I grinned at her and winked. “Later?”

But then I heard more voices coming toward us. Caro smiled once and hurried away. I didn’t know if she’d agreed to meet me later or not, but I knew I’d be knocking at her door. I gave her a few seconds head start, then sauntered after her.

Her cheeks were still flushed, but there was nothing else that showed what we’d been doing. The image of her peachy ass bent over that desk was enough to make my dick remind me how fucking uncomfortable the Blues were. I had to think about something else.

Well, fate was a humorous bitch, because then I saw the one person I’d hoped never to see again—Caro’s ex-husband—and he was talking to her. What the fuck was that asshole doing here? Since when did landlocked Afghanistan need help from the US Navy? Yeah, so the douchebag was a medical doctor, but still … shouldn’t he be retired by now?

He hadn’t deserved to be married to Caro and when she’d been sent away, he wouldn’t give me her address; he wouldn’t even give me the fucking time of day. I hated that prick.

I couldn’t stand it any longer and marched over to get her away from him. He saw me, and immediately had the expression of someone who’s just stepped in dog shit. Guess the love-fest was mutual.

Military protocol demanded that I salute a senior officer, even one from another service, so I deliberately shoved my hands in my pockets, which was the alternative to punching the fucker.

He frowned, and I wondered if he was going to report me or try and insist that I salute him—I’d really like to see that. But then he turned back to Caro, ignoring me.

“Good to see you, Caroline. You look lovely tonight. I hope you enjoy the evening.”

He strolled away, greeting a few people as he moved through the room.

“What the fuck were you doing talking to that asshole?” I snapped.

Caro’s furious eyes raked across me.

“What are you doing making it so damned obvious that you care?” she shot back savagely.

What the fuck? She was angry with me?

“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?” I asked, aware that I sounded like a needy prick.

I’d noticed when I was balls deep in her. Now, I wanted every guy here to know that she was taken—especially her ex-husband.

“I am wearing it,” she said heatedly. “Just not where anyone can see it. But right now I am so furious with you: all you’ve done is make it absolutely necessary for me to go to my ex-husband and beg him not to tell anyone about us. Have you any idea how that makes me feel, Sebastian? Do you? Because he’s the last person I’d want to ask a favor from.”

No fucking way.

“I’ll handle him,” I said quickly. “I’ll…”

“You’ll do nothing,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Absolutely nothing, do you hear me? Now leave me alone: you’ve already attracted enough attention tonight.”

She walked away, leaving me furious and pissed off. I turned on my heel and headed to the bar. Fuck, they weren’t serving alcohol. I’d forgotten. I asked for a soda and stood sipping it, trying to calm the fuck down. I was supposed to be working.

Man up, Hunter, and act like a fucking professional, you clueless prick!

I looked around me casually, then noticed that the contingent of Afghan nationals had arrived, dressed in the traditional salwar kameez, worn with the oval qaraqul hats. The bodyguards stood at the doors, dark sunglasses covering their eyes. Amateurs—you didn’t wear fucking sunglasses indoors at night unless you wanted to look like a Hollywood extra who couldn’t find his dick with a flashlight.

But what really caught my attention was that there were tribal leaders from both sides of the political and religious spectrum, and they were talking to each other. I sidled closer, knowing they’d never guess I could understand them.

I recognized the older guy as Baktash Azimi who was a Sunni leader. The other guy I wasn’t sure, but I thought it might be Gunnar Chalabi, and he was definitely a Shiite.

They weren’t saying anything particularly interesting, talking about the heat, the hotel, and laughing about the food they would have to eat. But the fact they were even in the same room, let alone talking, was interesting enough. I knew the real discussions would take place behind closed doors. I’d give my left nut to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.

Then I glanced across at Caro. Nope, I didn’t want to give up either of my balls, no matter how good the intel might be.

She was talking to a Marine Captain—and I recognized him from his photograph in the file I’d read earlier. A cold feeling washed through me. Shit a brick! Caro was talking to my new boss—which could only mean that she’d be on embed with me. How the fuck would I be able to keep my hands off of her then? And, more importantly, why the hell was she going to one of the most dangerous Provinces in Afghanistan? What fucking brass neck dickwad had okayed that scenario? Who the fuck did her editor know that she’d been sent with us? What part of top fucking secret gave anyone a problem?

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I followed the Afghans to the long table, greeting a few people in English, and looked for my place card. I knew that I was supposed to be near the Afghan end of the table, so I was confused when I couldn’t find my name. I wandered down the long table and finally saw my name and … oh hell.

Natalie Arnaud smiled up at me, her eyes fucking my body in a way that told me she liked what she saw. She was a cold bitch, but hot as hell in bed. We’d had a couple of all-nighters when I was stationed in Paris, but now my dick couldn’t have cared less, and neither could I.

I slid into the chair next to her and her eyes lit up like Christmas.

“Quelle surprise!” she said, licking her lips. “Sergeant Hunter! Bon soir, Sebastian.”

I motioned to the red and gold markings on my shoulder.

“A promotion. Très bon! I like the sound of that! Does that mean you’ll give me orders, sir? You always did like being on top.”

“I’m on duty, Natalie,” I growled at her.

But she just looked amused.

“There’s always time to play later. I’m staying here—room 705,” and then she rested her hand on my thigh.

I tried to remove it subtly, but Natalie’s grin just grew wider.

“Oh, are you a good boy now? Because I remember you liked to be very, very bad.”

“Fuck’s sake!”

I brushed her hand aside. “My CO is here, Nat.”

“So? You never used to care about things like that,” and her bare foot pushed up inside my pants leg, her toes stroking my calf.

I moved my leg away and she laughed.

“It’s not a fucking joke!” I snapped. “And you need to cover up your tits—that shit won’t fly here.”

She leaned forward, giving me an eyeful of her surgically enhanced chest, which I had to admit was pretty impressive, but nothing like my girl’s natural beauty.

I glanced across and saw Caro talking to my boss as well as the scary British woman she’d been with in Geneva. All three of them looked at me at the same time. I was so fucked. Grant looked pissed, the Brit looked amused, and Caro … she looked upset. Shit. And then Natalie chose that moment to reach across my body to touch my Afghanistan Campaign medal and whisper in my ear some of the things she wanted a repeat performance of.

I saw Grant frown, then stand up and walk towards me.

I sprang out of my chair, glad for the reprieve, and snapped a salute.

“Hunter?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Why are you sitting here? You were supposed to be further up on the other side of the table.”

He eyed Natalie coolly.

“Mix up with the place settings, sir.”

“A word, please, Hunter.”

He took me to one side, glancing across at Natalie who looked like someone had told her that Jimmy Choo had gone out of business. Yeah, I’d lived in Paris for two years.