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“No, first time,” Sierra said over her shoulder.
Mace had led her past the reception area. Nate and Cale opened the doors for them, and they took the steps down to the sidewalk. It was evening and the lamps along the street, reminding her of yellow, flickering candles, glowed through the falling dusk. Nate was in front, Cale in back. Sierra truly felt like she was being escorted, sensing that they were all fiercely protective of her. She saw men and women strolling around, mothers with children in hand, old women with heavy sacks in their hands wearing brown bowler hats. It felt like a modern-day city to her in most ways, but the architecture was distinctly ancient. Either Spanish or Incan, difficult to tell, given that the Spanish had built upon the many Incan temples they’d found throughout the city when they’d conquered it in the 1500’s.
Plazas de Armas was a big rectangle with major traffic around it. Sierra saw many older couples sitting on the dark-green-painted iron benches along the X pathways connecting the four corners of the plaza. Bright flowerbeds bloomed along the fringes of each sidewalk. It was a tranquil scene. When they came to a traffic-signaled cross walk, Mace shifted his hand from the small of her back and, instead, curved it around her waist, drawing her in closer to him.
“Crazy drivers,” he offered as she tilted her chin to look up into his face through this new and completely unexpected move of his.
He wasn’t wrong though, Sierra discovered. There were scooters and a lot of European makes of cars ripping by. They raced around the roads bordering the plaza like it was the Indy500. Once they’d crossed the road and were in the plaza proper, Mace released her. He still kept his hand hovering lightly on the small of her back, however. She could feel the three operators always alert and watchful. They led her diagonally down the sidewalk, crossed another street and then went through a small, Spanish-looking entrance. The place was nearly dark, and she slowed, unable to see.
“I have you,” Mace said, curving his arm around her waist once again. He took her forward, guiding her toward a set of concrete stairs that went up to a second floor.
His voice rippled through her, making her excruciatingly aware of him as a man. She felt him monitoring the amount of strength he used, not hauling her about, allowing her to dictate the distance between them. Mace Kilmer was a lot more sensitive and aware than she’d given him credit for. And, if Cale and Nate saw his possessive claiming of her, they said nothing, one out in front of them and the other behind.
Sierra heard the throaty Andean flute music combined with guitar playing as they entered the spacious restaurant. There were black leather booths on one side of the huge room, curved, hinting at privacy. She was glad themaître d’led them with a flourish to the one in the corner. Smiling to herself, she knew the operators had chosen it with good reason. It was near an exit point plus they could look out over the entire room, all its occupants, and see who was coming and going through the main archway entrance. Young Peruvian waiters, some copper-faced, others with golden flesh tones like her own, came and went dressed in starched white tuxedo shirts, black bow ties and black trousers. She saw very few other customers in the establishment.
“Are you sure this place is popular?” she asked Mace.
Nate chuckled. He slid into one side of the booth. “Peruvians and all South Americanos don’t start eating dinner until about nine p.m. through midnight.” He butt-shuffled over into one corner of the booth.
Mace halted and gestured for her to slide in at the other end. “Take the middle”, he told her. And then, he slid in next to her, about a foot separating them. Cale took the other end of the U-shaped booth. The room was chilly, but Sierra didn’t say anything. And Mace kept a comfortable distance from her. Even their elbows wouldn’t accidentally touch while eating. Sierra lamented the change but understood why. The incredible sense of protection from Mace cosseted her and, even these bare few feet away from him, could feel the heat rolling off his body, as if he were, indeed, sunlight.
“I couldn’t eat that late,” Sierra admitted to them. “Thanks for choosing 1800.” She saw the three of them nod and give her sage-like looks.
Mace ordered three bottles of local beer from the waiter and asked in Spanish for a glass of gas water.
“Gas water?” Sierra said, frowning over at him. “What’s that?”
“Carbonated water,” Mace told her. “You can’t trust water here. And if it’s got gas and bubbles in it, you know it’s good water. Never order water without gas in it.”
“Yeah,” Nate chuckled. “Diarrhea special.”
“We’re having dinner,” Mace reminded him archly, giving him a dark look. Toilet talk was off the table.
Nate gave a good-natured shrug. “Hey, Bro, I’m a medic. What do you expect? Do I want to treat… well… you know what, while we’re here for R and R?”
Grinning, Sierra took the pristine white linen napkin and spread it across her lap beneath the tablecloth. It was wonderful to be back in civilization once more. “I get the drift, Nate. No worries.” And she was sure they had all suffered dysentery from drinking bad water at some point. It was an operator’s karma. She watched the waiter hurry back with the cold beers on a tray. He served her gas water first, pouring it with a flourish into a tall glass that held a slice of lime in it. The look on the men’s faces, the longing for a tall, cold beer, was heartwarming to her. Without a word, they tipped them back, their Adam’s apples bobbing, as they chugged down the icy-cold brew. She delicately sipped her gas water.
And then another round of beer was ordered. She watched in amazement as they each drank down three beers a piece before their thirsts were finally sated. Amazed, Sierra understood how the heavy sweating, the loss of electrolytes for three months, would make these men crave that beer with a passion. And a passion it was. Each man looked relaxed, or as relaxed as any operator ever got, silly-assed grins on their faces, feeling good.
CHAPTER 9
There was asoft knock on Mace’s hotel room door. He’d just gotten out of a hot shower and was heading to bed. The team had gotten back from another glorious dinner an hour ago and the days were moving too swiftly for him. They always did. This was day three of their downtime and he wished it was not. Frowning, the towel wrapped around his waist, he looked through the peep hole. It was Sierra. The frown remaining on his face, he opened the door and stood there. She was still in her clothes from dinner.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing.” She gave him a nervous smile. “I was trying to coerce the guys to come and play some Scrabble with me. You know? Just something to do? I wasn’t sleepy.”
“What did Nate and Cale say?”
“They’d had too many beers,” she said, wrinkling her nose. Giving him a hopeful look, she asked, “Would you? I love the game and I’d really like to play with someone.”
He rubbed his damp-haired chest. “Where you setting it up?” Mace instantly saw her brighten. And damn, his heart swelled. And his lower body stirred.
“My room. I can lay it out on the desk in there.”
“Okay, give me ten minutes? I’ll come over and clean you out.”
She gave him a happy grin. “We’ll see about that!” and turned on her heel, walking down the hallway to the opened door of her room.
