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“No offense,” the man teases, “but if you’re looking for someone to play debutant, you need to pick someone else.”
Knot dismisses the suggestion with a wave. “Actually, that’s what makes Chelsea the perfect choice. She’s a chameleon. I can throw her into any situation, and she’ll adapt faster than any of you.”
Well, I’ll be damned. Just as surprised as I am, Chelsea gapes at her boss. It looks like I’m not the only one who sees her, after all.
“Now that we’ve got that settled, this mission will go down in Spain in four weeks, which gives us ample time to prepare. Our legal team is working to set up a shell corporation through which this operation will be funded. Sambi is searching for possible hosting sites and will send plans and pictures by the end of the day. Our work begins tomorrow. With the Admiral’s permission, you SEALs are dismissed except for Bennett. You’ve got work to do. The rest of you be back here at eleven hundred tomorrow.”
The room clears of Navy men, and then Knot kicks out all his people but Chelsea and Birdie. “The three of you start today.”
Birdie stands and gathers her things. Chelsea looks a little sick. Besides the blow to my ego, I look forward to learning more about the woman. Or getting under her skin, anyway.
Chelsea and I follow Birdie, who seems to have a plan about where she wants to set up shop. We end up in her office in the executive area and settle in behind her closed door. The room is perfectly posh for a company of this caliber. Sizeable executive desk with bookshelves behind and inviting guest chairs. To the right of her desk is a fancy sitting area with club chairs and a leather sofa. Little touches remind me of Birdie’s house, which is warm and welcoming but missing the dick-shaped planters found in her home.
Birdie kicks off her shoes and drops into the farthest chair, tucking her feet beneath her. Chelsea and I sit on opposite sides of the sofa.
“Alright. Let’s get started. We need to come up with bulletproof backstories and motives for working with this asshat. I’ll oversee all support to corroborate your covers, but I’m not adept at making them up. That’ll be on you.”
Birdie readies a digital tablet for taking notes. It appears she expects us to spin this on the fly.
“The simplest cover would be for us to be married,” I suggest.
Chelsea’s neck nearly snaps with how fast she turns to glare at me. Ignoring her, I explain, “It makes the most sense for a couple hosting a dinner party to be husband and wife, right?”
At Chelsea’s squeak, Birdie sets down her tablet. “Um…” She waggles her pointer finger between us. “With this chemistry, I couldn’t pass you off as colleagues.”
I shrug, unconcerned. “We did just meet. Maybe Chelsea and I should take an hour or two and get to know one another first. That would help, right?”
“I…I don’t_” Chelsea stutters before being cut off.
“We’ll go get some lunch and come back,” I announce and stand.
Birdie tucks her equipment away in agreement. “Okay. I’ll grab a bite as well. See you in two hours.”
Chelsea
Jackson grins playfully and holds out his hand to me. Touching Jackson again would be a colossal mistake, so I push off the cushion and step around him toward the door. “Right. We’ll…um…we’ll be back.”
I scramble from Birdie’s office despite knowing there’s no escaping this. Jackson strolls along behind me, catching up at the door to the stairs.
“We’ll have to take your car since my chopper just left,” he quips.
The door is halfway open when I freeze. The last place I want to be is trapped in a car with Jackson. That means meeting up off campus isn’t an option. “We’ll go to the cafeteria. That way, we’re not wasting time driving.”
Jackson doesn’t argue, so I proceed down the stairs. The lunchtime rush is still going when we walk in. I’m relieved, but Jackson shakes his head. “This is no good. Too many distractions.”
“Well, one way to get to know me is to observe me around my peers.”
Unfortunately, Jackson’s rumbling laugh is so sexy. Right up to the point where he calls me out. “Nice try. Ours is a top-secret mission. We need privacy.”
A smart-ass reply stings my tongue, but I hold it in so Jackson won’t have reason to correct me again. “Fine. Get some food, and we’ll take it outside.”
Jackson sticks with me through the serving line, unbothered by the curious looks and wagging eyebrows from the contractors. Trays loaded, we get drinks, and I lead him outside toward the trailhead picnic tables. You can do this, Chels. It’s only two hours.
I chew every bite thoroughly to delay our collaboration as long as possible. If this were a normal conversation, I’d have no problem. I’m an expert at keeping the other person as the main topic. There’s no way Jackson will let me get away with that. He proves it with his first question.
“Why do you hate me?”
I sputter into my drink. What was in my mouth splatters all over my shirt and dribbles down my chin. Needless to say, I’m shocked by the question. Jackson passes me a stack of napkins, trying hard not to laugh. I snatch the napkins from his hand, cleaning up while I cough. When I recover, I answer, “We’ve been down this road before. I don’t even know you.”