Getting Lucky (4 page)

“Nah. I’ve slowed down some. Hell, I don’t even brag about my conquests anymore.”

“Get outta here. The guy who used to regale Coop and me in pornographic detail of whatever girl had ridden the rocket the night before—now keeping it all to himself? Son of a bitch, boy.”

“I know; the world as we once knew it has ceased to exist. This growing up is a spooky business.” He killed off his brew and set the bottle on the table. “Speaking of growing up, when you plan on giving up field work?”

“Goddamn never.” Because it hit a nerve too close to
the surface, his voice was flatter than he might have wished.

But John didn’t seem to mind; he merely hitched one shoulder in an easy shrug. “The twenty-year-olds haven’t managed to run you into the ground yet, then?”

“They try, but I’m hanging tough.” Although maybe not bouncing back as fast as he used to. “Jesus, Rocket, were we ever that young? Or that stupid? I just got back from a detail in South America where I had to ride herd on a bunch of horny teenagers bent on chasing the local señoritas. We damn near had ourselves an international incident by the time we pulled out.”

“One of your men compromise a local girl?”

“‘Ruined’ her is how her betrothed put it.” He shook his head in disgust. “We went down to extract a hostage from a drug cartel, then stayed to defend the local village against retaliation. It was supposed to be quick and professional. We were to get the hostage out, set up defensible parameters around the village and show the villagers the basics of maintaining them, then select a few of their young men to bring back to Pendleton.”

“To train in the rudiments of warfare?”

“Yeah; you know how it works.”

“Sure.” John shrugged again. “Teach ’em everything you can cram into six weeks, then send them back to educate the rest of the village and hope for the best. So, was it actually your man getting his rocks off that nearly caused the incident, or was this just one of those ops that are fucked from start to finish?”

“No, the recon and extraction went great. My unit is young, but they’re good. The problems didn’t start until
we got to the village. That’s when they turned from a corps of highly trained professionals into a bunch of pussy-chasing morons.”

“And this is something new? Hell, Midnight, there’s always shit like that to rein in whenever young soldiers are exposed to nubile sweet young things. Or to any female with a pulse when it comes to that—particularly following a successful mission.”

“I know, but this time one of my men diddling with a local girl damn near meant the difference between a village getting the training to defend itself and not. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have enjoyed having to explain why to the brass.”

“What happened?”

Zach noticed John’s empty beer bottle and got up to get two more longnecks out of the fridge. “The best candidate for the program by far,” he said, “was a young man named Miguel Escavez. He had the most raw talent, the greatest determination to protect what’s his, and unquestionable leadership potential.” Handing Rocket a beer, he sat back down, then stopped in the midst of twisting the cap off his own to look at his friend across the table. “Unfortunately, he was also the girl’s fiancé.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Tell me about it. After talking to the girl and determining the sex with Pederson was consensual, I got the happy job of telling Miguel that since that was so, and she was of age, I didn’t have jurisdiction to punish my soldier-cum-stud of the hour.” Zach got a sudden flashback to swarming flies and thick, steamy heat, saw again the outraged ego burning in the young Latino’s eyes.

He finished twisting the bottle cap off and took a
swig of beer to wash the vision away. “A couple days later we found Pederson outside the village, beaten to a pulp. I know damn well Escavez was responsible, but lacking concrete proof, there wasn’t a helluva lot I could do about that, either.” His jaw set. “Which pretty much summed up the entire detail. I didn’t do a helluva lot.”

John shrugged. “Some missions are like that—there’s just not much you can do. And it’s probably just as well you didn’t find evidence against Escavez anyway.”

“How do you figure?”

“We’ve both spent more hours than we can count in these villages. If there’s one thing you can depend on in some of the more macho cultures, it’s the store they place in saving face. Is Pederson okay?”

“Yeah. He’s still not one hundred percent, but you know how fast a nineteen-year-old heals.”

“There you go, then. Your soldier survived and might even think twice before he messes with another villager’s woman. Escavez got his retribution, which probably helped him save face in front of his village.”

“True.” Zach felt some of the weight he’d been carrying slide away. “And in the end Miguel even volunteered to be part of the three-man delegation we brought back with us.” He saluted Rocket with his beer bottle. “So all’s well that ends well, I guess.”

He heard the sound of the front door opening. Knowing it had to be Lily, he looked toward the archway, waiting for her to pass by. It bugged him to realize his blood was pumping a little hotter and faster through his veins than it had been a few moments ago. Then, recalling his friend’s words, he took a slow, controlled breath and gave himself a break.

Rocket was right. Lily
was
the exact type of woman that usually drew his attention—at least in the physical sense.
I’ll be damned,
he thought with a little surge of relief.
I’m not turning into the world’s worst brother, after all. I merely need to get laid.

He almost laughed out loud. As John had said, successful reconnaissance missions had a way of getting a guy’s juices flowing. Combine that with the fact that it had been a long time since he’d been within belly-rubbing distance of a woman—even before the South American detail had come up—and any woman would look good to him, never mind a hot little number like Lily Morrisette. Just give him the chance to rectify the sexual limbo he’d been in, though, and she’d likely lose whatever small hold she had over his senses.

He kept that thought firmly in mind when Lily sashayed into view, all cotton-candy hair and swinging hips as she strutted toward the archway. Still his temperature cranked another notch higher. Then, just as he was thinking he’d better start trolling the bars pretty damn soon, Lily glanced up from the tiny handbag into which she dropped her keys.

With a little yelp of surprise she stopped in her tracks, a splayed hand slapping the full swell of her breasts. A half dozen narrow gold bangles clinked and jingled as they slid down her arm from wrist to forearm. Her eyes locked with Zach’s.

“You startled me!” she exclaimed breathlessly, and more jingling ensued as her hand patted her chest as if to contain a racing heart. “I didn’t realize anyone was here.” Then she jerked her gaze away and glanced at Rocket, offering him a tentative smile.

It pushed all Zach’s buttons, and he laughed harshly. “Right,” he snarled. “Like you can’t smell fresh meat a block away.”
Jesus, what an actress.
He jerked his head toward Rocket. “So meet John. He can’t afford you.”

You would have thought he’d pissed in the middle of a tea party, the way she looked at him. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away.

His blood flat-out boiled. How did she do it? How did she make him feel as if
he
was in the wrong when he knew damn good and well that she was the one playing all the angles?

“So that’s Lily, huh?”

Zach blew out a breath and turned to look at his friend. “Yeah.”

“
Hoo
-ahh,” Rocket breathed. “Now that’s lethal stuff.” He reached over to punch Zach on the arm. “But my money’s on you, buddy. You’ll have her disarmed in no time.” He cocked a dense black eyebrow. “That is, if you start thinking with something besides your dick. What’s the matter with you, anyway? I’ve never seen you like this, never heard you be anything but polite to a woman, no matter what her agenda. You gotta quit letting this one mess with your head.”

Then he bared his teeth. “Lucky for you, you’ve got me at your back. You’ve established you’re the bad guy. Now it’s time for ol’ brother John to see what he can learn.”

L
ILY WAS PANTING IN ABSOLUTE FURY BY THE TIME
she closed the door at her back. He was a
pig
! A pig, a pig, a
pig
! Where did he get off treating her like that?

Well, he won. She’d pack her bags and start looking for another place this afternoon. It just chapped her hide to let him run her off this way, but she couldn’t take it any more. She simply wasn’t built for this kind of confrontation.

Unlike last night, when she’d thrown everything she owned into her case, she began gathering together only the nonessentials she could live without for a while, so she’d be ready to move at a moment’s notice. But she made a face as she retrieved her luggage from the closet. This was way too reminiscent of her life growing up, when a year rarely went by without her restless parents telling her to pack her things because they were moving on. She’d learned at a young age never to get too comfortable in any one place, so heaven knew she had a decent grasp on what was necessary in order to get by for a day or two, and what were just extras.

She’d really thought all that was finally behind her, though. Until her apartment went condo, she’d lived in the same place for seven years, a record for someone who had gone to eleven different schools in six different states—and that wasn’t counting two culinary schools. When Glynnis invited her to stay in this lovely oceanfront home, she’d appreciated it more than she could say and had truly hoped her next move would be her last. Ideally, when she found her restaurant, it would combine a living area with the commercial space. She’d planned to search for the perfect spot as soon as she got back from her next cruise.

Lily gave herself a mental shake. Well, sometimes things didn’t work out; no one knew that better than she. That didn’t mean she intended to go off half-cocked and storm out without a plan. Mimi would undoubtedly let her camp out on her couch for a few days, but she wanted to reserve that option as a last resort. First, she’d check out the ads to see what was available without a lease.

Merely thinking about it made her tired, though, so she flipped open her luggage on the bedspread and began filling it. She’d start with something a little less stressful.

She was piling most of her collection of pretty lingerie into one corner of the case, thinking she really ought to rummage through the three-car garage for some boxes, when her gaze was caught by an envelope sticking up out of one of the suitcase’s little gathered pockets.

Her hands stilled for a moment over the heap of silkies and lace. Funny, she didn’t remember tucking anything away in there. Then she shrugged. It was probably an old greeting card that had gotten swept up and tossed wily-nilly into the case when she was snatching
up stuff last night. Since she rarely hung on to things—a habit left over from her days of keeping extras to a minimum—it was likely not even hers.

She was just reaching for it to check it out when a knock sounded at the door. She whirled to face it, the card promptly forgotten. “Go away,” she snapped, her heart renewing its pounding rhythm as if it had never slowed down. “I’m through talking to you.”

“It’s John Miglionni, ma’am. Please. I won’t take up much of your time, but I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”

She crossed the room and yanked the door open. Folding her arms militantly beneath her breasts, she glared up at the man on the other side of the threshold. “What makes you think I’m interested in anything you have to say?” Then she blinked. She’d been so furious with Zach earlier she’d barely gotten more than a quick impression of his friend. Seeing John clearly for the first time, she murmured, “What
is
this place, anyhow, Testosterone Central?”

Then she gave him a second, closer inspection and wasn’t sure where that first impression had come from. He didn’t look so tough. He was an inch or two over six feet, and aside from muscular shoulders, looked as lean and lanky as a young Jimmy Stewart beneath his pricey silver-gray silk T-shirt and impeccably pressed black slacks. Even the brawny shoulders appeared somehow less powerful than she’d first thought when she looked at him slouched against the doorframe.

He was dark-skinned and had hair so black and shiny it contained blue highlights even in the dim hallway. He wore its thick length pulled back in a ponytail, a style
that accented his high cheekbones, hawklike nose, and the spare angularity of his face. But it was his dark eyes and smile that grabbed her—both were as bashful and self-effacing as a monk’s.

“I don’t know about the testosterone,” he said softly, “but I do want to apologize for Zachariah. He’s been under a lot of pressure lately, and he’s worried sick about his little sister, but that’s no excuse to treat you so rudely. He was completely out of line, and I told him so.”

His soft-spoken apology was balm to her offended sensibilities, and her combative pose eased. “That’s very gallant of you.”

He ducked his head. “Not at all, ma’am. Zach’s insinuations were insulting, and I wanted you to know that although he’s my friend I don’t endorse his behavior.” Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders and shot her a glance full of shy, male interest. “Are you from around here?”

The movement starkly defined the sinews of his arms for a moment, and Lily realized there was more muscle to him than she’d thought. Silky black hair feathered his forearms, and a small patch of color on his left one caught her attention. “I guess you could say I’m from everywhere,” she admitted slowly, shooting what was undoubtedly a tattoo a covert glance to see if she could figure out what it depicted. “But for the past seven years I’ve lived in—” Sudden comprehension chopped her sentence in two.

Oh. He was good. She should have remembered the quick impression she’d gotten in the kitchen of intelligent, watchful eyes, but his polite, soothing manners and low-key interest had suckered her completely.
“Well,” she continued smoothly, flapping a dismissive hand. “You don’t care about that.”

“Of course I do. I’d love to hear everything about you.”

“You’re awfully kind. It’s just so
nice
to talk to a gentleman after dealing with that horrid—” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I forgot for a moment he’s your friend.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He dug a shoulder into the doorjamb and smiled that monk’s smile at her. “You were going to tell me about all those places you’ve been and how the last seven years you’ve lived in…?”

“Oh, let’s not talk about me.” She gave him an aren’t-you-just-the-sweetest-thing look. “Where are
you
from?”

“I’ve been all over, too.” He leaned a little closer. “Maybe we’ve been to some of the same places.”

“Gee, do you think? That would be something, wouldn’t it?” With a glance up from under her lashes, she murmured, “John is such a nice, strong name. What’s your sign?”

“Aries. How about you?”

“Oh, dear, not one that’s compatible with yours. And you seemed so perfect, too.” With a regretful sigh, she started to close the door.

“Wait!” Straightening, he gave her a self-deprecating smile. “You can’t hold that against me. Heck, you don’t even know what house my moon is in, or anything. It could make all the difference.”

“Why, that’s true. What time were you born?”

He told her and she gave a thoughtful, “Hmm,” then reached out to touch his wrist. “What do you do for a living, John?”

“I’m an accountant.”

Her brow furrowed. “Oh.”

“And a financial planner.”

“
Really.
Oooh, I just love money.” Leaning against the edge of the open door, she slid her hand up the smooth wood until her arm curved overhead, her palm flat against its interior panel. “So tell me,” she said, watching him eye the outside curve of her breast that the pose exposed. “When it comes to long-term investment, what mix of high, medium, and low caps do you recommend for a stock portfolio? And what’s your take on index mutual funds?”

His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “Uh…”

“Don’t,” she admonished gently, “confuse blond hair and breasts with stupidity.”

He gave her a perplexed look. “Ma’am?”

“At least Zach’s up front in his enmity. The next time you try out your aw-shucks-golly routine, I suggest you cover up that.” She nodded at the mostly red tattoo on his arm, which his change in position had made clearly visible. Outlined in black, it contained the words
Swift, Silent,
and
Deadly
on three sides of a white skull with black and yellow markings, and 2d Recon Bn inscribed across the bottom. Looking up into eyes gone abruptly hard, she assured him crisply, “It truly does detract from the image.” Then, giving the panel beneath her hand a push, she closed the door in his face.

She had a feeling her blood pressure was in the red zone. As if things weren’t bad enough already, the lousy ratfinks were double-teaming her! Too restless to go back to her packing, she paced her room for several tense moments.

Then she abruptly stopped in the middle of the room. She had to get out of here before she did something stupid like scream her head off. A walk on the beach would cool her down, but if she wanted to kill two birds with one stone she should probably grab a newspaper and head up the coast highway to the Koffee Klatch, where she could read the apartment listings in peace. A nice, nonhostile environment sounded like just the ticket. She grabbed her purse from the dresser top where she’d tossed it a short while ago and let herself out of the room.

When she let herself back in several hours later, the sun had disappeared over the horizon in a blazing ball of orange and red, and she was calmer—if no closer to having another place to stay than when she’d left. There had only been one apartment in the ads worth pursuing, and by the time she’d gotten over to check it out someone else had already snatched it up.

Well, there was always the internet, but she’d get to that later. The walls of her room were already closing in, and unwilling to act as if she had anything to hide, she marched down the hall, braced to brave the duel condemnation of Zach and his underhanded friend. But the kitchen was empty and the entire house had a deserted feel. She dished up a bowl of ice cream and took it into the den, where she settled into a chair and turned on the news. A short while later, she turned it off again. Beyond a fleeting impression of an impending air-traffic controllers’ strike and a murder-suicide in Newport Beach, she had no idea what she’d just viewed. She
cleaned her dish in the kitchen, then went out on the terrace to listen to the surf.

Usually she found the susurrus of waves against sand a hypnotic lullaby, but tonight it failed to soothe her, and she decided to call it a day. Tomorrow would be soon enough to log on to the internet to see what it offered in the way of rentals. At the moment she desperately needed the oblivion of sleep.

It wasn’t until late the following morning, as she was transferring most of the items she’d packed the day before into some boxes she’d found in the garage, that she remembered the envelope in the suitcase. She dug it out and extracted a single sheet of stationary. Unfolding it, she began to read.

Nooo!
She abruptly sat down on the edge of the bed, and for one of the few times in her life, she wished she were a swearing woman. Her few, pitiful expletives simply didn’t cover the depth of her feelings. But,
poop
!

The note was from Glynnis. Lily didn’t know how she’d missed it but that wasn’t the issue. What mattered was Glynnis’s specific request that Lily tell Zach where she had gone, with whom, and why.

Poop, poop, poop, poop,
poop
! Why was that
her
job?

But there was simply no help for it; she had to honor Glynnis’s wishes. Hating not only that necessity, but the knowledge that Zach was going to blow it
all
out of proportion, she girded her loins and went looking for him.

She didn’t quite do the cha-cha upon discovering he wasn’t home, but it was a near thing.
Well, that’s a crying shame,
she thought insincerely, and dug a package of phyllo dough out of the fridge to make herself a nice
veggie turnover to go with that apple chutney she’d made the other day.
And after lunch
, she decided,
I really should hit the real estate agents
.

When the back door rattled open a short while later as she was still eating, however, she sighed in defeat, knowing she could kiss a clean getaway good-bye. Rats.

Zach closed the door behind him and looked at Lily, who gazed back at him calmly for a moment before returning to her lunch. Like yesterday, she was dolled up right down to the spike-heeled shoes on her feet—this pair open-toed and blue to match her top, which she had no doubt chosen to match her eyes. He watched her rosy lips close around a bite of something with a wonderful fragrance, and jerking his gaze away, he looked at the steam rising off a flaky pastry-looking thing full of wild rice, vegetables, and what looked to be cranberries. His stomach immediately protested that a single piece of peanut-butter toast was no kind of breakfast for a grown man. “I’ll say this for you, lollipop. You sure can cook.”

“Yes, I can.” She hesitated, then jutted her chin toward the stove. “There’s another one in the oven, if you’d like it.”

She didn’t have to ask him twice. He grabbed a plate, singed his fingers grabbing the goodie out of the oven, then got a fork from the drawer and poured himself a glass of milk. Carrying everything to the table, he pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. She passed him a little bowl of some spicy-smelling sauce with chopped apples in it, and he dumped a spoonful on top of his turnover. Before he dug in, though, he shot her a suspicious glance. “Why are you being so accommodating all of a sudden?”

“For exactly the reason you think,” she said with a shrug that had him struggling not to watch the resultant jiggle of her breasts. “To soften you up, of course.” She waved at his plate. “Don’t let it get cold.”

Knowing he wasn’t likely to get more than that, he took a bite. One taste was all it took, and he was a goner. “Damn,” he breathed when he came up for air half a turnover later. Forgetting who he was dealing with for an instant, he gave her a genuine smile. “This is
good
.” He immediately forked up another bite, savoring the rich textures and the flavors that exploded on his tongue.