Page 66 of Wrecked
The room was upscale nice. Two queen beds with fluffy white covers, a desk, and an office chair plus an upholstered chair in the corner. He hoped the food service still ran after nine in the evening.
Standing just inside the door with the bathroom at her back, she announced, “I’m showering. If you don’t want to wait to order, I’ll take a pizza, a pale ale, and fries, preferably with cheese.”
He must have made a look.
“What?” She had that annoyed frown hanging on her face again.
“Nothing. I’ll order.”
A tendril of hair escaped her ponytail and fell along her neck, refusing to remain in order.
He liked the little rogue.
She kept staring at him then shook her head at herself, muttering something, and backed into the bathroom. The door snapped shut.
By the time she finished showering, he’d ordered food, including his steak with a baked potato, and had paced the room a few times. She still didn’t come out.
The hair dryer hummed into action. Can’t let her hair just dry naturally, huh? How would she function under duress when everything was not in her control?
He’d learned in boot camp that no plan survives contact with an enemy. It was more about being able to adjust on the run.
He’d just signed off on the food bill and moved the rolling table over between the beds so they could sit on each side.
When the bathroom door opened, he looked up, intending to ask her if she got every hair perfectly styled for eating in a hotel room, but he couldn’t speak.
She wore a white hotel robe that reached her knees, leaving those sexy legs exposed all the way to her pink-and-white toenails. They had sparkles.
He’d missed that this morning, but she’d given him little chance to take a long look from head to toe. Her hair flowed to her shoulders in a silky gold waterfall. She wore no makeup and damn if she wasn’t prettier without it.
Just her smooth skin, soft gray eyes, and rose-colored lips.
After the extended pause, she looked down at herself. “What’s wrong?”
Not a freaking thing.
Always trying to make sure she was perfect.
“Nothing,” he said as if he hadn’t been dumbstruck by her. “Come eat.”
She dropped the shoulder bag on the first bed she came to and slid in between the table and the bed. She started lifting silver covers and making hungry noises.
He swept another look at her. A pretty woman when he could get her to smile, but some man had drained her happiness.
He let her dive into her pizza and waited for her shoulders to relax before seeing how she’d answer his questions. “You have some impressive skills.” Always start with a positive.
She slowed, watching him as she chewed. Those eyes hid all kinds of secrets.
He’d never tell Angel, but he’d like to have that one’s gift as a silver-tongued devil. “You took out that guard at the mansion with moves I hadn’t expected. Where did you train?”
“With some people who perform similar work as your team. Who is your team? US military Special Forces?” She put that question to him and attacked her fries.
“We come from different divisions of the military,” he allowed. “Remember what I told you earlier about success depending upon us being able to function as a team?”
She kept eating and nodded.
“We can’t save anyone if we’re going to act like two dogs thrown into a pit and expected to make friends to keep from killing each other.”
After drinking some of her beer, she put it down and turned the glass. “That’s unfair. I’ve been considerate to you, and you’ve been fair with me. I think we’re doing okay.”
