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Mitch blinked.
Frowned.
What?
He turned his head, meeting Chief Petty Officer Gabriel Thorne’s impatient stare.
Damn.
“That’s Lt. Commander, dammit, sir,” Mitch shot back. “And what’s your problem?”
“I’ve been talking, but you’re not listening. I’ve gotta tell you, Irish, I’m not used to being ignored.”
Mitch’s lips twitched. Truer words were never spoken.
Shirtless, wearing buckskins and a feather behind his ear, Gabriel Thorne—call sign Romeo—was a man who thrived on attention. And he had plenty to thrive on. Mitch had served with the guy for six years off and on, and he’d never once seen him get shot down. Actually, Mitch wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Romeo make the first move. The guy was usually too busy fending off the women to need to.
“Since I don’t plan to go home with you tonight, I’m not worried about bruising your ego,” he told his friend, happy to gloss right over the temporary and mind-boggling fog of lust. Mitch wouldn’t let himself look toward the blonde again. Not until he’d had a chance to analyze what had happened and figure out how she’d managed to short-circuit his brain.
“My ego is Teflon,” Gabriel assured him, his black eyes dancing with amusement aimed at the both of them. Native American blood ran strong in Thorne, from the hint of blue in his close-cut hair to the gold of his skin and razor-sharp cheekbones. “Besides, it’s not just the ladies who pay close attention, my friend. I knock, the enemy listens.”
“Might have a little to do with the IED you’re aiming their way,” Mitch pointed out with a grin. A demolitions expert, Thorne could make a grenade dance around a corner, scurry down a hall or chase a man up a mountain. “But don’t let me rain all over your fantasy with my boring reality.”
“Bro, my reality is most guys’ fantasy.” Gabriel winked. “But then, so is yours. Navy SEAL, fast-tracking your way through the ranks with enough medals and commendations to cover a wall. And you’re not bad-looking, so you don’t scare away the ladies when they’re hitting on me. All in all, I’d say we’re a damned good team.”
“Yep,” Mitch agreed, draining his beer. Gabriel liked to say he kept Mitch around as a wingman because most guys couldn’t handle his success with the ladies.
Mitch knew better, but it didn’t bother him enough to correct his friend.
“So you wanna fill me in?”
“Not really.” Mitch didn’t have to ask what Gabriel meant. He’d known his little trip into the lusty fog wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“She came in with the brunette with the broken halo. They’re not connected with any of the team, so I figure Roz sent them. Either that or they’re enemy infiltrators, here to deliver food and steal our Halloween secrets.”
Impressed, Mitch grinned and shook his head. It was hard to be irritated with the guy’s uncanny insights when they were always delivered with a laugh.
“What? You don’t have her name? A detailed dossier on her likes and dislikes, contact information and bra size?”
“Hey, I’m in explosives, not intelligence.”
“Ahh,” Mitch said, drawing the word out.
In true Romeo fashion, the other man arched one brow and nodded. Challenge accepted.
“Five,” Gabriel said, referring to the number of minutes he guaranteed it’d take him to win the challenge.
“Bet,” Mitch confirmed, agreeing to their usual terms.
Five minutes was enough time to make sure he had control over his reactions—both north and south of his belt.
Gabriel stood, grabbed their empty beer bottles and sauntered across the room. He didn’t head for the blonde, though. Instead he lost himself in the crowd around the pool table.
Less than a minute later he was back with four beers, a slight frown and the brunette with the broken halo and a body made to tempt Satan.
“Mitch, this is Tessa. She was nice enough to bring our food since my hands are full.”
Mitch arched a brow. He’d had to resort to a lame excuse like that to get the woman over? Romeo was losing his touch.
Ignoring Mitch’s grin, Gabriel took the plate of egg rolls.
“These are great. But you’re too gorgeous to be with catering,” Gabriel said, leaning back on his heels and giving the angel an assessing look. “How’d you get roped into playing waitress?”
The brunette matched him look for look, then shrugged.
“Roz asked, so Livi and I delivered.”
Mitch glanced at his watch.
“Livi? Isn’t that Roz’s niece?”
Mitch almost rolled his eyes. Damned if the man didn’t belong in intelligence. Of course, the only way he’d be any good there was if the US needed to infiltrate a harem guarded by women on an all-female island. But that was beside the point.
“You’re wanting to meet Livi?” the brunette said slowly, giving Gabriel a long look before turning those assessing eyes on Mitch. He was pretty sure those baby blues garnered as much info on him in that single look as the Pentagon had in their last security check. The military had approved his clearance. He wasn’t so sure the angel would.
No big deal. It wasn’t like he needed a wingman—or in this case wingman and winged woman—to get the girl. Before Mitch could brush off the sultry angel, she turned and gave a low whistle, waving her friend over.
While she did, Gabriel lifted his wrist to show he was on minute three of five.
But Mitch wasn’t paying attention.
His focus was the Twinkie, who after a moment’s hesitation crossed the room to join them.
Mitch knew there were words being said.
He was sure he was missing out on the fun of watching Romeo strike out.
But the closer the blonde came, the deeper into that fog of lust Mitch fell.
Brown. Her eyes were the color of melted milk chocolate. Rich, warm and inviting. Up close her face was even more striking in its delicacy. Especially the contrast of those dark eyes and brows against her pale skin and golden hair.
Those rich, hypnotic eyes met his.
Mitch could see interest there. And heat. Oh, yeah. A smile played at the corner of his mouth. He recognized that heat.
He opened his mouth to introduce himself. Before he could, Romeo snapped his fingers.
“Olivia Kane.”
The blonde blinked, frowned and pulled her gaze away from Mitch to look at Gabriel.
“Yes?”
Mitch grimaced. He didn’t have to look at his watch to know it had been just under five minutes.
“I’m a big fan. I’d love to talk about your training programs. Excuse me just one second, though.” Gabriel glanced at Mitch and grinned. “Thirty-six bravo, and out.”
2 (#ulink_418fcf14-b66f-5763-98e0-ee816855033f)
“I’M MITCH DONOVAN. And you’re Olivia?”
Unable to find words, Livi simply nodded and nestled her hand into Mitch’s much warmer, much larger one.
It was like grabbing a live wire. His touch zapped a shaft of hot desire through her system with so much intensity, Livi wanted to lie down. On the nearest flat surface, preferably with him on top of her.
She could run a four-minute mile, lead an advanced interval-training class for fifty women while giving detailed verbal instructions, or handle herself in the kickboxing ring against a toothless bruiser named Bubba.
And she could do them all with a big smile, an average maximum heart rate of 120, and absolute faith her training meant that even if she got distracted by talking, muscle memory would get her through the workout.
But right now her smile was as shaky as her knees. Her heart was beating so fast and loud that she was light-headed, and her muscles were going into meltdown.
All it had taken was a single touch from Super Hottie.
Or...
Um, what had he said his name was?
Livi wet her lips, about to ask, when she realized she was still shaking his hand. No, it’d been so long now that she was just holding his hand.
Could she be a bigger dork?
Her cheeks warming, she let go and stepped back. It took all of her resolve, and the image of her mother’s glare, to keep Livi from turning heel and running out of the room. And she’d thought she’d overcome her shyness? Ha. Making a complete ass of herself with the sexiest man she’d met in forever pretty much burst that illusion.
Then she forced herself to stop. This was simply resistance. Maybe a dash of humiliation, but mostly resistance. Muscles weren’t built without it, she reminded herself. See it as a strength-training exercise.
Rallying to the self-lecture, Livi took a slow, subtle breath, pulling the air all the way down to her belly button. She let it calm her, soothe the edgy nerves. Another breath and she was able to pull on her meet-the-press persona, complete with toothy smile.
“Most people call me Livi,” she told him before inclining her head toward his friend, who appeared to be arguing with Tessa.
But... Men never argued with Tessa.
“I’m surprised he recognized me in this getup,” Livi said slowly, distracted by the other two. “Actually, I’m surprised he recognized me at all. That doesn’t happen very often.”
“Romeo has a special knack,” Super Hottie said with a friendly shrug. “I keep telling him he’d be a great spy, but his memory is pretty selective.”
“Romeo?” Tessa stopped whatever she was debating so fiercely to interrupt. She gave Super Hottie’s half-dressed friend an amused look then flicked her finger over the feather behind his ear. “And here I thought you were Tonto.”
“And here I thought angels were sweet,” the man called Romeo shot back.
Livi’s confused glance bounced between the two of them. Tessa seduced men. She didn’t argue with them. And the only guy Livi had ever seen go toe to toe with her usually charming friend had done so because he’d wanted to wear the feather boa in a dance number.
What was going on?
Frowning, she looked at Super Hottie askance. He gave a baffled shake of his head.
“So what do you do if you’re not a spy?” Livi asked Romeo, with a bright smile, trying to smooth over the social awkwardness. An odd change since she was usually the one causing it.
“I blow things up.” His smile coated in charm, he leaned back, draping one arm over the back of the chair. “Irish here does push-ups.”
Oh, the images.
Livi’s heart did a happy bounce just thinking of Super Hottie in a plank position, biceps and triceps bulging as he pressed. Up. Down. Up. Down.
Whew. She wet her lips and wished she had a glass of water. Iced, preferably.
As much to try to erase the tempting visual from her mind as to stop the conversation before it moved on, Livi waved her hand in the air.
“Hold up. Romeo? Irish? I have trouble believing your mother looked at your sweet baby faces and decided to give you those names.”
Romeo gave a snort that could have been taken as amusement if not for the quick flash of bitterness in his eyes.
Super Hottie flew to the rescue so fast Livi wondered if she had been imagining things.
“Romeo and Irish are call signs, nicknames, if you will. It’s a Navy thing, or rather a military thing.” Super Hottie offered a smile that rivaled his friend’s in charm. “I’d rather you just called me Mitch, though. And he’s Gabriel, if you were looking for something else to call him.”
“I’ve got a few other things in mind,” Tessa muttered.
Mitch. Livi was too busy rolling Super Hottie’s name around in her mind to do more than give her friend a quick elbow jab.
“So Gabriel blows things up,” Livi said, her eyes locked on Mitch’s bright blue ones. They were hypnotic. Seductively hypnotic. “What about you, Mitch? What do you do?”
Me, she wanted to suggest. I’d like you to do me.
But for once, her bone-deep shyness came to the rescue, keeping her mouth shut before she blurted that out.
“I’m a bit of master of everything. You name it, I’ve probably done it.”
“Is that so?” Livi murmured, her mind rapidly compiling a list of things he might have mastered. Since most of them involved him being naked, her smile turned naughty. “Tell me more.”
“Why don’t you name a few and we’ll compare notes.” Coming from any other guy, she’d consider that to be a pickup line. But Mitch looked as sincere as he did amused. He was so nonthreatening, he scared her.
Or maybe that was the desire pounding through her body.
She wet her lips, wondering how to find out.
Before she could come up with any ideas, Tessa’s words caught her attention.
“Livi can beat that. She is the push-up queen.”
