Cosmo just stood there watching her. Was she really brainstorming a name change for the Teams?
She crossed the kitchen again and dried her hands on the towel hanging on the refrigerator door handle. “They look kind of like those flying pizzas in Star Trek—you know, ‘I am quite blind.’ Where Spock gets infected and they use radiation to—” She stopped herself, allowed herself to glance in his direction. “Not a Star Trek fan?”
Cosmo wasn’t sure what to say—she’d taken their conversation in so many different directions. And as she moved around the kitchen, her nightwear made for quite an eyeful. I am quite blind, indeed.
Her boxers bore images of characters from SpongeBob SquarePants, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. The gray tank wasn’t designed to be at all alluring, yet . . . Tonight, SpongeBob aside, he found her unbelievably attractive in every way.
When the hell had that happened?
As she waited for him to respond, she self-consciously closed the front of her robe, tying the belt at her waist. God, had he just been staring at her?
Was that what just happened here? Something had definitely freaked her out. Yet at the same time, she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.
Star Trek, renaming the Teams . . . Cos mentally worked his way back to where she’d started. Why seals?
“SEAL is an acronym,” he told her. Client, client, client. She was his client. Damn, it had been much easier when he’d seen her only as expensive and annoying arm candy. “Sea, air, land. We’re trained to operate in those three environments.”
“Well, that about covers it, doesn’t it?” she said. “I mean, except maybe for outer space—or does that count as air?”
Why wasn’t she going back upstairs? It was late; she had to work in the morning. “Hasn’t been much call for us to do ops in outer space,” he said.
“You know, ducks make more sense,” Jane pointed out. “Seals don’t exactly fly.”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to bring that to Admiral Crowley’s attention next time I see him.”
She laughed. “Good.”
And then there was silence. This time it was hers—and as she stood there, just looking at him, it was goddamn unnerving. What was she thinking? Cosmo honestly had no clue.
He cleared his throat. “Now that the security system is installed, I’ll just be down here in the kitchen, so if you need me—”
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
He didn’t let anything show on his face. He never did—or at least he was pretty sure he didn’t, but now he had to wonder because she quickly added, “I’m not asking you that. It’s none of my business, of course. I’m just . . . I’m guessing that’s probably another question you get a lot.”
“Yeah. It’s . . . Yeah.”
“Who asks it most?” she wondered, and he realized she was telling the truth. She hadn’t asked it because she wanted to know the answer. “The women or the men?”
“Women,” she guessed in unison with him as he answered. She laughed. “That’s amazing. What are they thinking?”
Cos shook his head. “I don’t know.” It was always kind of weird when women he met in a bar—clearly trying to pick him up—asked that. Apparently, men with kill notches on their belts were hugely attractive to some women.
“What do you tell them?” Jane asked, but this time didn’t wait for him to answer. “I would make up some huge number, like, ‘Yup, just made my five-hundredth bare-handed kill last week. With one-forty-three slice-and-dices and fifty-seven double pops to the head, I’m up to the big seven-oh-oh, so not only did they give me a brand-new watch, but I also had enough body count points to get me a washer and dryer. It’ll be delivered next week. Can’t wait.’ ”
Cosmo laughed. “Nice.”
She lowered her gaze with false modesty. “I’m a writer. It comes naturally. Feel free to use it.”
“Usually I just excuse myself and walk away.”
“Not into having sex with the ghoulishly, morbidly curious?”
He laughed again, but before he could answer, she added, “Don’t give me that ‘ridiculous question’ laugh. You know—admit it, you do know—that some guys wouldn’t care. Some guys—I’m not naming names: Robin—would gleefully use it to their advantage.”
“Do you ever get approached by men?” she continued, completely comfortable again. Maybe he’d simply imagined that temporary oddness. Maybe it was just inside of his own head. Maybe it was a reflection of his own freaked-out status, brought on by the fact that when he looked at her now, he liked what he saw. A lot. “Any macho types who follow you out into the parking lot to see just how tough the Navy SEAL really is?”
He shook his head. “You planning to write a story about a Navy SEAL?”
Jane smiled at him. Leaned back against the counter again. “I can’t help but notice how my life suddenly resembles a TV movie of the week log line,” she told him. “ ‘Hollywood screenwriter is thrown into a world of intrigue and danger when her latest project, the too-honest story of a beloved war hero’s hidden secret, sparks death threats.’ I figure I better start thinking about it, yeah.”
Cosmo couldn’t tell if she was serious.
“How’s your mom?” she asked. And meant it. Which brought a whole new source of weirdness into the room. Sometime between yesterday and today, they had become friends. At least she was treating him as if he were her friend.
“She’s getting tired of having two broken wrists,” he told her.
“I bet. How exactly did she . . . ?”
“New bifocals plus a storm that knocked some branches onto her deck. She tripped and fell—all the way down the stairs.”
“Oh, my God!” Jane said. “That’s awful!”
“Fortunately her neighbor was outside and saw it happen. Called 911.”
“My God,” Jane said again, honestly upset. “Can you imagine if the neighbor hadn’t been there?”
Yes, he could. And he did. Far too often. “I was out of the country when it happened.”
“Oh, Cos, that must’ve sucked.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“I can’t imagine that,” she said. “Going overseas the way you do, to some outrageously dangerous place and . . . PJ told me he was getting a taste of what it was like to be on the other end of that. His girlfriend’s going to Iraq. He’s pretty stressed out.”
“Yeah,” Cosmo agreed. “That’s got to be tough.”
“What exactly does your girlfriend do?” Jane asked.
Her question was a fishing expedition, asked so casually that he could practically see the beach chairs and cooler of beer.
Or was it? Before he could answer with “I already told you, I’m not seeing anyone right now—remember? My shift ends at 3:17. Wanna meet up in your room, get naked and—” she continued: “She works for Troubleshooters, right?”
“Uh . . .” Cosmo said. “Where did you hear that?”
“I was talking to Murph this afternoon, and I don’t know, I guess it was when PJ showed up and mentioned his girlfriend going to Iraq . . . We started talking about Jimmy Nash and Tess Bailey, who are hot and heavy, and how difficult—or not—that must be. You know, working together 24/7. In contrast to Beth and PJ spending the next eight months apart. But Murphy mentioned he and Angelina were having dinner with Tom and his wife sometime next week and that you were going to be there along with someone named Sophia, who also works for Troubleshooters, and . . . Murph thought maybe you and Sophia were seeing each other.”
Shit, Murph, send out press releases, why don’t you? And what was Kelly doing, calling Murphy like that? She was supposed to wait for Cosmo’s go-ahead. Didn’t she realize that even if she called it a “friendly get-together,” speculation would start?
Jane cleared her throat. “I’m sorry if what I did at the press conference made things difficult for you, and wow, I can see from your face that you are not happy that we were talking about this.”
“She’s not my girlfri
end,” Cosmo finally ground out. “She’s just . . . Kelly—Tom’s wife—was trying to make it easier for me to meet her and . . . Shit. Does everyone know?”
“Oh,” Jane said. “I don’t—”
“Forget it,” he said. This was so freaking perfect. Suddenly he was in seventh grade again. What a nightmare. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to—”
“What? Say shit?” she asked. “You’re kidding, right? This counts as at least a shit. You like her, you ask for a little help getting together, and suddenly she’s referred to as your girlfriend? No, no, Cosmo, believe me, that’s a solid shit. If I were her, and I heard that, I’d think you were responsible for the rumors and—”
“Thanks so much for the comforting words.”
“PJ says she’s really pretty,” Jane said. “All blond and Barbie-perfect.”
“Yeah,” Cos said. “She is. She’s very . . . pretty.” This was freaking surreal. In truth, he could barely remember what Sophia looked like.
“Murph says she’s a kick-ass operative, that he worked with her in Kazbekistan, after that earthquake they had there? What woman in her right mind would willingly go to Kazbekistan? I mean, talk about courageous. She must be awesome.”
Whoa. K-stan? Really? “Yeah,” Cosmo said again. “She must be. I didn’t, um . . . I didn’t know any of that about her. I just . . . I don’t know her at all. I was hoping to, you know, get to know her. I had one conversation with her, where I spilled my coffee on myself. I’m sure she thinks I’m an idiot, and after she hears . . .” He shook his head. “Talk about fated not to happen.”
“What? Come on. That’s defeatist bullshit thinking. It ain’t over till it’s over.” Jane sat up on the kitchen counter. “Why not just ask her to dinner?”
How could they be having this conversation? How could this have happened? Cosmo just shook his head.
Jane didn’t let it go. “Why not?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a sparkling conversationalist.”
“What you need to do is let yourself get really pissed off at her,” Jane suggested. “Scream at her for a while, and then call a truce. That’s what you did with me—and now you’re holding your own just fine. Sure, there can still be a time delay when I ask you a question that you don’t particularly want to answer, but now that I’m used to it . . .” She shrugged.
“It’s not that I don’t want to answer,” he countered. “I just . . .” He shook his head.
“Why in God’s name would you want to have a first date with an audience?” Jane asked. “You’re either crazy or really brave.”
Cosmo briefly closed his eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be a date,” he said. “It was supposed to be, I don’t know, mutual friends spending the evening . . . and it was a stupid idea, whatever it was supposed to be, because I’ll just sit there and say nothing.”
“Are you a virgin?” Jane asked.
He looked at her.
“Well, the way you’re all complainy, it almost sounds like you’ve never even had a conversation with a woman before, let alone—”
“I’m not.” What the fuck was complainy?
“I mean, unless you are a virgin, words must have been exchanged,” she pointed out. “Obviously—”
“This is different,” he said.
She leaned forward. “How?”
“This woman is . . .” He searched for the words. “She’s . . .”
“Hot?” Jane suggested.
“No. Well, yes, but . . .”
“Sassy?”
He stared at her.
“Sorry, I was just reading a really ridiculous women’s magazine, and they had this quiz, ‘Are you sassy?’ and if you don’t want me to finish your sentences, snap to it.” She actually snapped her fingers at him.
“Nice,” Cosmo said. “She’s nice, all right?”
“Oh, ew. Nice?” Jane looked as if she’d stepped in the kitty litter with bare feet. “Like, nun nice, or librarian nice, or—”
Jesus God. “Smart nice,” he said. “Educated, intelligent, and . . . sweet nice.”
As opposed to the not-so-nice women he usually dated—women who chased after him because they thought he looked dangerous, women who liked playing with fire. Desperate women who weren’t exactly looking for someone to talk to.
Truth was, Cos usually didn’t meet nice women. At least not until they were married to his friends. His problem was that he didn’t often hang out where nice women hung out.
Of course, even if he did, even if he joined the library book group or the local gardening club, the nice women wouldn’t approach him. And he wouldn’t know how to approach them. Nice weather we’re having . . . Christ. Just kill him now.
“Sweet nice, as in not the type to do it in the closet in the back room during halftime at the sports bar?” Jane asked him.
Cosmo laughed. “Yes.”
“Well, okay. At least we got that straightened out, although you might want to rethink getting with someone that suffocatingly nice, because you can have both nice and the sports bar back room closet thing—it’s a male myth that it’s got to be all or nothing,” Jane told him. “Ginger versus Mary Ann. Why do you feel like you have to choose between the two?”
“Do you ever sleep?” he asked her.
“The virgin or the whore,” Jane said. “You asked me yesterday why I dress the way I dress. You know, when I go out in public. The fact is, the peeps want to party with the whore. Playing the virgin doesn’t get me very far in my line of work.” She mocked a TV news anchor’s voice. “ ‘And today, in Beverly Hills, Jane Chadwick drew absolutely no attention to herself when, while wearing a drab business suit, she got seated in the very rear of the Grill on the Alley because no one recognized her.’ ”
Cosmo threw her question right back at her. “Why do you feel like you have to choose between the two?”
She stared for a moment, but then smiled at him. “Wow, you are a smart man, aren’t you? Looks do deceive.” She slid down off the counter. “I’ve decided that I’m going to help you with your Sophia problem.”
What? “No,” Cos said. “There’s no problem—”
“Are you dating her?”
He didn’t bother to answer.
“Then there’s a problem, Romeo. And that was a Romeo, not a Rambo, so don’t, like, get all huffy on me.”
“Look, Jane . . .”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. It’s late and . . . Oh, my God, did I tell you we found our Jack?” She did a victory lap around the kitchen.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you very much. Some unknown named Adam Wyndham. He’s a friend of Jules Cassidy and he’s amazing. My movie’s going to kick ass!” She danced her way toward the kitchen door. “I have to go write that ass-biting, double-boning, pain in the balls D-Day battle dream sequence. We’re filming it next week. It’s the only time we’ve got access to both the beach and a helicopter, so we need to do it then. Which means I really need to write it. Try not to be too loud down here, Cosmo. I mean, come on. Do you ever shut up?” She stuck her head back in the door. “Hey, I was thinking—if you want, you’re welcome to bring your mom onto the movie set. I mean, if you think she’d be interested. It might at least help her pass the time until the casts come off.”
“Thank you,” Cosmo said. “That’s . . .” She was already gone. He could hear her dashing up the stairs. “. . . nice of you,” he finished even though she couldn’t hear him.
It was unbelievably nice.
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CHAPTER
TEN
“E xcuse me, Patty,” Decker called.
But Patty pretended not to notice that the security team leader from Troubleshooters Incorporated was bearing down on her. This was so not the right time for a conversation, let alone one with a man who clearly was on the verge of asking her for help or a fa
vor.
Because she’d just spotted Robin. He’d finally come into the studio, barely in enough time to get into costume for his upcoming scene. If she hurried, she could catch him in the makeup chair.
Troubleshooters 09 Hot Target Page 18
