“You’re wrong.” He said the words with conviction. Liked he actually believed them.

“Don’t let this go to your head. I just didn’t want to have to fill out a witness statement for the cops after Rocky down there pulverized your face.”

“Uh huh. More like you didn’t want to tell my boys you let me get my ass beat.” A lopsided grin spread across his face and, for a second, she let herself study the confident curve of his bottom lip. God, with a mouth like that he’d definitely done a lot of kissing and other naughty things involving his tongue.

“That wouldn’t have happened. You’re wasted, but I’m pretty sure you’re not the kind of guy who’d just stand there and take it.” Her gaze slipped down to his chest and then his arms. They were covered by long-sleeves, but the fabric snugged over bulging muscle. And she’d seen the tattoos in the bar. Definitely a guy who could defend himself.

“So you’ve been checking me out,” he observed and she felt the heat flushing her cheeks. “Good to know.”

Good Lord. “What floor are you on?” She watched the numbers creep up toward eighteen—her off point—and realized she hadn’t thought to ask him first. “You should be safe to get to your room without being  ambushed again.”

“I’ll be fine. And I’m on eighteen.”

“Imagine that. So am I.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence and he followed behind her, stopping three doors before her own. “You gotta admit—this is damn coincidental.”

“Or karma hates me more than I thought.” She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. He wasn’t that bad. He just...well, he was a man.

“Shit.”

“What?” She stopped at her door and glanced over her shoulder.

“I think I lost my keycard.” He pulled both of his pockets out. Empty. “Dammit.”

Dammit indeed. He was in no shape to go back downstairs by himself and all she wanted to do was crawl in bed. The elevator dinged in the distance and she sighed. “Check your back pockets. Maybe you put it there and don’t remember.”

Frowning, he reached around, but came up with nothing but his wallet, which he fumbled to open.

“Here, let me.” Back down the hall she went, taking the worn leather from his hand. His fingers brushed hers and she pretended she didn’t notice how long they were. How rugged in that works-hard-for-a-living sorta way that made her panties a little damp. Instead, she focused on flipping the billfold open and—well, well, Mr. Brody Nelson was a United States Marine. Who used Magnum condoms. “Nope, nothing in here.”

“I’ll have to go downstairs.”

Ugh. Why are you doing this to me, Universe? Why? “I’ll go with.”

“You’ve done enough—”

“Well, if it isn’t the lovebirds.” The security guard and apparent ninja, smiled from further down the hall. “Everything all right here?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Brody’s voice rumbled at the back of his throat, only loud enough for her to hear. “Is this guy Batman or what?”

“It’s possible. This is Vegas, you know.”

The man continued toward them and the hair on the back of Jenny’s neck rose. Suddenly she imagined Brody in a hotel room with the chicks and this dude and... Shudder.

“Honey,” she laughed, tangling her fingers with Brody’s and tugging him to her door. “Our room is over here, remember?”

“Wha—”

“Just play along,” she bit out and quickly swiped her card in the door, shoving it open and then pushing him inside. She got the door closed and dead-bolted behind them just in time to hear the guard chuckle in the hallway. “Something is seriously freaking wrong with that guy. His friends, too.”

“You’re telling me?” Brody grinned, sweeping his gaze from her to the suite. “Nice spread. Way nicer than my digs.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t pay for it.” She told him about Ally and Mark’s wedding and the fact that they’d floated her tab, though she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t even like this guy. Still, she dropped her purse on the table inside the door and offered her hand. “I’m Jenny, by the way, and if you’ll excuse me to the ladies’ room for a moment, I’ll go downstairs with you.”

“Nice to offormably...um, officiably...I mean, officially meet you.” He wrapped his fingers around hers, then edged back toward the door, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans.  “I really am cool to get that key myself...”

“No!” Where the hell had that come from? “Just...just hold on, okay? I’ll be right out.”

He tipped his head to the side and smiled, his eyes clouding fast with drunken haziness. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Gah, she was such a sucker. “You’re right about Josh and Tony. They’d disown me if I left you to the wolves and you were forced into a four-way with that creepy guard.”

He snorted and scratched a hand over his hair. “Yeah, that would suck. I’m not worried, but I’ll wait if you’re that concerned about my ass.”

She laughed softly and shut the door behind her. Five minutes later—because a girl had to freshen up in the presence of an attractive man—she emerged from the bathroom to find him waiting. On her bed. With his eyes closed and a soft snores puffing from his nose.

Why was she not surprised?

On the table beside the bed and his completely relaxed form, the clock ticked over to midnight and the sky outside lit up with fireworks.

Another year come and gone. And a man in her bed that, once again, didn’t belong.

Despite her resolutions, she couldn’t bring herself to wake him and make him leave.

Chapter Three

The sweet scent of flowers didn’t belong in the middle of the dusty, destitute Afghani village. Then again, neither did he. Still, he huddled next to the hut’s little window with sweat running down the middle of his back and a finger twitching on the trigger of his gun.

He refused to fucking die like this. Like Ernie, who lay at his feet, a crimson stain blooming from the center of his chest. The long, jagged shard of metal had embedded itself deep, taking the light out of his eyes. Like Troy, who’d been hit harder by the same debris. Whose broken, unrecognizable body lay in another depraved dwelling just down the way, under the watch of Sam and Carson.

But blood shouldn’t smell like flowers. Not unless Ernie had been wearing perfume.

More like the fucking Taliban had sent a woman in as bait again. Nasty fuckers.

“Brody,” a woman whispered, confirming his suspicions and sending his attention into overdrive. If they were ballsy enough to send in bait after the IED detonation, these grimy bastards weren’t going to stop until every last one of them was dead. Including the helo unit coming in to rescue them. Goddammit! He wouldn’t—couldn’t—lose any more comrades on this tour!

“Get the hell out of here,” he rasped at the woman, who’d yet to show herself. She must’ve gotten closer though, because the flower scent teased stronger in his nose now. He could also hear her breathing, soft, wispy exhales that he swore he felt against his face. Was she really here, somewhere in the darkness, or was he hallucinating?

“Brody,” she said again, this time more reverently. “You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

If only this were a dream. If only he hadn’t just watched two more of his fellow Marines make the ultimate sacrifice...

“I was cool with you crashing out here, but now you’re drooling on my pillow.”

Huh?

“Come on, soldier. Shake it off.”

He jolted upright and the pretty brunette from the bar jumped back from the side of the bed. Her navy sleeping shirt rose high on her thighs as she slapped a hand over her mouth to cover a yelp. The whole friggin’ room smelled like the hyacinths his grandmother grew in her garden every spring and, given the woman’s damp hair, it was easy to figure out why.