Bulletproof & Locked, Loaded and SEALed

by Cynthia Eden

  What information could he possibly have?

  Sophia doubled over and then sank to the floor at his feet. “What is going on? What did Patel have?”

  “Jilani. I don’t know, but it has to be something important.”

  “And these guys, these—” she waved her hand at his computer “—killers think I have it or know it?”

  “It must be something concrete because they wouldn’t know one way or the other if Jilani told Fazal anything and if Fazal told you. It has to be an object, something they’re looking for and can’t find—even after tossing Fazal’s office.”

  “And my apartment.”

  “If we could find it, we’d remove the threat. Game over.”

  “God, I want this game to be over.” She drew her knees to her chest and folded her arms on top of them.

  He placed his hand on top of her head, the soft strands of her hair like velvet beneath his fingertips. “We’re getting closer. We know Patel’s true identity, and we know the information has something to do with the symposium. I’ve passed the information along, and at least the FBI can up the security levels surrounding the event, although…”

  “There has to be more, right? It can’t just be a threat to the event.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. A simple threat is too easy. Jilani could’ve told Fazal or even reported it to the Boston PD.” He flipped up the lid of his laptop and logged out so that there was no chance Sophia would see that picture of Jilani’s son. “I’m thinking the reason he didn’t go straight to US intelligence with his information is because of the threat to his family.”

  “It didn’t work, anyway.” She’d rested her forehead against her folded arms, and now her head shot up. “We have to find whatever it is he gave Dr. Fazal. We owe it to him, we owe it to Dr. Fazal and now we owe it to Jilani’s family.”

  Austin stretched his legs in front of him and slumped in his chair. “Are you going to try to get into the justice business?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it. People should have to pay for ruining other people’s lives.”

  “Do you think your mother paid enough for ruining yours?”

  “Locked away for almost twenty-five years? I suppose so. Who knows? Maybe her crime saved both of us. If she and my father had kept on like they were, she would’ve OD’d anyway and maybe I’d be dead, too. Foster care wasn’t fun and games, but at least I’m alive.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” He nudged her hip with the toe of his shoe. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not at all, but you don’t have to tell me you are.”

  “I’ve been eyeing that room-service menu and a bottle of ibuprofen.”

  “Sore from your tumble on the balcony?” She rolled her shoulders. “I’m feeling it, too.”

  He stood up and stepped over her, reaching for the menu. “Would you like something to drink with your ibuprofen?”

  “There’s already hot tea in the room and a soda machine across the hall. I’m good.”

  “You’re more than good.”

  “Excuse me?” She lifted one eyebrow.

  “I’ve put you through hell since the moment I got here, and you’ve hit every curveball out of the park. Not sure how this would’ve gone down if you’d been someone different.”

  If Sophia had been a different woman, he’d probably be back on duty right now. Would he have fought so hard to stay on this assignment if Dr. Fazal’s coworker hadn’t been a black-haired stunner with hard eyes and tremulous lips?

  Those lips quirked into a crooked smile.

  “Something funny about that?”

  “Kind of.” She rose from the floor and stretched her taut body, which did a number on his blood pressure.

  “You don’t do well with compliments, do you?”

  “It’s just that I spent so much of my youth wishing I was someone else, and here you are telling me I’m just who I need to be.”

  “I’m sure you heard that from Hamid, as well.”

  “Yeah, I met him about twenty years too late. He’s the father I should’ve had, and he’s the friend I should’ve had for a lifetime.” She touched the cracked frame.

  “Do you want to buy a new frame for the picture tomorrow morning before the memorial?”

  “Will we have time?”

  “So far, I have nothing planned. You?”

  She balanced a fist on one hip. “Is that a joke?”

  “I thought maybe you needed to go back into the office, deal with more paperwork, patient referrals?”

  “I do, eventually. Ginny did all the heavy lifting, calling the patients.”

  He picked up the phone’s receiver. “I’m going to order something from room service. Are you sure you don’t want something?”

  “I’ll make myself some hot tea later. All the excitement and the late lunch made me tired.”

  He pressed the button for room service and closed his eyes while the phone rang. If he was lucky, Sophia would fall asleep and he could try to forget his attraction to her for a few hours. If he was really lucky, she’d stay away and he could continue to drink in the way her hair kept slipping over one shoulder and the grace of her lithe body as she moved about the room.

  For one amazing minute today, he’d had that body stretched out on top of his own. With her lips inches from his mouth, he hadn’t even noticed the sharp pain stabbing him between the shoulder blades when he’d hit the leg of the chair on the balcony. He sure felt it now.

  He ordered himself a steak, a twice-baked potato and some asparagus.

  “Do you mind if I hit the shower before my food gets here? I’m going to aim that shower spray between my shoulder blades for a little relief.”

  “You can always go down to the hot tub.”

  “As inviting as that sounds right now, I don’t want to wander around the hotel—just in case. When you went out earlier, I had second thoughts.”

  “God, I hope they haven’t followed us here. I sort of felt safe in this hotel.”

  “We are. They obviously know now that you’re with someone who’s not just a Spark date, but nobody has gotten a look at me yet. They don’t know who I am, and my rental car isn’t on their radar.”

  “My car is.”

  “That’s why we leave it in the hotel parking lot. That’s why you don’t get in touch with any of your friends right now.” He traced the edge of the plastic room service menu. “Maybe that’s why you shouldn’t attend Dr. Fazal’s memorial.”

  She dropped the tea bag she’d been unwrapping. “Are you crazy? That’s not an option.”

  “He’d understand. He’d understand more than anyone why you couldn’t be there.”

  “No, no and no.” She snatched up the tea bag and started twirling it around her finger. “He’s family. You can do your sniper thing again to protect me, but I have to be there. I’m speaking”

  “Okay. I’ll think of something. Right now I’m going to take a shower. If room service shows up while I’m in the bathroom, don’t open the door. Come and get me.”

  “There you go again. I thought we were safe here.”

  “You can never be too careful. You should know that by now.”

  “Go take your shower. I’ll make my tea and watch some TV.”

  He grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt on the way to the bathroom. He couldn’t exactly lounge around in his briefs.

  Once in the shower, he cranked on the faucet and turned his back to the hot water. The hotel had an adjustable showerhead, and he reached up and turned it to a pulsing spray. He rolled his shoulders under the onslaught of the water, and started soaping up his body. He was supposed to be relaxing in here, but thoughts of Sophia kept seeping into his brain, making him hard.

  He dropped his sudsy washclot
h and didn’t bother picking it up. Instead he rinsed off with much cooler water to temper his heated thoughts.

  He turned off the water and snapped a towel from the rack just outside the shower curtain. As he dried off, Sophia tapped on the door.

  “Room service.”

  “Already?”

  “You’ve been in there for a while. If you’d been in the tub, I would’ve been worried about drowning.”

  He cursed under his breath, dropped the towel and swept up his sweats from the back of the toilet. He dragged them on and swung open the door of the bathroom.

  “Is he still there?”

  “I told him to hold on.” Her gaze skimmed across his bare chest and it felt it like her fingers trickling across his flesh.

  He shivered. He pressed his eye to the peephole and opened the door, blocking the entrance to the room. “I’ll take it in, thanks. Check?”

  The room service waiter pulled a sheet of paper from the front pocket of his white coat. “Here you go, sir.”

  Austin signed the meal to the room and added a hefty tip for keeping the guy waiting. Then the waiter loaded up the covered dishes onto a tray and placed it in Austin’s arms. He backed up into the room, kicking the door closed.

  Sophia cleared off a space on the table by the window. “That looks like enough food to feed an army—or rather a team of navy SEALs.”

  He snorted as he placed the tray on the table. “This? Not even close.”

  “While you’re chowing down, I’m going to take a shower, too. Swinging from a balcony is almost as strenuous as an entire workout at the gym.”

  He plucked a lid from one of the dishes and waved it at her. He didn’t even want to think about her in the same shower where he’d just been, naked, soaping up…thinking about her. Best just to eat his meal, pretend to work and conk out on the sofa bed.

  * * *

  SHE TURNED HER back on Austin and crouched beside her suitcase. As she dug through the bag, her fingers found the silky nightshirt she’d bought in the clothing store downstairs earlier that day.

  Pressing the pretty but serviceable item to her chest, she sidled into the bathroom. She didn’t want to come on as full-fledged sex bomb, but he might appreciate seeing her in something other than an old T-shirt, or she might appreciate him seeing her, or she might…

  She slammed the bathroom door. She didn’t know what she wanted. No, that wasn’t true either—she wanted Austin Foley—lock, stock and rippling muscles.

  She showered quickly and slipped into her new nightgown, its silky folds caressing her bare skin, heightening her sensitivity—everywhere. After washing her face, she let down her hair and brushed it out until it had a glossy sheen.

  She squared her shoulders and marched back into the bedroom, hoping to find Austin snoozing on the sofa bed and making her decision for her.

  He glanced up from his plate and his eyes widened. Then he coughed and took a gulp of water from his bottle.

  Suddenly self-conscious, she scurried to her suitcase and dropped her clothes on top of the mess inside. Austin hadn’t even put a shirt on. He wasn’t going to make this easy at all—unless he grabbed her and planted a kiss on her mouth.

  Austin Foley, Wyoming cowboy, navy SEAL and all-around good guy would never do that. Making a move on a woman without politely asking first had to be against his moral cowboy code or something—especially after knowing her for a grand total of three days.

  If she wanted something with Austin before he took off and disappeared from her life completely, she’d have to take the initiative—and risk rejection. Hell, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t encountered rejection a few…or a hundred times in her life.

  “How’s the steak?”

  “Perfect. Do you want a bite? Of steak?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He held up a spear of asparagus, dripping butter. “Asparagus? There’s so much butter on it, it doesn’t even taste healthy.”

  She sauntered toward him, fully aware of her nipples peaking and chafing against the material of her nightshirt—and not giving a damn.

  Austin’s eyes never left hers as she drew closer. When she landed in front of him, she dipped, bending her knees slightly, mouth open.

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he placed the tip of the asparagus on her tongue.

  The buttery taste flooded her mouth, and she took a bite. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she said, “Very good, and you’re right. That didn’t taste like a healthy veggie at all.”

  He popped the stem of the asparagus in his mouth and then ran the pad of his thumb just below her bottom lip. “Butter.”

  “Can’t take me anywhere.”

  “Do you want any more?”

  She allowed her gaze to drop to his bare chest and wander to his flat abs. “Not…now.”

  He stacked his dishes on the tray with a clatter, breaking the tension between them. Who knew asparagus could be sexy?

  “I’m done.” He shoved the tray to the other side of the table and stretched his arms over his head. A spasm of pain shifted across his features.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Still sore where that damned chair poked me in the back.”

  “That’s my fault for landing on you.”

  “Better me than two stories below.”

  “Do you need any more ibuprofen?”

  “Already took my allotment. I’ll down another couple in a few hours.”

  “That’s not helping you now.” She backed up to the bed and patted the mattress. It was now or never. “You know in addition to being a physical therapist, I’m also a trained masseuse.”

  “Really?” He rolled his shoulders. “That must come in handy.”

  “It comes in handy when I jump on top of people and knock them backward into chairs. I’ll give you a free session, relax your muscles and relieve some of that pain for you.”

  She held her breath. What if he turned her down? Would he view this as some kind of desperate attempt to keep him in Boston, keep him in her life?

  His lids fell over his eyes as if in slow motion. “Sure.”

  She scooted off the bed. “I don’t have any massage oil, so the hotel lotion will have to do. It’s all in the hands, anyway.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He stretched out on the bed and she hurried into the bathroom.

  She grabbed the little bottle of lotion from the vanity and stopped in front of the mirror to assess the stranger in front of her. Flushed cheeks and bright eyes indicated a level of excitement she hadn’t felt in years. How crazy for these incredible highs coming along with the depths of despair over losing Dr. Fazal and then Ginny. Maybe hooking up with Austin was just her way of climbing out of the pit of darkness.

  Whatever the reason, she had a perfect male specimen waiting for her in the other room.

  She returned to the bed with the lotion pinned between her arm and body, rubbing her hands together. “I’m going to warm up my hands so I don’t shock you.”

  He rolled his head to the side, his green eyes glittering. “Nothing you could do would shock me.”

  The lotion slipped from her hold and bounced on the carpet. She ducked down, allowing her hair to fall over her hot face. Where had those gentlemanly manners gone?

  She popped up, lotion in hand. “Just relax. I’m going to start with your scalp, without the lotion.”

  “Head on the pillow or off?”

  “Let’s get rid of the pillow, so you’re lying flat.”

  He shoved the pillow to the side. “I’m all yours.”

  A girl could wish.

  Curling her legs beneath her, she settled on the bed next to his right hip. She cracked her knuckles and rose to her knees. She dug her fingertips into his thick, short hair until
they met his scalp. Then she pressed the pads of her fingers against the points behind his ears and down to the base of his skull.

  He released a long breath. “That feels surprisingly good.”

  “You haven’t had a head massage before? Even haircuts usually involve a massage when you get your hair washed.”

  “When I get a haircut, the navy barber doesn’t exactly massage my scalp.”

  “Well, he should start.” She finished with his head and moved down to his neck, pinching into the hard, corded muscles. “Lot of tension right here.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s an occupational hazard. I have to hold my head in the same position for long stretches of time when I’m on a mission.”

  She drove her thumbs into either side of his neck, and he sucked in a breath.

  “Sorry. With this much tension, there’s gonna be some pain.”

  “Hurts so much, it feels good.”

  “If you say so, tough guy.”

  Her hands slipped to his broad shoulders, spanning the slabs of muscle beneath his smooth skin. She squeezed a puddle of lotion into her palm and rubbed her hands together. Her hands slid across his shoulders, and he seemed to melt beneath her touch, as his eyelashes fluttered and his eyes closed.

  He tensed up as she worked toward his shoulder blades. “You’re getting close to my injury.”

  “I can see it. A bruise is forming where the chair leg gouged you.” She dabbled her fingertips over the red spot. “I’ll work around it, and as your muscles get loose, that’ll relieve some of your pain in that area.”

  “Go for it. I trust you.”

  Avoiding the bruised area of his back, she massaged his warm skin. His back formed a perfect V, tapering down to his narrow waist. The waistband of his sweats began just above the curve of his buttocks.

  How far did she dare go? While he seemed to be enjoying the massage, he still hadn’t made a move. In her book, this massage screamed, “Take me.” Did he still have doubts that she wanted him?

  Maybe he’d take the massage and reject her.

  Her knuckles kneaded the area on either side of his spine on the small of his back. As she skimmed the band of his sweats, he seemed to stop breathing.