Surrendering To Her Sergeant (32 page)

“
Yes, of course, of course.
Thank you, Mateo. Soon, my friend, it will be next Tuesday night,
and our mission will be complete. We shall celebrate our grand
triumph together. Very well.
Buenas
noches
.”

As he ended the call, Ava scrambled up
and strolled out to the patio like she’d just gotten there. Though
it was reassuring to know he was fighting for the success of the
show’s big night, her deeper instincts still told her it wasn’t a
good idea to reveal she’d been eavesdropping.

“Well, here you are.” She plastered on
a relaxed smile.

Enzo held up his phone. “The ball and
chain.” He pocketed the device and cupped her shoulders. “The fog
is coming in. It is cold out here. You should be inside swooning
over Mr. Cooper along with the other ladies.”

She let her face tighten. The idea of
facing Ethan and his antics again registered on the scale of having
to run a marathon right now. “I’m getting a pretty awful headache.”
At least that wasn’t a lie. “And we’re in for a crazy ride up until
the live broadcast next week…”

Enzo gave her a gentle
smile. It turned his face into something that could be on the cover
of European
GQ
in
its handsomeness. “I understand. I will render regrets to the table
on your behalf.”

Ava forced herself to return the look.
Damn it, why couldn’t she truly feel the emotion beneath? What was
wrong with her? Enzo Lemare was gorgeous in all the right ways, had
treated her like a queen tonight, and probably toweled his toned
bod in hundred dollar bills every morning. He at least deserved a
smile she hadn’t ratcheted into place.

“You’ve been so amazing to me
tonight.” The awe in her voice was genuine. “I feel like Cinderella
at the ball. Thank you.”

She couldn’t read his reaction to
that. His dark stare traveled across her face before he lifted a
hand to frame one side of it. Without another word, he softly
kissed her.

Technically, it
was
a kiss. He brushed
her lips with just enough pressure, pausing at just the right
second to determine if she’d encourage him to do more, to qualify
it as such. Ava searched deep, frantically begging her senses to
respond, but came back with nothing. Compared to the heat Ethan
brought with his mouth, this was more like a pleasant caress or a
parting peck between friends.

Damn it
.

She grabbed Enzo’s hand and
squeezed it, wishing it could be transformed into a mental
chalkboard eraser. On the newly blank slate, she’d dutifully write
a thousand repetitions.
I will not fall
for another military man again. I will not fall for another
military man again. I will not fall
—

“Ava.” Enzo’s voice, a
satin cushion around her name, coaxed her mind back.
“
Cara
, what is
it?”

She sighed.
Just do it. One step and you’re
there
.
His embrace
offered strength, his eyes promised comfort. But that nagging
intuition compelled her to let him go and back away. “Nothing a
full night’s sleep won’t help,” she answered. “I’m—I’m just going
to head home.” With an impish tilt of her head, she added, “See you
at the office tomorrow?”

“The office,” he echoed with a
chuckle. “Of course.”

She took the quickest route home,
south on Coast Highway. The fog that rolled over the road, thicker
every minute, seemed an ironic fit for her mental preparation for
the days ahead. She’d learned a long time ago that “expecting the
unexpected” was an understatement in this business, and most of the
time she even thrived on the mantra, but the strange unease in her
stomach, introduced when she’d overheard Enzo on the phone, had
only gotten worse as she had the chance to replay it. With Ethan’s
shit storm of confusing behavior stirred into that, she was
surprised she was able to steer the car home correctly.

Her head and her heart had declared
war on each other. And short of hitting the Delete key on her
brain, she didn’t know how to enact a truce. But doing that would
mean eradicating everything, including every moment that she’d
shared with Ethan…every kiss, every smile, every connection that
contained no sound or word, because it didn’t have to…

With a heavy sigh, she fell into bed,
grateful for the weight of exhaustion that pulled her under the
waves of sleep, into the dark hours of nothingness before the war
started again.

“I’m still not sure whether to feel
right at home or mildly freaked out.”

Tait responded to Kellan’s quip with a
snort. “Mildly?”

They joined each other in stares mixed
of astonishment, amusement and plain what-the-hell-ment while
watching Grant Fulsom and his crew set up for Ethan and Bella’s
photo shoot in the Desert Garden of the Huntington Botanical
Gardens. The Huntington was located about a half hour from the hub
of LA and offered an impressive collection of plant habitats that
represented all corners of the world, including this area Fulsom
had transformed into a Middle East oasis. Since the photo spread’s
theme was “Army Undercover,” that apparently made sense to the man,
even if he felt the need to hide a good chunk of the flowering
succulents and cacti behind a Bedouin-style tent filled with
fabrics, rugs, drapes, and pillows.

“Welcome to Marrakech,” Kell
cracked.

Tait gave that a light laugh. “Didn’t
think anything could best the back lot watch but I could be
wrong.”

Kellan fiddled with the Nikon camera
around his neck that they’d purposely banged up last night. They
were here under the guise of being Ethan’s photography-crazed
battalion buddies. “I’ll bet there’s plenty of double-sided tit
tape around here.”

“Only thing I care about is
if
Lor’s
around
here.” While muttering it, he peered around the garden and scowled
again. There was no sign of the pretty man producer, despite
confirmation from Runway and Double-O that Lor planned on being
around for most of these photo shoots. It was the reason Tait and
Kell had been pulled off the roof.

Their new purpose was
two-pronged. First priority: watch Lor for any behavior that told
them he had the memory stick or new laptop here with him. Their
second goal, just as essential, was to back up Ethan. With a team
of stylists constantly foofing him, there’d be no way he could hide
a wire or earpiece for monitoring his interactions with Bella and
Lor. Yeah, the guy could read people more clearly than a voodoo
shaman, but that talent was good as a limp dick if his cover was
made, or worse. Tait and Kellan would serve as his eyes and ears
while remaining in contact with Rhett and Rebel, who were able to
hang back at the
Dress Blues
set and get in more searches of “Lemare’s”
office.

With any luck, something would shake
out soon. They were all patient men, used to waiting it out for
long stretches to get the intel they needed to get their job done,
but this stint in a land where even half the buildings weren’t real
was just damned exhausting.

Garrett and Zeke had lucked
out. At least their women were around, making the nights and
mornings better. The rest of the guys had learned the area around
the hotel and even ventured to other parts of the city from time to
time, but Tait had started bailing on some of those excursions,
claiming the hotel’s free HBO was too good a treat to ignore. He
wondered if anyone actually believed him. Speculated if anyone
except Kell had discerned his truth. Yeah,
that
truth. The hope, however
ridiculous, that a certain convict-turned-agent would reconsider
her self-imposed celibacy and come knocking on his door. And
confirm that everything he’d felt in that bar’s storeroom had been
at least a little real…and a lot right.

Kellan’s snicker yanked him off that
emo-lined path. Tait followed his teammate’s glance and instantly
exchanged morose for snarky. Beyond his control, a chortle spewed
off his lips.

Ethan, who’d just walked into the
catering area where they’d been hanging, snarled as Kell raised his
wrist. The live-stream camera taped beneath Kell’s sleeve now
broadcasted every inch of Ethan’s attire to Colton’s office across
town.

“Lower it now if you value your
fucking arm.” Ethan punctuated it with a lethal glare as he grabbed
a bottle of sports drink and ripped off the cap.

Kellan tempted fate by delaying one
more second. Tait didn’t blame him. The sight was just too damn
fine to ignore.

Archer’s head was covered
in an all-black, traditional
keffiyeh
, with its long length held
in place by a shiny gold version of the
tagiyyah
band. That was where the
authentic portion of the outfit ended. A black leather vest was the
only thing covering the guy from shoulder to waist, unless the
accessories counted. A black leather hawking gauntlet was secured
to one of his forearms and a thick leather strip around his neck
was supposed to be a…what
was
that…a scarf? Tait snorted again. Because
that
was practical if a
guy was undercover in a real Bedouin camp, right? Didn’t matter.
The pants were even more ridiculous. Sheathing Archer’s long legs
were shiny black pajama bottoms that billowed more than the frothy
drapes on the set across the way, whipping up to expose the guy’s
bare feet.

“Sure.” Kellan finally moved his arm.
He swiped it across his body, folded the other on top then dropped
his head fast against them both. “Whatever you say, Master
Aladdin.”

“Suck my dick, monkey
lice.”

Tait choked on his water. Sometimes
getting in a chuckle was simply worth it. When he finally sobered,
he offered, “You’re taking a giant one for the team,
Runway.”

Ethan kicked up a brow. “Just
one?”

He dropped a sympathetic nod. “It
won’t be forgotten.”

“Damn right it won’t,” Kellan
jibed.

“Didn’t I just tell you to suck my
dick?” Ethan snapped.

“No, thanks.” Kell’s mouth actually
threatened a small smile. Tait prepped himself to note the day and
time, since the guy cracked a grin as often as the sun had an
eclipse, but the moment was lost as Kell jerked his chin around.
“But I think you’ll have a taker in her.”

It wasn’t a brain-buster to see Bella
walk out in a high fashion version of a gold harem girl costume,
complete with sheer ivory pants covering a barely there bikini
bottom and a halter top covered in gold rhinestones. She was also
barefoot, with anklets that hand gold bells on them. Her hair was
long and loose, with strands of gold bells braided into it in a few
places.

When the starlet saw Ethan,
she let out a little yelp of delight and hurried over. The
chings
of her outfit
echoed across the garden. “
Mio
Dio
, Ethan.” Her gaze, heavy and sultry,
didn’t hide any secrets about what the woman wanted to do with him.
“Grant is right. You
are
a demigod.” When that acted like the permission
slip for Tait and Kell to let their guffaws fly free, she chided,
“If you two are jealous and want in on the fun, I’m sure Grant can
find some ensembles for you, too.”

They both went silent.

Tait braced himself for Archer’s
version of a full retaliation now, probably in the form of sucking
face with Bella until they looked like murder victims from her
smeared lipstick, but the guy’s self-restraint was impressive.
Though he still raked the area with an irked glare, he dutifully
let Bella rearrange his scarf, or whatever the fuck that thing was,
until she seemed satisfied with the artful angles at which it
grazed his bare chest. Shit. The guy was whipped. Bad.

“Everyone ready to roll?”
he finally asked Bella. Tait’s ears did a figurative perk.
Something in Ethan’s voice was…off. No. Something was
missing
, which was
baffling considering the man’s norm of verbal minimalism. Was
Archer okay? Damn it, was he falling harder than he should for
Bella? Was his head still in the game?