What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He should be thanking God that he'd had such a lucky escape. Instead, all he could think about was his next opportunity to kiss her. He shook his head as though he were the one covered in sweat. He had to get his head together before he wound up in a shitload of trouble. Losing his rank was a real possibility. He knew Colonel Brown wouldn't hesitate to can his career on the spot if he screwed the pooch on this one. She'd made it clear that this was a priority assignment, and she didn't tolerate fuckups. He rubbed his hands over his closely cropped hair, trying to gather his thoughts. After contemplating for a while, he picked up the bottle of water Lelia had left on the table. He raised it to his lips and was convinced that her taste lingered on the cold plastic. He strolled slowly over to the exit door, still shaking his head. Only one thing was certain at this point: this had the potential to be a cluster fuck of mammoth proportions.
But damned if he knew how to contain it.
* * *
Lelia looked up, irritated by the incessant giggling from the other side of the room. She'd appropriated a small desk to process the endless paperwork her position required, and was hoping to be finished soon. Not having an office was inconvenient. Constant interruptions were common, but at least the door usually slowed them down a bit. Now she heard every bit of noise that came into the barracks, and that was a lot. She pinched the bridge of her nose and studied the young soldiers clustered together surrounding something she couldn't see. Resigned to the fact that they weren't going to break up their annoying little gathering of their own accord, Lelia stood up to investigate. When they noticed her approach, they all assumed the at-ease position. They were gathered around a lovely floral arrangement. Patrick, and she had no doubt that he'd sent them, was clever enough to avoid something cliché like roses. Instead, he'd sent an arrangement of gladiolas and lilies that was simply lovely. The heady fragrance wafted to her nose, and she suspected she'd always associate him with that aroma.
Lelia held out her hand to take the flowers. Her soldiers watched expectantly, waiting for her to read the card. “Dismissed, soldiers,” she said in a controlled voice.
“But, ma'am,” one dared protest.
Lelia gave her a pointed look. “Dismissed,” she said again, in an even-softer tone that she knew they'd immediately obey.
After the soldiers scattered, Lelia read the card.
Happy birthday
, it read. Lelia almost gasped. How had he known her birthday? She'd nearly forgotten it herself. She rarely celebrated it; it seemed to only remind her of her orphan status. Then she remembered the paperwork she'd submitted when they arrived. All her vital information was on it, and no one would question a gunnery sergeant's access to it. She sniffed the fragrant blooms again. It was a lovely gesture and confirmed what she'd already suspected. But the situation was impossible. She glanced down at her watch. The flowers drew her gaze again, and something inside her softened. She'd never received flowers before, and these were gorgeous. Something about them reminded her of the softness in his eyes when he looked at her. Raising the blooms to her nose, she inhaled their delicious scent, again delighted to have received something so utterly beautiful.
She was looking around her office for a container when the laughter outside the barracks reached her ears again. Damn! There was no way she could have her soldiers laughing at her. There was really no telling what they thought was going on between her and the gunnery sergeant. She stiffened her resolve. No matter what, she couldn't have any type relationship with Patrick, especially not under the close scrutiny of her soldiers. It was time to do something about the gunnery sergeant.
* * *
Patrick looked up when his door slammed open, expecting to see Staff Sergeant Stark, who was the only person with the temerity to barge into his office so abruptly. He was more than a bit surprised when Lelia stormed in holding the flowers he'd ordered for her the previous day.
“Gunnery Sergeant, do you have a moment?”
Patrick stood and gestured for her to enter. For the first time in his career, he was conscious of the tiny confines of his standard, government-issue office. Of course, the Grand Canyon would be too small if he was required to keep away from her. “Anything to get away from paperwork.” He gestured toward his hopelessly overflowing desk. “What can I help you with? Please have a seat.” What the hell was she doing here? He gritted his teeth in frustration. The last thing he needed at the moment was to be behind a closed door with everything he'd ever dreamed of in a woman on two of the most gorgeous legs he'd ever seen. The joke was on him that he'd gone bat-shit crazy for a woman who just about had
Do Not Touch
stamped on her ass. He watched her as she begin to pace in the narrow space between his desk and the door. Clearly, she was agitated about something. He leaned a hip against his battered metal desk and watched her restless movements, waiting until she decided to explain her presence.
He was briefly distracted watching her chest rise and fall as she took deep breaths, then wiped her hands over her thighs. He was so focused on her lips, when she finally spoke it took a moment for him to realize that he'd totally missed what she said.
“I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?”
“How could you do this?” she repeated, waving the flowers in his face.
“Excuse me?” He'd never had a woman get pissed at him for sending her flowers before. It was definitely a unique experience. “What is this, assault with a deadly tulip?”
“They're not tulips; they're lilies. You should know. You bought them.” Her accusatory tone only added to his amusement.
“And that's bad because…?” Patrick asked, honestly bemused. “You don't like the flowers?” What kind of woman didn't like flowers? “You aren't allergic, are you?”
“Do you have any idea how much you've undermined my authority? Within minutes all my soldiers knew about the flowers. What did you think you were doing?”
Patrick scratched his chin. “Wishing you a happy birthday?” He could almost hear her grinding her teeth, and he watched admirably as she visibly gathered her composure. He continued in a quieter tone, “And that's all I did. There's nothing more incriminating than that. No one would think anything of it, except for your reaction, of course.”
She stopped to give him an irritated glare. After a moment she resumed her restless steps. “It's obvious there's an attraction between us.”
“You think?” Even though he knew better, Patrick couldn't curb the retort.
Lelia gave him another baleful glare, then resumed the clearly well-rehearsed speech. “It's just as obvious that nothing can come of it.”
“It is?” Patrick interrupted, totally ignoring his own misgivings.
“Gunnery Sergeant McBride, I am here under duress.”
“Who the hell isn't?” he murmured under his breath.
She inclined her head in apparent acknowledgment of what he'd said, surprising him, as he'd thought he'd spoken too softly to be heard. “I would like to get this assignment over with and return to my country. Any type of distraction is out of the question.”
“Considering that this whole thing is just one big photo op, I was hardly in favor of it either. This country is fighting several wars at the moment, and my marines have better things to do than engage in public relations. No one wants out of it worse than I do. But I didn't reckon on one thing.”
“And what would that be?” she snapped.
Who would've thought he'd get so turned on by having his ass chewed by a woman? Especially one who could
almost
kick his ass. If she kept it up, she would probably give him a fetish. Of course, it only seemed to work when she did it. Which was probably a good thing, because Colonel Brown took special delight in ripping him a new one whenever the opportunity presented itself. Not to mention it would be damned uncomfortable to walk around with a constant hard-on. Still, something about those crisp tones and that precise enunciation made him want to suck her tongue until she screamed in ecstasy. He brought himself back to the conversation at hand. “Look, Lelia—”
“I prefer Sergeant Assad.”
“I'm sure you do…Lelia.” He couldn't seem to stop goading her. He watched her struggle to contain a wrathful response.
“Please do continue, Gunnery Sergeant.” She bit off the words with a sharpness that went straight to his dick.
He cleared his throat, trying to focus on anything besides her effect on him. He grinned back at her. “As you said, there's an obvious attraction between us. I don't understand why we can't follow it and see where it leads.”
Lelia rolled her eyes in apparent disgust. “Typical American. Gunnery Sergeant, in my country, we don't date, at least not in the manner most Westerners seem to. There's no real point in trying to have any sort of relationship with a non-Muslim. He would have to convert, and I don't see that happening with an American.”
“Does that apply to all Muslims?”
“Yes, it does. Keep in mind that I also belong to a Guard unit that takes a vow of chastity.”
Patrick choked on nothing but pure oxygen. “No shi—kidding,” he strangled out as he recovered. “I thought that was just a rumor.” He stared at her for a long moment, temporarily rendered speechless. When he could speak in complete sentences again, he chuckled under his breath. “And they say the corps is tough.”
“Anyway, as you can see, anything further is out of the question.” She turned to leave the office.
Patrick somehow beat her to the door. He brushed up against her as she backed up. Then he bent his head, capturing her lips beneath his in a questioning, seeking kiss.
“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked as he pulled away to end the kiss.
Lelia stared at him, her eyes impossibly large in her heart-shaped face. “I have no choice,” she whispered, then opened the door and ran as though being chased by both the Taliban and the mujahideen.
Patrick leaned his head against the closed door. Damn, he couldn't believe he felt so strongly for a woman who made it clear she wanted no part of him. She wanted to be left alone.
Well, he'd do his level best to give the lady what she wanted.
* * *
“Okay, I'm going to need you to tell me why you're in such a fucked-up mood today.”
“What are you talking about, Stark?”
“You're a legendary asshole, but you took it to a new level today. Everybody was walking around waiting for you to go off. And you almost punched a guy just for looking at her.”
“Looking at who?” Patrick feigned ignorance.
“Sergeant Assad.” He gave his superior a disgusted glance. “You know damned well who I'm talking about.”
“That's bullshit, Stark. No such thing happened,” Patrick snapped.