Page 6 of Dangerous Devotion

“Better grab hold of that railing before you fall and break your neck.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Where do you think you’re going?” She stood a step above him, but it still didn’t make them equal in height. It did, however, give him a chance to study her.

The light from an ornate fixture turned her skin to gold. Her dark eyes flashed like obsidian with a warning that he wasn’t about to heed. Up close, her features appeared more delicate, her lips curved into a small pout.

He might think of her as pretty if she didn’t talk.

“I said I won’t be long,” she bit off through her clenched teeth. She stuck out a hand and gripped the polished wood railing to continue upstairs.

“Sure thing.”

He trailed her to the top and down a long hall to her bedroom.

She whipped around. “I thought the Navy SEALs require perfect hearing.”

“We do.”

“Clearly you need a doctor to check you out, because you must not have heard me.”

“I heard you loud and clear. I’m just not waiting downstairs for you while you pack.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you plan to do in my bedroom? Fold my socks?”

A few comebacks waited on his tongue—all of them dirtier than the last. Living in close quarters with SEALs did that to a man.

He waved a hand. “Who folds socks anyway? I just toss mine in the suitcase with the rest of my laundry. Time is important, May. You need to pack quickly.”

“Then let me get on with it, Henner.” She spun to continue to her room, and he took a step to follow.

She whipped around again. “Stay!”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Fine.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Good.”

She gave him a look as if to say she reserved her opinion on that topic, entered a room and slammed the door.

He leaned against the wall for a moment, staring at her door. Besides wanting to irritate her further for what she’d said abouthim to Con, the clock really was ticking. The chopper waiting to fly them to DC was waiting.

He fisted and relaxed his hand over and over again. Waiting around wasn’t his strength. He was the operative who broke down doors and barricades—the breacher. He glanced at May’s closed door.

The fancy wood trimming it would splinter nicely if he chose to kick it in.

His lips twisted in amusement as he turned away. He went back downstairs but Brooks was nowhere to be seen. Henner stepped outside for a moment to place a call to Con.

“Chickie. You’re not in the chopper headed for that gala in DC.”

“No. She’s packing. Con, I just want to go on record. This isn’t going to work.”

“Seriously, Chickie?”

He ignored the disapproving growl in Con’s voice projecting into his ear. “You’re sending me to this gala…where anyone could see me. Recognize me.”

“Are you saying you can’t pull off this op?”

He sliced his fingers through his short hair. “That’s not what I’m saying. But even in a tux, people would know me.”

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