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She picked up her drink and finished it in a long gulp.
She set the glass down and resumed the tale. “The car hydroplaned and…he didn’t regain control in time to stop us from slamming into a tree. We were both pinned in the vehicle.”
She paused and took a deep breath, the first break in her calm façade. “I knew he was dying, and I couldn’t do anything to help him. My ankle”—she nodded toward the foot propped on the rounded booth seat—“was crushed. I was rescued about an hour later and was lucky to keep my foot.”
Chris wanted to take her hand, but her body language indicated his touch wouldn’t be welcome. Her hands cupped the sweating copper mug, squeezing tight.
Her tone shifted. Not upbeat so much as a sign she’d made it through the worst part of her story. “The injury kept me out of that CIA training class, so once I was back on my feet—literally—I approached Morgan and Freya about working for Friday Morning Valkyries. If it wasn’t for them and the job, I don’t know how I would have gotten up in the morning those months after Salim died.”
“Jordan was your first job with FMV?” he asked.
“Yes. I would only be useful to them if I could get legitimate work in the country, so when Gardner Holdings set up a grant with a university in Amman and wanted an American involved in the excavation, I jumped at it. Morgan and Freya had been training me prior to that, but once the job came in, my training went in to overdrive. Obviously, with my ankle, there were things I couldn’t do physically, but fieldwork wasn’t on that list.”
“What’s the deal with the name? Friday Morning Valkyries is a bit…odd.”
She smiled. Damn. Every time she did that, his heart stuttered a bit. Like he was a teenager trying to woo a pretty girl. Except this was no girl. She was Diana Prince, better known as Wonder Woman.
“Not surprisingly, I asked them the same thing. They told me they wanted something odd that didn’t give a hint as to what the organization does. If you change the ‘a’ to ‘e’ in Morgan, you get the word ‘Morgen’ in German, which means morning. Freya is a Norse goddess, and sometimes she’s Frigg, the goddess Friday is named for. And Valkyries…well, those are Norse women warriors who escort the dead to Valhalla. It was a nod to both the ‘Monuments Women’ idea and being protectors of the historical record in the form of art and artifacts.” She grinned. “Plus it made me feel badass that I could call myself a Valkyrie.”
He laughed at that. Thinking of her actions in the desert when she chose to remain a prisoner, and later when she escaped a terrorist compound all on her own, he said, “You are the most badass woman I’ve ever met. And I know a lot of incredible women in the military and out.”
She smiled. “Yes, but you’ve admitted you don’t know Morgan and Freya. They set the badass standard.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” This came from Morgan herself, who must have overheard the last bit as she approached their table.
Diana shifted as if to stand. “Morgan! Happy birthday! I’m sorry I didn’t go up—”
“Don’t stand! I’m sorry, I forgot the stairs would be difficult for you. I’m glad you stayed down here and have good company.” The woman winked, and Chris didn’t know if the gesture was intended for him or Diana.
“We’ll come up after we eat—” Diana said.
“Only if you feel up to it. No need to go to the effort for me. I’m just delighted to see you out.” She smiled at Chris. “Don’t let her attempt the stairs out of any kind of obligation.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise I’ll take good care of Dr. Edwards.”
Now Morgan grinned. “You always do.”
It was clear Morgan and Rand had conspired to bring him and Diana together. But why?
Had his entirely inappropriate attraction to the subject of the op been obvious to his OIC?
No. Rand had probably figured Chris would appreciate having a chance to talk to her after the failure of the first rescue attempt had gotten into his head.
The waiter arrived with their food, and Morgan instructed the man to add the tab to the bill for the party upstairs, overriding Chris’s protest.
“It’s my birthday. You have to do what I say.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Diana said.
Morgan waved off the objection. “Now, I came down to use the restroom, so I’ll leave you. Let us know if you need anything, and enjoy your dinner.” With that, Morgan disappeared down the hall next to the stairs.
Chris ordered a second round of drinks, and he and Diana both dug into sampling the small plates before them. Less than two hours ago, Chris had been getting ready for a night out with his new SEAL team, but now he found himself having an intimate dinner with Diana Edwards in something that felt very much like a date.
Still, he had to wonder if the feeling was merely wishful thinking.
Diana offered him a bite of dried fruit and cheese wrapped in prosciutto. She fed him the morsel, pausing to wipe at the honey that smeared on his bottom lip with her thumb. Instinctively, he licked the digit, catching sweet glaze and just brushing her skin.
He felt a rush of heat low in his belly as he took in her quickening breath. She smiled and pulled back her hand. Holding his gaze, she proceeded to lick her thumb in the same spot.
