On the other end of the line, Mike heard Liam’s sigh. “Yeah, but she forgives you. She knew you were watching the shop so her big brother could walk her down the aisle.”
Mike smiled, remembering Liam’s loud, Irish family in south Boston. Whenever he’d spent time with Liam’s mom and six sisters, he felt envy for all that he’d missed from his own childhood. Liam was one lucky guy.
“As if an act of war could keep you from giving Stacey away,” Mike said finally.
“I can’t believe my baby sister is old enough to be married.”
“Seems like only last week when you were running surveillance on her boyfriends.”
“Yeah, well…we’re getting old, pal. Time we were settling down.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like your matchmaking sisters are working to snare you into the marriage trap.” Mike chuckled. “Better hop a plane and escape while you still can.”
“Actually, my sister Caitlin had hoped you’d be at the wedding. She’d invited the perfect woman for you. A kindergarten teacher.”
Mike groaned. “Thank Caitlin for me, but my tastes run to less-than-perfect women.”
“Well, you know Cait. She loves a challenge.”
“Hmm.” After a short pause, Mike scrolled down to a picture of Liam, his arm around a stunning brunette. “Looks like Cait found someone for you, though. Who is she?”
“She’s the kindergarten teacher. I couldn’t disappoint my sister, now, could I, ol’ buddy?”
“Right, ol’ buddy.” Mike laughed.
“Say, why don’t you and Jake fly down for the weekend. We’ll go fishing off the Cape. Mom would love to have you, and Uncle Davy is here with a jug of his homemade wine.”
“That’s a winning offer, but Jake’s in a Miami hospital. He was stung by a jellyfish while wading along a moonlit beach. A beauty queen on each arm, to hear him tell it. He had a nasty reaction to whatever it was the doctors gave him. He won’t be back for another week.”
Liam swore. “Sure you don’t want me back at the office? With Clete and Russell in Saudi, you’re all alone.”
“Nothing’s on the docket till next week. You’ll owe me two tickets on the Yankees’ first-base line when you finally drag your ugly carcass back to the office.”
“You got ’em. In the meantime, I’ll just have to play nice with my sisters’ girlfriends, all of whom are hot and sexy, I might add.”
At the sound of the soft rap at the door, Mike looked up to see his secretary, Bailey, stick her head inside the door. She scowled and waved a file folder at him in a hurry-up gesture.
“Gotta go, Liam. I’ll call you later.” He hung up and turned toward Bailey.
“You reminded me of your dad just now. Must have been the scowl.”
She wrinkled her pug nose and grinned. “What a lovely compliment, Mike. Dad was six foot five, almost three hundred pounds of muscle, and wore size eighteen combat boots.” She feigned a glare. “I’m a size four, in case you haven’t noticed.”
He grinned. “You know what I mean. The same red hair. Same freckles. Same sass.”
She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled as she moved to the side of his desk and gazed at the framed picture of the Fifth Special Forces TALON-team that hung on the wall beside the bookcase. Six rugged men, dressed in combat tiger stripes, their faces darkened with camouflage grease, stood at the edge of the Colombian jungle, staring somberly into the camera. The picture was taken just six weeks before Bailey’s father, Master Sergeant Stewart Thomas was killed in action. From that time on, the five remaining members of TALON-team vowed to take care of Stu’s wife and daughter as their own family.
“Since I’ve come to work with all of you here at TALON-6,” Bailey said, her voice tight, “I’ve come to realize how lucky Dad was to have you guys in his life.”
“Your dad would be real proud of you, Bailey.”
She nodded, her eyes bright. “Oh, before I forget,” she said, her manner suddenly all-business. She put the file folder in front of Mike on the desk. “You have a client waiting. She refused to fill out the standard office questionnaire. Said it may not be necessary because you might not want to take her case.”
Mike glanced up, curious. “Funny thing to say. Did she say why?”
Bailey shook her head. “No. But I’d see her if I were you. She’s drop-dead gorgeous with legs a mile long. And she’s not wearing a wedding band.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Not you, too. I don’t need any help with my love life, thank you.”
Bailey grinned. “Only trying to help. With Clete and Russell out of the country, Liam at Stacey’s wedding and Jake holed up in a Florida hospital, you’ve got smooth sailing.”
He growled. “Out of here. Oh, by the way, does Miss America have a name?”
“Yeah. Her name is on the folder in front of your nose. Brianna Kent,” she said as she stepped out the door.
Brianna Kent? Mike swiveled in his chair and opened the folder. He reached into his T-shirt pocket for a cigarette, then remembered he’d given up the filthy habit over two years ago.
Bailey must have heard the name wrong. He almost clicked on the office intercom for her to recheck the name, but he knew deep down in his gut that this was his Brianna. He’d always had a sixth sense where she was concerned.
His phone buzzed and he pressed the lever. He heard Bailey’s voice ask, “Mike, shall I send her in?”
Refuse. Say you’re not taking new clients. Mike took a deep breath and braced himself.
Well, if she could face him, then he’d face her, too. “Send her in.”
Mike rose, shrugged into his jacket and raked his hair back by the time the door swung open and Brianna Kent stepped into his office.
Chapter Two
Tall, willowy, and dressed in a summery, watery-blue silk dress, Brianna looked as he remembered her: warm, sexy and completely off-limits.
“Hello, Michael.”
Her smoky contralto was nearly his undoing. For one brief, overwhelming moment, he didn’t move. All he wanted was to look at her and absorb every changed detail about her. He knew how her skin felt beneath him. Knew the intimate places she’d loved him to touch, and her sounds of pleasure when he did.
“Brianna.” His voice was huskier than he would have liked. Not trusting his voice now, he pointed to one of the leather chairs that faced his desk. She nodded, then eased gracefully into the seat, the motion sending her shoulder-length, silvery-blond hair shimmering in the afternoon light from the window.
His fingers twitched
