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“Asshole. You could just have told me it was Adler’s birthday.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He nodded toward a blonde woman with a round belly, and he remembered Rand telling him she was pregnant back on Dahlgren. Adler sat in a big comfy chair, deep in conversation with a pretty Black woman at her right and Freya Lange on her left.
The birthday girl smiled brightly as they approached. “Rand, is this who I think it is?”
Chris offered his hand. “Lieutenant Chris Flyte. It’s nice to meet you in person, Dr. Adler.” He turned and met Lange’s gaze. “And Ms. Lange.”
Morgan shook his hand. “Morgan, please. I’m so glad to meet you.”
“Freya,” Lange said as she shook his hand.
He was then introduced around the group. The Black woman was Kaylea Espinosa, a diplomat currently home on leave from her assignment in Morocco. Her husband, Carlos Espinosa, was a former Green Beret who now served as his wife’s full-time personal security while she was abroad. Espinosa had served on the same team as Morgan’s and Freya’s husbands, Pax and Cal, who were the last people he was introduced to. As the hostess had said, they were all big men. Former Special Forces, now civilians, who worked for the military or in security.
There were over a dozen other guests in the small party, and instead of waiting for their server to return, Chris decided to visit the bar downstairs to get a drink before continuing with introductions. He’d just reached the bottom step when he glanced toward the hostess stand and his heart stuttered.
Dr. Diana Edwards.
No longer beaten, bloody, and terrified.
Her hair in her professional portrait had been pulled back in a bun, and in person, she’d worn a headscarf. Now he saw she had long, straight, glossy dark brown hair. Her cheeks and nose no longer bore the reddish hue from days in the desert sun, and her skin was now a luminous pale cream.
The woman before him didn’t really resemble her official photo, and she was a far cry from the woman he’d carried from the stairwell in Aqaba. No. This version of Diana Edwards was more breathtakingly beautiful than he’d imagined.
And he’d thought of her a lot in the weeks since he’d placed her on a gurney and watched medics load her into a helicopter for the first stage of her medivac transport to a US military hospital in Germany.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Can I help you up the stairs, Dr. Edwards?”
Diana turned at the sound of a deep male voice and jolted in shock. There he was, the object of all her inappropriate fantasies. In the flesh. More real than a celebrity. “What are…” Her voice trailed off. After her ridiculous thoughts regarding him earlier, she was at a loss for words. She didn’t even know his name.
He held out a hand. “I think it’s safe for me to formally introduce myself now. Lieutenant Chris Flyte.”
She took his hand, which enveloped hers, reminding her of the moment when he’d carried her from the stairwell and out into the night, and she’d felt safe for the first time in six weeks.
“This can’t be a coincidence. Do you know Morgan?” If so, Morgan had never mentioned it, which would be an odd omission.
“Just met her a few minutes ago for the first time. She knows one of the men on my team, who invited me to tag along.” His gaze ran down her injured leg, and he repeated, “Can I help you with the stairs?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “You’re determined to save me from stairs.” All at once, she realized what she’d said and slapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean—I—”
His smile was warm and handsome, something she’d wondered about in the weeks since he’d saved her. They’d only had about an hour together before the airlift arrived. And she’d spent weeks going over every minute of the exchange. So much of what had happened had been horrific. Thinking of him had been her mental escape.
“I’m not offended, and you didn’t mean it in that way. Don’t be hard on yourself.”
“If only it were that easy.”
Of course, for him, the situation was straightforward. She didn’t doubt he’d killed for his country. Probably several times. But she doubted he’d ever spent six weeks with the person he’d later had to kill.
He nodded in the direction of the bar. “C’mon. Let’s get you a drink…if you want a drink, that is.”
Something about his smile made her belly flutter, and she followed him to the bar, where he ordered a beer and she got a Moscow mule.
He picked up both his tall pint glass and her copper mug and nodded to an empty half-moon-shaped booth near the stairs. “Wanna sit and enjoy this first?”
She hesitated a moment, then gave a nod. “We can join the party later.”
They slipped into the booth, Diana taking the right side so she could prop up her leg on the curved seat. Chris slid toward the center so they sat side by side. It was cozy and quiet in the otherwise loud room.
