It wasn’t hard, acting the part with him. It was the first time she’d been on a job where the chemistry was real. There was a fire between them, and they both knew it. If she were permitted to have sex with him, it would be unreal. Too bad it wasn’t on the menu.
The server came and broke the tension. “What will you have tonight?” he asked Avery politely.
“I’ll take the salad, please.”
“Which one, madame?”
She looked intently at Mason. “The ménage à trois.”
She laid the tease on thick, hoping he’d bite. Usually she killed it with innuendo, but the man seemed to be immune. His imperviousness only dialed up her attraction. Funny, that. The less he drooled over her, the more she wanted him to.
The waiter shifted awkwardly, so Avery broke out in a sweet, sultry laugh. “Oh, I misread that.” She giggled, fingering the menu, and then read out in a perfect French accent, “I’ll have the mélange végétarienne aux trois fèves.”
Mason just chuckled, shook his head, and looked up to the server, ordering his steak dinner.
Maybe it was just Avery, but it was damn obvious that Mason was a special forces guy. Was she the only one seeing this? Mason just had that look about him. Thick, muscular, athletic, bronzed. Roughed-in stubble and tattoos. Staff—men and women—seemed to revere him. Avery certainly didn’t get that level of treatment. Except for from him.
Avery considered her options. She had to get Mason talking, though she doubted she would get anything out of him in that setting. She watched him reach out to rearrange the place setting. His hands were rough and weathered, like his demeanor. Where had he been? What had he seen? Avery found herself genuinely wanting to know, which helped.
If the play was going to work, he needed to come to her. She usually achieved this by driving the target wild with her charm and then pulling back when they got too close. The tease drove them to her. Then, like the witch in the woods, she trapped the target and squeezed them for the intelligence she needed. Could that work with him?
“What brings you to the Maldives?” he asked.
Realizing she was starting to overthink, she silently thanked him. “Winding down after a crazy year of work.” Which was the truth, partially. “And what brings you here, enjoying a birthday vacation all alone?” she asked flirtatiously.
“I just decided it was time to visit this paradise. I’ve been wanting to come here for years.”
Avery decided to steer the conversation back to his work. She knew a bit about it already, of course. He was just getting off a long tour in sub-Saharan Africa. His life was his work. And it was the same for Avery. Tonight, he was her job.
“How does an American find himself vacation in the Indian Ocean?” She kept her tone interested but not too interested.
“I decided to stop on my way home from a business trip,” he responded. “Where are you from?”
Avery kept her answers as general as possible but still real enough so she wouldn’t get tripped up in a lie. “Vermont.” That was true.
“And what does a lady from Vermont do for work?” he asked.
Avery drank more wine, watching him through the pause. She was growing warm from the wine and also from the heat in his gaze. He continued to watch her closely as she slowly raised the glass to her mouth, taking all the liquid in, elongating her neck.
“I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,” Avery teased, putting her glass down again, hoping a little fun would coax him out of his shell.
“Ah, well, that’s no fun.” He tried to keep his expression humorous, but he wasn’t biting. He winked at her and slammed back more wine, refilling their empty glasses. “I like to be the one asking questions.”
“Because you like to be in control?”
He smiled. “I just might.”
That was a problem. They couldn’t both be in control.
He grinned at her, looking hungrier than ever. She felt seen. She loved how his eyes squinted and curled up at the edges when he was really smiling. It was infectious. She caught herself responding in kind, moving along that feeling of… something between them.
“Tell me about what you do,” Avery pressed on in an extra flirtatious tone, pulling out all the stops to roll the conversation in the direction she wanted. By that time, the alcohol had taken hold of both of them. The dinner atmosphere was beautiful and romantic, and the food smelled amazing as it was cooked up in the back.
He studied Avery before answering carefully. “I work in human resources.” It was a horrible lie, and they both knew it. She almost expected him to break out in laughter, just like he had before.
“Managing paperclips?” she teased. “There’s the blue pile, and there’s the red pile?”
“Damn right.” He nodded. “Fuckers are always disorganized. Got to keep those bitches in line.”
“Oh that’s nice,” she said lightly, pretending he hadn’t made a hilarious joke.
Obviously, he’d been trained well. Deflection at all times and lies when forced. SEALs had to protect themselves, and they were trained to keep their identities hidden.
Avery wasn’t interested in hearing anything else they both knew to be false. So she went in with her next tactic: she talked about something he could relate to. She’d eventually get it out of him, and she wasn’t too fussed yet, since they had the whole night for drunken shenanigans and confessions.
“My firm needed me to secure a business deal in Mumbai,” she responded, which, oddly, was not a lie. “I’m here to unwind after a hellacious negotiation.”
The whole experience had been brutal. The fucking diplomat was corrupt, and she outed him with a little Avery magic. But after every successful job, she left behind a bit of her soul. Times like those made her wish she had a desk job. Then, just when she’d been ready to jump on the plane back to Washington, she’d gotten slammed with a last-minute case in the Maldives.
Mason swirled his wine and studied her as she continued.
“I always find people in human resources so helpful,” she lied. “Though it must be a conflictual job. Always putting out fires…”
He exhaled slowly, and she thought she’d hit a nerve. “Human resources hasn’t been so easy lately,” he said. “Every job has its ups and downs.”
Bingo.
She salivated. He was telling the truth, and Avery wondered if he was closer to spilling his guts than she thought. People made unexpected confessions. Therein lied the test. What would he say about his job? The operation in Mali? To keep it real, her boss had left her in the dark. She did her best work that way.
All she knew was high-level intel and that her job was to test his loyalty. He was probably getting his security clearance renewed. Every once in a while, the Navy did spot-checks on its elite SOF operators, the ones who worked in the most sensitive areas. No one wanted someone breakable in the most secretive and influential division of the special forces. If she could break him, break his loyalty, she’d have the bragging rights of the century. It rarely happened, but it did.
Subtly pressing her breasts together and elongating her waist, her gaze on him grew intense. “Tell me about it.” She leaned in. “I know all about ups and downs.”
Whatever he was drinking, Mason had clearly reached a point where he was getting real with her. Avery was amazed at her ability to get men talking.
He leveled with her like she was an old friend. “I’ve been dealing with some problematic colleagues lately.” He let out a frustrated sigh.
She leaned in further, and the sweet evening air wafted through the restaurant as the staff opened the large bay windows overlooking the ocean. “Oh, I hate that. It’s so frustrating,” she added gently, encouragingly. “What type of problems?”
He put down his glass and grinned back at her, eyeing her up and down. His tone shifted and halted.
“But it’s my birthday. I don’t want to talk about work.”
She gritted her teeth together. “How do you deal with problem
atic colleagues?” she pressed.
He raised his eyebrow at her. “Same way that I’ll deal with you if you keep asking.” He shot her a look intended to be playful, but it came across as intense.
She couldn’t stifle a nervous giggle, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the salty ocean breeze shot up her spine.
He seemed satisfied that he’d spooked her. Mason had a laidback exterior. Calm. Relaxed. Almost like a surfing dude. But inside he was always assessing. Calculating. Thinking.
A twinkle shone in his eye. “You’re funny, you know that?” He refilled their glasses yet again, this time with a new bottle that the waiter had brought.
SEALs really know how to knock them back, Avery thought. She recognized the tipsy feeling rising in her chest, like at the beach. She couldn’t get obliterated. She knew that. But when Mason poured more in her glass, he looked at her differently than other men did. Like she was simply a friend enjoying a meal with him. She didn’t feel like just a piece of meat to him. He watched her carefully and considered every word she said. He seemed to really listen to her, and to really hear what she had to say.
The staff came around with their plates, and Avery made small talk, easing him away from touchy subjects. Mason carefully and skillfully steered the conversation away from his work and his life, revealing only the briefest, most generic snippets of himself.
Which didn’t matter one iota, because she was a dog with a bone.
At the end of the meal, the waitstaff tried to convince Mason into trying dessert, but being the ultra-fit guy he was, he denied himself the sugar.
After the staff left, he gave Avery a knowing look. “With the amount we are drinking tonight, I don’t think I need it.”
“But everyone needs birthday cake,” Avery blurted out. “Or at least a birthday treat.”
He grinned a little wider, darkly. “That’s what you’re here for.”
She felt red, hot patches flush on her cheeks. She couldn’t believe he had made her blush. He was just so damn sexy when he did that. Tempting her with something she couldn’t have.
“I’m joking,” he added with a sideways glance, dropping cash on the table. He led her out of the restaurant with his hand at the small of her back.
Avery considered her next play. She was working herself into a corner.
“Where should we go now? Whisky?” he thought out loud, holding her hand as they walked along the tropical boardwalk. Beautiful, leafy screw pines with interesting bumpy trunks lined the wooden boardwalk on one side, and blue ocean lined the other. Sunset had passed, leaving them under a romantic canopy of sparkling lights.
Already feeling more inebriated than not, Avery had the bright idea of closing the gap between them. The breeze fluttered his golden hair. She reached up absently and pushed it back. He smiled down at her as she touched him and brought her hand to his mouth, planting a kiss on the back of it.
The act was so sweet and caring that she nearly toppled over. Usually her targets acted like she was bought and paid for by that time. Why was he such a gentleman about it?
She leaned in until they were face to face. She pressed her hands up against his chest and he pulled her in, wrapping his strong arms around her.
He lowered his mouth to her neck and breathed against it. “Tequila?” He kissed her neck slowly. “Vodka?” He kissed lower, and again lower, toward her collarbone. “Tell me what you want next.” He tasted her neck, running his teeth lightly against her delicate skin.
He wanted her to choose. He wanted to know what she wanted. Avery felt a deep struggle. She was tempted to stop feeling like an agent, like a courtesan, and start feeling like a real person enjoying a real connection.
His lips grazed her neck up and down, and chills shot through her body. She was tall in heels, but he had to bend down to get there, big guy that he was.
As a woman, she knew exactly what she wanted: him. But she couldn’t give in to the feeling. She needed to complete her task. And she was on the job.
Despite everything she was and everything she’d ever done, she didn’t sleep with targets. She didn’t cross that line. She wasn’t actually a courtesan, and no one could pay her enough to give herself like that.
“Scotch?” His tongue shot out playfully as he kissed her neck again. “It’s my birthday—you have to drink with me.”
She let out her sultry laughter, buying herself time to consider. She needed to push forward, and getting him drunk wasn’t a bad idea.
But getting drunk herself might be. She needed to stay sharp. It wasn’t easy to think between his hot breath and soft kisses. She was on fire, and every time his mouth landed on her neck, she felt deep arousal, and a pang of electricity surged from her core. Temptation was quickly taking over.
Trying to ignore the arousal, she reminded herself that she needed him vulnerable, but comfortable enough to share. Her conscience questioned if she was just justifying something, and warned that she was experiencing a break from her rulebook. Would that lead to a break in her ethics?
“Take me to your leader,” she relented, surrendering herself to him.
She was screwed.
“That’s my girl.” He grabbed her hand and led her toward the Japanese bar Senses, which boasted the Maldives’ largest selection of sakes and Japanese whiskies.
And, damn, she loved sake.
5
Mason led Avery through the colorful South Ari Atoll East Market and along the long boardwalk to Senses, beautifully perched over the ocean water. Its rustic wooden exterior gave it the appearance of a traditional Japanese house.
Mason wanted to try it all with Avery: the beautiful restaurants and cafés, the diving, the nighttime bioluminescent snorkeling. Something inside him had switched during the day. With a woman like her on his arm, he was exhilarated and ready to enjoy life.
Her laughter and wit made him smile. When she let her facade down, they got on like a house on fire. And he wasn’t done getting to know her. He had so many questions.
Maybe the answers would settle the warning flags in his mind. He knew something was up, but he knew something was real, too. Which was which? Thankfully, the alcohol and the company were distracting his critical self.
Avery held his hand and tailed along the wooden walk over the water. When they reached Senses, the host asked if they’d prefer a table or bar top.
She grinned at him. “Table.”
From what he was learning of Avery, that answer likely had been born from a good deal of plotting. Mason was intrigued to see her next move.
The host sat them in a private enclave quiet enough for them to talk. He motioned for the bartender to bring two sakes.
“So, Avery. Tell me everything there is to know about you.”
She shook her head with a smile. “Such a long story. I have no idea where to begin.”
“Begin at birth. Always a good place to start.” He was pushing, curious to see what she’d say.
He’d felt a rising heat during dinner, that much was for sure, as he watched her sip and bite and taste the amazing things in front of her at the gourmet resto. But it was high time he really got to know her.
Avery pursed her lips and considered him for a moment. “I was born into a family of two loving parents and a brother,” she began. “I was a normal kid, but we moved around a lot.” Her tone and mannerisms told Mason that she had decided to be real. Thank god. He watched her become more vulnerable before his eyes. As she softened, her sky-blue eyes sparkled up at him.
“Why did you move around so much?”
“My father was in the military.” She exhaled.
“Interesting. What trade?”
“Marines,” she said. “Jacksonville.”
He didn’t miss the way she studied his reaction. Did she know he was military? He raised an eyebrow. “Very interesting.”
“I thought about joining as well for a while, when I got old enough.” Her voice was a little softer, but she averted her gaze, fingering
the red table top.
That was real. As real as it got. His chest pinched.
“My mom died too,” he replied quietly, amazed by his sudden confession.
She looked up, and longing crossed her face for the briefest moment. For what, Mason wasn’t sure.
Christ, the mood had changed. They needed some booze.
Piece by piece, Avery was revealing herself to him. If he wasn’t observant enough, he’d miss it. But he retained a keen interest in getting to know her and peeling back all the layers of the onion to get to her core.
The server brought two sakes, breaking Mason’s train of thought. After the server left and the brief silence ended, Avery cleared her throat and continued. “My dad died in service,” she offered quickly, her voice a touch higher than usual.
“An honor.” Mason replied. “But a tragedy.”
Avery nodded and sipped her sake. She’d stopped observing Mason as she’d done before, and he noticed the difference. A breeze came over their table from the open bay. The ocean was cool at night, betraying the hot sun that blistered all day long.
Avery continued, “The battle of Mogadishu.”
Mason understood completely. “Somalia. Wow, he must have died when you were young.”
“I was barely three,” she replied, and looked back up at him.
Mason had spent a lot of time in Africa. He knew how tough it could be. Old school Marines, too—that shit wasn’t easy.
“Do you remember him?” he asked.
She paused. “Yes and no. I remember the spirit of him. How he smelled. How he felt. His laugh. The lines by his eyes when he laughed, especially.”
She chuckled, and Mason saw her looking at his eyes. He had those same lines beside his eyes. Got them young. And it wasn’t from smiling, like their name suggested.
The pair connected for a long moment, and the energy between them was tangible. The heat from dinner crept back in, and he saw that familiar flush up her chest, neck, and cheeks. That flush spoke of a woman who knew what she wanted.
Avery shook her head, breaking it off, and returned to her drink. After a moment, she looked up and said, “How old were you?”
Eyes On Page 5
