Hero - The Assignment: A Military Romance (21 page)

“I'm going to a party,” I blurted it out before thinking it through. Shit. Now I had to follow through. “Do you need to change or can you go out like that?”

“I'm ready when you are,” Haze said, crossing his arms over his chest.

A part of me wished he meant it in some other way than as my bodyguard. I wished he meant that he was ready to talk, ready to confess that he wanted me.

“I'm getting dressed,” I said, turning on my heel and marching back to my room before I could screw this up even more.

Behind
my closed bedroom door, I allowed myself a moment, burying my face in my hands as I tried to sort out everything I was feeling. I was pleased by the fact that I had control over Haze. I couldn't intimidate or embarrass him. I couldn't even get a response out of him with my usual flirtatious methods, but I could force him to wake up and go out in the middle of the night.

And then there was his body, the clear physical response to whatever he'd been dreaming about. A not-so-small part of me wished I could know who'd been starring in that dream, but I was equally reluctant to know. If I didn't know, then I could pretend it was me, even though I knew it probably wasn't. Haze saw me as vapid and useless, childish and spoiled. I was just a job, an irritating assignment he had to put up with because he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. I'd never been, and never would be, anything more to him.

“He's just the help,” I reminded myself.

It didn't matter that my body sparked to life when he entered a room. That my thoughts circled around him, mixed with those vivid but long-ago memories. It didn't matter that I couldn't just leave him alone.

“He's an accessory,” I told myself as I went into my closet.

The sparkling baby doll dress was easy to find. Ricky loved to toy with the shining fringe and dangerous short hem. I knew the cutesy design drove men wild. Every time I wore it, I got all the attention. Add a pout and confessions of being naughty, and every man in the room was at my mercy. Another plus? Paris hated it.

I stepped back without taking it off the hanger. The dress gave me a certain power, but it wasn't good enough. Haze would take one look at it and all of his opinions about me being a spoiled child would be solidified. I'd be dismissed by him, not desired. And I wanted to be desired.

I dug far in the back of my closet for something I'd bought a few months back but had never worn. At the time, I hadn't even been sure why I'd bought it. The simple black sheath clung to my body, the skirt pulling tight down my thighs to my knees. A longer hem than I normally wore, but the loose cowl neckline plunged almost to my navel. The back also swooped low, making wearing a bra impossible. Sophisticated, yet sexy.

I slipped on the dress and slicked my bouncing red curls back into simple gold clips held low behind my ears. The stark style was new, but I loved the sleek, no-nonsense effect. I kept it going with minimal make-up instead of the smoky eye look I usually went for. A pair of simple silver bracelets and four-inch plain black heels finished things off.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked years older than usual, which meant I actually looked like an adult. I wasn't some hot rich girl. I looked like a powerful, important woman, the sort of woman who didn't need to giggle and flirt to entice men, but rather the sort of woman who had men falling over themselves to prove their worth.

No one would dismiss me tonight.

If Haze hadn't been dreaming about me, he would now.

Chapter 20

Haze

Leighton
walked out her bedroom door and I was dumbstruck. Instead of the glitzy party girl ensemble I expected to see, she wore a simple black dress. Simple in the same way a knife's blade appeared flat before it sliced through your skin. So, yeah, not really simple at all when it was on her. The hem fell almost to her knees, but only accentuated the slight curve of her hips and her slim waist. The dress swooped down to the small of her back and the neckline dropped almost to her bellybutton, clear evidence that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Fuck.

This was like nothing I'd ever seen on her before. It wasn't cute and ditzy, dropping her IQ by ten points simply by wearing it. Her dress revealed only enough to weaken me, and distract me with thoughts of what it hid. My stomach churned when I realized that I wouldn't be the only one distracted by her.

Damn, I wanted her. I wanted to slip those gold clips from her hair and loose those gorgeous curls. My hands ached to pull the dress from her shoulders and see if my dream had done her justice.

“You'll have to drive,” Leighton said. “I gave the chauffeur the night off.”

The look she threw me over her shoulder as she started down the stairs told me that she knew exactly what that dress was doing to me.

Tonight was going to suck.

I followed her out of the house and to my car where she paused by the passenger side door. She didn't even bat an eyelash as I pulled open the door and offered her a hand. She slipped into the seat and the glimpse of her creamy thighs was like a kick in the gut.

I breathed in the cool night air as I rounded the car and swore at myself. What the hell was this all about? Had she picked that dress to screw with my head, or had I completely misjudged the little party girl and this was the real Leighton?

She punched the party’s address into the car's navigation and cranked up the stereo before I'd finished settling in. As we headed for the gates, she dabbed a floral spiced perfume on her wrists, and I felt my mouth go dry.

“Anything you can tell me about the venue?” I asked, grateful for the excuse to talk business.

I concentrated on asking about the details of what I needed to know: entrances, exits, possible guest list, staffing, and atmosphere. Instead of answering, however, Leighton plugged in her phone charger and ignored me.

We drove in silence and I did my best not to look at her. Not to see the stretch of her arms as she toyed with her phone and picked new songs on the stereo. I refused to give in to a swell of pride as we stopped at a light and a group of men in the crosswalk admired my ride and my companion.

None of that was for me, I reminded myself. I was a shadow. I'd always been a shadow. In fact, I used to depend on that feeling when I'd been overseas. I'd prided myself on disappearing into a mission, but now Leighton made me want to be noticed.

By her.

I pressed harder on the accelerator, and we shot up the canyon road to the aerial line of lights I knew were advertising the party. I just wanted to get there and pretend I didn't care about how amazing Leighton looked tonight.

Except when we got there, my previous fears were justified.
I
wasn't the only one affected by her appearance. In a sea of sparkles, glitter, and garish color, she stood out. Next to her elegant silhouette, the other girls looked silly and childish.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my Leighton.” A tall, slouching playboy with shaggy sandy-colored hair sidled up to her. Judging by the possessive look in his light blue eyes, I thought it was safe to assume this was the infamous Ricky, Leighton's asshole boyfriend who'd left her in a pool to drown four years ago instead of diving in to save her.

I tried not to scowl as he wrapped an arm around her waist. He smiled and kissed her cheek, clearly pleased with claiming what every man in the room wanted.

Every man including me.

“I've been waiting and wanting you all night.” He had his mouth close to her ear, but I could still hear him.

Leighton snapped her head back and smirked. “Somehow I doubt you've been waiting, and you've never wanted for anything in your life.”

“As if you don't love giving it to me,” Ricky said.

My stomach knotted as my fingers curled into a fist, and I fought the urge to punch him in his smug, smirking face. The trouble I'd get into for it, though, wouldn't be worth it. It wasn't like this was some stranger talking to her like that. He was her boyfriend, after all. As long as he wasn't hurting her, it wasn't any of my business.

Still I couldn't unclench my fist as I watched him check out some cheap-looking blonde who passed by. How did Leighton put up with him? Why?

“This must be your new accessory.” Ricky turned his attention to me. “Bulky. Not at all your style.”

“My thoughts exactly. Can you believe my grandfather?” Her tone was dismissive.

They walked away, and I let the distance grow. The LA mansion was one large expanse of marble floor with an open-concept kitchen, wall-sized windows opening onto a long balcony, and sight lines that meant I didn't have to hear every irritating word of their conversation while still keeping an eye on her. It was nearly impossible to find a shadow against the wall, but I settled for a less-bright expanse between two modern art murals and took up my station, grateful for the excuse to stand still.

The switchback drive up the canyon road had unsettled me more than I cared to admit. More than once I'd felt the tipping onslaught of vertigo. Thankfully, it had held off, and we'd arrived without incident. Now, I blinked against the flashing laser lights that sliced across the white lofted ceiling. Dance music pumped from speakers in every corner of the mansion, and I felt the bass in my chest, at the base of my skull. It was enough to almost make me wish I had actually lost my hearing.

I slipped the motion sickness bracelets on my wrists and breathed slowly as I tugged the sleeves of my jacket over them. I didn't care about covering my tattoos, but the long sleeves were definitely good for covering the bracelets.

Except the disorienting lights, insistent music, and churning crowd didn't make me uncomfortable because of the vertigo, so the bracelets couldn't help me. The problem was, I was out of my element. I knew it was warped that an exploding battlefield was more inviting than an LA party, but my body was screaming for escape in a way it never had from combat.

Leighton, on the other hand, was cutting through the party like a shark in the water. Drinks appeared when she held out her hand, and all she had to do was smile at Ricky for him to inhale deeply on a joint and exhale it to her in a kiss.

The air was heavy with the smells of alcohol and marijuana smoke, and I knew other temptations were there too, hidden. I had to remind myself that I wasn't a cop. It wasn't my job to police the crowd, and it wasn't my job to keep her from drinking or doing whatever drugs she wanted to do. When she tossed away her inhibitions and control, I was to make sure she was still safe. That was my job.

“Hello, delicious,” a voice purred.

I turned and found Paris stalking toward me. Her hot pink dress was slit so high on one leg each step revealed yellow tiger-striped panties fringed in matching pink lace. She noticed my observation and posed with one knee jutting out so the slit remained open. I pointedly looked away.

“I didn't think I'd see you here,” she said.

“Ms. Machus is over there.” I nodded without looking at her.

“And she'll be fine without you staring at her all night. No reason you can't have a little fun yourself.” Paris dragged her hand down my chest. “Don't you need to do a perimeter check or something? I could come provide back up.”

I looked over her head and saw Ricky tugging Leighton away from a pair of handsome twins. I almost wanted to smirk, but it wasn't my place to have an opinion about her relationships.

“If you like it a bit rough, I could use some lessons in self defense,” Paris continued, inching even closer. “How about you attack me and I'll fight back.”

She trailed her hand down to my belt and tugged. That was enough. I gripped her wrist and twisted her hand away from my body. Paris gasped and then gave me an open-mouthed smile. I dropped her wrist and stepped away.

“No fair.” She pouted. “Why should Leighton get to have all the fun?”

“I thought Leighton was your friend?” I asked.

“Sure, but that doesn't mean she can keep me from anything I want.” Paris followed my eye line to where Ricky was standing with one arm flung over Leighton's shoulders. “Including him.” She gave me a look that practically screamed predator. “I bet you're better than he is though.”

“You slept with your friend's boyfriend.” I made it a statement instead of a question.

Paris laughed and rolled her eyes. “That's not really how things work in our circle. Ricky wanted it, begged for it, so why not? Just a little fun between friends.”

“I'm not sure Leighton would agree,” I said tightly.

“Well, they have an open relationship, so she's welcome to scratch any itches she might get.” Paris gave me a sideways look. “Everyone knows Ricky does.”

I could feel my jaw clench and hated myself for it. I tried to keep my face blank and wasn't sure I succeeded.

“Ricky wants her to join us,” Paris said. “I suppose that means you'll have to watch. It is your job, right? I certainly won't mind.”

I felt sick. I turned and walked away from Paris, but the movement had been too quick and the vertigo grabbed hold. My head spun, and I froze in front of a statue. If I fell now, I'd tip over the million-dollar hunk of marble and make an enormous scene. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped I appeared to be admiring the art. Even as the room tilted and spun, I forced my body to stay still. After what seemed like hours, the vertigo passed and I relaxed.