“It’s gin with equal parts club soda and tonic.” She frowned. Why was she explaining drinks to the bartender? Wasn’t that his job?
The bartender just raised an eyebrow and spun around, getting to work.
Avery realized that maybe she wasn’t quite as calm and composed as usual. Something about Mason got her nerves up. She’d chalked it up to the fact that it was make or break time, career-wise, but she knew better.
He was the first SEAL she’d encountered, and, damn, he was intense. She could admit it: even she felt intimidated by him.
There was a first time for everything.
The bartender gave her a surly look while he poured her drink. He certainly wasn’t going to win any congeniality prize, but she was used to being treated a little better on account of her looks. She was a knockout, and she knew it. That’s why they’d hired her.
She didn’t need any on-the-job enhancements. She was all natural except for her lashes, and she’d splurged on lash extensions before the trip. It was worth it to have big, batting lashes poolside, where mascara was not recommended. Racoon eyes weren’t going to get her a win. She was sure Mason had discerning taste. He could have damn near any woman he pleased if he wanted it.
Something told her he didn’t want it, though.
And that, above everything else, made her nervous. It made her nervous that he wasn’t as flirtatious as she’d expected. That he wasn’t interested in the attention other women threw at him.
A lanky frame pressed into her left side.
“You think he got that?” A man beamed at her through crooked teeth and an unattractive accent. Another American at the bar. But not the one Avery was watching out for.
She sized up the newcomer. He was about as greasy as he could get, a straight-up douche of the first order. A rich dick here with his private jet, she was sure.
The bartender came back, slugging Avery’s drink onto the bar top.
“What’s your room number?” the bartender asked lazily.
“I’ll get that.” Preppy douche gave her an annoying wink.
“Yeah, no. I’m good.” Avery brushed him off and felt like vomiting in her mouth, but she hesitated before offering her room number out loud.
The bartender stood awkwardly and eyed both of them.
“Twenty-three on the Olio side,” preppy douche barked at the bartender.
Avery waved her hand. “No. Absolutely not.”
The bartender raised his eyebrow at the douche. Even he could see the guy’s game was shit.
Avery hated men like the one currently invading her personal space. Entitled. Rich beyond her dreams. He was probably married. He was probably an asshole.
A little voice reminded her not to project. She didn’t really know him.
She ignored him anyway.
“So cold, baby. So cold.” He reached behind her back and ran his hand up her shoulder gently. “Tell me your name.”
The unwanted touching validated her criticisms.
“Get off.” She threw her shoulder back like a spider had landed on her. She wanted to check her dress for a grease stain where he’d touched her.
“Is he bothering you?”
She exhaled in relief at the deep, masculine growl behind her.
A meaty hand fell on the bar top with a thump, separating her from the douche.
She looked up the rough, veiny paw, the thick wrist, the tattooed forearm, and the rounded bicep to broad shoulders and the hard wall of Mason’s chest.
As she spun around, she tried to remember to breathe. Breathing was important.
Her date had arrived.
And he cleaned up damn good.
His dark jeans and fitted gray T-shirt showed off just how fit a SEAL had to be, and he couldn’t have pulled off the look any better. His messy, deep-golden hair made him look like a goddamn angel. Gabriel himself.
Avery gave him her perfected million-dollar smile. “Ready for dinner?” She composed herself as best she could and slipped the bartender a note with her room number on it for the drink. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had nerves on the job, but her stomach was flipping. Mason was mouthwatering.
The douche butted in. “I don’t see a ring. Fair game.”
His audacity was astonishing, but before Avery could say anything, Mason put his body between her and the idiot protectively. He said nothing, just stared down his nose at the guy. If it was wrong that Avery wanted Mason to punch him, then she didn’t want to be right.
And after the douche’s bottom lip betrayed a tremble, Mason spun back around and gave Avery a grin. For a fleeting moment, she felt important to someone.
Elated, she grabbed her drink with one hand and Mason’s arm with the other. They moved away from the bar, closer to the open air, and she tried to catch her breath.
As they sauntered down the resort pathway hand in hand, Avery noticed that men left and right averted their gazes—something she’d never experienced before. She could only guess their ogling had stopped when Mason stepped into the picture. He had the air of a man you do not want to fuck with.
It felt good to be free of the endless greasy gazes. It felt good to be on Mason’s arm, and she found herself imagining it was real. What would it be like to have a real boyfriend? She had no idea. When was the last time she had a real relationship? A real friendship? Her job didn’t make it easy.
On their way to the restaurant, through the curated marble gardens of the resort, Mason stopped and leaned down to Avery’s ear, placing his hand on the small of her back.
She felt a burst of heat from his touch, and a tickle against her ear. It was just like that moment in the waves, when he’d held her near and gazed into her eyes. It was a new feeling, and it certainly had nothing to do with the job.
Then again, her targets were typically boring old men. Diplomats. Business executives. Politicians. She’d never been assigned an archangel before.
Avery chalked up the feeling to sexual attraction. She wasn’t dead, after all. Obviously she would be aroused by the man. That’s all it was. Nothing to be worried about. She was still in control.
“You look stunning,” Mason said quietly to her, and just as quickly, he was back in step beside her, as if he hadn’t just blown hot air through her body.
Christ in hell.
Her breath got sucked out from her chest, like she’d just been launched into the cold emptiness of space, and she gritted her teeth to regain her composure. Still in control? Good god. Emergency sirens started screaming in her head. But she couldn’t let him get the upper hand. Revving herself up, she slammed back the rest of her drink and dropped it on a standing table as they passed by.
Boss-fucking-bitch time. No mercy.
She let that glass clink on the tabletop with gusto, and she walked away with a swagger. It was rock-star time. She was a badass, and it was time to fuck some shit up. Boom.
“This place is incredible.” Mason shot her a grin as they cut through a busy path of tourists.
She nodded. The Maldives took her breath away—it was the first time she’d enjoyed a trip to the exclusive islands.
Mason kept his hand on the small of her back, steering her gently toward the restaurant doors.
“My lady.” Mason reached out and grabbed the long, gold handle, motioning her inside before him. She didn’t expect anything less. Over the short period she’d known him, he’d been playful, sultry—but always a gentleman.
Something warm in her throat seeped into her cheeks. Was she fucking blushing? Good god. What was the matter with her? Badass bitches didn’t blush, she reminded herself, as she clicked her stilettos hard against the marble floor, making her grand entrance and daring anyone to get in her way. No matter his charming ways, Avery promised herself not to let them affect her. He wasn’t her boyfriend.
Female eyes flitted their way in the restaurant lobby. The amount of eye fucking drove her crazy. No wonder he could vacation alone. A man like this would have no proble
m finding companions.
Female wait staff flocked to him. She had a feeling it wasn’t because it was his birthday. Avery felt completely ignored as they fussed and fawned over him.
And why not? He was someone. He was a sailor. She was no one. A set of tits. Pretty lips.
“Mason Ajax, table for two?” One dark-haired siren batted her lashes, sizing up Avery with a disapproving look. Avery’s bombshell looks tended to inspire the ire of fellow females, especially when she stood in the way of a massive hunk.
“That would be us.” Mason smiled back at the ladies in his charming and casual way.
They showed them into the dining lounge. Avery resisted the urge to sneer on her way past. Fuck them. All of them. He was hers. For the night, at least.
When they reached a set of stairs leading to a section of raised seating, Mason stopped and turned to Avery with a big grin and big, sexy, dark-blue eyes. “Is this okay?” he asked.
She nodded quickly, hoping she didn’t appear too enthusiastic. It was game time. The best conversations were had over dinner. The best rapport was built over food. And, god damn it, she loved food.
“What do you recommend for reds?” Mason asked the server after they were seated, pointing to the wine list. With his other hand, he played with something in his pocket, showing off a well-defined arm of muscle.
Avery looked more closely at his tattoo. What did he have? Numbers? Designs? She wished she’d brought her zoom lenses.
She was getting so dazzled that she was forgetting details from his file. But she reminded herself that she’d picked up the case only days before being sent to the Maldives. She couldn’t berate herself too hard.
He looked her up and down from the corner of his eye while he ordered. So she wasn’t the only one watching and studying. It seemed the feeling was mutual.
“That would do just fine. Does that work for you?” Mason asked her.
She flipped her hair and pursed her lips playfully. “Love it. Sounds great. Thank you.” She nodded at the server.
When the server left them alone, she found Mason looking at her intensely. He was smiling, as relaxed and at ease as usual. But behind his gaze, there was an intensity. He was looking for something, but Avery didn’t know what.
She was damn well going to find out what made him tick.
“I’m glad we connected,” she said, breaking the silence. “I had a lot of fun this afternoon.” She grinned smartly, her eyes focusing on him, reading every reaction.
“It’s been the best birthday yet, so far.”
“Well, I’m glad to be part of it.”
“Me too.” He smiled. “Me especially.”
The server came with the bottle and poured the wine after Mason approved it. Mason shot her a sidelong glance, watchful, assessing.
Alone again, Mason raised his glass. “To new friends.”
She clinked her glass with his. “To a night to remember.”
He laughed and drank. The candlelight on the tables sparkled, creating an atmosphere like starlight. A giant glass fireplace in the middle of the room bathed the patrons in flickering light and warmth.
Pausing only a moment, he asked, “So is now the time when I get to ask questions?”
“It depends on the questions.”
“The usual get-to-know-you questions,” he said.
“Ask away.”
“Are you going to tell me the truth?” He asked the question so smoothly, Avery almost choked on her wine.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
But she collected herself like a good professional. “Why wouldn’t I?” She kept her tone light and playful.
He gave her a knowing look. “Beautiful woman like you, paying lots of attention to a guy like me.” He twirled his wineglass. “Makes me wonder.”
His unnerving accusation nearly forced a reaction from her, but she didn’t allow it. “First of all, ‘a guy like you’? Please.” She held up her hand, indignant. “Don’t be an idiot.”
That much was true.
He shrugged, playing the nonchalant game way better than she was. Fuck. Could a SEAL really be better… than her? She was a pro. She had game.
She paused and said smoothly, “Second, it makes you wonder what, exactly?” She stared him down, daring him on, matching his watchful, intimidating gaze.
“It makes me wonder if you are”—he leaned forward in his chair and rested his hand on hers—“up to something.”
4
Mason’s face was dead serious. He offered no expression at all, and just sat there, assessing her.
Chills ran up and down Avery’s spine. Was she burnt? Did he know? Or was he just fucking with her? She ran through everything that had happened, everything she knew. She knew she’d let her guard down momentarily, but was it really that bad? Christ in hell.
Like the professional she was, she betrayed nothing. She sat as still and expressionless as he did, without batting an eyelash.
After a moment or two, a gurgling noise came from his throat, and she realized that he was suppressing a chuckle. Unable to contain himself, he burst forth with gut-busting laughter. If the music hadn’t been playing so loudly, the whole lounge would have heard them.
His laughter had a ripple effect, and she found herself giggling back. Just like earlier in the water, he had a funny way of laying her bare. Her laughter came out high-pitched and uncontrolled. Tears welled in her eyes. Maybe it was just a relief to feel a semblance of friendship. Whatever it was, he was having fun, so she rolled with it.
He grabbed his water and tried choking it down while she buried her face in her napkin. But something about the absurdity of the situation was just killing her: her target, accusing her of spying and then laughing like a madman. Maybe she was wound too tightly, but she couldn’t contain it anymore. His reaction was equally genuine.
As they found their way back to reality and she wiped the tears from her cheeks, she spied a twinkle of mischief in his eye and realized that he was looking at her—really looking at her. She felt naked. Bare. He was looking past her perfectly made-up exterior to what she had inside.
Did he like what he saw?
It was the most terrifying question she’d ever asked herself.
“But seriously,” he said with a completely straight face.
She sucked in a breath.
“Seriously… what do you want for dinner?” And he beamed again.
It was then that she knew: she had to play this perfectly to succeed. There was a reason why breaking a SEAL was a milestone. His game was second to none. He was reading her like a billboard.
He wasn’t some gray-haired, pent-up diplomat. He wasn’t some boring government official who’d eat out of the palm of her hand. He was looking for something in her, and he was suspicious as hell. Of course, SOF were trained to be suspicious. He was going to be the challenge of challenges.
She straightened her spine. She was going to be the champion of champions.
So there.
And, remembering her training, she casually shrugged her shoulders and entered deeper into a bulletproof mental state. She willfully left her self-doubt behind and narrowed her eyes on her target. She would succeed. She would get what she came here for. He would talk. He would tell her all she needed to know.
And then she would vanish.
He caught her gaze, giving her his boyish, all-American smile. She felt a shiver and then a coil of heat in her abdomen. It made her realize that while she’d be mentally tough, she wouldn’t be able to turn off her physical responses. She might as well roll with it.
“A salad, probably.” She sighed as she flipped through the menu. “Maybe.”
“Wouldn’t want to ruin your figure with one of these fire-baked pizzas,” he teased, running his hand over the menu.
Her mouth watered at the thought of his hand running over her. “I’ll have a taste if you want me to, birthday boy.”
“I’m sure you’d love to have a taste,” he
fired back.
“Would you let me?”
He looked up, running his eyes up and down her body. “I just might.” He grinned. “We’ll see how you do.”
She bit her lip. “Is that a maybe?”
“Maybe,” he said with a laugh. “Maybe not. I don’t make promises.”
She raised her eyebrow and stifled a groan. He was killing her.
“Anything could happen,” he added, aloof. “Could be your lucky day.”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. He was too much.
“I’m serious. Anything could happen.”
“Anything?” She shrugged casually, laying a trap.
“Of course.” His devilish smile made creases form at the corners of his eyes. “I like to think I’m an open type of guy.”
Avery decided to test his boundaries. She motioned to the beautiful, dark-haired hostess, who was seating a group nearby.
“Can I bring a friend?” She sipped delicately on her wine, grinning coyly. They had already found their way through most of the wine. Clearly, they were thirsty.
He sat back in his chair, looking smug, sizing her up. “Would you be into that?”
She shrugged casually. “I just might. We’ll see how you do.” She gave him a wink while he groaned in response.
Truthfully, Avery found the thought of him with other women jarring. And that’s when she first suspected she was in trouble. Whatever was going on with her went beyond basic attraction. There was something about him and the way he looked at her, treated her, that was different. It was like she wasn’t just a piece of meat to him.
Leaning forward, he closed up the menu and put his elbows on the table, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. He grinned at her with a new expression. Avery wondered if she had him flummoxed or simply very interested. He wasn’t easy to read.
Apparently, she was easier.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she suggested.
He grinned, licking his lips. “You don’t want to know.”
Heat rose to her cheeks, and she grabbed her glass of wine as a distraction. She’d happily spend her whole night wrapped in his attention. And his arms.
Eyes On Page 4