Kate had a private tent. While waiting for Amanda to get back in touch, she lay stretched out on her cot, half dozing, half listening to the steady drone of wind and sand beating against the canvas. A storm had blown in, and it was a bad one. “Captain Kane?” Following the man’s voice, Kate turned to look toward the tent opening. She didn’t bother cursing, though she thought about it. Her backside was dragging. She needed rest. “Yes?” “Could you step out here, please?” He’d elevated his voice to be heard over the racket Mother Nature had stirred up. “We’re in the middle of a sandstorm,” she said, stating the obvious. Step out? The guy had to be joking. Fearing he wasn’t, which meant he had to be a lunatic, she snagged her fatigue pants from the floor beside the cot, shoved her legs into them and tugged them up over her hips. “I’m decent. Come on in.”
