Page 15 of Lust in Translation

CHAPTER FIVE

KENDALL

SO MUCH PAPERWORK.THEone thing that wasn’t listed on the job description that should have been. A million pages of paperwork filled out on a computer system and a slow operating system that processes it. They keep track of every move everyone makes. Because of my position, I’m able to see information on individuals. I click on Leo’s name and everything comes up—his address, phone number, next of kin, and medical history. Oh, a hospital stay. I click that and read more. Knife wound.What?I click to read more. The data entered gives the date of hospitalization and a few of the pertinent updates by the medical staff but there’s nothing saying how he was injured. Last year. He wasn’t deployed, I know that much. It had to have been a training exercise. An accident.

From the little I do know from listening to my stepdad, the hand-to-hand combat training is rigorous. Maybe a slip of a hand caused an injury. I make a mental note to ask Leo about it as I click over to the other SEALs profile to input attendance data, trying to push my curiosity aside. It’s not like he would tell me something like that unless I asked. We haven’t been friends in years. How do I go about asking him without letting him know I’ve been snooping in his record? He’ll make some witty joke about me wanting him. My stomach squeezes, and I turn that into a steadfast focus, working the rest of the afternoon making lessons and putting together tests that probably won’t ever see the light of day at the rate we’re going. As he mentioned, Leo never shows back up after his lunch break.

I emailed Margaret at two asking if she had back-up plans for me when stuff like flighty, spoiled, military men arise. She didn’t and offered no suggestions other than the solitaire game that comes standard on all PCs. Nice. Evidently if I’m not scheduled to sit in the Intel office, I’m not allowed in there, so that’s off limits. It’s a shame. I’d love to learn something new and observe how operations and Intel works. In due time, I’ll have my chance. In the meantime, I’ll deal with the intermittent work pace, I suppose.

I’m locking up my office at five on the dot because our department meeting was cancelled when Leo jogs up to me, wretched cap in hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got held up. I was making a joke about taking a late lunch earlier. Not that you believe that now,” he says, raising both brows. “I’m sorry.”

Perching a hand on my hip, I reply, “It’s not as if I don’t have other things to busy myself with. Don’t apologize. I’m at your disposal, right? That’s the way of things around this place. You guys are gods and the mere mortals are only here to serve you. You don’t have to say you’re sorry. I will confess it was unprofessional, though.” I straighten my back, trying to hold my proud stance even though I feel like I could melt into the carpet. I slip my key ring into my handbag, swallowing hard.

“What was unprofessional?” Leo asks, tapping the brim of his camo cap against his leg. “Pouring your heart out to me in English instead of Spanish, or my long lunch?”

My face heats. “Long lunch? You’re joking.” One second he’s warm and caring, and the next he’s this alpha-male caricature of cool indifference.

“We’re still on for the cranberry bog,” he says, not asks. I bite my tongue on the string of swear words that want to break free. When I meet his eyes, it’s a mistake. Lust. Unfettered, unchecked desire reflects back at me. Pools of chocolate brown sear into my gaze.

I feel a stirring, an awakening, that foreign pull I haven’t entertained in so long. Did my heart pound this rapidly when I kissed Adam this morning? What about when his hand slid across my thigh while we were in bed? Was my body this responsive? I don’t know and now I feel as if my ribcage is shaking from the rapid hammering of my heart. Leo licks his lips. A quick movement, I’m sure he doesn’t think about, but I do. Electricity fires through my body. “I have to go,” I deadpan.

“I understand,” Leo says, backing off, schooling his face into something innocent. “I’ll be there until nine or until it gets too cold to be outside. They have lights out there now so it’s not pitch black.”

I smile a pinched grin, nod, and brush past him while saying something about cranberries. I don’t recall my drive home, but it’s not because I’m lost in thought about cats. Well, not the type of cats who meow. More about the cat attached to my body who is thoroughly confusing me. When I pull into the driveway and put my car into park, I’m formulating a plan to test my feelings on my husband. I need a comparison. I also probably need to see my shrink right now. The whole thing is unbelievable. Leo is my friend. Adam is my husband.

Adam jumps when I close the door. He’s in the kitchen washing dishes at the sink. “You’re home,” he says.

“Meeting was cancelled. I should have called to let you know.” I didn’t even think to call him. Not even for a second. Only the guilt that came after I locked eyes with Leo Callaway in that fluorescent lit hallway. “What did you have for dinner?” I ask.

“Just a quick salad with steak on top. There’s some left for you in the Tupperware there. If you’re hungry.” His mood is jubilant and I hate that my kiss hours ago is why. I hate that I know that. I hate everything. I drop my stuff, thank Adam, give him a quick peck on the cheek and grab the container. Pulling the lettuce out of the fridge, I casually speak about my day. The parts I’m comfortable telling him about, that is.

“It sounds like he’s learning quickly,” Adam remarks, sitting next to me on the barstool as I settle in to eat.

I nod. “And the other student will be back shortly. I’ll have more to do then.”

“The other SEAL,” Adam corrects.

I narrow my eyes. “Yeah. You know that. We both know that.”

He clears his throat. “You’re a beautiful woman, Kendall. Don’t be fooled into thinking I’m the only one who notices that. You know I’m not the jealous type, but you’re in a delicate state.” Oh, God, is he right? Is that what this is with Leo? Am I so fucked up that all a man has to do is flutter his eyes and bite his lip and I’m instantly fatally attracted? It can’t be. It can’t.

“I know I told you Leo was an old friend, but it’s been nice speaking to him. About life now and stuff from the past. We’re sort of starting up our old friendship.” I try out the truth. Adam deserves it. “I’m not delicate. This is a good sign that I’m able to hold my own with these guys and perhaps begin a friendship.”

Adam grunts. “Are any women there? What about that woman who hired you? Couldn’t you be friends with her?” He’s not being rude or mean, he’s self-conscious and I can’t be angry about it because he has every reason to be wary with how twisted I feel.

“She’s my boss and she eats too much hot sauce,” I say, smirking to the side. “I get it, Adam. I was friends with him in Bronze Bay. We have stuff in common. It’s helping, I think.”

“Helping how?” he says, and I don’t have to see his face to know the face he’s pulling. I hate that, too.

I shrug. “Someone who understands. He doesn’t look at me like everyone else looks at me.” Slippery slope. Slippery slope. “He’s just a friend. Like Juliet.”

“Like I look at you,” he says, correcting me. “That’s what you mean. He doesn’t look at you like I look at you.”

Swallowing a bite, I shake my head. “No. He is…an asshole. And says things that no one else will say to me for fear of hurting my feelings.”

Adam draws a long swallow out of his beer bottle. “You need me to be more of an asshole?”

“You don’t understand,” I say. His tone has changed, and with good reason. Adam is on the defensive. Friendships between women and men rarely are platonic. Even if they begin that way, one person will always end up developing feelings that are more than friendly. “Straight talk. He’s pragmatic.”

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