Except Maggie.
When was the last time a one-night stand had distracted him from doing his job and protecting his family? Try never. He didn’t look back. Never wanted more. Sierra and the thrill of his job were enough for him. But somehow Miss Maggie had gotten under his skin. Or maybe it was the boredom from being sidelined from missions that were more exciting than babysitting and reading books. If he couldn’t deploy with his team, fulfilling Maggie’s fantasies was the next best thing.
On the bright side, a week, maybe more, in upstate New York 100 percent increased his chances of running into Miss Maggie again. She lived around here somewhere and he did have her shoes.
But he’d have some old professor with him. Might not help his chances for getting laid again.
“She’s practically a child,” his CO said, turning into the West Point main entrance. Hunter tuned his attention back to his mission. “It shouldn’t take much to keep her under control.”
“Yes, sir.” Okay, so the professor didn’t sound ancient. But with Colonel Johnson, one never knew. Any woman under forty was practically a child in his mind.
His CO spun the wheel, guiding them into a parking spot, and turned to him. “I’m counting on you for this one.”
“I’m on it, sir.” Hunter opened his door and followed his CO into one of West Point’s castle-like buildings, ready to meet Margaret Barlow, complete his mission and earn his promotion and pay raise.
* * *
MAGGIE ADJUSTED HER boxy gray suit jacket, checked her PowerPoint presentation and scanned the conference-room table to make sure the packets she’d prepared were in front of each seat. As she straightened her presentation notes on the podium, her mind drifted to Saturday night. It had been perfect, really. A handsome stranger, orgasms—three of them—and the freedom to return to her world on Sunday morning.
Perfect.
Well, almost.
The side of her mouth drooped. Hunter had satisfied something deep inside her, but he’d also left her feeling helpless. An hour after he’d fallen asleep, panic had washed over her. She’d escaped as fast as she could, even though part of her—the part that craved orgasms—wanted to know just what he’d meant when he’d said the words that played through her mind on repeat.
Honey, I could teach you things that would blow your fantasies out of the water.
She wanted to learn those things, and she wanted to learn them from him, which scared her even more than the way she’d followed his commands in bed. Hunter was the worst possible match for her. She needed stable and dependable, not commanding.
Plus, she didn’t have the first clue what sort of demons Hunter had faced in his personal life since his return from the war. The writer in her might be curious, but the part of her that wanted to savor the memory of those orgasms? That part of her needed to remember him just the way he was Saturday night. Let someone else deal with his depression and the potential drinking and drug problems when he tried to adapt to a normal life. Let him send someone else’s life spiraling out of control. She’d been there and done that. She had no intention of going back. Not even for the best orgasms in the world.
Of course, setting aside the fact that he was an elite soldier, once they got to know each other, it probably wouldn’t work. Maggie glanced down at her plain black flats, nearly hidden by her gray slacks. Scratch probably and make that definitely. If he saw her now, he wouldn’t even recognize her, never mind date her. He certainly wouldn’t demand she remove her clothes. Not this shapeless suit, which was exactly why’d she’d worn it to her meeting and not out for her wild Saturday night.
In this room, surrounded by a group of men who could put an end to her book before she even got a chance to write it, she couldn’t afford to look like a sexy, single woman. She needed them to listen to her, not stare at her breasts like a pack of hormonal boys. Today, in this suit, she could not be caught thinking about the best orgasms of her life. These men would know the minute they set foot in the room if she was thinking about sex. And then they’d never take her seriously. Not that they were doing so now.
Their chosen space showed the top brass’s interest in her book. Instead of a conference room inside West Point proper, they’d placed her in a trailer-turned-meeting-room. Sure, it held a podium, a screen for her PowerPoint and a conference table, but it was still a singlewide that could be disposed of any minute.
The trailer door opened with a whine and a middle-aged gray-haired man in dress uniform stepped in. “Are you ready for us, Ms. Barlow?”
Maggie plastered a serious expression on her face and gripped the sides of the podium. “Yes, please come in.”
Three men, all over fifty if they were even that young, filed into the room and took their seats. Not one of them offered an introduction or a handshake. They assumed she knew who they were, which she did, and that was fine with her. She preferred thinking of them as the pointy-nosed general, the stone-faced one and the pudgy one.
The stone-faced man, who sat closest to the podium, looked up at her. “We’re expecting two more.”
As if on cue, the door creaked open.
“Ms. Barlow, this is Lieutenant Colonel Walt Johnson from Fort Campbell in Tennessee, and Chief Warrant Officer Hunter Cross from the army ranger’s Seventy-Fifth Division. Provided we like what we hear today, Chief Cross will act as your liaison while you conduct your interviews.”
The trailer door closed behind the man who’d knelt between her spread legs and given her the most powerful orgasm of her life. Hunter. Maggie’s face burned and her knees turned to noodles.
“Ms. Barlow,” Hunter said, his eyes wide with surprise and something else she couldn’t quite read.
Dear God, that voice sent shock waves through her body down to her core, and a place deep inside her that had no business attending a meeting in her conservative suit melted. Then she came crashing back to reality.
Hunter, her one-night stand, was her army liaison? This man, who’d spent Saturday night fulfilling her sexual fantasies, held the key to her success?
Oh, hell. Oh, holy crap.
Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. He wouldn’t say a word. Not Hunter, the man who held doors and pulled out chairs. The man she’d met at the car show would never open his mouth and say, “Hey, Maggie, thanks for Saturday night. I hope you got all the orgasms you needed.” No, he would not do that.
She hoped. She prayed.
But he didn’t need to say anything to throw her off her presentation. Just the sight of him made her think of sex. Okay, so she wouldn’t look at him. She’d pretend he wasn’t there. She could do this. She had to do this. If she ran out of the trailer now, she’d never get another meeting with these men.
Opening her eyes, Maggie plastered a serious smile on her face, not too big or too charming, but just enough so that she did not appear combative. Gripping the sides of the podium, she waited for Chief Hunter Cross and Lieutenant Colonel what’s-his-name to take their seats. Then she looked down at the podium and began the most important presentation of her career.
* * *
HUNTER STEPPED INTO the dinky trailer and froze as if approaching a land mine. Maggie. He didn’t need C4 to knock him on his ass; shock nearly did the trick. His orgasm-demanding one-night stand stood at the podium.
He reached for the back of his chair, pulled it out from the table and sat before he fell. Maybe it wasn’t the same woman. Maybe his Maggie had a poorly dressed, too-serious twin.
Her fingers drummed the side of the podium and a faint blush spread across her face. Nope. Same Maggie. And she’d recognized him, too. Judging from the color on her cheeks, she was probably thinking the same thing he was: less than forty-eight hours ago, they’d been naked together. In bed. Exploring her fantasies.
Hunter smiled and wondered what he’d done to deserve this divine twist of fate. He’d been assigned to spend the next week, maybe longer, with the woman who’d rocked his worl
d with her demand for orgasms. Plural. It didn’t matter that his vibrant, multicolored Rubik’s Cube had turned gray on all sides. He knew what lay under that god-awful, ugly suit—a woman who pummeled the bed as she came. With that crystal clear memory, surprise morphed into an I’m-so-getting-laid-again feeling.
“What did I tell you?” his commanding officer muttered, leaning over from the seat beside his. “She’s just a girl.”
Like hell she is, Hunter thought.
“It won’t take much to keep her on a tight leash.” The colonel slapped him on the shoulder and turned to the man on his other side.
Control her. That was his objective. The getting-laid happy feeling turned up a notch. Wasn’t that what Maggie had begged for Saturday night? For him to take control? Sure, she’d been talking about sex, but of all the women he’d ever met, Miss Maggie was the most likely to follow his orders both in bed and when it came to her book.
Images from Saturday night flashed in his mind like a highlight reel. Hunter’s smile fell as he reached the end, where she walked, no, make that ran, for the door. If she’d been so into it, why had she run away while she thought he was sleeping?
He glanced up at the woman behind the podium, the only woman in the room. It took balls to stand up in front of decorated generals. A woman like that didn’t hand over control of her work. And if he tried to take it? No way she’d invite him back into her bed.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Maggie’s steady voice cut through the room, silencing the muttering generals. Hunter watched her face, but she didn’t look up. Not once. She kept her gaze glued to her notes. She sounded confident, but he knew better. Her hands moved a mile a minute against the side of the podium. Bold and nervous, that was his Maggie. Except he had a sinking feeling she wasn’t his now and she wouldn’t be anytime soon.
“Thank you for your time.” The first slide appeared on the screen behind her. “‘America’s Cowboy Heroes,’” she read. “My book focuses on the team that completed a successful mission without the aid of most modern warfare tools, including cars. The men who rescued three aid workers while riding horses provided by an Afghan warlord.”
Cowboys? Hunter rolled his sore shoulder. He might have ridden a horse through the Afghan mountains, but he’d done it out of necessity. If he’d been driving a tank when he was sent in to save those women, he wouldn’t have gotten shot, with or without his teammate’s error. But their friendly Afghan warlord host hadn’t exactly shown up at the meeting point with a fleet of armored vehicles.
“There is no argument that the modern-day cowboys who went out of their way to save those women are heroes,” she continued.
Maggie clicked a button and a photo Hunter remembered all too well from a national newspaper appeared on the screen—a picture of his team covered in dust, riding those damn horses. His jaw tightened. He didn’t like where she was going with this. If their faces hadn’t been covered with bandannas, with only their eyes showing, that picture could have seriously affected his ability to do his job. The last thing he needed was a target on his back when he entered hostile territory.
“America wants to hear their story,” she said. “Similar to the accounts of the navy SEAL mission that eliminated enemy number one, I plan to take a detailed look at the Rangers’ ride and take the readers through these heroes’ actions step-by-step.”
Johnson shifted in his seat and sent Hunter a pointed look. Hunter met his commanding officer’s gaze. Message read, loud and clear, sir. Walk her through it without revealing details. Glaze over Logan’s mistake.
Hunter frowned. It was a crappy assignment. While his teammates hunted the enemy, he had to give interviews to a writer who thought he’d endured years of grueling training to become a damn cowboy. And to make a shitty situation worse, that writer had to be the one woman who’d left him wanting more.
“Look, Ms. Barlow, we’re prepared to give you access to the team of Rangers who completed this mission, provided Chief Cross acts as your liaison and you answer a few questions.” Major General Patterson spoke from his seat beside the podium. Hunter knew of the man. Based out of Fort Bragg, Patterson commanded the Special Forces teams, and his hard-ass reputation was legendary.
At the podium, Maggie smiled, and this time it touched her eyes. She thought she’d won, Hunter realized. If only she knew that working with him wasn’t going to be the all-access pass she had in mind.
“Do you honestly believe anyone will want to read your book?” Major General Patterson challenged.
“Yes, I do. I wouldn’t waste your time otherwise. The American public is fascinated by this story. When that picture was published, it was one of the most viewed items of the week. Working with my publisher, I’ve already begun using social media outlets to build on that excitement. Soon I will also be launching a blog to keep my readers interested until the book is available.”
A blog about his mission? Hunter’s frown sank into a scowl. Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well.
“I assure you, I intend to write a book that will sell,” Maggie continued, her voice steady. “This book is important to me on a professional level, yes, but also on a personal level. Both my father and my grandfather fought for our country, and I plan to donate my royalties to charities that support veterans as they transition from war to everyday life.”
Across the table, one of the generals raised an eyebrow, as if to say who gives a rat’s ass what you plan to do with your money? Hunter turned his attention back to Maggie, watching her hands. This time they didn’t move. She just held on tight to the podium. She should be shitting in her pants right now, her hands fluttering like a hummingbird on speed. But nope, not this time. Not one sign of nerves.
She was in her element here, he realized. This was the real Maggie. Not the soft, give-me-orders woman he’d met Saturday night. The woman standing in front of him got under his skin, but not in a good way, not like his Little Miss Maggie from the car show. And the more she talked about how she wanted to turn his team into America’s Cowboy Heroes, the less he liked her.
“My publisher is excited,” Maggie said, looking directly at Patterson. “They agree with my strong belief that now is the perfect time to publish this book.”
“Yes, but your publisher is in business to make money,” General Patterson said. “We’re not. The United States Army has a duty to keep their soldiers safe. Once you reveal the details of our missions, what will prevent the enemy from placing our soldiers at the top of their hit list?”
The general’s words sank in. The idea that with a swish of her pen Maggie could prevent Hunter from doing the job he loved, from earning a living to support his sister, set his teeth on edge. He didn’t care how great she was in bed.
“I understand your concerns,” Maggie replied. “In my previous book, I used pseudonyms. The marines I interviewed felt this was fair and they were a pleasure to work with, as I’m sure your men will be.”
He heard the challenge underlying her sugar-sweet words loud and clear. “Ms. Barlow,” Hunter said. She looked at him for the first time since he’d sat down at the table. If he was going to take control, why not start now? Before she launched her blog. Before she skyrocketed him to the top of the Taliban’s kill list.
“Yes?”
He heard a hint of uncertainty in her voice for the first time since he’d entered the trailer.
“Forget about the marines.” He smiled, allowing his eyelids to fall slightly. Beside him, his colonel snickered, a sentiment echoed around the table. There wasn’t a man in here who didn’t know about Hunter’s orders, or his reputation with women. “Working with me will blow those guys out of the water.”
6
WORKING WITH ME will blow those guys out of the water.
Three generals, one colonel, her Saturday-night lover and the fate of her book stared at Maggie, waiting for her response. She blinked, allowing silence to fill the so-called meeting room. Her mind processed his words, but her body? It only heard a sigh-worthy
promise that reminded her of Saturday night. From the tingling place on the back of her neck to the tips of her toes, she felt his words like the precursor to one of his oh-heaven-help-me orgasms.
Judging from his sensual tone, he remembered his promise, too. And now he was using it against her. He was trying to derail her presentation with barely concealed sexual references. From the smug look on his face, he was waiting to see if she’d melt into a puddle of take-me-over-the-conference-table need.
But she refused to let the generals see how Hunter’s words affected her. The men at the table might not know about her prior relationship with her army-issued liaison, but decades of military service had fine-tuned their ears for suggestive comments. She’d spent years studying the military. She knew how these guys worked.
Maggie couldn’t afford to screw up now. She had to secure interviews with these Rangers or there wouldn’t be a book. Her publisher wouldn’t be happy about that. And without a book, she wouldn’t make tenure. She could kiss the promise of a secure future goodbye. Unless she maintained control of the meeting and her liaison.
The silence in the trailer stretched out, bordering on uncomfortable. She had to say something, but I’m never going to sleep with you again wouldn’t help her cause.
“Thank you, Chief. Let’s hope that is the case. With my deadline only months away, we’ll have to work fast.” Maggie met his I-want-to-see-you-naked gaze. What had happened to her Saturday-night gentleman? Had that been an act? Probably. “Your cooperation will make the interviews much smoother.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” he said.
Beneath her work clothes, her body thrilled at the promise those words held. Not going there, Maggie reminded herself as she turned her attention to the generals. It was time to wrap up before the top brass began placing bets on how long it would take Hunter to seduce her. They’d all lose unless someone put money on been there, done that and left my shoes behind.
Command Performance Page 6