There was nothing wrong with acting like a fool once in a while. It was what a man was good at, anyway. Maman always said that to him whenever he apologized for some silly stuff he had done. Just remember to apologize to the lady and never take one’s frustration out on her, Grandpa Gator always urged when he pushed Jazz or his brother back home, where they had to set things right with the indignant women. Of course, while he was thinking about all the best advice his big family had bestowed on him about being a man and treating a woman right, he might as well throw in the line from his only brother. BYTM, bro. Better you than me.
Jazz supposed he’d done it all today. He had been foolish, following Vivi to the restaurant. But Hawk had disappeared about the same time, too, and, damn it, he wasn’t going to have a good time being alone and thinking they had a secret rendezvous somewhere. Instead, he’d found Vivi with her girlfriend.
And worse than being foolish, he was a fool to take advantage of the situation and interrupt her lunch, joining her when he hadn’t actually been invited. In battle, impulse could kill. He rubbed his nose in self-disgust. In romance, too. All he had done was make a fool of himself and then commit the crime Grandpa Gator warned him against—vent his frustration. So apologies were now in order.
His restless gaze settled on the woman crossing the road. There was no doubt in his mind he could communicate with Miss Vivienne Verreau in bed. That kiss they’d shared just now fairly set his socks on fire. She’d kissed him back, a little hesitatingly, as if she weren’t comfortable with people watching. Well, all he needed was a private place. He could communicate with all the bayou charm in his genes. But where would he find any privacy here and now?
He could hear his brother laughing his ass off in his head. Zippy never apologized about anything; he always said that was what older brothers were for. Besides, as one of his sisters wryly pointed out, who would believe that any apology from two boys named Zola and Zippy Zeringue, with their devilish blue eyes, would be sincere?
“You’re the most obstinate man I’ve ever met,” Vivi remarked, stopping in front of him. “Don’t you give up?”
“My favorite city is below sea level and its inhabitants are obstinate fools,” Jazz pointed out.
“Sort of predisposed to be in special forces, I guess?” She unlocked the passenger door. “Think you can go and live underground, and then strike in the dark.”
He took her action as invitation to join her for a ride and slipped into the vehicle before she changed her mind. “You’re mixing things up about my city. That’s a vampire, not special forces,” he told her, amused. He showed her his teeth. “See? No fangs. And it’s daylight.”
“I suspect your bark is worse than your bite,” Vivi said, as she started the car up.
“Are you accusing me of being soft?” Jazz threw up his hands in mock horror. “Don’t let my men hear you say that.”
She smiled. “You’re a softie, Jazz. You can’t bear to hurt a woman’s feelings, and you can’t bear to see women get hurt. Why, you even waited out here in the heat because you felt bad about leaving me in the restaurant.”
“It’s true. And I wanted to apologize, chouchou. That was very rude.”
She sighed, turning the AC on higher. “You make it so damn hard. You weren’t rude, Jazz. I was.”
He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I have to be rude back. Besides, I’m sort of lost, after following you around.”
Vivi laughed. “As if. You don’t lie well, either.”
He grinned. “I’m not totally lost, but...you did go all over the town, Vivi. For a while I thought you were trying to shake me off.”
She had really traveled all over the place before going to the restaurant, going through the red light district and slowing down. He’d thought she was trying to lure him out in a place where he would be easily spotted but he’d been trained to go unseen in the most unlikely of places. He was pretty confident she hadn’t known he was following her. He’d merely watched her as she meandered through, slowing and peering at some of the places. He suspected it had to do with her job, since the location, with its seedy storefronts, wasn’t advertising anything he thought would interest a woman.
She glanced at him briefly, then back at the traffic. “What are you doing out, anyway? I thought you guys always stay together, get your minds set for the job ahead, and all that?”
She was right. Once the Patrol Order was given, focus on the mission was number one. “Hawk gave us fifteen hours.”
“To do what, if I may ask? I can’t see you boys shopping,” she mocked lightly.
Sometimes, when there were two operations close together like this, the men were given some time to “move on,” so to speak. The last one, with the child bandits, had left a particularly bitter taste, and the men had looked forward to some down time before this second mission unexpectedly came up. No one had complained; it was the nature of their chosen profession.
“We just came out of one intense situation,” Jazz said, keeping his explanation brief and simple. “You take your head out of one fight and put yourself in another. Sometimes, as in this case, we have the luxury of a waiting period. Hawk and I believe in giving the men some time to do whatever they want. It’s good for team focus.”
“In other words, preparation determines the success of a mission.”
“Yeah, but it’s also mental preparation, more than anything.”
“I see.” She was quiet for a bit. “So what do the guys do?”
“It’s all in the mindset, Vivi.” He realized she was trying to understand life from his viewpoint. He had the feeling that she hadn’t cared before. “We’re trained to perform under extreme pressure. Every little luxury is enjoyed, is taken advantage of. Sometimes it could be months before we’re allowed to surface back to normal, whatever that is. When we find fifteen hours, we don’t question what we want to do; we do it. Some go to church or pray; some of us take off just to be alone, away from the brothers.”
She turned. “And what do you do?” There was curiosity in her eyes, and something else.
“I like to play music.”
“What if you don’t have any instruments? No guitar, no piano?”
Jazz tapped his head. “That’s the beauty of music, sweetheart. It’s all in my head.”
She smiled. “You could always sing. I heard you can carry a tune.”
Ah, the lady was back to teasing him. “And how would you know?” he asked. “You haven’t ever heard me sing.”
“I have my sources,” she returned airily.
The old lady, of course. He wondered at their relationship, besides the fact that Grandmamasan was working for Interpol. He had to grin at that thought. The idea of that cranky old witch doing covert operations was hard to imagine.
“Are you related to the old lady?” Maybe that was why they worked together.
Her smile widen as she stopped the car in front of the building in which he’d been a guest for a couple of days. He hadn’t expected to be coming here.
“She and I are close,” she said. “Relax, Lieutenant, I’m not locking you up.”
“I hope not. I have better ideas for my half a day.”
Vivi’s smile dimmed a little. “I was about to say I’m sorry you have to spend your free time this way. I have a few errands to do before I can take you back, so you’re stuck with me for a bit. Not much music, I’m afraid.”
It was Jazz’s turn to grin. Right now, Vivi Verreau was his sweet music. He was more than willing to be “stuck” with, and to, her for as long as possible.
“Do whatever you need,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
***
Vivi had no idea why she hadn’t just driven Jazz back to the compound. This was the first time she’d ever taken an interest in talking with a military man. Until now, in her experiences with Interpol and other covert agencies, she’d kept a certain distance. There was no need to understand how or why—she organized foreign teams and played peripheral roles. She was very good at her job. Her training allowed her that distance, and she hadn’t felt the need to understand these men whom she secretly disliked.
Okay, maybe not too secretly, since Jazz had pointed this out several times already. She didn’t like military machismo; men in uniforms were a necessary evil in her job. She knew her past colored her opinions, but in all the years doing GEM contracts, she hadn’t seen anything to change her mind. They came in, destroyed, removed, and then took off, leaving chaos.
His explanation gave her much to think about, and she felt just a bit guilty that she’d been rude. She glanced at him, wondering what it was about her interested him so much he would want to spend his precious fifteen hours with her. It made her feel...special.
“Will I be in the way of your work?” he asked as they walked toward the building. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Other than getting me in the gossip headlines in there, you won’t be much trouble,” Vivi told him with a mischievous smile.
“Is that good or bad?” He opened the door for her. “It’s going to be interesting walking through here again.”
The front secretary was already dialing her phone as they went by. Vivi didn’t say anything as she handed over her security pass. She was going to lose her reputation as the ice queen. She hadn’t socialized with her colleagues as foreigners tended to when they lived overseas, and after a while they hadn’t included her in any of their functions. It didn’t bother her, since she wouldn’t have been able to go to any nighttime entertainment anyway. Amusement welled up. Wouldn’t they be shocked if they knew she’d spent most of her nights wandering through the red-light districts.
She’d forgotten her office overlooked the courtyard where he’d been working out. As luck would have it, the detainees were taking their break at that moment.
Jazz walked over to the window. “Hey, nice view,” he commented. “Do you interview every one of them?”
“No, not all of them.”
“Only the special ones, huh?”
She glanced up. He had that devilish smile again, the one that put her on guard. “Only the truly bad ones,” she drawled. “My turn to be curious...what would have happened if I hadn’t been around and no one released you?”
Jazz slipped both his hands into his pants pockets and looked out the window again. “There would have been several options,” he replied noncommitally. “Maybe I’d sweet-talk someone from the organization—United Third World something or other.”
Vivi chuckled. “That would’ve been worth it, to see you sweet talk Juliana.”
His eyebrows shot up mockingly. “You don’t trust my powers of persuasion?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that. But Juliana is into...numbers...and you’re worth more to her as a number.” She frowned as she read one of the messages. “Damn.”
“What is it?”
“Just another headache.” The orphanage she’d been corresponding with had called with a negative response. She was hoping for some open spots, one of which would be for Rose. Another avenue down the tubes. Speaking of which, she had better call to make sure Rose was okay. She kept in touch with Rose as much as she could. She dialed the number. Busy.
“I won’t be too long.”
“It’s okay, Vivi. I’m fine.” He strolled to the other wall to look at the paintings by local artists and photos belonging to her coworkers.
She looked through the rest of her messages, trying to ignore her awareness of Jazz’s presence. The office was cramped enough as it was, and he made it even smaller. Despite her intentions, she peeked. Why did the man have to look so damn good in a teeshirt, anyhow? The material stretched across the broad expanse of his back, emphasizing the athletic vee-shape tapering to narrow male hips. She had a wonderful view of his backside from her seat. In fact, she could just sit here and stare at it all day.
Tall, broad-shouldered, loose-limbed, he didn’t look anything like the filthy soldier she had first glimpsed from the doorway before his arrest. It seemed like eons ago when she heard him singing with his men. Even then she’d stopped what she was doing to listen, had peered out from behind the curtain to look for the voice’s owner.
She hadn’t been able to see him properly until he had come between Rose and the other two soldiers. She remembered how easily he’d towered over her, in her bent-up old woman disguise, and yet had impressed her with his soft-spoken politeness, as if he’d been brought up to treat women gently. And against her usual rules, she’d attempted to stop him from going to the back. Twice.
Vivi smiled ruefully. Not that he’d listened. Men, she’d discovered in her experience of working with them, rarely paid attention to women when it came to important things. Like communication. They never listened. She’d found herself repeating orders several times before they’d realized she meant business, that she expected them to actually follow what she’d told them to do.
She doubted this bunch of he-men SEALs would be any different. Hawk had been very thorough in his briefing with her, and she was impressed he’d actually given her so much leeway as it was. But he was a deep one, that man. She had a feeling that he would pull her back and do things his way when it suited him.
She gave a mental shrug. She’d worked around male egos long enough and had done her job without too many problems. She looked at the thoroughly male form standing across the room. Jazz hadn’t asked her any questions beyond the safety of his men. Not a single one on what she was going to do while they were popping bullets all over the place. Did he expect her to be sitting prettily behind a rock waiting for them to bring her the girls?
They hadn’t asked and she hadn’t volunteered the information. Vivi frowned. She knew exactly how they would react if she told them she was going to be in the middle of the—
“You know, it’s very bad when a woman starts with a dreamy smile while she stares at your ass and then her expression becomes murderous.”
Vivi jerked out of her reverie, her attention returning sharply to Jazz. He hadn’t even turned around, so how could he have known she was staring? Damn it, he hadn’t been looking at the paintings; he’d been looking at her reflection from the mirror hanging on the other wall all this time.
She gazed at his smiling reflection. “I was just thinking about something,” she said evasively, shuffling the papers in her hands.
“Uh huh.” He turned, and his smile was lazy, looking as if he’d found out some deep dark secret about her and he was going to use it to his advantage.
She looked down at the jumbled paperwork. How did he do that? Make her thoughts go haywire as soon as she caught his gaze? “I was thinking about work,” she said, clearing her throat. “And how men like you need lots of work.”
“Men like me? Are we back to arguing again? I thought we were making headway, just talking like normal everyday folks.”
She lifted a brow. “Normal everyday folks?” she repeated and coughed. “I don’t think there’s anything normal and everyday with what you do.”
He sat down in front of her and picked up from her desk one of the small photos belonging to another coworker. “But we’re talking about who I am, not what I do,” he said. “See, even you have family.”
“Those aren’t mine.” She kept her voice bland.
He looked around the table. “None of these photos belong to you, do they?” he finally asked. When she didn’t answer, he murmured to himself. “Tiens, now, I understand.”
“No, you don’t,” Vivi countered, quickly. “You don’t know anything about me.”
She didn’t want him to. She didn’t need his pity, he of the big Louisiana family with his talk of his maman and sisters. She didn’t want to have to explain that she had no concept of what he was talking about.
He gently put down the picture frame. “I didn’t mean to upset you, chouchou. I didn’t know you’re sensitive about your family. And my constant talking about mine is inconsiderate.”
Vivi raked impatient fingers through her hair. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to treat a man. He constantly knocked her off guard with his manners and made her feel as if she was precious to him, which was ridiculous, of course. She barely knew the man.
Yes, she did. She knew so much more than the file T had faxed. Jazz Zeringue was definitely more than some military grunt playing warrior. He made her want things she shouldn’t think about. Not. Right. Now.
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Let him talk about himself. That ought to reinforce why she couldn’t and shouldn’t think of forbidden things. “No, no. I’m interested, really. I already know you have a large family and so does Lieutenant McMillan.” She sat back. “You’re both best friends and I can see why...big family and all that.”
Jazz frowned. “Yes and no. Must we always bring Hawk into the picture?”
It was much safer to just think of them all as a unit. She needed a shield against this attraction she felt for Jazz. “Well, I can’t help it. You’re best friends.”
“So? We aren’t Siamese twins. We can function separately, I assure you.” His expression turned wry. “We’re more like brothers because I have so many sisters and my younger brother is a bit wild. Hawk’s family is all men, so naturally I gravitate to his family when I need some male opinions. Our family gatherings are nothing alike. One is an all female celebration and the other is—”
He broke off with a laugh.
“What?” Vivi was interested, in spite of herself.
He shrugged expressively. “You just have to be there. It’s an all-male competition at Hawk’s family gatherings, and everyone ends up with cuts and bruises.”
Vivi hadn’t imagined family gatherings to be bloody affairs. “They fight?”
His teeth were very white against his tan face. “More or less. You just keep out of challenging the Steves and Stevens and Stevies.”
“Huh?”
Jazz paused before he continued. This close Vivi couldn’t help but notice the way his blue eyes twinkled with mirth. “They are all named Steve McMillan, every single one of them.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? They can’t all be named Steve McMillan!”
He shrugged again. “And you think Zola and Zippy would be the weird names in that crowd, right, chouchou?”
She tried to gauge whether he was pulling her leg. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope, all the brothers named their sons after themselves.”
She shook her head in disbelief. She had very little contact with family life and she wanted to hear more, but this was a bit too far-fetched. “But...why?”
“I asked Hawk’s father once and he said, ‘Why not? Where do you think George Foreman got his idea to name all his sons George?’ I know, you’re looking at me like I’m joking, but this is God’s honest truth. The McMillans are weird men. So you had better not even think about dating one.”
Vivi didn’t know what to believe. It was such a ridiculous way to warn her away from Hawk McMillan she burst out laughing. Jazz joined her.
“I hope I’m not interrupting. Vivi, I need to talk to you.”
Vivi reluctantly turned around. Of course it had to be Juliana. Life wouldn’t be interesting without a bitch creeping up on you now and then.