Her secretary pulled a face. Yes, well, even Agent Walker wasnt prepared for the latest measure.
Goodness, that sounds serious, she said mildly. It was difficult to make herself care. All the security measures in the world hadnt saved Stan. What is it? Guard dogs?
Seals.
Samantha blinked, envisioning a sleek, whiskered face and a bright circus ball. No, that couldnt possibly be right. Excuse me?
Some higher-up in DS has assigned a U.S. Navy SEAL to your security detail.
Oh. She flushed slightly. She must be more tired than she thought. Yes, of course. Theres a marine detachment at our embassy in Delmonico. And the Navy Seabees
This man is not a marine. Or part of a navy construction battalion. Hes a lieutenant in one of the most elite fighting teams in the service, and Walkers nose is seriously out of joint.
Now she understood. If Philip put her in mind of president of the Latin club, Agent Walker was more like the hall monitor. He wouldnt take kindly to having his competence or his authority challenged.
I see. And have they negotiated a reasonable division of labor? she asked, only half joking.
Philip smiled wryly. Im not sure Agent Walker is trained to negotiate. Hell continue to provide your routine security, and Lieutenant Evans will accompany you as a, ah, visible deterrent.
A visible deterrent? Her stomach dropped in dismay. How was she supposed to circulate, how could she encourage others to talk freely, how could she do her job, with a uniformed Navy SEAL lurking at her elbow?
I think perhaps Id better see him, she said.
Oh, you will, said Philip.
She arched her brows in question, and he smiled apologetically. Hes escorting you to lunch today.
This assignment was a bitch.
But the ambassador was a babe.
Marcus Evans stood, hot, itchy and at attention, as Samantha Barnes entered the silk-paneled meeting room. The ambassadors suite at the old Georgetown hotel included three such rooms, along with two offices, a formal dining area, a private study and four bedrooms. Hed scoped out the layout with the grudging cooperation of Security Agent Thomas T. Walker this morning.
The combination of his dress whites and the stuffy atmosphere of the Snobs R Us hotel should have been no sweat. But he was definitely feeling the heat.
Maybe it was because all that stiff, stuffed furniture, the baby grand piano and the silver bowls full of dead flower petals reminded him of his parents home in Conover Pointe.
Maybe it was because Security Agent Walker was glaring at him from the other side of the room like hed just taken a piss on the Oriental rug.
Or maybe it was because when Ambassador Barnes finally walked in, the temperature in the place shot up about twenty degrees.
Man, was she hot. Not young. There was nothing schoolgirl about those curves. And those were genuine laugh lines at the corners of her eyes.
But she was tall and stacked andwhoa, pretty mamaa redhead, too. And all of her was packaged in this neat, tight, short little suit, light gray and sort of boring, really, until you noticed the way it wrapped the body inside.
Which he did. Notice. Hell, he practically swallowed his tongue.
She smiled politely. Hello, LieutenantEvans, isnt it?
The voice matched the body. Deep. Fluid. Sexy. Enough to make a guy forget his own name.
But he answered, Yes, maam.
And youre a Navy SEAL.
He felt a pang of disappointment. Was she one of those? A SEAL groupie. Hed run into them before, but only in bars, not in embassies. Was that why hed got dinged for this assignment? Because Miss Ambassador here wanted to get herself some of the biggest, the baddest, the best the Navy had to offer?
Yes, maam, he said woodenly.
And what were you doing before this assignment? she asked.
Her big blue eyes were clear and direct. Up close, her concentrated interest hit him like a dose of pure oxygen.
Marcus wasnt sure what to say. The heroic battle of the Stoker s crew to save its ship had made headlines. Fortunately, his small part in the incident had not. At least, he didnt think it had. So he didnt know if the ambassador was digging for details to feed an adrenaline addiction or just making small talk.
Recon in the Gulf, he said.
She tilted her head. This must be something of a change for you, then.
Hell, yeah.
Yes, maam. Its a temporary assignment.
That was what his CO had said, looking almost as confused as Marcus felt. Just a temporary assignment, Commander Woods had promised. Three months, six months tops, while James Robinson recuperated at the naval hospital in Bethesda and the rest of the squad conducted training exercises at Little Creek.
Marcus had thought at first, resentfully, that his political appointment was the result of his old man pulling strings. But the commander had assured him it was nothing like that.
Well. Samantha Barnes pressed her full lips together on whatever it was she was about to say, and then parted them to smile. She had great teeth. I hope your time with us will pass quickly and pleasantly.
Okay. Was that quickly as in I cant wait till you go?
Or pleasantly as in, After lunch, lets get naked?
Marcus had no idea. But at least Ambassador Babe didnt grill him about his qualifications in front of the hard-eyed, tight-assed security agent.
Walker knew his job. Marcus had to give him that. And he performed it with a conscientious attention to detail that a SEAL had to notice and appreciate. As they left the suite, the agent checked out the hotel exit, checked out the limo driver, checked out the gray Lincoln Towncar. Ambassador Barnes got into the back and immediately buried her pretty nose in some papers. So any fantasies Marcus might have had about getting it on in the back of a limousine were pretty much relegated to prom night.
Walker sat in front, where he had full visibility and a better shot at anything that needed shooting. Marcus watched Pay attention, Evans, therell be a quiz as the security agent ordered a change in their route to the senators house and arranged a place to park and a time for pickup.
And then, with all the real work done, Walker turned the game over to Marcus.
Why dont you accompany the ambassador inside, Walker suggested, his tone smooth and his eyes hostile.
Obviously, he expected Marcus to fumble. But then, he didnt know who he was playing with.
Winners always wanted the ball. It was a concept drilled into Marcus since his first football season in seventh grade.
Thanks, he said. I will.
He got out of the car first and scanned the street as the driver handed the ambassador onto the curb. Even with his senses alert to possible signs of troublea half-open window, a line of parked cars, a bum resting in the shadow of a stairwellhe noticed her skirt ride up her thighs as she slid across the seat. Not a lot, but enough to get his blood pumping.
The game, he reminded himself. Focus.
He stepped back so she could go ahead of him up the shallow granite stairs. Nice rear action, too. Not that he was staring.
Walker was, though, the son of a bitch. Marcus shifted over on the steps so he blocked his view.
A foreign-looking maid admitted them and led the way back to a patio overlooking a private garden. Walker was clearly determined to demonstrate that Marcus didnt have the skills or the background for this job. But that was okay. He knew these surroundings. Hed grown up in a house a lot like this one.
Senators John Dobson and Dick Twitchell were waiting on the patio, posed under a rose trellis. Typical Mall rats, thought Marcus. His baby sister worked in the White House basement. He recognized the type. Even during the August recess, Washington was full of these office jocks, their waistlines maintained by visits to the congressional gym, their hairlines maintained by discreet stylists, their tans acquired on the golf course. On a ship, they would have been officers.
Or shark bait.
Marcus nodded politely as Ambassador Barnes introduced them. Dobsonit was his houseclearly wasnt expecting him. Neither man looked pleased. As they stepped forward to shake hands, Marcus saw the intimate round table behind them, set for three.
Well, hell. What was he supposed to do now? Eat in the kitchen with the maid? Or stand behind the ambassadors chair like a waiter or a damn footman?
Help came from an unexpected quarter.
Lieutenant Evans is one of the heroes of the USS Stoker, Samantha Barnes said, threading her arm through his to draw him forward. He stiffened with surprise. But her breast was soft against his arm and she smelled good, better than the roses. I was so pleased he could give me his escort today.
Okay, so she paid attention to the news. And either his part in the incident had received more media coverage than hed thought, or shed read some kind of dossier on him when hed joined her security detail.
Either way, her explanation impressed the two Senators. They all stood around making patriotic noises while the maid hastily reset the table for four. Marcus felt like a bear at the zoo. Or a teenager at one of his parents parties, forced into a rehash of Friday nights game.
It was better when they sat down. The government men pretty much concentrated on the ambassador and ignored him. Marcus took off his hat and set it on his knees. He wasnt going to wow anybody with his conversation. The best he could do was to keep his mouth shut and use the right fork.
It was hot, and his end of the table was out of the shade. The other men were in shirtsleeves. The ambassador slid out of her suit jacket, revealing white arms and pale cleavage showcased in some silky green top. Very hot. Marcus gulped his iced tea.
She kept talking as the maid cleared her full soup plate and replaced it with a cold lobster salad. Dobson and Twitchell paid close attention. That, or they were sneaking looks down the pretty green blouse.
More than geographically, we need Delmonico as a bridge between the Balkans and the rest of Europe.
Twitchell swallowed noisily. I dont like it. Any U.S. presence there is too damn close to that nutcase DeBruzkya in Rebelia.
Samantha leaned forward earnestly, giving Marcus an even better view of her breasts. On the contrary. Not only would a close bilateral relationship between Delmonico and the United States help isolate Rebelia, but the country is strategically positioned to give us direct access from the Adriatic Sea to military targets. Delmonico could serve our interests in Eastern Europe as a platform for both diplomatic initiatives and military action.
Twitchell stabbed a piece of lobster meat. We shouldnt be spending money and manpower propping up some two-bit former communist republic.
Samantha Barnes pressed her lips together and then said, very pleasantly, We have to demonstrate our willingness to stand by our commitments.
The senator shook his fork at her. Explain to me how sending American boys and girls into some foreign rat hole proves anything.
Marcus put his napkin beside his plate. Maybe some of us like to put our money where our mouth is.
The fork arrested in the air. What do you mean?
Under the table, the ambassador pressed her foot down hard on Marcuss toe. I believe the lieutenant means the willingness of American men and women to stand in defense of democratic values ought to prove the importance of a politically neutral, professional military. Was that it, Lieutenant?
Marcus grinned. Politically neutral, huh? Yeah.
Excellent point, said Dobson. Is anyone ready for dessert?
Samantha slid the limos privacy glass closed. Agent Walker in front would be annoyed, but it couldnt be helped. She had issues with the newest member of her security team, and she wouldnt embarrass him, or herself, by addressing them in front of an audience.
We need to talk, she said.
Lieutenant Evans sat beside her, his long-fingered hands lightly balancing his hat on his knees, looking good enough to be on a navy recruiting poster. For the past year, she had closed herself off from everything but work, her feelings dulled, her senses deadened. But the lieutenant breached her safe, soft, stifling cocoon without even trying. The angles of his knees, the sheer size of his body, even the smell of him, hot male and uniform starch, encroached on her space.
Yes, maam, he said politely.
She almost sighed. Did he have to be so gorgeous?
And so young. Practically young enough to be herNo, not her son, she decided in relief, studying the power of his chest and arms, the maturity in his eyes. But young and fit and healthy enough to make her feel old and tired.
What you said today to Senator Twitchell She hesitated.
He was the blowhard, right?
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from agreeing with him. It was inappropriate. In future, I would prefer that you not express your opinions about the deployment of U.S. troops in Europe. You have no understanding of the intricacies involved.
He stiffened on the broad bench seat, but his tone was perfectly even. With respect, maam, I may not know much about your job, but I do understand military service.
Of course he did.
Im not questioning your grasp of the military realities, Samantha said softly. Only your grasp of the political ones.
He regarded her for a moment, his blue eyes bright in his tanned face. Fair enough. He smiled. The impact knocked the air from her lungs. Anything else?
Samantha inhaled carefully. There is one more thing. When we were saying farewell, why did you get between me and Senator Dobson?
Marcus Evans shrugged. He was too close. I didnt like the way he was crowding you.
Embarrassment washed her cheeks and flooded her stomach. She hadnt liked it, either. John Dobson had definitely taken advantage of the pretend intimacy of a political embrace to let his hands wander. But she hadnt thought anyone else had noticed. Much better, in her experience, for her not to notice, too.
It was a little awkward, she admitted. But its less awkward if we simply ignore it. You need to be something of an invisible partner at these events, Im afraid.
The lieutenant shook his head. No.
She felt her jaw drop. Excuse me?
You want me to keep my mouth shut, fine, he said. But Im supposed to be your bodyguard. And as long as Im guarding your body, Im not going to let some guy play grab ass with you.
He took her breath away. His blunt defense was completely unexpected. Totally unaccep
table. Utterly disarming.
She firmed her lips. Im a diplomat, Lieutenant. I cover my own ass. Your job is to protect me from more serious threats.
He didnt even bother to answer her.
Two
T he last person Marcus expected to see when he answered the door of his hotel room was Security Agent Thomas T. Walker.
Okay, the next-to-last person.
Dead last was Ambassador Babe, despite the fact that shed shown upnaked and willingin his dreams last night.
He wasnt even staying in her suite. The State Department had rented out the entire sixth floor of the hotel, and Marcus was quartered in a cramped and airless room by the service elevator and the ice machine. To guard access to the floor, Walker had told him.
Possible, Marcus thought. Or possibly Walker just wanted to stick him as far as he could get from the real work of protecting the ambassador.
Which was why he was so surprised when Walker banged on his door the next morning.
Marcus stood there, barefoot, in his skivvies, his hair sticking up from his head while the agent sneered.
Interrupt your workout? Walker drawled.
Actually, hed been napping. But he figured that would only piss off Walker more.
A lot of peopleeven his fellow SEALsassumed he must work out all the time. But he didnt have to. Hed always carried a lot of muscle. Good genes, he guessed, but since he was adopted it was only a guess.
He opened the door wider. You want to come in?
No. Walkers dismissive gaze flicked over him again. You need to change.
Marcus held on to his temper. Okay.
Arent you going to ask why? the agent prodded.
Marcus scooped up his shirt from the floor. Because the ambassadors going out and needs an escort?
Family Secrets: Books 5-8 Page 2
