by Cat Johnson
She didn’t bother bringing up that small yet pertinent fact. It would only restart another familiar ritual battle, that being why didn’t Emily move back home or at the very least visit more often?
For what? So she could feel inadequate next to her sister? Perfect Lily, whose hair had always been blonder than Emily’s, whose grades had always been higher, whose boyfriends had always been nicer...
“Emily Rose. I can tell you’re not listening to me.”
Uh, oh. Had she forgotten to mindlessly respond at what her mother felt was the appropriate time during her diatribe?
“Are you playing on that computer of yours again while I’m trying to talk to you?” The accusation in her mother’s tone came loud and clear through the receiver held in Emily’s death grip.
Playing. Yeah, because working for the busiest woman on the face of the earth, or at least on Madison Avenue, was all fun and games.
Resorting to base instinct as she held onto her temper and her sanity by the tips of her fingernails, Emily knew the time had come for fight or flight. She had to choose one and soon, because she wasn’t going to make it on this phone call one minute more without blowing up.
“I’m sorry, Mom. My boss really needs me. I’ve got to go. Call you back soon. Love you. Bye.”
She managed to stifle the long, loud, pent-up groan waiting in her throat until after she’d slammed the receiver down into the cradle, using a bit more force than necessary to disconnect the call. Emily took one more glance at the display to make sure she really had totally and completely hung up before letting her head drop to the desk.
After a bit, the slow, steady thudding of Emily’s head banging against the desktop ceased, leaving only the soft sound of her boss’s snicker.
“How come I always have to be the bad guy who makes you hang up on your mother? I think I’m insulted. I’m a nice person. I would never do that for real.”
“Oh, shut up.” Emily groaned, forehead still pressed against the cool, smooth wooden surface. “You’re an only child, Katie. You can’t possibly understand what I go through with my mother and sister.”
“Now, now. I’m dating a man with eight siblings, so I’ve gotten quite an education from BB in this area.”
Billy Bob Dalton, only the hottest as well as nicest man on earth, was Katie’s boyfriend. Another reason to hate her besides her lack of siblings. She had the perfect boyfriend.
Brushing the hair out of her face, Emily glanced past tousled blonde bangs and noticed her boss’s face had turned deathly white.
Sitting straight, she was about to ask what was wrong when Katie jumped from her seat. Her boss pressed one hand over her mouth and ran from the room.
Frowning and concerned, Emily leapt to follow her. “Katie?”
“I’ll be fine.” The muffled response was all Emily heard before the restroom door slammed shut.
Once Katie emerged, she could interrogate her further about the sudden departure. She perched on the edge of Katie’s desk to wait when a distinct scent caught her attention. Searching for the source, Emily discovered something very strange sitting innocently amid her boss’s cluttered mess. Suddenly, it all started to make sense.
She was still leaning on Katie’s desk holding the suspicious object in question when the ailing woman finally returned.
“What is this?” Emily held up her evidence. She’d probably spoken sterner than she should to a woman who was obviously suffering.
Katie’s face paled once again. “Um, that’s my coffee mug.”
“Yes, it is your coffee mug.” Emily nodded. “And you love coffee. You can’t live without coffee. You grind your own beans for God’s sake. So why, oh why, is there tea in your coffee mug? Caffeine-free herbal tea, no less.”
To prove her point, Emily sniffed the minty aroma, already suspecting she knew the answer.
Striding forward but still visibly woozy, Katie grabbed the mug from Emily’s hands. “A person can try something new once in a while. Can’t she?”
Katie sat heavily in the desk chair, slumping rather than displaying her usual perfect posture that went along with the perfect rest of her.
Apparently sensing she was still under Emily’s scrutiny, Katie avoided eye contact, studiously shuffling a few papers on her crowded desk. “Where is that file for the Army ad campaign? You know, we still need to find a model for that.”
“Stop trying to change the subject.” Emily scowled at the obvious diversionary tactic.
Still not looking up, Katie shook her head. “Jeez. An inquisition over a little cup of mint tea.”
With a new idea, Emily made her way to the small kitchenette in the office. There they stored the necessities in case they had to throw together a quick show of hospitality for some big client or talent on the spur of the moment. The fridge was always stocked with bottled water, both bubbly and flat, an assortment of fruit and cheeses, champagne and chardonnay.
What Emily needed was in the cabinet. She reached past the bottles of red wine on the lower shelf to grab a box of unopened, plain water crackers from above.
After dropping the box on the desk, Emily crossed her arms and stood over Katie. “Eat some. It will help. My sister couldn’t get enough of those when she was pregnant.”
Katie’s gaze shot up and a guilty expression marred her face. “How’d you know?”
“Hm. I don’t know. Turning green and running for the bathroom. No more caffeine for the coffee junky...” Emily raised a brow and ticked off the proof on her fingers. She paused and waited for Katie’s imminent confession.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I haven’t told anyone yet except BB.”
“Why? You know you can trust me. You can tell me anything and I’d take it to the grave. That’s what assistants and friends are for.”
Tears glistened in Katie’s eyes. “I know.” She paused and glanced around the office until Emily handed her a tissue from the box on the corner of the desk behind her. “Thank you. And it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s my body I don’t trust. Em, I’m forty. I’m too old to be pregnant with my first child.”
“No, you’re not. How old was BB’s mom when she had him?”
“That doesn’t count. He was her ninth.”
“That doesn’t matter. And besides, things are different nowadays. Women are having babies into their fifties. Modern medicine has all these tests and stuff. It’s perfectly safe.”
Katie laughed tearfully. “This coming from a girl in her twenties with nice young eggs and a good firm uterus.”
Emily rolled her eyes as Katie continued. “I’m just so afraid. BB doesn’t want to show me how excited he is because he knows how worried I am, but I know he is totally in love with the idea of being a dad. Em, what if I miscarry?”
“BB is totally in love with you, and he will continue to be no matter what happens.”
“I know that, when I can think straight. I’m just so emotional and irrational lately.” Wiping her eyes, Katie looked up. Her gaze met Emily’s. “I’m sorry to lay this all on you.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. I’m here for you. You know that. I’m sorry you’re feeling so badly. Where’s BB right now? I’ll cover work for you if you want to fly down to the base and visit him. That might make you feel better.”
Being in the arms of a hottie like BB would surely make Emily feel better.
Katie laughed at that. “No, no need for you to cover for me. He’s in the Alps. That flight is a bit too long for me at the moment. There wouldn’t be enough barf bags on the plane for a trip as far as Germany.”
Emily bit her lip. “Were you supposed to tell me that he’s in Germany? Isn’t where he goes top secret?”
BB was some sort of super-secret Special Operative.
“If it was classified he wouldn’t have been able to tell me, so I couldn’t have told you, now could I?” Katie raised a brow.
That sounded reasonable enough, but working with the military on their marketing had be
en a lesson in rules, both rational and not. “Mmm. I guess so. Can I ask one more thing?”
“Sure.” Katie tried to break into the cracker box as she began to pale again.
After watching her struggle with the cellophane wrapping for about a second, Emily grabbed the box out of her hands, tore it open and handed it back. “Are there terrorists hiding in the Alps now too?”
Katie chewed and swallowed a cracker and then shook her head. “Not that I know of, but I suppose anything is possible nowadays. He said it’s just a training exercise. Commander Miller brought BB’s task force in to help train some Army guys. No big deal, he said. Nothing to worry about...” Katie’s voice trailed off.
Long-distance relationships were tough. This one with BB was even more so given his occupation. Emily knew Katie did worry, each and every time her boyfriend and his mysterious black-clad task-force buddies disappeared for an undetermined amount of time to parts unknown. With a baby added to the mix that worry and the frequent separations would only be worse for Katie.
That raised the next question that had yet to be answered. “What are you two going to do, you know, about getting married? I mean it’s totally cool if you have a baby and don’t get married. People do that all the time.”
Katie laughed. “Don’t worry. BB asks me to marry him every day. Sometimes twice a day.”
“And you haven’t said yes yet?” What was wrong with this woman?
“I finally did a few days ago.” Katie smiled weakly. “He wore me down. Either that, or it was the hormones talking.”
Emily clapped her hands together. She didn’t care what had caused it, as long as it happened. “Yay! A wedding to plan. I love weddings.”
“Hang on just a minute. I told him I’ll only marry him if I make it past my third month without...you know.”
“How far along are you now?”
Katie wasn’t showing at all. Although now that Emily thought about it, did Katie’s boobs seem to be straining the buttons on her shirt a bit?
“Eight weeks, closer to nine actually if the doctor calculated correctly. Only two months in and already I can barely ride in a car without getting carsick and my breasts hurt so badly they feel like they are about to explode.”
Emily nodded in sympathy. “Yeah, my sister said that too. It doesn’t last the whole time. Don’t worry. But hey, you’re more than two thirds of the way to that three-month marker. Besides, I have a good feeling about this. You wouldn’t be having all these symptoms if that baby wasn’t planted in there nice and firmly, right?”
Katie laughed. “I guess so.”
“So we need to start planning, just in case. The good wedding places book up a year in advance or more—”
“No. No big plans. If this wedding happens, it will be small.”
Emily let out a snort. “He has eight brothers and sisters. Exactly how small can it be?”
Katie groaned and slumped lower in her chair. For a high-powered New York marketing executive, her boss could sure be an introvert. “I know. That’s why I told him I want to elope.”
“Elope?” Emily’s hopes fell.
“Relax. You’ll be there, even if we end up at a drive-thru in Vegas married by an Elvis impersonator. I promise.”
Well, that was something at least.
“Okay. Thanks.” That she’d get to be there for the ceremony softened the disappointment a bit, but not enough. Emily thought longingly about all the missed opportunities to visit bridal shops and watch Katie try on long white, or perhaps off-white, dresses.
“Don’t look so dejected, Em. You’ll get your chance one day, and then you can plan as big a wedding as you want for yourself. I’ll even help you.”
“Yeah, sure, because the men are just knocking down the door to marry me.” Emily rolled her eyes.
Katie shook her head. “I’ve never seen such a bright, attractive, kind-hearted woman spend so many Saturday nights without a date.”
“Hey, that used to be my complaint about you,” Emily reminded.
“Yes, it was, but now you don’t have to worry about me or my love life anymore. I not only got myself a boyfriend, I also got knocked up. So go out and find yourself your perfect guy.”
“Are any of BB’s brothers single?” Good looks were genetic. The Dalton brothers would have to be at least as hot as BB.
“No, sorry. He’s the youngest. The rest are all married off already.”
Hmm, that was disappointing. “Any of his military guy friends single?”
“No military guys for you.” There was a warning in Katie’s voice.
Emily frowned. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Because one of us dating a Special Operative is enough stress. Believe me.” Katie crossed her arms over her chest. “Go find your own guy. A nice civilian businessman or maybe a construction worker. The city is full of them both.”
Maybe she didn’t want a boring old normal guy.
“Some help you are.” Feeling spiteful, Emily went to pour herself a nice, big steaming cup of caffeinated coffee. As payback she intended to drink it right in front of Katie. That would teach her boss for hogging the hot military men for herself.
Chapter Three
What the hell? Hawk frowned and counted the opposing team gathered at the rally point one more time.
“Problem?” There was that smug, pretty-boy smile again that Hawk had come to hate on Dalton’s face.
Yeah, there was a frigging problem.
“Your team seems to have grown overnight.” Hawk sounded much more casual than he felt about that fact.
He was sure his ten guys plus himself could take them, but that was still no reason to be happy Zeta was basically cheating by changing the rules mid-way into the game.
Pretty Boy Dalton nodded. “Ah. That. Yeah, when you told the commander you wanted Zeta to go all out, he called the rear and ordered the rest of the team over.”
That put Zeta at a whopping seven men, not counting the commander who made eight. Two more than Hawk’s men had faced during the prior day’s exercise. On top of the extra manpower, they also had brought in some sophisticated computer shit. One of the new arrivals seemed to know how to use it as his fingers flew over the keys of not one but three laptops.
Noticing where Hawk’s gaze rested, Dalton grinned. “Zeta wouldn’t be Zeta without Matt Coleman, the computer god and all his equipment.”
Extra guys and state-of-the-art equipment. Fucking cheaters. All Hawk and his squad had access to was what amounted to basic walkie-talkies, and they were happy when they worked correctly.
Hawk let out a sigh. He noticed Dalton seemed to be waiting for a response to what really hadn’t been a question, but more of a boast that CentCom gave SpecOps better toys than Hawk’s squad got.
Cocking his head, Hawk mustered a grin equal to Dalton’s. “If your team thinks they need all that shit to beat us, then you go ahead and feel free to use it. My guys, however, don’t need anything more than what we had yesterday to beat you. Just our wits and our skill.”
Dalton broke into an all-out laugh. “I admire your confidence, Hawkins, but—”
Hawk watched as Dalton broke off mid-sentence and seemed to be hearing voices in his head. Pretty Boy’s smile disappeared and the concentration became evident by the expression on his face.
When Dalton said softly, “BB here. Roger that,” Hawk was sure of it. Pretty Boy was either crazy as a loon or actually talking to someone in his head.
“As I was saying, Hawkins, I admire your confidence, but there is no way your squad can beat Zeta.”
When Dalton continued with his insults as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, Hawk really got pissed.
“What the hell was that all about?” Hawk pointed a finger at Dalton’s ear to indicate the previous more-than-strange occurrence.
Although Hawk could see damn well that it was all an act, Dalton pondered the ceiling for a moment as he seemed to consider his answer carefully. Dalton wa
s clearly fucking with him, playing mind games.
“Well, it is top secret, but I figure I can tell you since you’re going to need all the help you can get today.” Dalton looked extra cocky and tapped a finger to his right ear. “Cochlear communications implants. Whole team has them.”
Fuck.
Hawk had heard rumors about SpecOps having communications devices actually surgically implanted in their frigging ears, but he’d thought it was bullshit. Maybe it was all still bullshit and Dalton was just messing with him.
But no, as Hawk glanced around the room he noticed more than one team member get the same glazed look and then respond to no one, including the damn training commander, Miller. One look at their supposed computer god told Hawk that Coleman was the puppet master, testing his toys, one by one. No wonder they’d needed him flown in for today.
“You still up for this?” Dalton donned a gleeful smile, his perfect teeth nearly blinding Hawk with their whiteness.
Hawk had never been one to back down from a challenge, no matter what the odds. “Hell yeah, I’m still up for this. You boys can talk to each other in your heads all you want, but you pampered SuperOps still won’t be able to hold up against battle-toughened soldiers trained with real-world mission experience.”
He watched as Dalton rose nicely to that challenge.
“Oh really? Would you like to make this a bit more interesting? A little wager perhaps?” Pretty Boy raised a brow.
Sure, Dalton would want to make a bet since he probably took home three times what Hawk did in military pay. In addition to what was probably a huge basic allowance for housing while Hawk made due with living in the bachelor barracks.
Hawk shook his head and swallowed his pride. “I’m not much into betting for money, Dalton.”
Pretty Boy nodded. “Fine. Not for money then. Something else.”
Hawk frowned. “Like what?”
The other man shrugged and then, as if a bulb had been turned on in his tiny brain, Dalton’s face lit up. He looked Hawk up and down appraisingly, even pausing at the muscles in his arms folded defiantly across his iron-pumped chest.
What the fuck? Dalton was checking him out? Was Pretty Boy one of those don’t-ask, don’t-tell kinds? Shit. What the hell was Hawk supposed to do about that? He sure as hell couldn’t beat him up if he was a fancy pants.