sure. Jake saw the General’s face grow even harder, if that was possible. Sweat dribbled down the sides of his ribs. He felt under fire, in a combat situation.
“We’ve looked at your record. You’ve had women assigned to your team on several patrols, Lieutenant. They were there as a linguist, an 18 Delta medic and a forensics and FBI specialist. Were these not direct action missions?”
Jake felt trapped. He did remember women being assigned. But that was different. “That wasn’t as a principal shooter, ma’am.”
“The missions these women were assigned to illustrate each woman was shot at and all successfully returned fire, Lieutenant. The selection of ‘principal’ members is beyond your pay grade. Are you telling me that you are refusing this op?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good to hear. I want your word, Lieutenant, that you will not treat Captain Boland in a prejudicial manner. She’s equally qualified as you.”
Stunned, Jake jerked a look down at the open file on his lap. He hadn’t had time to read anything about Morgan’s sniper background. He didn’t even know she had one. He knew she’d gotten a major in civil engineering and a minor in linguistics back at Annapolis in Pashto, but that was all. Working his mouth, sweat forming on his upper lip, he muttered, “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”
“That’s not good enough, Lieutenant. And you damn well know it.”
Stevenson’s growling voice stunned him into silence. Jake sat stiffly, holding her glare. She was a General. He was a lowly Lieutenant. Refusing this op would end his career. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t have a problem with Captain Boland being my sniper partner.”
“You sure?” She drilled him with an intent look.
Jake felt as if she had X-ray vision, staring holes through him. His career was far more important to him than arguing women were weak to this Army General. The SEALs were his family; the men, his brothers. Maybe not by birth, but they’d spilled blood among one another on too many occasions. Mouth pursed, he gave her a crisp nod. “It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I’ll make it work.”
Her nostrils flared as she sat up. “By God, you’d better, Lieutenant Ramsey. Or I’ll have your career. This op is not about you. It’s got a lot of other ramifications you aren’t even aware of. And if other SEAL platoons can work well with Captain Boland, so can you. Dismissed.”
Morgan had just given the waiter her menu choices when Jake Ramsey, in civilian clothes, entered the restaurant. It was 2200, or ten at night. She groaned. She’d hoped not to meet him until 0900 tomorrow morning.
As Morgan sat at the table for two in the corner of the busy hotel restaurant, she couldn’t stop her heart from expanding with old, warm feelings. Jake was dressed in a light blue short-sleeve shirt, tan chinos and loafers. Even twenty feet away, she could tell he was a SEAL. He carried himself with a well-earned confidence, his shoulders back, his gaze always roving slowly around an area, checking it out. His black hair gleamed, indicating he’d probably just taken a shower. There was no question, he was a damned good-looking man. He was in control, powerful and intense.
Morgan’s mouth quirked as his gaze moved her way. And then his eyes locked on hers. Surprise flared in his gray eyes for a split second, and then that hard, unreadable SEAL game face dropped into place.
She smiled to herself as she picked up the delicate china coffee cup in both hands and took a sip. Now what was he going to do? Pretend he didn’t see her and get the maître d’ to seat him on the other side of the room so he wouldn’t have to talk to her? Or would he bite the bullet and invite himself to her table? Morgan wished Jake would disappear to the other side of the room. But when the maître d’ approached, he pointed toward her table.
Friggin’ great. She was barely awake, her lack of sleep so deep she was barely functioning mentally. Never mind emotionally. She forced herself to try to be more alert.
“Mind if I join you?” Jake asked.
Morgan said, “Sit down.”
The maître d’ left the menu with him after he’d taken a chair and sat down. Morgan stared across the table at Jake. Hell, if they didn’t share such an awful history between them, she’d find herself drawn to the SEAL officer. His square face had been recently shaved, and that dangerous feeling that was always around him appealed powerfully to her.
“You look tired,” Jake observed, trying to find some safe ground. Though he did notice, too, how beautiful Morgan was. She had on a pale lilac pantsuit and cream-colored tee with a dark purple scarf around her shoulders. Jake had forgotten just how she could take his breath away. Her hair lay like a gleaming red cloak about her proud shoulders. Morgan never wore makeup, but she never had to. Her green eyes were large and well spaced with thick red lashes to frame them. But he saw shadows beneath those eyes, and whether he wanted to or not, he became concerned for her.
“I just got hauled off an op in the Hindu Kush to make this meeting,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m up for our mission.”
His nerves nettled as he forced himself to look down at the menu. Jake still wanted her, dammit. His heart did, too, because a ribbon of happiness soared through him. He scowled, focused on the menu. “I was making conversation,” he told her, lifting his chin and meeting her flat stare.
Morgan had the most arresting eyes he’d ever encountered. Jake could feel himself being lured into their depths, the forest-green mixed with glimmers of willow-green color. He remembered hotly that as they made love, there would be gold highlights dappled throughout them. Shifting uncomfortably, Jake felt himself responding to her, much as he wanted to remain aloof.
“You just came off an op? Where?”
“Same area where we met December, two years ago.” It had changed Morgan’s life in ways Jake would never find out about. In one way, it broke her heart and she felt guilty. In another, there was an unbridgeable chasm between them.
Ouch. Damn. Jake scowled, decided on something simple and straightforward to eat. The waiter came over and took his order for a hamburger and fries. He folded his hands, sensing how tense she was. Morgan’s gaze was wary. And that delicious mouth he’d tasted and kissed was pursed. “Did you hitch a C-5 out of Bagram?”
“Yes.” Morgan tried not to be swayed by Jake, but dammit, the toughest thing to do was ignore his blatant maleness. He was a man’s man, a SEAL, and they had male charisma to burn. The expression in his gray eyes was neutral. She saw him struggling to try to find some purchase with her that wasn’t argumentative or threatening. Truth be known, she was too tired to pick a fight with him. “I’m whipped,” she admitted, sliding her long fingers around the china cup.
“Flights halfway around the world will do that to you,” Jake agreed, keeping the edge out of his tone. “In fact, you don’t look quite awake.”
Snorting, Morgan sipped her coffee. “Understatement. I feel beat-up. As soon as I left my meeting with General Houston, I came over here and crashed and burned.” She looked at the watch on her wrist. “I’ve slept since 1000 and it’s 2200.”
“You need another twenty-four hours of downtime to get your body and mind back on the same page,” Jake agreed. In fact, because Morgan was exhausted, her normal defenses weren’t in place. And for that, he breathed a sigh of relief. Anything he’d ever heard about red-haired women applied to Morgan ten
