by Tawny Weber
“Sounds rough.”
“In a lot of ways, it was fabulous,” she hastened to assure him. “We traveled, saw so much of the world and other cultures, and learned independence in a way I don’t think I appreciated as a child.”
She glanced down at her plate for a moment, nibbling on her bottom lip instead of her pasta, then shrugged.
“And yeah, there were rough parts. A little too much togetherness, for one. But mostly there was a lot of stress involved in my father’s work. He was gone more than he was home. Everything he did, right down to the time of reveille, was hush-hush. And most of it was dangerous. I never knew if he’d come home from whatever secret location he was at, doing whatever secret thing he was doing.”
“I’d imagine that oftentimes secrecy is as much to protect the families as it is to ensure the success of a mission.” Actually, he didn’t have to imagine. He knew it for a fact, since that secrecy and the many varied reasons for it had been an integral part of his training.
“Oh, sure. I have no doubt the world is a lot safer because of men like my father. I don’t question his choices. Actually, they helped me make a few of my own.”
“Like what?”
“Like the choice to never get involved with a military man. Both my sisters carried on the tradition and married officers. Me? I won’t even date one. I had enough of that growing up.”
A shaft of pain speared through him, but Spence ignored it.
“What about former military?”
“Nope. No way.” Mia laughed. “According to my father, once military, always military. I can’t imagine the mindset and training ever fade completely.”
No.
He didn’t imagine they would, either.
As Spence finished his lunch, he listened to Mia’s stories about the various places she’d lived and told himself that this was for the best.
He might have fooled himself into thinking he had a shot with a woman he was lying to by convincing her down the road that it’d been for her own good. But once she knew the truth, his career alone would ensure that she’d want nothing to do with him.
Good.
His life was a mess. He needed all of his focus and energy to build a new career. The last thing he needed to add to the mix was a relationship. Or even an attempt at one.
It’d be a hell of a lot easier to accept, though, if he didn’t have that same sinking feeling in his gut that he’d had when he’d been informed that he was off the SEAL team.
Chapter 8
Spence had been on a lot of missions over the course of his career, but this one just might be shaping up to be the roughest. He’d felt closer to danger in the last two weeks since he’d enjoyed pasta with Mia than he’d ever felt in combat.
Standing in a state-of-the-art kitchen in a palatial house overlooking the San Francisco Bay, he watched Mia pacify a hysterical florist, direct the bartender’s setup and oversee the gardeners as they arranged topiaries among the tables strategically arranged over the stone patio. All the while, musicians calmly rehearsed for the next morning’s sunrise breakfast event.
Like everything she did, Mia juggled them all with skill and grace. He had no problems admitting that. He just wished she’d do it all without looking so damned good.
And what was he—a Navy SEAL decorated with honors—doing to further his own career?
Instead of a being shot at by angry terrorists from a bunker in the desert’s blasting heat, he was placating a grumpy caterer in a Northern California mansion while the wind played through the palm trees.
Given a choice, Spence would rather be shot at.
As if hearing his plea, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the readout and, much to the caterer’s obvious relief, excused himself.
“Yo, Smidge. What’ve you got?”
“Yo, Improv. I dug deep and scooped up some deets.”
Spence felt his first tingle in two weeks that wasn’t sexually inspired.
“What kind of deets?”
“Deets like search trail. I can’t pinpoint who’s using the server, but someone in the Alcosta empire has been doing a lot of digging over the last two years on a certain Senator Luis Penz. Keeping tabs on the guy’s location, tracking his voting records, his charitable preferences. Digging into his background, his family, who he hangs out with. That sort of thing.”
Interesting.
Spence had done a little digging of his own on the senator. Never married, Mia’s mother’s brother was a former captain in the Army, and as strong a proponent for human rights as he was antidrug. From everything Spence had gleaned on Penz, the senator was so clean, he glowed. And he’d sponsored a number of bills targeting areas that would put a pretty tight squeeze on operations like Alcosta’s.
Would Alcosta try to bribe Mia’s uncle into changing his stand on those bills?
Tied in with the other info Spence had found—that Alcosta’s reason for rushing this fund-raiser was as thin as smoke, that Mia was the only event planner he’d considered for it, and the real-estate mogul was facing some major financial challenges—bribery made a lot of sense.
“Send me the intel.”
“Encrypted?”
“Of course.”
Juggling the new information, he slipped the phone into his pocket. He could run it by Cade, see if his commander had inside information. More to the point, he could lay out the fact that a bribery scheme meant Alcosta was only using Mia as a conduit to meet with her uncle. A dirty plan, but not particularly dangerous.
Which would mean that this torturous babysitting duty was unnecessary.
Spence watched Mia wend her way around the patio, her spiked heels echoing each step as she checked the view from each table. Probably ensuring that every diner had a chance to watch the sunrise they were paying so much to enjoy, Spence realized.
That was Mia.
The consummate hostess: she worked her ass off, not just for her client, but for the guests and, most of all, for the charity she was raising funds for. And she did it all with that sweet smile, making everyone from the guests to the servers to the guy delivering the cocktail olives feel good.
She wasn’t a pushover, though. He’d watched her call out a vendor on subpar equipment, fire a bartender who’d smarted off to a server and charm a client out of arguing about their bill.
The woman was hell on wheels. Or, in this case, on sexy pink sandals. In yet more coordination, she wore a strappy white sundress with a full skirt embellished with pink flowers that matched her heels. He’d put money on the fact that her lingerie matched, too.
Tiny little straps of white lace edged in hot-pink satin, wrapped around skin like silk, just waiting for him to slide the garment off those long limbs with his teeth. He’d nibble his way up her legs and nibble his way down her arms.
Spence blew out a deep breath.
Nope.
Not going there.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stared out at the ocean, waiting for the white-capped waves to soothe that vision from his mind so he could refocus on the issue at hand.
The possibility—probability, if Smidge’s intel was correct—that Alcosta’s goal was to get a face-to-face with Penz in order to bribe the man. It was a solid lead and a viable conclusion.
But if he suggested that to the admiral, the man might very well void this assignment, deciding that as it hadn’t been finished, Spence wasn’t deserving of the promised reward.
Scowling at the impressive arcing majesty of the Golden Gate, Spence realized that given the admiral’s reputation, that that sort of outcome was a strong possibility.
In addition, the minute the admiral decided that Spence had served his purpose, he’d pull him from this assignment. That Spence was, for all intents and purposes, a civilian wouldn’t matter. If he didn’t follow orders, Cade would simply o
ut him to Mia.
Spence could just imagine her reaction. After the shocked fury, she’d be hurt. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. Not because he thought they had a future, he reminded himself. Despite his attraction to her—and her intense reaction to that one kiss they’d shared—they weren’t even a couple.
But she was a special woman. An amazing one. And if he couldn’t have a future with her, he at least wanted her memory of him to be a good one.
Better to catch Alcosta in the act and move on the crime rather than on supposition. He’d cement his position with Cade and be able to leave Mia’s life quietly, without her realizing a thing.
Content, if not satisfied, Spence returned to the kitchen to make sure the caterer was ready for the next morning, and then headed down the long, narrow hallway toward the atrium.
He’d just stepped into the luxurious glass-enclosed room, with its jungle of greenery and wicker, when he spotted Mia.
At the sight of him, her smile glowed brightly enough to dim the rays of the setting sun.
“There you are.”
As always, the sound of her husky voice touched off a cord of desire low in his belly. Steeling himself against it, he waited and watching her hurry toward him. She was moving so fast, her skirt swished against long golden legs with each sway of her hips.
“I’m finished for the evening,” she said by way of greeting when she reached him. “How about you?”
“Just went over the final numbers and instructions with the caterer,” he confirmed. “He agreed to add three vegetarian options and a fruit sculpture, just like you wanted.”
“You really are good at this. Are you sure you’ve never had any party-planning experience?”
“The only party I’ve ever handled was a bachelor sendoff. The extent of my planning was to make sure there was plenty of beers, enough foot-long subs for two dozen men and that the stripper was willing to...”
“Willing to what?” Her brows arched, Mia leaned closer and gave a low “Hmm?”
Deciding it was time to change the subject, Spence tapped the clipboard in her arms.
“Obviously you’re better at party planning than I am. So? Are we on schedule?”
“Chicken?” Mia laughed.
“Absolutely. So, the schedule?”
“We’re fine,” Mia confirmed, still laughing a little as she gave her list a quick glance. “Early morning events can be tricky since so much has to be done the night before, yet still be fresh. But I think we’re set on this one.”
“This is the arts council, right?”
“Right. They’re hosting this breakfast to honor their donors.”
“Honor them while trying to elicit more donations?”
Noting the distaste in his voice, Mia shook her head, with one hand pressed against his arm.
“Allow them the pleasure of supporting something they believe in while showing gratitude for all they’ve done,” she corrected in a prissy tone that made him grin.
“Nice.”
“I thought so,” she said with a flutter of her lashes.
Silence fell as, together, they turned to watch the sun drop down behind the water. Bleeding shades of purple, magenta and orange washed the sky, seeming to pour a feeling of peace and ease over them as they waited for night to fall. It wasn’t until she sighed that he realized she was so close that it’d only take lifting his arm to give her a hug. To feel her entire side pressed tightly against his. To breathe in her scent while her body meshed with his.
Spence took two decisive steps to the right.
Distance. He needed distance.
“It’s a great view,” he said, tossing out the first words that came to mind.
Her eyes a mystery as she turned her gaze on him, Mia simply nodded.
“I’ll bet sunrise is just as nice. Your donors are going to enjoy it a lot.”
Her gaze locked on him as if she were peering deep into his soul, in search of answers to a question he hadn’t heard.
Spence almost squirmed before he steeled his spine. He was a SEAL, dammit. It was ridiculous to get nervous over a sexy woman giving him intense looks.
“The sunset is a pretty good draw. I’m surprised this place isn’t booked tonight,” he continued, gesturing to the grounds. He felt like an idiot, but at least talking business seemed to pull her attention from his soul.
“Since it’s a morning event, I was able to negotiate the rental on this location for a twenty-four-hour time frame at the same price they’d charge for an evening event,” she told him. “This gives us time to begin setup this evening, hold tomorrow’s event and have plenty of time for cleanup afterward.”
“Smart. You really are good at this,” he complimented her.
“I heard how well you handled the caterer’s complaints. I’d have to say that you’re getting quite good yourself.” She smiled up at him, the soft evening light glinting off her skin like gold dust. “What do you think? Ready to take this on as a permanent career?”
“I’ve learned a lot, but I don’t think I have the personality for it,” he said honestly. “As you probably heard in the caterer’s report, I’m better at confrontation than negotiation. And I suppose that I prefer keeping people safe to making them happy.”
“Between the two of us, we’re doing both,” she said, turning to rest her elbows on the balcony railing so her profile was shadowed, the setting sun reflected in the blue-black depth of her hair. “And I suppose it’s an interesting way to spend a Thursday evening. But tell me. Given your druthers, how would you spend tonight if you weren’t working?”
Stripping her naked and making her cry out with pleasure topped his list of ideas. But Spence went with the safer answer of, “If I wasn’t working, I suppose I’d hit a bar. Maybe a club. Something with music.”
“I’m guessing you’re looking for music a little livelier than the string quartet we had practicing here earlier?” Her tone was conversational, but there was something underneath that rekindled nerves he’d already squashed twice.
“A string quartet is fine at these fancy events, but it’s not much to dance to.”
“You like to dance?”
“I’m good on my feet. And I’m good with my body.”
“Is that so?” Mia asked, the wicked quirk of her lips matching the spark in her eyes.
Spence mentally winced.
Damn. He’d managed to sideline his desire for the last three weeks. By watching his words and carefully coordinating their time so they were rarely alone, he’d kept his hands—and his fantasies—to himself. So what the hell was going on tonight?
He couldn’t pinpoint what was different, but he definitely felt like he’d lost all control of where this situation was going.
“What kind of music do you prefer showing off your moves to?” she asked.
Spence stared into those whiskey-colored fairy eyes and wondered when the hell she’d moved so close. He had to force himself to focus on the actual conversation.
“Rock. Nothing beats rock, on or off the dance floor.”
“I noticed how much you liked it at the fifties’ sock-hop fund-raiser we held last week for the library.”
“You caught that?”
He didn’t know why he was surprised. She’d stopped by every event he’d handled, spending anywhere from a half hour to the entire fund-raiser helping out. But he hadn’t seen her at that one.
“I spent most of my time with Lawrence, the head of the library association. But I caught a few minutes of the event.” She waggled her brows. “You and Mrs. Ogilvie really cut up that dance floor.”
“Give me a seventy-year-old librarian and a good band, and I can hand jive with the best of ’em,” he quipped.
“And how do you do with the younger crowd? How about we go dancing together?” she suggested.
&
nbsp; “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You don’t?” She was close enough now that he could see the moisture glistening on her lips. “Why not?”
“If I get you on the dance floor, I’m going to try to kiss you again. And that could get out of hand, fast.”
Well, that was the flat-out truth.
Spence watched Mia’s expression, trying to gauge whether he’d irritated her or not. He knew he was making some assumptions with that statement, but it was where his mind was. And he was seriously tired of lying to her.
“Then let’s go.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Let’s dance.” She skimmed her palms up his chest, her fingers drawing little circles when she reached his shoulders. “We’ll move to the music, enjoy ourselves and see where the steps take us.”
“I beg your pardon?” There was so much needy desire buzzing through his head, Spence was sure he’d heard her wrong.
“I want to dance with you.”
“You what?” Despite his body’s instant, rock-hard reaction, Spence was still sure he hadn’t heard her right.
“I want you.” Mia’s smile was candy-sweet, but the light in her eyes was pure challenge. “Do you want me?”
Spence would rather take a bullet than hurt her, but he knew a trap when he teetered on the edge of one. Truth or lie, either way he’d be in trouble.
The upside? She didn’t wait for his response.
“What do you say? Want to see if we’re any good together?”
The downside? Her words were tempting enough to destroy his resistance.
He stared at that gorgeous face, with her full lips tilted in a mischievous smile and those fairy eyes glowing with challenge. Refusal was on the tip of his tongue, but then he looked closer. There was just a hint of nerves lurking there, just beneath the desire.
That vulnerability hit him even harder than the desire, melting the rest of his resistance like fire-melted wax.
Where was a sniper when you needed one?
* * *
See if we’re any good together?