he got stuck for a few heart-stopping beats. He finally locked eyes with her…and got caught up in the incredible dark blue depths surrounded by a heavy fringe of dark spiky lashes. For an instant his world tilted and then his heart rate spiked like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled and a shudder of pure panic stomped up his spine with size thirteen army boots. Blinking, he shoved shaking fingers through his hair. What the hell? Next thing he’d be spouting poetry or something equally cheesy—not to mention freaking embarrassing.
When just the thought of it made his nuts shrink, Gabe didn’t know whether to be relieved or freaked out. Jeez. This was exactly what happened when a guy went without for more than six months, he told himself. He got caught up in sexy blue bedroom eyes and starved his brain of oxygen when his blood drained south of the border.
“Stop…stop looking at me,” she rasped, turning away from his gaze. He blinked her face into focus, finally realizing his scrutiny was upsetting her and that she was a little hunched over as though to protect herself. From him? What the hell?
“What are you talking about?”
“I feel like a…a bug under a microscope.”
“A very attractive wet bug,” he interjected, and dropped his gaze in time to see her bite her lip. And because he hadn’t eaten since noon, he was tempted to take a nibble too but she turned wounded eyes up to his and he froze. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I’m d-damaged.”
He laughed but when her expression turned fierce, like she wanted to slug him, he frowned, confused as hell because the woman was damn beautiful. The last thing he’d call her was damaged.
Stunning, sexy and hot? Yes. Snotty as hell? Definitely. Damaged? No way. Scars and all. There was too much elegant bone structure, stubborn chin and lush mouth for that.
Frustrated, he shoved a hand through his hair. “What the hell are you talking about?” He felt like one wrong move from him and she’d… Hell, he didn’t know, just that he’d go crashing through the ice any second and be plunged into deep frigid waters. She glared at him and he felt like an insensitive jerk. He didn’t have a clue why.
“I’m damaged, flawed, broken,” she muttered fiercely. “Take your pick. I’ve heard it all before, and more. Including ugly.”
“Ugly?” He made a sound of irritation. “Did someone tell you that?” he rapped out.
She lifted a hand to cover the pale thin scars and blinked at him warily. “I’ve got eyes. I know what I look like.”
He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, gently pulling her hand away so he could study the thin silvery scars marring her creamy skin with professional interest and clinical detachment. He had a feeling anything else would offend her.
Through the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist her pulse beat a rapid tattoo. Even if he hadn’t felt the racing heartbeat, he couldn’t ignore the anxiety leaking from every pore.
She made a sound of distress in the back of her throat and tried to tug free but he held her easily, lifting his free hand to gently turn the scarred side toward him.
He wanted to lean forward and kiss each imperfection, run his tongue along the pale lines. “I don’t think you do,” he said mildly. “Have you heard of body dysmorphic disorder?”
She jerked her chin away and flashed him a scowl of outrage. “Of course I have. Are you suggesting I have BDD or that I’m vain?”
Gabe shook his head and sent her a faint smile. “Neither. I merely wondered if you knew about it. I’m not going to lie and say your scars are invisible, Holly, but I think they’re more noticeable to you because you know they’re there.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to twist free but he ignored her, his large, warm hand holding her captive. “I know they’re there,” she said in a low, fierce voice, “because I had to live through the stares as well as the endless procedures to get rid of them.”
“And…” he guessed, lightly tracing one thin line across the top of her cheekbone to where it disappeared into her hairline. She sucked in a breath and after a moment a tiny shudder went through her. Gabe had to steel himself against the urge to wrap his arms around her, offer his strength. “You remember what they were like when they were new,” he pointed out gently. “But unless you deliberately did this to yourself, it’s not your fault.”
“Of course I didn’t do it to myself,’ she snapped, then sucked in a huge breath that was probably an attempt to calm her but which nearly gave Gabe a heart attack when the round globes of her breasts swelled above the neckline of her swimsuit. “It was…an accident.”
He had to clear his throat twice and fight the overwhelming urge to drop his gaze to her plump curves and drool like a guy. “Well, from a cosmetic point of view, even I couldn’t have done better.”
She snorted. “Modest much, Dr. Alexander?”
He chuckled. “No. In Beverly Hills you have to be good or word gets around and the next thing you know you’re in Tijuana, doing budget nip-and-tuck tourist deals. Switzerland or Germany?”
She tugged again on her wrist and because he was somewhat distracted he let her go. She immediately wrapped her arms around herself. He could have told her it was too late. Waa-aay too late. Now that he’d seen—and felt them pressed against his chest—he was sure the image was burned into his brain for all time. And why he found that sexier than if she’d been naked, he didn’t know. Clearly he’d lost brain cells along with his testosterone leakage.
“Switzerland. How did you know?”
At the question his gaze rose from watching her mouth form words. He blinked in confusion and got lost in the smoky blue depths surrounding enlarged pupils.
“I, uh…” What the hell were they discussing? Oh, yeah, he thought with a rush of relief—her scars. “I recognized the technique from a study I did in med school.”
She looked back at him and her expression was as dazed as his had been a few seconds ago. Clearly she was also having difficulty keeping up with their verbal exchange when their bodies insisted on conversing on a whole different level. A level that left his skin tight, his blood pounding through his veins and his body in pleasurable pain like he was an addict suffering withdrawal.
Holly licked her lips and Gabe’s blood went instantly hot. She must have recognized the look in his eyes because hers widened and she edged away, watching him warily.
“Stop that!”
“Huh? Stop what?”
“Stop looking and…and talking about my flaws.”
“Everyone has flaws,” he murmured distractedly, his body following hers like he was a divining rod and she was a hidden source of water. He caged her against the wall with his arms, his voice a rough, low sound between them that heightened the feeling of isolation and intimacy.
Slick, naked skin brushed, sending goose-bumps marching across his skin like an invading army, and the water separating them heated until he thought he saw steam but maybe that was just his brain smoking. “My one ear is higher than the other and I have big feet.”
She gaped at him like he was a lunatic for equating big feet with trauma scars. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m serious. I bet if you looked you’d probably find a lot more. Like I broke my nose when my surfboard smacked me in the face.”
She grimaced sympathetically. “What happened?”
“I was sixteen and showing off,” he sighed. “Instead of being impressed, the girl fainted when she saw blood and the rest of my summer was ruined.”
Her eyes lightened, as Gabe had intended, and he wanted to close the distance between them and kiss her, tease a smile to her lush mouth. He wanted to make her laugh—really laugh. Not the polite little smile he’d seen her aim at people she wanted to keep at a distance. Hell. He’d like any kind of smile, considering all she ever did with him was scowl.
“That’s really tragic.”
Yeah, about as tragic as a grown man behaving like a sixteen-year-old.
He gave a wounded look. “It was a traumatic adolescent experience that scarred me for life,” he accused, when she smothered a snicker. “Anyway, in addition to a broken nose, my one eyebrow arches more than the other and an old girlfriend told me I look permanently mocking.”
“The one who fainted?”
“No.” Smartass. “That one was history before I could impress her with my manliness. It was another…girl.”
“Well, you are mocking,” she pointed out, and when his lips curved up at one corner, her eyes dropped to stare at his mouth and he knew she was as affected by their proximity as he was. After a moment her gaze slid away a little guiltily and when her tongue emerged to flick over her lips he felt it all the way to his big feet—and every inch along the way.
“Maybe a little,” he rasped, struggling to follow the conversation. “What I’m trying to say is that people are not perfect.”
“You haven’t met my family.”
“Why?”
The movement of the water bobbed them together and their bodies bumped, skin brushing skin, soft curves against hard. Her breasts brushed his chest, sending sensation zinging through him until his back teeth ached with the effort not to yank her against him and taste her soft mouth.
“My mother was a beauty queen,” she was saying in a husky tone, as though the accidental touch had affected her too. Damn. Maybe he should move away. Maybe he should get out of the pool and take a really cold shower until he could breathe without inhaling the scent of her, move without the memory of her soft skin brushing against his.
But instead of getting the hell out of Dodge, he pressed a thigh between hers and shifted closer, until the plump curves of her breasts were pillowed against his chest and her thighs quivered and clenched around his. She made a little sound in the back of her throat that emerged as a gasping squeak and he nearly came out of his skin. It was so hot he was surprised the water didn’t evaporate. It was so hot he felt the back of his skull tighten and his skin buzz.
She gulped and pressed herself against the wall before continuing. “She was…um…runner-up for Miss America and w-won Miss World that same year.” She sucked in a breath. “She’s beautiful and perfect. Like my sister Paige. Like my father and my brother Bryant.”
Something tugged at his memory but when her tongue peeked out between her pink lips it vanished and all he could think about was tasting the moist pink pillows of flesh just beneath his mouth.
Maybe it was the hour or the fact that her eyes were heavy and smoky with the kind of need thundering through his own veins. But with her lips just below his and the smooth skin of her inner thighs making his gut clench with an almost violent need, he was powerless to do anything but slide his hand to the back of her neck and lower his head.
She gasped. “What are you…doing?”
Just before their lips touched, he murmured, “Proving how perfect you are.”
Bare skin and thin elastane pressed into his belly and thighs. It flooded him with a need so powerful that he felt momentarily dizzy.
Oh, yeah, she was perfect all right. Perfect for him…perfect for his hands. Perfect for his mouth and he’d bet his grandfather’s entire fortune she’d be perfect for his body too.
He reined himself in with difficulty but her breath hitched audibly in her throat and shot all his intentions—to keep it light and teasing—straight to the bottomless pits of hell.
With a growl he covered her mouth with his in a kiss that instantly turned greedy and hot. He was thirty-five. A man who loved women; loved their bodies and the way their bodies felt against his. He loved the way they tasted and smelled and he loved the feel of their soft, firm flesh beneath his hands. He loved everything about them and he especially loved taking his time. But everything he’d ever learned about women went right out of his head the instant her mouth opened beneath his.
It was like he’d been sucked into a vortex created by her soft, wet mouth and soft, warm body and he couldn’t think beyond getting more. More of her mouth, more of her silky curves pressed to the front of his jammer swimming trunks. More of her.
He pressed closer and when she uttered a breathy moan Gabe instantly took advantage and slid his tongue into her hot mouth. Without realizing he was doing it, he groaned low and deep in his throat and adjusted the fit of his mouth over hers, creating a light suction that made her whimper and arch into him, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
Blood roared through his head and he felt himself go under—submerged in liquid heat and drowning pleasure where his only lifeline was the feel of her soft mouth beneath his. And if he heard the alarm warning in the back of his mind, he ignored it in favor of murmured sighs that filled his ears and the slick, warm feel of her mouth beneath his.
Holly was aware of only two things. The big, hard body pressed to hers…the tangle of their limbs and the way his hand cradled her head as he devoured her resistance along with her breath. Okay, and she was also aware of the hard thigh between hers and the evidence of his arousal pressed almost painfully against her belly.
Her mind spun even as her eyes drifted shut and her body softened, cradling that huge, hard shaft. He groaned. It came from so deep in his chest—like it’d been dragged up from the depths of his soul—that the responding vibrations swept through her like a subwoofer turned on high. And before she could remember her plan or think that maybe this was a very bad idea, she surrendered to the taste of him, greedily eating at his mouth and the hot, hungry kisses he fed her. Kisses that were deep and drugging and told her he was ravenous and that she was his next meal.
She’d never known kisses could be so hot or…hungry. Or that a man’s mouth was capable of making her head spin, her belly dip and her body feel like one move and she’d go off like a bottle rocket.
And then there were no more thoughts as need and greed sucked her under, stole her breath along with any thoughts she might have to resist.
But there was no resisting the unstoppable force that was Gabriel Alexander and if she was honest with herself she didn’t want to. Didn’t want to push him away or stop the onslaught on her senses. Didn’t want to resist his hot hardness sliding up to press against the apex of her thighs where she was hot and damp and aching with emptiness.
It was also wildly exciting to discover that someone like him could want her…with such rough urgency.
Then it didn’t matter because all her thoughts drained away along with her breath, sucked out by his greedy mouth. But she found she didn’t need breath as much as she needed this. This wild out-of-control feeling that sucked her under and sent her mind into a tailspin. And if she’d been in any condition to do anything but groan, slide her hands up the heavy muscles of his arms to his shoulders and press her body closer, she might have freaked at the ease with which he’d unraveled her defenses.
He fed her more deep, wet, hungry kisses that made her gasp and return them, just as hungrily, as if they were alone instead of in a public swimming pool where anyone might see them.
She didn’t care. All she wanted was the hot, wet slide of his body filling the deep, empty ache within her. An ache she’d only discovered this very minute. An ache that she’d never thought existed, let alone experienced—especially in a brightly lit pool in central Manhattan.
He broke off the kiss to croak “Damn,” against her mouth and drag air into his heaving chest like he’d just sprinted three lengths of the pool without breathing. For several long beats they shared air until Holly lifted heavy lashes to see if he’d been as affected by the kiss as she had.
He looked a little shell-shocked. Kind of like she’d kneed him in the groin and he didn’t know whether to throw up or pass out. Heck, she felt a little like passing out herself, and if she’d been in any state to do more than gulp air and cling to him, she might have panicked. Because…because, damn. Who’d have thought that Holly Buchanan would end up making out with Dr. Beverly Hills in a public swimming pool like a couple of randy teens? And want more? A whole lot more?
But her shock was about as little as the heavy evidence of his arousal, clearly outlined by his jammer suit practically shrink-wrapped to his lower body and visible beneath the water.
Okay, so she’d looked. It was better than seeing the hot blue-green eyes staring into hers until her thighs went up in flames. Her vision grayed at the edges and she thought she was having a panic attack until she realized she was holding her breath. She had to exhale or pass out.
And then he’d be forced to save her by performing mouth-to-mouth. Oh, yes. Please.
She must have swayed because his hands shot out to steady her. “You okay?” he rasped, and Holly stared up into his eyes and wondered why she’d never noticed how stormy they could get. Like the waters of the Caribbean stirred by hurricane winds.
“I…um…” And when nothing else emerged, he gave her a quick, hard shake to snap her out of her trance. But Holly was well and truly speechless. Who wouldn’t be after that…that feeding frenzy?
“You going to pass out?” emerged rough and hoarse, as though he had as little control over his vocal cords as he had over his breathing. She inhaled and exhaled a couple more times until the urge to lose consciousness eased.
“Wh-a-at?”
A ragged chuckle scraped up from the depths of his chest and after a couple beats he shoved shaking fingers through his hair. “Damn it. I have to go.” He sounded frustrated and a little like he was about to lose it. And, oh, boy, she could identify. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Oh…um…yes.” She sucked in a couple more breaths and blinked up at him in confusion until she finally recognized the beeping noise she’d thought was the little warning sound in her head.
He was being paged and she hadn’t even heard it over the pounding in her ears. Her head cleared a little more and she blew out a ragged “Go.”