Chapter Six
“Ahh, this is the way to travel.” US Navy SEAL Quentin Lovett yawned and stretched, burrowing into the contoured seat of the Stealth Operations Specialists corporate jet. “I’ve never felt more rested. This beats commercial flights, hands down.” He chuckled. “I don’t even want to compare it to the back of a C-130.”
“Don’t get used to it, Loverboy.” Dutton Calloway, Duff to his friends, sat with his eyes closed, his head tipped back across the aisle from Quentin.
“Maybe you should switch branches of service.” Becca Smith blinked her eyes open and cocked her eyebrows at Quentin in the seat beside her.
“What? And give up the glamorous life of a navy SEAL?” Quentin lifted Becca’s hand and brushed her knuckles with a light kiss. “Although, if I got to work with a pretty little thing like you, I might consider giving up the swamps and the honor of getting mud beneath my fingernails.”
She frowned and pulled her hand from his. “Forget it, frogman. You’re not getting into my pants. My mamma told me about guys like you.”
He chuckled. “That you would be lucky to have a man as handsome and talented as I am?”
“No, that navy guys have a woman in every port and shove off when things get a little too permanent for them.”
Duff, his six-foot-three-inch SEAL teammate, laughed. “She’s got your number, Loverboy.”
Quentin grinned. “We’re just getting warmed up.”
Becca gave Quentin a glance that should have chilled him to the bone, but he didn’t give up easily.
“Before she knows it, she’ll be madly in love with me.” Quentin winked at Becca.
She rolled her eyes, leaned forward and asked Duff, “Is he really that full of himself, or is he pulling my leg?”
Duff cracked open an eyelid. “I suspect he’s a bit of both.”
Natalie Layne rested a hand on Duff’s. “I’m so glad you’re not a ladies’ man.”
Duff’s other eyelid rose, exposing his green eyes. “Who said I wasn’t?”
Quentin snorted. “Please. Leave the art of seduction to the pro.”
Sawyer Houston laughed out loud behind Quentin. “Says the man striking out with the beautiful lady.”
Becca raised her hand above the chair. “Thanks for the compliment.”
“Not that I think she’s more beautiful than you,” Sawyer added for the benefit of Jenna Broyles, the woman riding in the plane beside him.
“I’m not opposed to my man looking, as long as he’s not sampling,” Jenna said.
Duff closed his fingers around Natalie’s hand. “Sawyer has a point, Quentin. I’ve got a gorgeous babe. What have you got?”
Quentin loved the banter between him and his teammates. He loved a challenge even more, and Becca Smith was a challenge. The way he saw it, he had until the plane landed in Mississippi to win her over and secure a date with the incredibly beautiful and extremely uptight lady, who intrigued him to the point of obsession.
She was wound up so tight, Quentin considered it his duty and responsibility to help her loosen up. He’d dedicated the flight from Cancun to Mississippi to winning over the pretty secret agent’s interest. In the past few hours, he’d failed to get more than a “drop dead” glare out of her. His time was quickly running out. He had yet to succeed in his mission.
“Sawyer, I’m surprised your father agreed to go along with the faked death scenario,” Becca commented.
“You’re surprised?” Sawyer huffed out a breath. “I was floored. The man never had time for anything other than politics. I swear he didn’t know my name half the time. My father had a cot set up in his office. He spent so many late nights working, it made more sense for him to sleep there.”
“Must have been hard for you and your mother,” Jenna commented.
“Nah. We were used to it. You don’t miss what you never had.”
Quentin could relate. His father had left him and his mother when Quentin was five. His mother, destitute and with a young mouth to feed, was forced to move in with her parents on their Iowa farm. His grandfather had been his male role model, for which he was forever grateful. He’d raised him to appreciate the fruits of a hard day’s labor. Nothing in this world was worth anything if it was easy to attain.
Thus his interest in Becca. The woman who’d shown up in Cancun, Mexico, on what should have been Quentin’s relaxing vacation, and helped them keep Sawyer alive when an assassin was hell-bent on ending his life.
“Speaking of assassins,” Quentin said aloud.
“No one was speaking of assassins until you just brought it up,” Benjamin “Montana” Raines said and yawned. “Could ya shut up for the next thirty minutes until we land? I haven’t gotten my full three-hours’ sleep in on the flight.”
“You wouldn’t have needed it, if you hadn’t stayed up until four in the morning,” Sawyer grumbled. “And then dragged yourself in, waking everyone up.”
“Can I help that the last night of
