Page 1 of Tempest

CHAPTER ONE

Thursday

Ryan entered the hotel bar and glanced around. The Ritz-Carlton in Coconut Grove was the last place he expected to land after retiring from the Teams. The high ceilings and lush décor scratched against his nerves. This sort of hotel was something his mom would’ve enjoyed. God rest her soul. It was the last place he wanted to be.

Letting out a long breath, he searched for an empty seat. The place was packed, and the only available one was next to a woman who was working on her laptop. Quartering the room, he checked the exits and cataloged the people enjoying their drinks. It was an ingrained habit and one he would probably never get rid of. It didn’t matter if he was in a fancy hotel with a bunch of rich business people. Shit happened everywhere and he liked to be ready.

Sliding into the banquette that lined the back wall made a stack of papers slide off the seat. He moved the tiny table forward, grabbed them, and noticed the sexiest pair of legs he’d ever seen. Rising slowly, he let his eyes roam over the woman sitting next to him. He couldn’t decide if she was the best thing he’d ever seen or his worst nightmare. She sure smelled amazing. He had no idea what the fragrance was, but it reminded him of something that grew in his grandmother’s garden.

As he let his eyes linger, he noted the business dress, perfect hair, and frown. Definitely not his type. But…something about her had his heart pounding like a jackhammer. Which was disturbing, considering that even in combat, his heartbeat stayed the same.

Maybe becoming a civilian had marked the beginning of his downfall. He watched her lean forward and throw her laptop a dirty look. It was kind of entertaining, but not enough to make him change his mind.

Experience had taught him that he didn’t mix well with uptight, fussy, focused, balls-to-the-wall executive women. They never seemed to have a sense of humor, and their endless ambition left room for nothing else. The woman sitting next to him was probably their poster girl and head cheerleader.

He dropped the papers on the table next to her computer and watched her eyes fly up. Her rubber band mouth broke into an open smile and threw his heart another shot of adrenaline. “Those fell on the floor,” he said, as he tipped his head toward the papers. When she smiled again, his heart continued to beat mercilessly. He ignored it.

“Am I taking up every bit of room here?” Moving her papers, she stacked them up. “I’m sorry about that. When I got here, there wasn’t anyone here, so I spread out.” Shaking her head, she laughed. “My manners are embarrassing. Or, as my mama says, my lack of manners.”

“No problem.” The cadence of a honeyed Texas drawl filled his ears and soothed his fractured nerves. Not that he would ever admit to having nerves of any kind. But shit had changed dramatically since he retired, and any damn thing was possible. “Don’t worry about it. Using a bar as your office can be challenging, given the lack of space. But the availability of alcohol and food more than makes up for it.”

“You got that right.” Pulling a briefcase off the floor, she started putting her file folders away. “I like to people-watch, so I thought working down here would give me plenty to look at.”

Ryan found himself fascinated by her small, delicate hands. The idea of having something soft and fine in his life was as foreign to him as being in this fancy bar. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind. A waitress approached and saved him from thinking about it further.

The woman asked him what he’d like to drink. He said a beer and was given a list of ten, along with a description of each. When had ordering a beer become so complicated? “I’ll have the IPA.”

The waitress asked the woman next to him, and he silently bet himself that she would order a glass of wine. When she asked for a dirty martini, he glanced over and wondered what else she enjoyed that was dirty. His mind immediately filled with five filthy things he’d enjoy doing with her. But since she wasn’t his type, he quickly dismissed the idea. Then five more ideas popped up.

Retirement clearly was hitting him in ways he couldn’t predict. Maybe lusting after women who were high-maintenance was just another sign of his impending implosion. Shit.

“I was wondering if you could watch my bag while I run to the ladies’?”

The woman stood, and he was treated to a view of a sexy, curvy figure wrapped in a perfectly appropriate business dress. Only there was nothing appropriate about his reaction to her. Made sense…this was God’s way of torturing him. “Sure.”

Putting out her hand, she introduced herself. “I’m Ivy, by the way. What’s your name?”

Grasping her hand gently, he felt the same sensation as when he’d held his sniper rifle for the first time. Like he was home. “Ryan Cordell. Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you, Ryan. I’ll be back in two shakes.”

Watching her turn on her heels and saunter away was about the best thing he’d seen in ages. Her curvy hips moved under her dress as she took the pins out of her hair and shook it loose. A wild mane of caramel hair tumbled over her shoulders as she moved toward the other end of the bar.

He wasn’t the only one who appreciated the view. A half-dozen men tracked her as she walked across the room. Which pissed him off. Why, he couldn’t say. The only thing that came to mind was that he should be the only one who got see her take her hair down. The fact that it didn’t make any sense pissed him off more. The best thing he could do was leave as soon as she got back. There was no need to sit around torturing himself with something that he didn’t need or want in his life.

***

He guessed five. That’s how many men he thought would try to talk to Ivy on her way back to the table. So far three had stopped her, and she was polite but firm in her refusal. Those poor bastards thought they actually had a chance. Her happy, open demeanor gave each and every one of them a small hope that she would be interested.

Hell, for a split second, he was interested. But she was the type of woman who put her career before anything else, and any man who wanted her was going to have to be a fucking god. He sure as hell wasn’t that. He didn’t know what he was anymore.

Just as she was about to sit down, a fourth man approached. Her smile was less friendly and never hit her eyes. She stood still and listened to the man give it his best shot, and then she politely said no thank you. Nothing else. Just no thank you. The idiot stood there and waited, like she was going to launch into an explanation. When she turned and took a step toward the table and ignored him, he stalked off.

Ivy collapsed into her seat and sighed. “I need this drink more than I should. My goodness, it’s been a long day.” She lifted the glass, took a healthy sip, and sighed. “Thank you for watching my stuff.”

“No problem. I enjoyed the show that your trip to the ladies’ room provided.”

Her head slowly swiveled around as her eyes shot daggers in his direction. “A show?”

---